by Lundy, W. J.
He proceeded to the end of the room and held up short of a second door. This door had a keypad on it like the one outside, but the light on the pad was out, and the entry had been blocked with a chair, holding the door open. To the left of the door was a small desk covered with food wrappers and empty doughnut boxes.
He relaxed his grip on the rifle and waited for the others to close in. Back at the table, Luke pushed the garbage away to find a handwritten logbook. He picked it up and flipped through the pages. It was an entry log for what was called the Server Console Room. The last entry was over two weeks old.
In a trash can under the table were disposable paper cups and more candy and sandwich wrappers. Kate walked across the small space, discovering a plastic sack of candy bars and vending machine chips. She took out a candy bar and sat in one of the office chairs, working at the wrapper.
Luke looked over the space again and dropped the log back on the clutter-filled table. “A security team was guarding this door. They probably didn’t have full access to the building, so they kept it propped open.”
He spun and looked back at the space again. There was a black leather wallet on the table next to a stack of rechargeable radio batteries. He moved closer and flipped it open, finding a Virginia driver license for a man in his twenties and $60 in cash.
“They left in a hurry. Some rent-a-cop left his wallet and spare batteries for his radio,” Luke said. He pointed at the door. “And then he forgot to pull that chair out and secure the space when they left.”
“You can’t know all of that,” Weaver said.
“It’s just a hunch, but if you have a better one, I’m willing to hear it. From this mess and the sacks, this place was being babysat by some low-rent security types. They chowed down on pogey bait and got fat in these chairs. They guarded this room, then my best bet is they were ordered someplace else in a hurry.”
Weaver pointed at the door. “Why do you think it was open like that?”
Twisting his lips in thought, Luke shrugged. “Like I said, they didn’t have access but still needed to keep eyes on it. Still needed to get in and out once the staff was cut loose. Or perhaps they were worried about a power outage or lockdown trapping someone inside, or them outside… who knows?”
Weaver nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. So what were they guarding?”
Luke shrugged and approached the door. He pushed it open and was hit with more of the cool, crisp air. This room was several degrees cooler and drier than the office space. As he stepped inside, motion-triggered banks of overhead lighting clicked and buzzed to life. The room was a large rectangle, half the size of the office space. But he could see through the windows lining the walls that they were overlooking several of the server rooms, which were in long rows in adjacent spaces. At the end of the narrow room was a large console with three large flat-screen monitors in a row. To the front of the displays, a single keyboard. Unlike the table and the cubes outside, this room was pristine, with no clutter. He moved to the console and pressed a key on the keyboard.
Clicking and buzzing, the monitors lit up, showing banks of status and alarm screens. He moved closer and tried to read what it was showing.
“They’re system monitors. Basic shit, really,” Scott said from behind him. “They monitor the health of the server arrays, hard drives, disc space, memory, stuff like that.”
Luke stepped aside and let the Philadelphia soldier get closer. The man moved his hand over the screens, pointing out animated indicators. “It doesn’t say what they do, but each row seems to relate to one of the rooms in this building. It’s showing everything up and running. All of these servers are working normally.” He took a beat. “Communications are also online.” He paused again. “Luke, they are talking to someone.”
Luke leaned in. “Talking to who?”
The young soldier shook his head. “I can’t tell, could just be another bank of servers somewhere. But they are sending and receiving data.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” Luke asked.
“I like computers,” Scott said.
“Bullshit, don’t let him shortchange you,” Weaver laughed. “This kid is a computer whiz. He just finished his bachelor’s in computer science up on base and will be going to MIT to get his master’s…” Weaver looked down. “Oh yeah. Well, maybe when all this shit is over, he will be.”
Luke pointed at the keyboard. “Can you tell me if any of these servers control that radio tower?”
The young man pursed his lips and stepped to the keyboard. He pushed a key and a large login box popped up on the center of the three monitors. “Not without the log on credentials.”
“You can’t hack it or something?” Tucker asked, the soldier pushing in to get a closer look.
Scott shook his head. “You watch too much TV, Sergeant. Shit don’t work that way.”
There was a clack from the other room, and they heard a high-pitched squeak. Luke looked around the space. Everyone was in the small computer room, everyone but Kate. “Where’s the girl?”
He turned back toward the door. Without thinking, he hastily stepped out into the cubicle farm. The room was empty. He heard the squeak again and raised his rifle. There was a click and clinking sound. He heard a familiar hiss and looked down. Feet from the toes of his boot lay a cylindrical tube. A flash bang grenade had rolled in and stopped just to his front, seemingly to taunt him for his error.
No time to react, he squeezed his eyes shut and said, “Well, this is gonna suck.”
Chapter Seventeen
Day of Infection, Plus Nineteen
North of Hayslette, Virginia
Gyles leopard crawled to the edge of the roof and rolled to his back, breathing hard. The roar of the infected trailed off behind him. He and Mega managed to get off the roof of the law office and jump to the next building without them taking notice, but the mass was growing by the minute. Gyles looked back over his shoulder, watched the crowd press in against the structure, and feared the building would implode from the pressure of the mob.
The fire from the alley was still growing, the flames glowing and black smoke drifting into the air. He lifted his head over the edge of the knee wall and looked out and down the street. He could see the next building’s roof just below them. The buildings were set tightly together, lining the street with staggered roof lines. Taking a risk, he looked out over the edge and saw they were still a hundred feet from the next intersection. They needed to be on the roof nearest to it when Kenny returned with the rig.
He rolled away from the street side of the roof and moved close to the edge. Gyles swung his feet over the side and dropped the short distance to the next roof. He backed away with his rifle up and listened as Mega moved beside him. The soldier’s fall was less graceful than his, the big man dropping with a loud thud. Gyles didn’t bother to look back; instead, he ran the fifty feet across the roof, dodging vents and air conditioning units, to the next building. Before he hit the wall, he already knew the next roof would be too high. He reached up and found himself several feet short.
“Mega, get over here and boost me up,” he barked.
The big man shook his head. “Boost me, Sergeant. No way your weak ass can pull me up there.”
Gyles sighed, knowing he was right. He locked his hands and Mega stepped in, then Gyles hefted. The soldier grabbed the edge, pulling himself up and over the wall. After a moment’s disappearance, he looked down and said, “Roof is clear.” He then reached a gloved hand down to Gyles. Quickly, he was pulled up over the wall and onto the next roof.
They ducked down, moving slowly across the roof. At the center, they paused to catch their breath. Gyles looked in all directions. The roof they were currently on was the highest on the block, allowing them to clearly see the mob still focused on the law office. So far, infected hadn’t figured out that they were on the move and no longer there. Looking deeper into the city, he could see the outline of the church’s bell tower blocks away. Distant gunfire r
eminded them the occupants were still fighting for their lives.
“Kenny better come back with that truck,” Gyles grunted.
“He is, Sarge. Come on, let’s get to the corner; it’s the next building.”
Before they could move, there was a shudder in the building beneath their feet. Gyles looked back in time to see an explosion blast up from the law office. For a fraction of time, the mob were off their feet, scattered in the street. Then they became even more enraged, running back toward the building. Smoke began to billow up from the far corner then yellow flames licked up at the sky.
“What the hell was that?” Mega said.
Gyles shook his head and said, “I don’t know. The fire must have hit a gas line or something.”
Mega looked back. “This fire isn’t going to help things.”
“No shit,” Gyles said as he pulled close to the edge and looked down. The drop wasn’t bad, like on the previous buildings. He grabbed the edge then swung down. As he dropped, he looked up and saw the expression on Mega’s face change to panic. He hit the ground and rolled to his back. Before he could rebound to his feet, Mega was firing.
Rolling to his side, he could see a group of infected leaving a roof access door. He kicked and scurried back. People in business suits were torn apart by Mega’s machine gun. The soldier was screaming for Gyles to climb back up, but the roof’s edge was far beyond reach. He turned and knelt, firing short bursts into the shadows to his front. His muzzle blasts lit the enraged faces of a crazed mob. They were screaming, their eyes fixed on him in anger.
He cut down two, then two more. A fat man in a double-breasted jacket, the blue sleeves torn, and his face already covered in blood came at him. A three-round burst tumbled the fat man back into the stairwell, taking others down with him. Soon, with both men firing, they had the group piled up in front of the access door. Gyles climbed to his feet and pressed forward, placing his shots into the darkness of the stairwell until the pile stopped moving.
Screams came up at them from the ground. He heard a slam and turned to see Mega climbing back to his feet. He had the feed tray open on his machine gun, slapping a new belt into the weapon.
“We’ve got to close that door, Sergeant,” Mega said between gasps. “More will figure out that it’s a way up.”
Gyles looked at the bodies blocking the door, it would take too long to move all of them. He smiled out of the side of his mouth. “There ain’t no closing it. How ’bout we just get rid of it?”
He snatched a frag from his belt and lobbed it just beyond the dead piled in the doorway then dropped to the rooftop. The explosion cracked, and debris rained down around them. He pulled back to his knees and tossed a second frag into what was left of the opening then dove for cover again. Another crack of thunder. This time the grenade had managed to destroy the walls of the access. The roof had collapsed into the stairwell and fire was spewing out of the openings in the debris.
“Great idea—now we got fire to the front and back of us,” Mega said. “You are doing this shit on purpose, ain’t you?”
Gyles looked out into the street. He spotted the big rig rolling in their direction, plowing through a sea of Primals. Kenny had failed to lose the mass of infected. “Fire is the least of our problems. Check that shit out.”
“What are we going to do, Sergeant?” Mega gasped.
Standing up, Gyles changed the magazine in his rifle. The remains of the roof access were now fully engulfed in flame. The heat warmed his face and the smoke made his eyes sting and water. He lifted his arm, shielding his face from the flames. He could still hear the things screaming from within the enflamed wreckage, undeterred by the fire. On the street, the truck was moving closer; the intersection and east–west road were clear. Gyles watched as the big rig sped up. At this rate, the truck would be below them in seconds.
“Man, I can’t believe they used to pay us for this shit, and now we do it just for fun.”
“Fuck you, Sergeant, I’m not having fun,” Mega shouted back.
Gyles laughed. “Come on, follow me,” he shouted, running for the next wall. “Things are about to get exciting.”
He moved around the perimeter of the roof, gagging from the acrid smoked. At the roof’s edge, looking down, he could see the truck was now up on the sidewalk just inches from hitting the building. The tractor moved by them, not slowing. The horn began to blast.
“They ain’t stopping, Sergeant,” Mega yelled.
“Hell, nope, it don’t look like they are.” Without waiting to change his mind, Gyles planted his boots and jumped. Sailing through the air toward the box trailer, he knew he was coming in hot. He grunted, trying for a perfect parachute landing fall. Instead, he landed like a sack of laundry with pain at the impact of the painted plywood surface. He smacked his face and rolled to the edge, his boot catching on the aluminum framing.
He tried to stand and was knocked back down by Mega as the big man hit the trailer and bowled over him. The man’s arms were flailing, searching for a handhold as he slid across the roof. Gyles reached out and caught the sleeve of his jacket. The fabric ripped, and he nearly slipped away before he found the soldier’s wrist. Gyles planted his feet and tugged, stopping the other man’s roll.
They were both on their backs, the trailer bouncing violently below them as it plowed through the infected that had taken notice of the big truck and were swarming after it. Gyles licked his lips and winced with pain, tasting blood. He pulled off his glove and felt his busted lip and blood pouring from his nose. He shook his head and tried to sit up, feeling off balance from the bouncing of the trailer. He reached out his hand and slapped Mega on the chest.
“You still with me, big hoss?”
“All day, Sergeant.” The big man sighed. “Thought you said this was going to be hard?”
Gyles lay on his back, taking a much-needed breather. Suddenly, he felt the truck change direction. The bouncing smoothed, and the vehicle picked up speed. He felt along the roof to his side and found a large steel ring, probably used as a tie-down. He grabbed it with his hand and pulled himself to his rear. The truck was back on a main road, looping around toward the church. He didn’t recognize the streets nor the terrain, but he could orient himself on the distant bell tower. His jaw dropped when he saw the infected all moving in the same direction. The Primals were on the parallel side streets and in yards, all of them running toward the church.
“Sergeant Gyles?” someone shouted.
He focused back to his front toward the cab. Culver was hanging out of the cab window, shouting back at him. He raised a hand, holding the small Motorola radio. “I got Sherman on comms. He’s got people waiting for us at the garage.”
No energy to speak, Gyles flashed a thumbs up and nodded. The man shook his head and shouted again. “He says we better be ready to load up survivors because they’re about to be overrun.”
Gyles clenched his teeth and nodded his head, shooting another thumbs up. He could see the message was received when Culver returned the gesture and dropped back into the truck. Gyles reached to his hip and unsnapped his tomahawk. He looked over and pulled Mega up into a seated position beside him and held up the hawk.
“You still got yours?” he asked.
Mega patted at his side then pulled out his own hawk with a nod. “I got it; what’s up?”
Gyles held the tool so that the spiked point was down, then swung hard and stuck it into the roof. He pulled up on the handle and the wood splintered out easier than he’d expected it to. He pushed away then looked back at Mega. “We need to make an opening before we start pulling those people off the church garage. No way we’re opening those doors down there, so through the roof is the only option.”
Mega grinned, spread his legs wide, and swung down with his own hawk, cutting clean through the roof. He twisted, popping a large chunk of the wood out. He changed his grip, swung again, and pried back, leaving a large hole. “Lucky for you, Sarge, breaking shit seems to be my specialty to
day.”
Gyles smacked Mega on the back. “Good, stick with it. I need to move forward and figure this mess out.”
The sun was now directly above their heads, the heat of late morning blasting them. Looking to the front, he could see they were now making a wide turn. Ahead, Gyles spotted the opening to the alley. Kenny was a hell of a scout after all. He was bringing them right back the way they had come. A hundred yards past the opening to the alley would be the garage. The church wall was now visible over the heads of the infected.
The creatures had the church grounds surrounded, packed in tight on all sides. If the truck stopped in that alley they would swarm the semi, and Gyles didn’t know what kind of horsepower it would take to get it moving again. He staggered to his feet and ran to the front of the trailer then yelled at the cab. Culver’s head popped back out.
“Get close to that garage but don’t stop,” he shouted.
Culver nodded. “Way ahead of you. Joe is screaming the same thing. He says if we stop in that mob, he’ll never be able to get us going again.”
Exhaling hard, Gyles said, “Get me close to the garage. I’ll jump over and talk to Sherman and arrange how best to get the civvies on board. You loop back around and start picking people up. Give me five minutes then head back for that alley.”
Chapter Eighteen
Day of Infection, Plus Nineteen
Mount Weather Emergency Control Center, Virginia
Luke opened his eyes to bright lights and squinted as the pain hammered down against his temples. He reached for his forehead and found his right arm restrained. He turned and struggled; his left hand was also strapped to his side, and his thighs and ankles were bound just as tightly. Swinging his head left and right, he could see he was dressed in light-blue pajamas, lying in a sterile white room with no furniture except the bed he was strapped to. He fought the restraints, arching his back and pulling, but the straps grew tighter with every tug. Soon he was flat against the bed, only able to move his head and his chest to breathe.
