ARES Virus: Arctic Storm (21 page)

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Outside of Pineville

September 4

Brown wakes to the smell of stale smoke and ashes. He rolls over slowly, feeling as if a blacksmith had been using his back as an anvil. The aches he feels from sleeping on the hard stone go deeper than just muscle. Pushing himself into a seated position, he notices a very faint glow coming from around the cave’s bend, indicating that the sun has rolled around the earth yet again. Grabbing his flashlight, he stands and nearly topples over from the burn emanating from his upper thighs.

Damn. And here I thought I was still in shape
, he thinks, stretching to work out some of the kinks.

Flicking on the light, he shines it over the other huddled forms lying on the stone floor.

They’re going to feel bloody peachy in about twenty minutes
.

At the entrance, he gazes out, first looking for any helicopters in the near vicinity. Seeing that it’s clear for the moment, he looks farther out toward the city. Flames still climb upward in places, sending dark plumes of smoke billowing into the sky. The brown haze that settled over the city is thicker than the day prior, making it difficult to see much. Black silhouettes of helicopters still dance in the skies above the stricken metropolis. Outside of the urban area, Brown sees other helicopters doing their leapfrog style searches. If anything, there appears to be more of them than before.

Not that it really matters. What’s here is here and yesterday only counts for being yesterday
, he thinks, strolling quickly by the entrance to perform his morning ablutions.

Returning to the fire pit, he notes Hayward and Clarke kneading their lower backs as they sit near the dead fire. Emily is dancing and looking around anxiously.

“I have to pee,” she states, her face showing her embarrassment.

“Clarke. Take Emily to the other side of the cave. I left some toilet paper there. And make sure you check that the entrance is clear before you cross,” Brown says.

Upon their return, Brown hands each of them a can and a spoon. “Eat away. We’re probably in for a very boring day, so each of you had better have some entertaining stories to share for when I return.”

“Where are you going?” Clarke asks, eyeing a spoon of canned food with distaste.

“I’m going to try and scout the top to see what we’re dealing with,” Brown replies.

Brown empties his pack and then replaces several key items. His plan is to make it a quick outing: up to the top, see what lies around them, and head back. He knows that the odds of being found will go up exponentially with each second that he’s out of the cave. It’s not so much the patrols that he can see as the ones that he can’t; namely, drones. If it weren’t imperative that he get a lay of the land, so to speak, he wouldn’t venture out until they ran out of water and he was an inch away from death. However, if they’re to make it in the long run, these kinds of risks need to be taken. And, his heat signature will be better hidden during daytime.

Brown stands at the entrance, looking and listening for any sign of patrols. He carefully scans the sky within his line of sight, trying to catch a telltale glimpse of a drone: a sparkle or shimmer. Of course, he knows that is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Even if he did see something like that, it really wouldn’t do him much good. Drones have a much longer range of vision than the human eye or the thermal cameras mounted on helicopters. That danger he’ll just have to leave to chance.

Hefting his pack into a more comfortable position, he steps out of the cave, half anticipating the ground to erupt in a hailstorm of bullets. The only thing that “erupts” is a startled lizard that quickly scurries out of sight. Working his way from cover to cover, Brown slowly scales the hill. By the time he reaches the top, his thigh muscles are burning, with his lungs not far behind; the previous day’s trek has taken its toll.

The top is rocky and flat, spanning several paces across. A few thin shrubs dot the barren surface. Brown sees that the hills where they’ve taken shelter are just part of a ridgeline that turns away from the city a little past the cave and proceeds in a more or less straight line for miles.

Without the boulders that lie on the hillside, Brown feels naked out in the open. Behind him, the sounds of the occasional explosion emanating from the city roll over him. Grit makes its way inside his shirt as he crawls toward the end of the hill, where a descent begins into the valley beyond. He doesn’t dare stand for fear of presenting a definite silhouette. He nestles into scant cover within a small outcropping of rocks that line the edge. Pulling out the pair of binoculars, he scans the valley and surrounding area.

A couple of miles out, a ring of military vehicles, tents, trailers, and communication centers sprouting a nest of antennas encircles the city. Concentrations of vehicles and other apparatus are heavily clustered along the roads leading into the metropolis, with other encampments at intervals in between. Looking closer, it appears that everything that could remotely be considered a trail is covered. Helicopters patrol over areas that can’t be directly accessed. At first, second, and third glances, it appears that there has been a tight cordon established.

Adjusting the focus, Brown looks beyond the cluster of military apparatus to where roadblocks have been established miles away from the inner perimeter. On the busier highways, lines of vehicles, stacked beyond sight, are being turned around at the nearest exits. In places, tent cities, complete with RVs, have been erected away from the thoroughfares.

Don’t want the press too close, eh? I can’t blame you there
, Brown thinks, refocusing his attention on the areas adjacent to his hill.

On the side opposite the cave, a major highway runs nearly parallel to the ridgeline, vanishing from sight around a curve where the miles-long ridge ends. Winks of lights flash from hundreds of windshields as the vehicles wait for their turn to detour. As with the other roads, there is a large concentration of military vehicles parked alongside the highway as part of the inner perimeter.

Curious as to how they’re handling the ridgeline itself, Brown turns his glasses to the top above the cordon. Sure enough, several tents adorn the ridge with soldiers moving among them. Their vantage point gives them a good line of sight along the ridge and to the valley below.

That’s going to be a problem
, he thinks, looking to the city side of the hill.

Brown sees where the creek bed follows the ridgeline, much like the road on the opposite side. Woods fill that part of the valley, from the city to as far as he can see. He tries to spot movement within the trees, but the density of the leaves prevents him from seeing much. Given the nature of the established cordon, he’s positive that they’ll have troops positioned in the woods, with a heavy dose of helicopter overflights.

Okay, so it looks like they have a tight military inner perimeter, with law enforcement manning the roadblocks on the outer perimeter
.

Feeling that he has a good picture of what they’re up against, and that he’s overstayed his welcome, Brown backs out of his position and begins returning to the cave. As there are troops sharing the hilltop with him, he crawls just below the crest. Reaching the cave, he shakes dirt out of his shirt and pants, still feeling the grit cling to his skin.

He briefs the others on what he saw. “It looks like we’ll have to climb down and follow the creek line until it intersects the highway. That should place us outside of both perimeters. From there, we’ll figure out our next move.”

“So, we’re opting for the decision to break out and then report in?” Clarke asks.

“I think that’s our best bet at the moment,” Brown answers.

“And what’s the story for us being away from campus?” Hayward queries.

“Well, I was thinking I’d say that I take some cadets out for a weekend survival camp several times a year to prepare them for survival training. I mean, there’s really no one left to counter that explanation.”

“That’s pretty callous. Those people were our friends, your comrades,” Clarke states.

“I know. The time for grieving those losses will come, believe me. But, right now, we need to look after ourselves, and I’m just looking at facts,” Brown counters.

“And then, we’ll look for my parents, right?” Emily asks.

“Once we’re safely out of this, yes,” Brown replies. “Speaking of which, do you have any family in the area?”

“My aunt…my mom’s sister, lives in the next town over…I think. It’s not really that far away. At least, it usually doesn’t take us too long to get there when we visit. Sometimes during the day when school’s out, Mom and me would go see her and we were back before Daddy got home,” Emily responds.

“Do you know her phone number?” Brown asks.

“No,” Emily states. “But, she’s in my contact list.”

“Wait, you have a phone?”

“Well, duh.”

“Do you have it with you?” Brown queries.

“Of course. I always have it. How else would I play Angry Birds?”

“And it’s charged?”

“It should be. I didn’t get to play on it yesterday or the day before. It usually lasts a couple of days if I don’t use it. But, that really never happens.”

“Would you mind if I take a look at it?” Brown asks.

Emily gives him a skeptical look. “Okay, but don’t run my battery down. It takes forever to charge with the solar panels Dad bought me for my birthday.”

“You have solar panels…with you?”

“Um, yeah. I figured we’d be gone for a while, so I packed it with my phone…just in case there was a chance to play my game.”

Brown looks at Emily’s phone and sees that the battery level is down to eight percent. The screen is flashing “searching for signal”. He walks to the cave entrance only to find the same…no signal.

“Well, either we aren’t able to get a signal here or they have shut down the cell towers. Regardless, we need to turn the phone off. Is that okay, Emily?” Brown asks.

“I guess so.”

“We’ll charge it up during the day and keep trying at intervals along our trek.”

“When are we leaving?” Clarke asks.

“Late tomorrow morning after it heats up some. I’m sure there are drones in the area, so we’ll have to minimize our signature. In the meantime, your job was to come up with interesting stories to keep us amused, so let’s hear them.”

With faint explosions reaching inside the cave, Hayward begins telling a story about his childhood that becomes, to Brown, more akin to a mosquito buzzing in a tent in the dead of the night.

“I’m going to shoot myself,” Brown mutters as the story goes on with no end in sight.

Outside of Pineville

September 4

The day proceeds the way every boring day does: slowly. Yesterday, Brown was mentally trying to halt the sun’s travel across the sky. Today, he’s trying to will it toward the horizon. They’ll have the night to go through before they push off, but at least the sun setting will indicate a significant passage of time. As the day wears on, it’s all Brown can do not to pace relentlessly. He naps for brief periods of time, but the hardness of the rock floor becomes unbearable and he has to rise. Outside, the explosions still rocking the city become almost a matter of course and go mostly unheard.

“You know, with our fatigues,” Clarke states out of the blue. “We could probably walk right past any patrols.”

“It wouldn’t be that easy, but there’s a chance that it might make them hesitate enough that we won’t immediately be shot. However, it would be quickly discovered that we aren’t part of the perimeter and then that we came from within the city. I think that it’s best we remain undiscovered at this point,” Brown comments.

The rest of the day is spent in relative quiet, each lost in their thoughts, the silence occasionally broken by brief conversations. Emily grows restless, complaining about being bored, and asks every ten minutes or so if she can use her phone to play a game. Tired of the constant requests, Brown finally breaks down and allows her to use it, but only for short periods to keep it charged.

After sunset, with the chill of the evening sweeping over them, the four of them sit near the entrance, watching the glow from the fires reflect off the pall of smoke hovering over the city. Having spent all day in the cave, it’s refreshing to look outside. The days long bombardment of the city has taken its toll, with only a few of the taller buildings still standing; firelight dances against their sides. Several fires still rage in various districts. Away from the smoking metropolis, stars twinkle brightly in the velvet nighttime sky.

Contemplating options and running scenarios through his mind regarding the upcoming day, a distant flash of light in the sky catches Brown’s attention.

“That’s the weirdest shooting star that I’ve ever seen,” Hayward quietly comments.

The same thought occurs to Brown. The tiny spot of flame is barely moving against the dark background, if really at all. Brown remembers something a pilot friend of his once said: “If you see something that isn’t moving in your line of sight and it’s growing larger, then you and that object are on a collision course.” Comprehension dawns and, like the sudden appearance of light in the nighttime sky, the bulb in his head flashes on.

“Oh shit! Move! Move now!” Brown shouts, rising to his feet.

Pushing a slow-reacting Hayward and Clarke back into the cave, Brown wraps his muscular arms around Emily’s waist and dives. He rolls in order to have Emily land on top of him, rather than crushing her beneath his large frame. While he is still in mid-flight, the missile strikes. A concussive wave rolls over and past Brown, propelling him further. He feels a sharp, painful pop in his ears as rock and debris pepper his body. In the near complete darkness, with only a faint glow from the fire beyond the bend, Brown fears crashing into one of the rock walls. However, any thought is difficult as the compressed wall of air that rushed past has addled his mind.

Brown slams onto the rocky floor, expelling any remaining air in his lungs in a sudden rush. Pain sends a continuous stream of signals as he slides along the ground and stone grinds into his back. Coming to a rest, his mind goes through a system reboot, and he’s amazed to find that he’s still among the living. His ears ring loudly, a sound that echoes throughout his head.

He feels somewhat reassured as Emily moves in his grasp, though the shaking of her body indicates that she’s crying. He can’t hear or see much of anything, so he lies on the cold, hard ground, attempting to comfort her with soft pats on her back.

“Everything’s okay,” he repeats, even though he’s sure she can’t hear a thing either.

“Is everyone okay?” he shouts.

With the ringing still in his ears, he barely hears his own voice. The only way he knows he actually said anything aloud is because of the vibrations he feels in his ears and the movement of his jaw. He doesn’t hear anything in return, which isn’t overly surprising, but he does sense movement nearby. Setting Emily to his side, he fumbles for his flashlight. Turning on the light, it pierces the darkness.

Dust motes hang heavily within the beam. To either side of him, the dust-covered forms of Hayward and Clarke slowly rise to their knees. Their semi-erratic movements indicate they are still stunned. The ringing in his ears subsides, as does Emily’s sobbing, and all of his senses slowly return.

“Are you two okay?” he again shouts.

“Yeah…yeah, I think so,” Clarke replies.

“What happened?” Hayward asks.

“Well, unless I miss my guess, you just survived your first rocket strike,” Brown answers.

“Seriously?” Hayward says. “I don’t feel like I survived anything.”

Ignoring the comment, Brown cups the flashlight in his hand and shines it toward the mouth of the cave. The light reveals that the entrance has collapsed, leaving a large pile of rocks blocking the exit.

“You two head back to the fire, and take Emily with you,” Brown commands. “I’m going to see how bad it is.”

“Holy shit!” Hayward exclaims, looking toward the pile of rubble.

“We’re going to have to come up with something quickly. They may not be content with just a single strike—company may be arriving soon,” Brown comments.

“How did they know we were there? I mean, they couldn’t have seen us,” Clarke asks.

“It doesn’t matter. They did. Anything further is meaningless conversation that we don’t have time for. Now go.”

Brown scrambles forward, leery of a second missile slamming into the now blocked entrance. Even though that danger exists, he needs to know if they can possibly dig their way out or if they are trapped inside. Neither situation is to their advantage. Their presence is obviously known, so if they do manage to dig their way out, they’ll be met. He can visualize helicopters parked in a hover outside with the weapons operator’s finger twitching on the trigger. His imagery also includes a company of troops ringing the mouth, all with weapons aimed, just waiting for anything to emerge.

The pile so completely covers the entrance that it not only blocks the exit, but also the far cavern. They’ve been completely sealed in. He’s able to work a few of the outlying stones from the edge, but quickly finds that the entire ceiling has collapsed. He tries a couple of other places with the same result. He sits back on his haunches, shining the light over the entire structure. The axiom “where there’s a will, there’s a way” has met its match with this one. He has the will, but without a crane or chinook helicopter, the way eludes him.

“Well, fuck it,” he mutters, making his way back to the fire.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asks as he draws into the firelight.

“Yeah, why?”

“Your head,” she replies, pointing.

Brown brushes dirt and small chips of stone from his face to find a dirt-encrusted stream of dried and drying blood seeping down the side of his head.

“It’s fine. It’s just my head; I’ve been told that not much can penetrate it,” he comments.

“I can believe that,” Hayward mutters.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Brown states.

“Uh, nothing. What did you find out?” Hayward asks.

“That’s what I thought. Well, if we were planning to go out the front, that option is now out of the equation,” Brown answers.

“Do you mean that we’re trapped in here?” Clarke asks, her expression worried.

“If by trapped, you mean that we aren’t leaving anytime soon via the way we came in, then yes,” Brown responds. “So, we’re down to two options. Option one: We wait here for someone to dig us out. If that even happens, and the odds are even on that one because, even if they tried, that bloody big hunk of stone is going to slow them down some…maybe by like ten years. And, if they do somehow manage it and we’re sitting here all fat and happy waiting for them, that could lead to a whole other set of problems.”

“And the second choice?” Hayward queries.

“We see where that fucking tunnel leads,” Brown answers, shining his light at the tiny crack in the rock near the back of the cavern. “Either way, we’re pretty screwed.”

“Does that even go anywhere?” Hayward asks.

“Down is about all I found out…and steeply, at that,” Brown states.

“It really doesn’t sound like we have much choice, do we?” Clarke comments.

“Not unless one of us can transform into a bulldozer,” Brown says, taking a moment to look at each of them. “No? I didn’t think so. So, gather your shit together and get ready to go.”

They each begin stuffing their packs, everyone pondering the situation. As each finishes, they turn toward Brown, waiting for him to signal the next move.

“Okay. We have four flashlights. I have no way of knowing how long each will last. We’ll explore as far as we can. If we go through two flashlights and still haven’t found a way out, we turn around and come back,” Brown briefs.

“And if that happens? What then?” Hayward asks.

“Then, Numbnuts, we’ll have to figure something else out, won’t we?” Brown replies, with Emily giggling at the numbnuts comment. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

At the small opening, Brown looks back at the group over his shoulder. “And, for fuck’s sake, don’t push or force your way forward. Wait until the person in front of you moves. The last thing I want is for one of you clumsy oafs to push me over a ledge. If that happens, I’ll rise from the dead and haunt you forever. Clarke, you follow me, then Emily, then Hayward.”

With a heavy sigh, Brown crams his large frame through the hole. On the other side, he stares at the steep downslope with a feeling of dread. If he could see where it actually ended, he would perhaps feel better about taking that first step. But, the beam of light quickly fades into darkness.

Perhaps it’s better that way
, he thinks, feeling Clarke emerge behind.

“If you slip and start falling, call out,” he whispers to Clarke, not sure why he’s talking quietly other than the situation and being inside of a hill seems to demand it. “That way, I can jump and have a chance of not being swept away with you. Make sure you pass that info back.”

“What? You wouldn’t try to stop my fall, or anyone else’s for that matter?” Clarke responds, incredulous.

“Yeah, okay,” Brown replies. “If it makes you feel better, you go ahead and think that. But, don’t be overly surprised if I give you a farewell wave instead.”

“Well, you don’t be surprised if I don’t give you any warning, then,” Clarke states.

“Fair enough.”

Turning back to the front, he gives a second heavy sigh in as many minutes. He finds a handhold, which is difficult with one hand holding the flashlight and the other grasping the carbine. He’s loathe to let the AR-15 go. If they do manage to beat the odds and find a way out, he might just need it. His thought with regards to taking it in the first place was in case they ran into some of the infected and had to fight their way out. Using it against any soldier they might encounter goes against his every grain and he doubts that he could bring himself to do it, even if it means the end of his life. However, the fact that he has others relying on him creates an internal conflict that he’s not sure will resolve itself until the first shot is fired…and maybe not even then. Plus, there might still be infected roaming outside of the city, so he keeps the weapon in his grip.

“Here, hold this,” Brown says, handing the flashlight to Clarke. “And for fuck’s sake, make sure you shine it around me so that I’ll be able see.”

“Is everything okay up there?” Hayward calls from the other side of the crack.

“Shut the fuck up,” Brown retorts.

“To conserve our flashlight batteries, keep the light on me until I secure my footing. Then you move, and then shine it back for Emily and Numbnuts back there. Pass the word to make sure they know what’s going on.”

With a free hand, he’s better able to secure a handhold and gingerly steps onto the downward ramp. The rocky floor is uneven, so he’s able to find a foothold, even though they’re little more than knobs of protruding stone. Each time he shifts to another one, his foot almost slips out from under him on the unstable surface.

“Dammit all to hell. This sucks,” he mutters, finding another handhold.

Slowly, they traverse their way down. With each step, Brown expects to see an end in sight, but the decline continues without change. As they proceed deeper into the hill, the air chills. If it wasn’t for the blanket he’s wearing, he’d be shivering. After what seems like a week of attempting to find one secure footing after another, he notes that the walls are becoming slippery. In places, small trickles of water seep out from tiny cracks. They transition from a gritty floor to a wet one, making each step even more treacherous.

After a long while of barely remaining upright, the floor becomes less steep. At first, he thinks it’s his imagination, but tiny pools of water begin to form. However, the wet, sloping tunnel still threatens to send him sliding downward into the darkness. In the dim light, Brown has to carefully test each stone on the floor. Several times he’s discovered that what he thought was solid stone was actually a loose rock. Ensuring he has solid footing, he hears a slight squeal of surprise just behind him and the light disappears.