Refuge From The Dead (Book 1): Lockdown (5 page)

CHAPTER 6

Michael drove to work, desperately trying to ignore what was happening. As he exited town, there was something ominous in the air. Turning down Bishop Valley Road, there was an unusual amount of traffic. Normally, the small community of a little over a thousand people would have a few random folks out and about, maybe a sheriff’s deputy coming through occasionally. Not today, though. There was an unusually high amount of traffic in the small community. There was a mass exodus happening, and Michael had a sneaking suspicion as to why. The virus, as far as he could tell, was making the rounds through the news and social media, infecting all that it touched with a sense of urgency and panic. The virus itself was doing far more damage online than it was to the people actually infected with it. From what Lindsey had told him, it was highly contagious but ultimately harmless as near as they could tell. The government didn’t seem too concerned with it, at least as far as he could tell. There would be a sign up at Black Mountain before too long, asking if anyone had symptoms associated with the virus. Visitation would be the most affected, only happening on weekends. There were far more people turned away for less legitimate reasons than an infection.

Uneducated people watch too much TV, and this is what happens. They believe all that stupid shit on Facebook, and call their equally ignorant relatives and friends. From there, the number of panicked ignoramuses grows exponentially until one of them decides to hit the road or raid the local grocery store for “essential supplies.” Once that first person goes to Food Lion to buy ten cases of water, the masses follow.

On the other hand, it could be the end of the world. Maybe I’m just too cynical to realize it,
Michael thought.
No, it’s all those damn prepper shows. All those people that think the Yellowstone Caldera is going to explode any day now, or that guy that thinks that next year’s flu season will be the end of humanity. Those people are the ones responsible for the panic. They think that since they are prepared, they have some insight to what is actually going to happen out in the world, when in reality, they don’t know shit. Just let the grass-eating natives have their panic.

Twenty minutes later, Michael was pulling into the parking lot at Black Mountain. Compared with the previous day, there were quite a few vehicles missing. Other than the state vehicles – vans and couple Crown Victorias – there was maybe another dozen or so cars and trucks. It was commonplace for a lot of the COs to carpool, but with the call-ins, he expected that wasn’t the case. They were short several staff members, and most of the office staff parking was vacant as well.

Michael grabbed his duty belt once again and headed towards the admin building. The prison looked nearly abandoned from the outside. The only signs of life that he could see were the officers stationed in Black Mountain’s two towers. There was almost no sound, no movement, nothing to indicate that behind the locked doors and the fences waited nearly a thousand convicted felons.

“Kinda creepy, ain’t it?” Ryan Helton said.

Michael had been so caught up in taking a gander at the prison that he did not hear his friend and co-worker walk up behind him. Michael turned and smiled at Ryan.

“Now I know there is some shit going down,” Michael said, extending his hand. Ryan met it and shook it quickly.

“How’s it hanging, Caine?”

Michael snickered. “Short, shriveled, and always to the left, Helton.”

Ryan’s tone changed quickly. “So what in the hell is goin on around here. It looks like a damned ghost town around here. Something ain’t right about all this, Mike.”

Michael absently looked around. “I know what you’re saying, brother. My wife was called in to Bluefield Regional ER right before I was called in here. There’s a shit-ton of traffic in Bishop Valley and a generally shitty atmosphere to everything. That about sum it up?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. Your wife, she knows about this virus shit going around?”

“Yeah, she said there are some cases at Bluefield Regional. If that shit is at a small West Virginia hospital, then you know it has to be everywhere else, too. Between the shit going on here and all that crap on the news, it looks like a full-blown panic is about to ensue.”

Ryan turned towards the admin building entrance, waving Michael to follow. “Well, on the up side, we are in one of the most secure buildings in the entire state. The down side is that it’s filled up with a bunch of convicted felons.”

“This is true. What do you think?”

Ryan held the door open for Michael. “I think that we need to make plans to get your wife and daughter someplace secure if the shit hits the fan.”

“You really think that it will come to that? Having to hole up somewhere?”

“I don’t know, buddy. But it’s getting a little weird out there. Best to have plans laid out before it gets any worse.”

“Weird? How?”

Ryan approached the front search desk, and then turned around to face Michael. He lowered his voice. “I’ve got a CB in my truck. Now, it doesn’t reach out very far – only about thirty miles or so – but I have heard all kinds of panicked calls on in asking for help and talking some seriously crazy shit. Like horror movie worthy crazy shit.”

Michael laughed humorlessly. “What kind of crazy shit?”

Ryan stepped forward, his voice nearly a whisper. “Like dead people coming back to life. That kind of crazy shit.”

Michael couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit. “This ain’t
Dawn of the Dead
, Ryan.”

Ryan frowned. “Well it sure as hell sounds like it on the CB. You know that traditional news media isn’t going to have that kind of thing on TV. It would go tits-up real fast around here if it did. I doubt even Fox News would cover the apocalypse, Caine.”

“All right, let’s say that you’re right and the end of the world is upon us. What should we be doing right now?”

Ryan shrugged. “Not sure. I don’t have a wife and kids to think about, but you do. I would give your wife a heads up and have a plan to get somewhere safe.”

Michael gestured around him. “Like you said, this is the safest building in the state.”

Ryan pointed a finger. “No, I said it was the most
secure
building in the state. It is by no means
safe.
”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Ryan.”

“You’re right. Let’s go talk to Captain Winston and see what is going on around here. Maybe they have a plan for this kind of thing.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You think the emergency plans for here involve the dead rising? I kinda doubt that, Ryan.”

“No, but the emergency plans for here have everything we need to know about the continuity of government and the services available to the prison. If things have gotten this bad this fast then something tells me that we might be on our own for a while.”

Michael nodded and followed his friend inside.

The dead coming back to life…

Shit.

CHAPTER 7

The entire prison was on lockdown. No movement, no inmates outside of their cells, nothing. While that may seem like an easy night, it was far from a cakewalk. Michael had an idea that a lockdown might be in order, but it just added to the sneaking suspicion that he and Ryan Helton shared. That suspicion was confirmed when the two men walked into the Watch Commander’s office.

Captain Winston sat at his desk on the phone. When Michael and Ryan came inside, he waved them to have a seat. Captain Winston was dressed in khaki pants, a black polo shirt, not the usual navy blue pants, and gray shirt that made up the DOC uniform. He was somewhat out of uniform, including a black tactical vest. The khakis and vest were compliments of Black Mountain’s Tactical Services Unit, or TSU. TSU was to the prison what a SWAT team was to a police department. They were called in when a hostage situation arose, or when a facility was in danger of being overrun or attacked. They were the best of the best in the DOC’s arsenal. The fact that TSU was ready for something to go down did not sit well with either man.

Winston had a reputation for being straightforward, if a little blunt. He certainly had the demeanor of a salty drill sergeant. Two tours in Iraq, one in Bosnia, and countless other missions that could neither be confirmed nor denied were in his portfolio. Winston was no stranger to missions involving life and death. During his dozen years in the Navy, he’d seen a lot of shady shit, but he’d also seen the best that a man could offer. His job as a SWCC – Special Warfare Combatant-Craft Crewman – was just below Navy SEALs in the hierarchy of military badassdom. He spent the majority of his career picking up SEALs from hostile environments. Half his career was spent taking enemy fire, so he was no stranger to returning it if necessary. An older man than what he looked, Winston was by no means “old.” While most of his adult life had been spent in the military, he had started early and retired before hitting forty. That was eight years ago, but he was still two years shy of fifty.

Captain Winston hung the phone up and ruffled his hair. He hadn’t slept much in the last few days, and it was starting to show. A five o’clock shadow, bloodshot eyes, and unkempt hair complemented his haggard look. He blew out a long sigh.

“No nurses, no counselors, and now no supervisors. It fuckin’ figures,” Winston said to no one in particular. He looked up to the two men standing before him. “Let’s see. Caine and Helton, right?”

“Yes, sir,” both men said simultaneously.

“All right. I know that you boys are new here and you are working overtime, so I’m going to make it easy on you. The two tower officers that are up there have been on duty for fifteen hours now. If you guys can relieve them, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Michael nodded. Tower officer – while somewhat boring – was a very easy assignment. All you had to do was make sure that no one made it over the fence, and if someone did, shoot them. Pretty cut and dry. Michael had qualified at the top of his class, along with Zachary Grant. The two men tied for top honors at the academy, with each one only missing three shots out of sixty with a handgun, and neither missed with the 870MCS or AR-15.

“Can do, sir,” Michael replied.

“Sweet. Make sure you have your weapons cards and head to the armory. I will issue your 870 and AR-15. Normally, you would take over the long guns on post, but we are doing a thorough cleaning and need those weapons cleaned,” Captain Winston said, arranging some paperwork.

“Sir, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what is it, Caine?” Winston said, not bothering to look up.

“What is our emergency plan for this virus?”

Winston stopped and looked up. “You guys, too? We have to keep this place going, no matter what. Anything short of the end of the world means that Black Mountain State Prison keeps on keepin’ on.”

“At the risk of sounding stupid, sir. What then?” Helton asked.

“What then, what?”

“Sir, we have reason to believe that there is more to this virus than what is being reported. I have heard several calls on the CB saying that there is some weird shit going on out there. Caine’s wife works at Bluefield Regional ER, and he said they have been treating plenty of people with this virus. People are leaving town in droves and there have been reports of the dead returning to life,” Helton said. “The fact that you’re geared up for a TSU mission doesn’t do much to take away from the fact that there is some serious shit going down outside the walls of this prison.”

While he hadn’t heard the effects of the virus, Captain Winston was unsettled by the mention of it. Half the shift called in and five others had to be taken to the hospital from being attacked by inmates. While it didn’t seem to add up, the dead returning to life was farfetched to say the least. He waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t believe anything you hear and only half of what you see. TSU is on standby because of this virus shit. We have to get hold of every person we can, including TSU. I don’t doubt that this virus going around is causing some major fucking problems with everyone, but having the dead return to life seems a bit…what’s the word…
fucking stupid
. Don’t you think, Officer Helton?”

“A little, yes sir. I’m not one for believing conspiracy theories, but…” Helton started.

“Then I don’t think there need be mention about fucking dead bodies returning to life. That shit is borderline grounds for getting your ass fired. Now, go to your goddamned post before I write you up!”

“Yes, sir,” Helton replied.

Michael was already trying to get Ryan out of the Watch Commander’s office when Captain Winston snapped at him. Ryan turned to follow his friend back out to the armory.

“What the hell was that for, Ryan? You trying to get fired?” Michael asked.

“Dude, I’m telling you there is something going on, and I only hope that it isn’t too late before you start believing me.”

“When I see a dead fucker waltz up to the fence and try to get
in
to prison, then I will believe you. Until then, can we just get our long guns and get to the towers?”

“Yeah, I suppose. At least we will be armed when they get here.”

Michael frowned. “When who gets here?”

“The goddamned walking dead, Caine.”

“Seriously, Ryan? Who are you trying to convince?”

“Just take your cellphone to the tower with you, just in case,” Ryan pleaded.

“You know we will get fired if they catch us up there with a cellphone.”

“Yeah, I do. But I would rather risk that than be in the dark about what is going on in the outside world. Keep an eye on social media. Facebook and Twitter will blow up if this shit is for real. If we don’t hear anything by tomorrow morning, then I will back off. Until then, keep an eye on things in the outside world. If I can get a break from the tower, I’ll check my CB again. There’s more to life than working in a goddamned prison, anyway.”

“All right, dude. But if the shit hits the fan, then what? We can’t just walk out of here, even if it came to that.”

Ryan shrugged. “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it, I suppose. Do you have anything here? Like, supplies or anything?”

“My overnight bag. I’ve got a change of uniform and toiletries, mostly travel-sized stuff from Richmond, and my water bottle. All that stuff is in my range bag. Not much else aside from that.”

“Well, I’ve got my range bag and some leftover clothes from the academy. We got anybody else here tonight? Anybody with training outside of DOC?”

Michael let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his head. “What about Grant? Is he working tonight?”

“Yeah, he texted me a couple hours ago. Didn’t get much sleep, but he said he was coming in to help cover for the injured guys. I talked to Poston down at BCC, he’s going in, too. They’ve had a shitload of call-ins.”

“Yeah, I heard. Sent five of our guys to the hospital, a couple of ‘em got bit on the hand.”

Ryan planted his hand in Michael’s chest. “Wait, what? Bit?”

“Yeah, some of the new inmates bit a couple of them. That’s why they sent ‘em to Bluefield Regional.”

“Michael, the people on my CB kept saying something like ‘don’t get bit’ and ‘don’t let them bite you.’”

“This is starting to sound more and more like an episode of
The Walking Dead,
Ryan. Dead people coming back to life? People biting other people? Come on, man. I know this virus is some seriously bad shit, but damn.”

“Michael, just humor me, all right?” Ryan said, pleading.

Michael rubbed his face. “All right. Let’s go get our long guns and get to the tower. We can discuss this later. Just call me on the phone in the tower, don’t use your cellphone after dark. If they see the light up there, we are both gonna get fired.”

“Okay, just keep this in mind – whenever shit hits the fan, the news always says ‘be prepared for the worst,’ whenever that message starts changing to ‘don’t panic,’ well, you know what’s coming.”