by Lundy, W. J.
“You’re going the wrong way, brother; this boat is sinking, and everyone is headed for the life rafts,” the man said, looking at Gyles.
He ignored the man’s comment. “Where is Sherman?”
The man frowned and pointed down the hallway. “In the sanctuary, organizing the withdrawal.”
Gyles turned and moved down the hallway that was lined with women and children in single file, all waiting to cross the yard. He stopped and looked back at the man at the door. “Hey, buddy.”
The man spun around. “Yeah?”
“You only putting women and children on that truck?”
The man shook his head up and down. “You got it, pal. Women and children first.”
“Who the hell is supposed to protect them when that truck stops?” Gyles said. He turned and looked at the women in the line. “These ladies aren’t even armed, why don’t you just line them up and shoot them here?”
The man’s jaw dropped, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, pal, I didn’t make the plan.”
“I want an armed man or woman with every group of survivors. Make it happen. Do you understand?”
The man looked confused then stared at the women. He looked back at Gyles and dipped his chin. “I understand, I’ll pass the word.”
Gyles turned and continued down the hallway. At the end, he could see that the heavy wooden doors were open. Inside the sanctuary, there was chaos. Families were stuffing belongings into packs and moving into the hallway to join the line. He spotted Sherman standing with Lawson at the end of the room near the stairs leading to the bell tower. He moved quickly in his direction. Sherman spotted him and met him on the path.
“We’re doing everything we can to evacuate everyone. I got people in the bell tower, working over the walls. Everyone else is fighting from the upstairs windows,” Sherman said.
“It’s not enough,” Gyles replied. “Your guys are keeping them off the walls, but they’ll get smart to what we’re doing and rush the garage. We need to do more.” Gyles looked around the sanctuary then back to Sherman. “How many do you have here? I need totals, including your fighters. How many passengers?”
Sherman looked back at Lawson. The man pulled a notebook from his pocket and said, “About a hundred and sixty, give or take.”
“Good, we got room for that. It won’t be comfortable, but it’ll work. I want you to do whatever it takes to get them onto that truck.”
“Well, that’s what we’ve been doing, but we’ve got a problem with Father Andre,” Sherman said.
“I don’t care about Andre; the truck is leaving—anyone that wants on it has a chance at survival. Leave the rest.” Gyles sighed and lowered his head. He looked at the empty magazine pouches on his vest. “You can’t get everyone here on that truck, dropping them on ten at a time. A few more passes and the alley will be packed so tight the truck will have to give up.”
“This isn’t sounding like a plan at all, son,” Lawson said.
Gyles nodded. “You still have that radio?”
Sherman reached into a pocket and held it up.
“I’m going to the Humvee,” Gyles said. “When I give the word, I need a pair of your guys to open the door and then for your boys upstairs to direct all of their fire on that gate.”
“You’re leaving?” Sherman asked.
“Did you see the fire downtown?” Gyles asked.
Sherman nodded. “Yeah, it’s a damn inferno. The whole town will probably be on fire before the end of the night. Was that your handiwork?”
Gyles smiled. “I had some help, but yeah.”
Raising his hand, Lawson interrupted. “What’s the fire got to do with you leaving us?”
“I’m not ditching you,” Gyles said. “We have a problem: these things are massed around this church too tight to get everyone out. And as Lawson showed me last night, there are other survivors in this city.” He stopped and rubbed his tired eyes. “I know for a fact that these things are attracted to fire. I’m going to take my vehicle and lead as many as I can that way.”
“That’s suicide,” Lawson said.
Shaking his head, Gyles sighed again, this time from exhaustion. “My Hummer is up-armored; nothing can get to me. I don’t plan on dying, but that’s what’s going to happen to everyone living in this city if I can’t draw those things away.”
Gyles slung his rifle over his shoulder and moved out.
Chapter Twenty
Day of Infection, Plus Nineteen
Mount Weather Emergency Control Center, Virginia
Luke smirked as a man handed him a white mesh bag with his uniforms inside. The attendant was on the older side of forty, dressed all in white with a Mount Weather patch on his right shoulder. The man caught his stare and looked at him, concerned. “Is there a problem?”
Shaking his head, Luke took the bag and dumped it onto a metal table to inventory. A set of black trousers, a black uniform top, blue T-shirt, socks, skivvies, and cleaned boots fell out. “Sorry, just not used to having such expedient laundry service.”
The man nodded and handed Luke a receipt to sign. “If you have more, we can get it done for you pretty quick. We aren’t even close to capacity in the laundry room,” the man said, missing Luke’s sarcasm.
Luke scribbled his initials on the receipt. “All my gear is out there in my truck. You think they would let me go and get it?”
The attendant grinned and shook his head. “You know that isn’t going to happen. They warned us that once we went underground, there was no going back until they send the all clear.”
“Any idea when that might be?” Luke asked.
The man gathered up the empty bag. “If things continue to go as well as they are, maybe a couple more weeks.” He put the signed receipt in a folder then held out a key and pointed to a far door. “You have been assigned Bunk 106. In the locker is everything you’ll need while staying in the quarantine bay. Meals are served every four hours. You can dress here; the housing area is just beyond that door.”
The man dropped the key on the metal table and turned, leaving out of the entry door. Luke dressed and took the key. He walked to the quarantine door and opened it. The space was long and narrow. Bunks lined both sides, with a numbered locker by each bed. Dining tables ran down the center of the room, and he could see people sitting at the far end. He looked to the left and saw a room labeled showers. He moved deeper into the room and looked at the first locker, labeled number 1. His key was 106. Yet all the bunks on this end of the bay were unassigned.
“’Bout time!” He heard a voice call from the end. Luke stepped to the side and saw Weaver headed his way. He was out of uniform, wearing a blue cotton jumpsuit. “What the hell happened to you?” the soldier asked.
Luke shook his head and sighed. “I don’t even know.” He nodded toward the end of the room. “You got food down there, or what?”
Weaver laughed and waved him ahead. When Luke was beside him, they walked together, and Weaver leaned in close. Speaking in a low voice, he said, “Bro, most of these people are clueless. They think this is still just a precautionary lockdown. They still think there are just riots in the Capital.”
“I was getting that vibe, myself,” Luke said.
Weaver turned and checked their surroundings. “This place is supposed to be for high-ranking government types, as high up as the President. Well, guess what? None of them showed up. That’s why they still think it isn’t real. People here are kind of pissed that they’ve been stuck underground for weeks with no news, while the big shots wait it out on the outside.”
“The jamming?” Luke asked.
Nodding, Weaver said, “Yeah, it goes both ways. Apparently, this place has a top-of-the-line communications center, TV room, Internet lab—all the good stuff. But all of it is shut down, except for those with the highest levels of access.”
“So at least someone knows the world has gone to shit.”
Weaver shook his head as they approached a sectio
n of the dining tables. He turned and stood in front of Luke. “Nope, just like at the Alamo, all communications are being controlled out of some bunker in Colorado. Nobody here knows anything.”
Luke looked over Weaver’s shoulder to a group around the table. Several wore the same dark jumpsuits. He recognized the faces of his team, including Kate, but there were others that he didn’t know.
Weaver leaned in close. “Stay cool around the strangers; I’ve been making friends. I think it’s better that these folks are pissed off that they’re locked up, with no word from the outside world, than having them depressed that it’s all over.”
“Why is that?”
“Thing is, for the people in here, they think we’re all part of the exercise, like they’re being tested. Even though the doctor and that security guys tells them it’s real, it’s not setting in yet. Probably because they can’t see it.” Biting at his lower lip, Weaver continued. “I know it sucks to lie, but if they think shit is dire with no place to go home to, they’ll go into work mode and block us out. We need them thinking this is still just a drill, have them pissed off and wanting off this mountain. Just take some time; we’ll chat when you get settled.”
Waving his hand, Luke frowned. “No can do. Time is of the essence. You know what’s going on out there, even if they don’t. People are dying. We need to shut this down now.”
“The bunker—all of it?” Weaver asked, his voice hesitant.
“No, fool, the jamming system. Nothing in that jammer is vital to keeping these people alive,” Luke said, moving around the man. He stopped and sat at the table, catching greetings from the others. Before he could ask about dinner, Kate was there, sliding a tray filled with food in front of him. He looked down at it. “You’re serious right now? Steak and potatoes?”
She smiled and sat next to him. “This place can feed hundreds, but there is, like, nobody here. The cooks are actually complaining that they’re wasting too much freezer beef.”
Luke used a knife and fork and cut off a generous chunk of the steak and stuffed it into his mouth. “Let them complain away, this is damn good.”
“Good, my ass,” said a black man in a security guard uniform across from him. The clean-shaven man with short hair was younger than most of his own team. “There’s a great place just down the road that has steaks twice as good. Seriously, if they’d just open the doors, I’d take you there myself.”
Luke was about to correct him on the state of the world before remembering Weaver’s warning. As far as the people in here were concerned, this was just an unnecessary precaution. Tucker laughed, breaking Luke’s concentration. The stocky soldier was sitting half a table down with the rest of his team. “Man, stop bitching, Clive. The doors will open when they open. Just enjoy the free food for now.”
“Free? Ha!” The guard grunted. “They’ll probably take it out of my pay. And, hell, I got a wife and kid out there. She’s probably tearing up some takeout while I’m in here on lockdown. The woman hates to cook as it is, and if I’m not around, it’ll be Golden Arches three meals a day.”
Luke looked up from his steak and checked out the guard. Besides talking more than he appreciated, he noticed the man was wearing a Mount Weather patch same as he’d seen on the attendant’s shirt. “Your wife and kid in here? Are they in the shelter?” Luke asked.
The man shook his head. “Hell, no. In town, man, I just said that. I don’t rate high enough to have family privileges. Can’t complain about it though; I knew the details when I signed up for this job.”
“For someone that can’t complain, you sure complain a lot,” Tucker scoffed, and the other men at the table laughed.
“Why are you in here?” Luke asked. “I mean, in here with us tramps?”
Tucker stood up from the table and bellowed another laugh. “Go on, Clive, tell him why your silly black ass is in here with us.”
The man smirked. “Guess I got lost out there. You know, when they sent the team to go grab you all up? Once you all were taken care of, well, on the way back I kind of drifted over to the base store. Thought it would maybe be open, and I could grab a six pack. Maybe use their phone to call the wife and check in. You know, they took all our cell phones? Anyhow, I figured I’d be back here before anyone noticed that I slipped off.”
Luke shook his head. “And?”
“Damn store was closed. Hell, the entire base was closed and locked down like it was a holiday. I turned around and drove the truck right back to the security ramp. Got there just as the others did but guess ol’ Collingsworth saw me on the cameras or something. He separated me from the group right off and ordered me into quarantine with you all.”
“Do they think you’re infected?” Luke asked.
The man laughed and shook his head. “Infected with what, fool?” Clive said. He stood and stepped back from the table. “Nahh… Collingsworth says it’s protocol. Anyone separates from the group, anyone gets eyes off of someone, they get to spend forty-eight in quarantine.” The man laughed again. “But I know he was just pissed. Guess I’m lucky he didn’t fire me. He probably would have if this was a real lockdown.”
Luke dipped his chin and looked right, down the table. At the far end were other strangers. “And who are they?” he asked.
Clive looked over his left shoulder and shrugged. “All different. Some got here late for check in. Others, staff same as me, did something to piss off Collinsworth, got themselves forty-eight.”
Luke stuffed the last of the steak into his mouth, listening to the man drone on about how the security director liked to use the quarantine unit as his own personal holding cell. Luke nodded, following along, but once his belly was full, he was feeling the fatigue of the last two days. He looked across at Weaver. “Can you get me a meeting with this Collingsworth?”
Weaver shook his head and pointed at the entry door he’d passed through earlier. “That’s locked up for the day. They take quarantine serious here, but that doctor of yours said she would be back first thing in the morning to check on all of us. I suggest you get some sleep, and we can hit him up in the morning.”
Luke wanted to argue about it, but when he stood from the table, he could feel his thoughts already spinning, his head feeling light. A hot and cot was probably what he needed. The Alamo would have to wait another day.
Chapter Twenty-One
Day of Infection Plus Nineteen
North of Hayslette, Virginia
When Gyles walked back into the church grounds, the scattered remains of the Primals had doubled. The moans and screams of the infected were prominent, coming from the back fence behind the garage. He watched as an infected man pulled over the top of the fence. There was a low-caliber rifle shot from somewhere on the second floor. The crazed man’s head snapped to the side, then he rolled and crashed into shrubbery below.
Gyles unslung his rifle and watched the section of fence a moment longer before he moved into the yard with the pair of men Sherman had assigned to him. “The boys up there can shoot,” he said to the pair behind him.
“It’s Mr. Thompson and his three sons. Squirrel hunters.”
Gyles nodded his approval. “I guess if you can pop a squirrel’s grape from the top of a tree, shooting a crazy in the face is no problem.”
He didn’t wait for an answer and made a straight line for the Humvee. Before he could approach the door, he spotted Andre and his young assistant, Jacob, standing near the vehicle. Just behind them, looking very annoyed, was Zeke with his pistol in his hand, his eyes nervously scanning the yard.
“Father, you shouldn’t be out here,” Gyles said, moving past him and to the rear hatch of the Humvee. He popped the hatch and pulled out rucksacks, dropping them to the ground.
Andre moved by his side as he worked. He looked up at the bell tower. “I think we are more than safe out here. We have people looking over us.”
Gyles went to go back into the truck and could see that Andre had moved into position, blocking him. He shook his he
ad and stepped around him to the rear cab door, ignoring the man. He found a .50-caliber ammo box and opened it. Inside were several pre-loaded rifle magazines. After pulling the empties from his pockets, he replaced them with the fresh ones, filling all the pouches on his vest. He dropped the can and grabbed a canvas tool bag under the turret hatch then moved back to the rear of the vehicle. Andre was still blocking his path. Sighing, Gyles dropped the bag. “Okay, you have two minutes to tell me what you want, Padre.”
Andre smiled. “I would like for you to reconsider this plan you have.”
“Saving your ass?”
Andre held the smile and looked at the garage. “Of course, I can’t keep people from leaving, but you want to evacuate the church. Is that really wise? Do you know what is out there?”
“We are already evacuating the church. You need to get your things and move with them,” Gyles said, shaking his head in annoyance.
Pushing past the priest, he closed the hatch on the Humvee then pulled down one of the long radio whip antennas. He turned to one of the guards and asked him to hold the end. Digging through the canvas bag, he found a pair of road flares and a roll of green 100 Mile an Hour Tape, a versatile Army-issued duct tape. He quickly fixed the flare to the end of the antenna then took it back from the man and let it go up to its full length of nearly ten feet.
Andre again went to speak, but Gyles ignored him, repeating the procedure on the passenger side whip antenna. When he finished, he looked at Zeke and pointed to the ground. “These packs belong to my men. Can you make sure they get loaded on that truck?”
Zeke nodded. “Are you not coming back?”
Gyles shrugged. “Guess that’s up to God right now. Ain’t that right, Padre?”
Andre went to speak, but before he could, Gyles had turned to the pair of men. “I’m going to get right in front of that gate. I need you two to pop the flares on the antennas then open the gates. Sherman is going to give you as much support as he can from up there. I won’t waste any time getting out. Make sure I clear the gates then lock up tight.”
