Mortal: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (34 page)

As if reading his mind she said, “Why am I here?”
Slowly—enunciating each word.

“I won’t lie to you,” he answered. “The thought did cross my
mind.”

“I have something I want you to see before you
leave
,”
she said.

“Did you find the flight recorder?”

“No. Jedi One-One was a complete loss.”

Good
, thought Cade. Then, deciding to turn the tables
and go on the offensive, he said, “I need to ask a favor from you before I
leave
.”

She furrowed her brow and shot him a look that implied it
was going to cost him. “Go on.”

“Let me start by saying that you already know that we don’t
need to play this quid-pro-quo game any longer.”

Nash crossed her arms and swiveled her chair so that her
upper body was facing away.

Noticing the body language which screamed,
I don’t like
where this is headed
, he stroked his ample goatee and said, “If you need me
for a worthy cause, a game changer that’s on par with Slap Shot—if you locate
the missing nukes for example—then I’d move heaven and earth to help find them.
But we don’t need to continue this charade of chit redemption any longer. We’re
both above that.”

“And Brook?”

“She’s squared up with you and Shrill so let’s leave her out
of this.”

There was an uneasy silence finally broken by the faraway
rumble of thunder.

Nash swiveled her chair around. Placed her hands palms down
on the desk blotter. She looked Cade in the eye and said, “What do you need?”

Cade regarded her hands which shook with a slight palsy.
Then he noticed that her fingernails were chewed on, bloody around the
cuticles. With downcast eyes he said, “I know how far back you and Tice went.
And how closely you two worked together when the CIA was running black-ops out
of Bagram. And I’m sure you’re still coming to grips with how he died. Hell, I
know I am. Fucking freak accident like that. It’s all still so fresh. And
that’s why I hate having to bring up his name in your presence.”

“But?” said Nash.

“I need you to look into the after action reports from the
Jackson Hole mission.”

“What the hell has that got to do with Tice?”

“I gave away his sat-phone to a friend who was a great asset
to us on that op. I need to know its number so I can contact him on it.”

“The Daymon kid?”

“You read the report?”

“Yes. And if I remember correctly, you indicated in the
report that Tice lost the phone.”

“Means to an end. Tice had nothing to do with the omission
... lie, whatever you want to call it. He was a good operator. For a spook.”

Nash smiled.

“For what it’s worth,” added Cade. “I’m sorry.”

“Is this Daymon guy the reason you’re leaving again?” asked
Nash, shaking her head subtly.

“In a roundabout way. He’ll be at the place where I’m going.
Plus there is another guy there who I owe a great deal of gratitude to. He
helped me reunite with Brook and Raven. They’re both holed up in a compound in
Utah with some others.” Cade paused, thinking. “It’s somewhere near Eden, which
is outside of Ogden.” He passed her an envelope with the GPS numbers scrawled
on the outside. “I figure me and Brook and Raven can stop off there and
resupply and recharge the batteries. Maybe pay it forward a little, helping
them fortify their defenses while we’re there ... if they’ll accept my help.
Pretty self-sufficient group of folks from what I’ve seen so far.”

“So we’re talking about people who were mere strangers to
you three weeks ago”—she flipped open the laptop sitting to her right, powered
it up, and cast a steely gaze across the desk—“and that’s where your allegiance
lies now?”

“No, Freda. Like always, it begins and ends with my family.
And I don’t think I need to impress the importance of family upon you.”

Nash grimaced. “No you don’t, Cade Grayson. No you don’t,”
she said, voice wavering. “I wish I had balls the size of yours three weeks
ago. If I did then I would have dropped everything at once and commandeered a
bird and went cross country and rescued Nadia. Hell, California was a shitshow
all up and down the coast, but the area around USC wasn’t that far gone when
the Joint Chiefs stopped issuing orders. I could have done something for her
without repercussions. I should have lifted a finger. But I didn’t. I was
caught wearing two hats. One of a worried mom and the other of a patriotic Air
Force lifer. We both know which hat I discarded.”

“Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, Freda. If you knew how bad
things were going to get out there, I’m sure you’d have been on that plane.”

“I did know, Cade. I had a bird’s eye view as the largest
cities in China fell. I called around looking for her but got no answer. Should
have left then ... but didn’t. Then I watched the voracious dead march across
the border and set India on fire with the Omega virus. Then there was the
limited nuclear exchange between them and Pakistan. Kashmir was no longer the
issue ... it was the twenty million infected Indians storming across. Russia,
the U.K., France, Germany, they fell like dominos. I still didn’t lift a finger
to find her.”

A flash of heat lightning winked outside the window,
illuminating the dusty horizontal slats behind Nash’s head. A tick later
thunder boomed and crackled, the clouds overhead colliding like runaway freight
trains.

Nash took a deep breath and said, “As long as we’re coming
clean”—the look of curiosity reappeared on Cade’s face—“let me tell you what
really happened after the crash. It’s been eating away at me.” She cleared her
throat. Dabbed a tissue against her eyes, wiping away the tears, then went on,
“When the satellite finally came on station over South Dakota—”

Cade interrupted. “Draper,” he said.

“After One-One missed two radio checks and went silent, I
thought the worst. Shrill went the other way, chalking it up to comms failure.”

“He always has been a glass-half-full kind of guy.”

“At any rate, we agreed on one thing. We both decided to
focus on recovering the Osprey and the scientists who were the sole reason we
went into Canada in the first place. They don’t get back here, then there’s no
chance of replicating Fuentes’s antiserum.”

“Agreed. So you called off the Hercules after hearing their
description of the wreckage. Is that the decision you made?”

Nash said nothing.

“I hope so, because it was the correct decision. I’m going
to put myself in your shoes,” said Cade. “Jedi One-One had been radio silent
for some time. You’re waiting for your satellite window to open up, but before
it does Dover brings Oil Can Five-Five on station. Is that correct so far? Am I
leaving anything out?”

“Correct,” said Nash, averting her eyes.

“And when the Herc picks up the burning wreckage and saw no
obvious signs of life and then the sat feed also confirmed this, which was
because we were already on the move, you took that available intel and made a
hard and fast—albeit difficult—decision to have Oil Can RTB.”

She grimaced. Said, “Correct.”

“Major, you made the right call so stop beating yourself up
over it.”

“No,” she said shaking her head. “If I would have turned the
Osprey around right away they would have heard the dustoff call and General
Gaines might still be alive today. Hell, I passed on a second chance to turn
Ripley around when Oil Can called in the smoke. She could have put the Rangers
aboard her bird on the ground and they would have seen the obvious signs that
you fought your way out of there. Then Ripley could have aided Oil Can in the
search and extracted your team and Hicks wouldn’t have gotten bit.”

There was a long silence.

“I let you all down.”

“Shoulda, coulda, woulda ... didn’t. Can’t change the past.”

“I keep repeating it though.”

Cade shook his head. “First off, Oil Can didn’t receive the
dustoff ... our radio was roached. Secondly, we’re all gonna die sometime,
Freda. Some sooner than others.” He could see that though the decision Nash had
made could never be reversed, the inner conflict it started was still waging a
hot war within her, its collateral damage broadcast on her features. Her brow
was tight and her eyes bloodshot. Her jaw had a Mount Rushmore set to
it—granite and unmoving. He said, “I fucked up too. It was my call to destroy
the Ghost in place. But it had unintended consequences ... drew more dead in
from the interstate, forcing us to leave the scene. So my decision was the
reason your satellite found no proof of life.”

There was another long silence.

“I accept all of the blame for leaving the crash. My
decision.” He fished the envelope containing his captain’s tabs from his pocket
and placed them on the desk top.

Nash made no reply. She looked at the envelope. Looked at
the laptop screen, then her gaze lifted and settled back on Cade.

The look directed his way was one he hadn’t seen in a great
while. He could almost hear the gears clicking in her head.
Here it comes
,
he thought. He was certain a question he’d been dreading was about to be hurled
his way.

“How did the Ghost go down?”

There was no hesitation on Cade’s part. He held his gaze
locked to hers and said, “Engine failure. Due to bird strike. Just like it says
in the AAR—after action report—I had Davis deliver to you.” Though it was a
half-truth, he felt bad using it on Nash. She’d always been aboveboard with
him.
And then there was one
, reverberated in his head. Ari had suffered
enough loss. That it all happened during a time of war absolved him in Cade’s
mind. Couldn’t fault the Night Stalker for wanting to keep his edge.

“Engine failure, and that high above South, Dakota—”

“Draper,” said Cade interrupting.

“Whatever ... he couldn’t recover?” said Nash with a raised
brow.

“I’d strap into a bird with him at the controls any day.”

 “Ringing endorsement,” Nash said cryptically. “Be careful
what you wish for.”

Cade made no reply.

Nash added, “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t ground either
Ari or Dover. I wanted to but we can’t afford to have anybody on the sidelines.
And that’s why I hate to see you go. But I understand. I really do.” She picked
up the phone, and after a second or two had a conversation with someone on the
other end of the line, telling them to bring the files pertaining to the
Jackson Hole mission and a trio of encrypted sat-phones.

“Thank you,” said Cade as soon as Nash placed the handset on
the cradle.

Swiveling the laptop around so that the monitor faced him,
she tapped the enter button which started a video playing and said, “No ...
thank
you
.”

***

Once outside the major’s office, phones in hand, Cade
thought hard about what he had just witnessed on the laptop screen. Part of him
was happy how it went down. The other wished it wouldn’t have been so cut and
dried. Either way, he thought, game over.

***

Nash closed the laptop with enough force to produce a
satisfying snap. She leaned back and gazed at the photo taken on the first day
of college of her and Nadia in much better times. Sane times. Happy times. Then
a tear traced her cheek and she looked away, settling her eyes on the blotter
in front of her. She studied the GPS coordinates for a moment, then picked up
the envelope Cade had left her. She could feel through the paper something flat
and square that intrigued her. She found a letter opener, sliced one end of the
envelope, and dumped its contents on the desk. And once again, gazing at the
Captain’s tabs laying there on the blotter, it hit her that Cade Grayson was
leaving the fold again.

Eden Compound

After one night sleeping underground, Daymon thought he was
going to go insane. Being housed in the cramped Conex container with Heidi
alone would have been barely tolerable considering his mind’s near-inability to
process the crushing feelings of claustrophobia. That he and Heidi were cooped
up with Jenkins and Tran made the ordeal register just one step north of hell
on his comfort meter. What with Jenkins farting and Tran whimpering and crying
out with pain every time he coughed, sneezed, or rolled over, the odds were
very low that he could make it through another twenty-four hours without
murdering one or both of them.

So he arranged the surplus wool blanket so that it covered
Heidi entirely, threw his legs over the bunk’s edge, and searched the floor in
the dark for his headlamp. He worked it over his dreads, cinching it tight.
Flicked it on and ran the stark white beam over the floor, found his boots
where he’d left them. Rounded up a shirt and the black cargo pants which were
getting a little ripe and needed replacing, pulled them on and strapped on the
9mm Beretta that Duncan all but insisted he wear at all times. Careful not to
jostle the love of his life, he pulled the Carhartt tee over his dreads, laced
up his boots, and made his way towards the door, being mindful that its
top-notch fell about forehead-high to him.

Hearing the usual sounds coming from his left flank, he
swept the lamp’s beam over Tran, who was in a deep REM sleep, eyes twitching
back and forth beneath slack lids. He ducked his head and held his breath
transiting the airspace near Jenkins, who was snoring away on the bunk above
Tran.

Thankful he’d given the hinges a shot of WD-40 before
turning in, he swung the plate door open and stepped into the connecting
container. He flicked off the headlamp and navigated the compound by the light
cast from the overhead bulbs. Noting the steady purr of the entombed generators
and a rustle of movement from one of the other living spaces to his left, he
passed by darkened store rooms and the armory, then took a right where he ran
into Phillip sitting in Logan’s usual spot, under a dim cone of light, the
remnants of an MRE scattered on the desktop in front of him.