The Dead Series (Book 3): Dead Weight (5 page)

Nodding at Jones to continue,
he listened as the Lieutenant said, “We were playing hide and seek with them for hours. The radio antennae broke off about a half an hour into the patrol, so we had no way of calling it in. We’ve spent the whole time just trying to make it back here. We didn’t lose anyone, but it was close. Had to give a few of them a brain buster when we were creeping through the woods, sir.”

Cage nodded at the slang the men used for sneaking up behind one of the dead and shoving a knife in at the base of
its skull and up into the brain. It was the best way to dispose of them without alerting any others that might be around. It was a silent way of killing the dead and was supposed to be used only in situations of extreme noise discipline, but Cage knew it was also how they initiated new men into the unit. Newbie’s were sent out by themselves and had to make a kill in this way before they were accepted into a squad. The nose or ears were taken from the body to prove they had done it.

“Got even worse news, sir
,” Jones continued. “We had to circle the whole compound trying to find a way in, and we ran into Z’s everywhere. Before, they were only on two sides of us, but now we’re surrounded. It’s almost like they’re waiting for something. We watched them milling around like they do, but this was different. They kept looking at the compound and moaning as if they were in pain.”

Cage raised an eyebrow but said nothing about this new development.
He noticed that the men and women around him were listening intently to Jones report and decided that until he figured out what was going on, the less said the better. Rumors flew around every day, ranging from word they were being relieved, all the way to the United States was folding under the onslaught of the dead, and he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

“Situation normal then,” he told Jones loud enough for those close enough to hear, “everyone on the face of the Earth is surrounded. Write it up and bring it to my office.” In a lower voice he added, “Don’t talk to anyone about this until we get a chance to figure out what’s going on. Tell everyone in your squad to keep their mouths shut too.”

Jones nodded and got to his feet. Gathering his m
en, he headed into the compound.

After ordering the guard around the perimeter doubled
and the power to the fence cut, Cage dismissed the extra troops and headed for his trailer. As he walked, he contemplated the situation they were in and decided it couldn’t get much worse. Supplies were coming in slowly, if at all, and the scavenging teams had to go further and further each time they went out to find essentials like gas and food. That was one of the reasons they only charged the fence when it was needed. On top of that, the report he’d read that morning stated that the fight for the Dead Cities was at a standstill, and this was accompanied by an order for him to transfer twenty of his people to New Orleans to assist in clearing that city of the dead. The life expectancy for this duty was calculated in hours instead of days, so it was the same as signing their death warrants.

The burden of command
weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Rounding the corner of his trailer
, he found a young Lieutenant waiting for him. Cage remembered his last name was Randal and noticed the man’s face was drawn and hollow. No surprise since he was in charge of bringing in test subjects for study, and the attrition rate of his platoon had been over sixty percent in the last month. When Randal had first taken command they went out on a weekly basis. Now they were now going out daily to collect four or five of the walking dead for study.  The doctor running the research into the HWNW virus had stepped up his experiments to find a cure for the HWNW virus, and now everyone was working overtime. Cage had his doubts that Dr. Hawkins was really looking for a cure, but kept them to himself.

After exchanging
salutes, he was told that his presence was requested at the farmhouse at 0600. Ever formal, Randal saluted again and turned to go, but Cage stopped him by asking, “How are you holding up?”

Lieutenant Randal wasn’t actually part of Cage’s command since he reported directly to Dr. Hawkins
, so it would have been entirely in his right to ignore the question, but he stopped and seemed to deflate slightly. A worried look crossed his face and he seemed to hesitate before answering.

“As good as can be expected, sir.”

Cage had been trying to get the Lieutenant into a conversation for weeks about what went on at the farmhouse and had only been met with stony silence. Finally seeing a wedge in the officer’s armor, he quickly said, “Command can be tough. We’re in a situation that no one’s ever dealt with before. We lose men on a weekly basis and that can be hard. If you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open.”

The
Lieutenant nodded at the offer and opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He was a graduate of West Point, where honor and duty had been drilled into him. This, coupled with the secrecy of what they were doing at the farmhouse, stilled his tongue.

“
I’m good, sir,” he replied as the blank expression returned to his face.

Cage
saw this but decided to give it one more try. Knowing the Lieutenant’s background, he said, “At the Point they taught you all kinds of things that don’t hold much weight when you get out in the real world. I know you’re under orders not to talk about what happens at the farmhouse, but that doesn’t mean you can’t talk about what you’re going through.”

Randal’s face softened slightly
, so Cage added, “I walk the perimeter every night at 0800. Feel free to join me.” Not wanting to push too hard, he added in dismissal, “Tell Doctor Hawkins that I‘ll be there at six. Have a good day, Lieutenant.”

Randal saluted and spun on his heel after it was returned.

As Cage watched him disappear between two tents, he wondered if the Lieutenant would show up.

***

Jones looked down at the map of Russellville spread out on Cage’s desk before pointing to a spot near Interstate 40. “This is where we saw the latest group of Z’s coming our way.” Tracing a route that led around Lake Dardanelle, he added, “We followed them all the way to where the road starts up Mount Nebo but had to break off contact when it got too hairy. The woods here are full of Z’s, and we almost lost Teasdale when three of them came out of nowhere and tried to take him down. We headed back here and spent an hour trying to find a way in. I’d say we’re facing over six-thousand spread out evenly all the way around the perimeter, sir.”

“What was
it you said earlier about them looking at the compound and moaning?” Cage asked.

“It was weird, Major,” Jones said. “Usually they make that whining noise
, but this time they were moaning like they were in pain. It was really freaky. I’m not sure what’s going on but it seems like they’re attracted to the base and repelled by it at the same time. We know they’ve learned to avoid anything that will destroy them until they gather in numbers big enough to overwhelm it, but this is different.”

Cage nodded in agreement and said, “I noticed when your team came in that only a handful
came after you. That in itself is odd. Those things seem to have learned some restraint until they see meat on the hoof, and then they’re all over it. There should have been fifty or sixty coming after you, despite being so close to the base.”

“Think they’re massing for some kind of attack like they did in the big cities, sir?” Jones asked.

Cage shrugged. “There are enough of them out there now to run right over us if they hit the compound in one spot. We should be good as long as they stay spread out, but if they congregate, we could be in trouble. Something triggers them, but no one’s figured out what it is. Like when they came up from the sewers in San Francisco. We’re going to have to keep a close eye on them.”

“Double the patrols?” Jones asked.

“Vehicle recon only,” Cage ordered. “From what you’ve told me, foot patrols are too dangerous. I’d like to do a constant motor patrol, but we don’t have the fuel for that right now. Instead, I want one of our Humvees to do an entire circuit of the base every hour. That should give us plenty of warning if the Z’s start to gather in one spot.”

“I’ll set up a schedule and have the first one going within the hour, sir,” Jones assured him.

Cage picked up a clipboard from his desk and said, “While I have you here, I want to go over the supply situation. We’ve got enough diesel fuel to run the generators for another ten days at their current output. We did get a fuel bladder delivered the other day, but I’m not counting that in the total since I’m going to hold it in reserve for the fence. I know the scroungers are doing their best, but you’ve got to push them a little more.”

Jones nodded. Since being promoted
, he had taken command of the two platoons that went out in search of supplies.

“The food situation is a little better than it was
, but we both know that can change,” Cage continued. “We’re in this for the long haul, so I want you to check around with the men and see if any of them were farmers. Spring is coming and we can plant crops to supplement what we have coming in from Fort Chaffee.”

Jones
was surprised by this but didn’t comment. He knew supplies were coming in erratically, but he didn’t think they had gotten that bad.

As if reading his mind, Cage said
, “We’re not even close to eating our shoelaces, so don’t worry. I just want to be ready for whatever might happen. We can set up a couple farms far enough away so the Z’s won’t congregate there. We have no problem getting in and out of the base by vehicle so they can get them there to do whatever it is farmers do.”

Flipping through the papers on his clipboard, Cage continued, “Ammunition is becoming a problem. From now on I don’t want anyone engaging the Z
’s unless they’re a direct threat. We’ve been promised a delivery of 5.56 mm, but who knows when that might be. The good news is that Fort Chaffee is now a Dead Free Zone, and they’re planning on opening the airbase in Little Rock soon.”

“So we’re winning?” Jones asked.

“It’s give and take,” Cage replied. “We retook San Diego and Minneapolis but we’re stalled just about everywhere else. The big question is whether we can hold what we’ve got.”

Looking out the window of Cage’s office at the farmhouse, Jones asked, “What about Doctor
Frankenstein over there, he come up with anything, sir?”

Cage laughed and asked, “Is that what the men call Hawkins?
”

Worried he had overstepped his boundaries
despite the relaxed atmosphere of their meeting; Jones stiffened and said, “No disrespect, sir.”

Cage waved this off and said, “Between you and me, I don’t know what in the hell is going on over there. I’ve been trying to find out
, but they play it really close to the chest. The last conference Doctor Hawkins held was some kind of half-assed dog and pony show, and it sounded like they haven’t made any progress in finding a cure.”

Checking his watch
, Cage said, “Speaking of which, I have to go over and meet with the good Doctor in about ten minutes. Get the patrols out and issue orders about not engaging the Z’s unless they’re a threat.”

Jones replied, “Yes,
sir,” and got up to leave.

As he reached for the doorknob, Cage said, “I put a lot on you
, Jones, but I know you can handle it. If everything goes to hell, we need to be self-sufficient, so start thinking about what we need if we get completely cut off.”

“Is it going to get that bad, sir
?” Jones asked.

“I don’t know,” Cage answered. “But I don’t want to get caught with my pants down.”

***

A
s he approached the farmhouse from the rear, Cage eyed the doors covering the coal chute. He recalled an earlier conversation with Lieutenant Randal about how they dropped the specimens for Doctor Hawkins down the chute and shuddered at the thought of what horrors the basement might hold. Giving it a wide berth, he could still smell something rotting and rancid as he circled around it and entered the front door.

One of Randal’s men was sitting at a desk
in the foyer and stood to attention when he entered. After exchanging salutes, Cage told him, “I’m here to see Doctor Hawkins.”

The corporal p
icked up a list from his desk, scanned it and replied, “I don’t see anything here, sir. In fact, Doctor Hawkins gave explicit orders that he is not to be disturbed. It must be some kind of mix up.”

Cage f
elt his anger rising at this waste of time and started to tell the corporal to get Hawkins on the phone when he was interrupted by a female voice saying, “It wasn’t a mistake. I asked for you to come.”

He
turned and saw a woman wearing a lab coat standing in the doorway of what used to be the parlor. In her fifties, she was slightly hunchbacked, with blond hair turning a steel grey. Confused as to why she, and not Hawkins, had summoned him, Cage said, “And who are you?”

“Doctor Connors,” she introduced herself. “I’m in charge of finding a cure for the HWNW virus.”
Spinning on her heel, she said, “Come with me, please.”

Confused, Cage
said, “I thought that was Hawkins’ job.”