by Lundy, W. J.
“Please don’t be locked, please don’t be locked,” Gyles shouted as he ran for the end of the room. He knew they wouldn’t have time to breach a second door; they would get through, or the fight would end here.
A crash behind him let him know that the Primals had reached the hasty entrance barricade. Ahead, Mega had the steel fire door open and was standing in front of it, like he was holding the door for an old lady. Gyles came at him like a defensive tackle, hitting the big guy hard with his shoulder, launching him into the tight corridor. Gyles scrambled back to his feet and dove for the fire door. He gripped the pull bar and yanked the door toward him, quickly finding out how fortunate they were that the door opened out. Just as the first of the Primals found it, they crashed into it, shoving the door tightly closed. Gyles felt the shudder in the building as more of the things crammed against the opening.
A soft green glow suddenly filled the space. He turned to see Mega had snapped out of his daze and had tossed a chem light into the corner. Gyles rested his eyes on it then yanked a fire extinguisher off the wall that was mounted just above it. He pulled his fighting knife and cut the black rubber hose from the extinguisher then forced the length of hose through the door’s locking mechanism, extending a bolt latch into a locked position.
It was sloppy, but even without the loose tie job, he could feel the weight of the Primals pressing against the door. He pushed lightly and felt the force of them keeping the door in the closed position. “Come on, Mega, we have some time before they figure out how to get this open, we need to get to the roof.”
Mega grimaced. The big man’s nose was bleeding, his pupils dilated like saucers in the green light. Gyles looked at him. “You okay, buddy?”
“Just got my bell rung, is all. I’m still in the fight, Sergeant,” Mega mumbled.
Gyles nodded. “I know you are—take a minute to collect your shit. We’re moving up top in one.”
He took note of Mega’s clumsy attempts at going over his kit and knew he was struggling, but he needed the soldier to stay at high tempo. Now wasn’t a time to play mother hen and allow the man to drop his guard. Gyles watched his friend take a drink from a canteen and strap his tomahawk back to his thigh. The big soldier was a warfighter who knew what was at stake. If Mega was lagging, it was because he was hurting, but Gyles knew the man would do everything to push the hurt aside and Charlie Mike (continue mission).
Gyles turned toward the glowing light and checked his own chest rig, finding three empty magazine pouches. It was bad form to have dropped the empty mags in the street, but dying during a reload was also bad form. He had boxes of ammunition in his pack, but no spare magazines beyond what he carried in his rig. He sorted himself out, replacing the chest pouches with fresh mags from his hips… better to have them close than having to reach. He then replaced the expended frag grenades with two others from his pack. It would have to do for now. He turned to the corner, picked up the chem light, and tossed it up the stairwell to the next landing.
Turning to Mega, he said, “You ready, big hoss?”
“I got this, Sergeant… easy day, easy day,” Mega grunted, using the handrail to pull himself to his feet.
“Easy day.” Gyles forced a grin and nodded. “I’ll take point. Be ready to fill in if I need it.”
Stepping off and following the left wall with his shoulder, Gyles pointed the way with his rifle’s barrel. He reached the next landing and stepped over the chem light, leaving it where it had fallen. He felt a damp breeze on his face and looked up. The roof exit door was slightly ajar, allowing in glimmers of low light. He stood for a moment, listening and waiting, only smelling the smoke of fires, and not the death and decay of Primals.
He pulled the rifle tighter into the pocket of his shoulder and planted his feet. Gyles looked down at Mega and pointed at the door then put a finger to his lips. The big man nodded his reply and Gyles moved out, sidestepping, slicing angles toward the doorway. At the top of the stairs was a double landing, a large L-shaped space with the door at the end of the short leg. Scanning left and right, he could see the landing was empty, the floor clear. He searched the walls and floor but saw no signs of forced entry or battle damage.
Gyles shuffle-stepped to the entrance with his rifle up then eased the door the rest of the way open. Outside, he found the rooftop visible in the orange light of early dawn. He tried to listen for dangers, but it was impossible with the screaming of the infected below him and surrounding the building outside. His eyes searched, and he saw a survivors’ camp—or what was once a form of one. At one time, people had moved furniture and curtains up here. Bed rolls and clothing lay piled in corners. A barebeque grill was in the middle, near an air conditioning unit. Ropes, tied to antennas, still had fabric draped over them. A large, red-painted S.O.S. had been hand scrawled across a white curtain that wafted in the breeze like a flag. Gyles moved another half dozen steps then waited for Mega to close in behind him.
“You see anyone?” Mega said in a loud whisper.
Gyles shook his head no. They were alone; the hastily constructed survivors’ camp was empty—no bodies, no luggage, not even any trash. Whoever had once holed up here had abandoned it days ago or been evacuated. Together, they rotated in a 360, searching and scanning the remaining spaces to ensure they were alone on the rooftop.
With a look at Mega, Gyles pointed to the door. “Lock it up the best you can,” he whispered. He covered the shadows as Mega pushed the door shut and pressed a board below the handle, jamming it closed.
“’Bout all we can do without tools,” the big man said with a shrug.
There wasn’t much more that could be done to hold it, but, working quickly, Gyles and Mega piled up what was left of the camp in front of and around the door. Then Gyles moved to the edge of the roof. The perimeter was covered with a short knee wall, no more than two feet tall. In the street below, he could see the Primals had closed in, looking up at him with their eyes reflecting the new sun. The two men were effectively surrounded on the rooftop. His stomach began to twist, and he wanted to vomit at the prospects of what he had done, allowing himself to be cornered.
He shook his head and closed his eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again. They weren’t cornered yet. It was all part of the plan, and the plan was working, he assured himself. He walked back toward the intersection side of the law office. Scanning, he found the ambulance his men were hidden in. To the far right of it, less than one hundred feet away, was the semi-truck with a large box trailer attached to it. He looked up and down the length of the trailer. Only a few of the Primals were still near it, but they were all moving in his direction.
The sound of glass breaking pulled his attention to the ground floor below. A large, street-facing window had collapsed from pressure of the Primals against it. The creatures were now pouring inside. He wasn’t too concerned, knowing that it helped him. The more of the things packed into the room, the less likely they would be able to get the bottom stairwell door open. The more the merrier.
It was time to work. He needed to clear a path for his men on the ground. Looking back at Mega, Gyles said, “Get your gun up and start greasing as many of these things as possible.”
Mega looked down at the swirling mob, then back at him. “Seriously? I can just start killing them?” the man said almost eagerly.
Gyles swallowed hard then dipped his chin. “Yeah, light them up. But short bursts—you need to stretch out the ammo as long as you can. Shoot at the ones further away to draw them in. The ones inside and around the building are right where we want them.”
The man’s smile vanished, and his eyebrows tightened. “You don’t want me to kill the ones trying to get up at us? You want even more of them down there?”
Gyles shook his head. “No, don’t kill the ones in tight. I want them there; we need to get our boys out of that ambulance and into that truck. Once that’s done, we’ll start worrying about our exit plan.” Gyles thought for a beat, then continued, “Mega
, you need to make damn sure you save us some ammo to get away. You got that?”
“Got it, boss. Kill a bunch but save some killing for later,” Mega said, dropping his pack and extending the bi-pod on his machine gun. Soon the man was posted up on the knee wall, a belt of ammo laid out flat, ready to let rounds fly.
Steps away, Gyles found a location where he had a clear lane of fire over the ambulance and the soldiers’ path to the truck. If anything popped up, he would have to kill it; the men on the ground couldn’t risk a shot and attracting any attention. If they fired and were drawn into a fight down in the open, it was over. He also had the responsibility to cover the machine gunner’s blind spots and the rooftop door, in case the infected managed to break through. He had started to reconsider the setup, maybe moving the M240 to the opposite corner, when Mega let loose with his first burst of gunfire.
The man whooped. “Get some!” he shouted as he let go with several shorter bursts.
Gyles looked at the traffic jam and could see Primal heads popping up. Ones that had avoided the fight before were now running toward the law office. More emerged from down the street, hearing the gunfire. From all directions, they were on the way, running at the man on the roof who was shouting into the crazed mob of infected. Gyles didn’t know if it was the noise of the machine gun, the yellow flames launching from the barrel, or the obscene man screaming at them, but every eye seemed to turn, every infected in the neighborhood now in a full-on frenzy.
Gyles looked at the ambulance and saw it still sitting motionless. He panned toward the truck and could see a trio of the infected standing near the cab of the semi. Unlike the others that were running directly at them, the trio at the truck appeared to be observing the massacre without emotion. Gyles shook his head, reconsidering his previous thoughts. He snarled and spit off the roof. “Well, if you don’t want to come to the party, then I’ll bring the party to you,” he said and raised his weapon, putting his eye to his rifle’s optic.
The three were odd, almost human-like, and not as wounded as others he had seen. But the trio didn’t belong together. A woman with short-cropped hair, wearing a torn pantsuit, looked like she should be closing on a million-dollar real estate deal. Next to her was a tall man in denim skinny jeans and a black hipster jacket. The last was a thick-chested, tan-skinned man in a bloodstained white tank top, his arms covered in bad tattoos. They were obviously infected but acting more like the pair he’d spotted earlier in the alley.
Smart ones, he thought to himself. But not that smart.
He assumed the presence of the trio was the reason his men were still hiding in the ambulance. They had their route blocked to get to the truck. Gyles centered the cross hairs on the largest of the three and fired. He watched a black spot appear on the big man’s white tank top. The creature hardly staggered. It didn’t look down, it didn’t flinch; instead, its eyes remained locked on the chaos at the building. Gyles adjusted his point of aim and pulled the trigger again. This time, the left side of the man’s face zipped away. The creature stammered then fell forward onto the pavement. The woman in the pantsuit looked down at the body for a moment, then her eyes locked on Gyles.
“Shit,” he whispered, a chill traveling up his spine. “How does she know it was me?”
Instead of carrying on the mental debate, he shifted his point of aim again and fired on the now screaming woman. The round went low, hitting her in the right shoulder, spinning her counterclockwise. Gyles looked for the hipster, but he wasn’t there. He went back to the woman, who’d regained her balance and was now running with a dangling right arm. He led the target and fired three times. The last two shots sent the creature tumbling under a minivan, making him unable to see if it was dead.
“That’ll have to do,” he whispered then continued to scan the traffic for the hipster, but he was gone.
Back to the ambulance, he could see that the rear door was now open, and his men were moving out in single file. Kenny was in the front, ahead of Joe, and Culver took up the slack position. Gyles ignored the damage Mega was doing so he could provide overwatch for his team on the ground. The path was clear. They moved quickly, and soon Joe was in the cab of the truck. He observed as Kenny and Culver piled in through a door on the other side.
He couldn’t hear the big vehicle’s engine start over the machine gun and the roar of the infected, but he saw the black smoke belch from the exhaust pipes. The big diesel engine revved just as Mega was changing belts in the machine gun. Dropping into reverse, the truck screeched, then a loud beeping sound filled the air when the truck began to move. The Primals surrounding the building all at once fell silent. Slowly, their attention turned to the truck in the congested street. Gyles saw Hipster Primal emerge from the cars. It leaped onto the roof of a silver Lexus, pointed at the big rig, and arched its back, howling.
“There you are,” Gyles said. He lined up his optic, fired, and watched rounds tear into the hipster.
The infected around the building changed direction, now focused on the truck. “Cut them down!” Gyles ordered, pointing at the shifting mass.
Mega swiveled his position and fired into the waves of infected charging at the semi, their bodies ripping apart as they reached the street filled with cars. Rounds skipped off the pavement and tore through the infected, punching holes into vehicles. Slowly, the truck backed farther and farther away. Gyles concentrated his own fire on any of the Primals chasing it in the street. Soon the truck was beyond the intersection. It stopped and then moved forward, turning right down a block, driving away from them.
“Cease fire!” Gyles yelled, ducking below the wall and out of sight of the infected on the ground. Mega turned back and saw him. Quickly, he did the same, pulling the weapon off the wall and dropping to his back. He rolled over and crawled to Gyles. “What are we doing? Kind of late to hide, they already know we’re up here,” Mega whispered.
“We need to get out of here. Once Kenny gets clear of that mob, he will be looping back for us. We need to be ready when they get here.”
Chapter Sixteen
Day of Infection, Plus Nineteen
Blue Ridge Mountain Road, Virginia
Luke rested his hands on the top of the steering wheel and surveyed the terrain around him. The trees had suddenly opened and created a wide grassy area on both sides. Debris and brush had all been cut back to the sides of the road, revealing a chain link fence that ran as far as they could see.
For the last five miles, he’d observed nothing but forest and the occasional gated driveway disappearing into the dark trees that lined the road. Even when they had seen a home on the mountain pass, it appeared to be abandoned, the same as the farm looked from the outside. No signs of people, animals, or any other activity. He looked at Weaver, who was studying the hand-drawn map.
“You know, I was expecting something more ominous… broken down cars, burnt houses,” Luke said. “It’s like this entire place has been spared from all of it. They are either all gone or hiding.”
Weaver shook his head. “No, not spared—there’s just no traffic, no people, because they have been moved. Anyone that was here must have been evacuated, probably by force. I think we are on the cusp of a no-man’s land.”
“No-man’s land? What? Like a buffer zone?” Luke asked.
Shrugging, Weaver said, “Maybe not intentional, but like a fire break.”
“Fire break?” Luke asked.
The soldier nodded. “Like a forest fire. You know, how they work out ahead and cut those wide lanes in the forest so when the fire hits it, it just sort of burns out. The fire has no place to go, and it’s already used up all of its fuel, so it just stops.” He thought again. “The old man said the federal police warned them to not let the infected follow them up the mountain. Well, remove all the people and there is nothing left to follow.”
“So you think someone got smart enough in all the chaos, worked ahead, and removed all the people out of this area so the virus couldn’t spread. Like it woul
d just die off and stop here. Not move up this valley.”
Weaver rubbed his chin, his face showing that he was reconsidering his original theory. He looked back at the map and traced his finger over the contour lines of the mountain. “No, not that exactly. But someone could have just cut out a vacuum to slow infected in just this one area. You know, like they were protecting something. We figured it out in all of five minutes. I’m sure people smarter than us wouldn’t have struggled with the concept.”
“Mount Weather then?” Luke asked. “You think they did this to protect the facility?”
Weaver put the map back on the console and pointed straight ahead. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough. According to Gus’s map, we should see a cutoff to the installation up here in these woods.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to wait that long,” Luke said. He killed the engine on the truck and parked in the center of the road they were traveling north on.
“What are you doing?” Weaver asked.
Luke undid the latch on the driver’s door and swung it open. Lifting his rifle, he stepped out onto the street. “Stay with the truck. I just want to scout ahead a bit and see what’s up there,” he said without looking back.
He moved forward, but before he reached the front side, Weaver was out, standing beside him. Luke frowned then continued his trek toward the chain link fencing. He stepped just off the road and into the long grass. He ran a hand over the tops of the blades of grass. “This has been cut recently, within the last couple weeks.”
“After the infection then,” Weaver said.
“Or just after.” Luke nodded and looked at the fence, studying a small sign.
