The Dead Series (Book 4): Dead End (29 page)

From behind him, Rick Styles asked tensely, “Anyone see anything?”

This was met by negatives, so he repeated the question into his radio. The other Jeep responded with a no, but this was no cause to relax. With numerous buildings for the dead to hide in, there could be a whole army of them within a hundred yards.

Pointing across the seat, he said to Stacey, “I would say your best bet is the Cessna 414.”

She nodded and replied, “That’s where I’m heading. We’re going to need to fuel it up.”

Remembering seeing the patrols going out to check on the location of the huge herd of Zs, a thought occurred to Steve and he asked, “Why don’t you use the plane for your reconnaissance? Wouldn’t that be an easier way to keep track of the dead?”

“We were doing that for a while, but there’s not enough fuel,” Stacey told him. “In fact, I’ve only got enough to get you to where you’re going. I’m going to take a quick look around the area on my way out, but after we get to Arkansas, I’m grounded for a while.”

Rick said, “We’ve been saving the last of the gas for an emergency.”

“And this qualifies,” Stacey added.

No one moved for a few minutes after the Jeeps rolled to a stop in front of the hangar, everyone’s heads rotating in all directions as they all searched the immediate area around them. Seeing nothing, they cautiously opened their doors and got out.

Rick motioned to the four men that had ridden in the second Jeep with Brain and Connie to cover him as he headed for a small door set in the wall of the hangar. He didn’t seem too concerned when he opened a chain lock securing it, letting Steve know that the building had been checked when it was last sealed up. Rick and one of his men disappeared inside, and moments later the huge hangar doors started rolling apart.

As sunlight filled its darkened interior, Steve could see a small helicopter and two single engine planes to one side. Beyond that, he could see the dim shape of another airplane that sported two engines. Although good sized, it didn’t appear to be big enough to carry all eight of them.

Seeing his look of concern, Stacey said with a slight laugh, “Don’t worry, it’s big enough for you and your crew. It’s even got a toilet. I would suggest going before we go because it doesn’t give you a lot of privacy.” Walking into the hangar, she added, “We’ve got to fuel this baby up, so no smoking for a while.”

Walking over to where the rest of his group was clustered around the first Jeep, Steve noticed the hangdog look on Brain’s face. He knew that his friend had wanted to stay in Fort Redoubt, but he still might need the technician. He had explained to Brain that he couldn’t force him to go but was asking him to see it all the way through. Brain had reluctantly agreed, but he didn’t look too happy about it.

Stopping next to Heather, Steve said, “No smoking, they’re gassing up the plane.”

“So we’re going soon?” Cindy’s small voice asked from the back seat.

“In a few minutes,” Linda answered her. “Then it’s just a short airplane ride.”

“I’ve never been on a plane,” Cindy said.

“It will be fun,” Steve told her as he forced a smile. He wasn’t sure how fun it would be since he had never flown in something so small, but he had to keep up appearances. He had always hated flying, but he knew that this was the fastest, safest way to get to Russellville. His worst experience flying was when he had crashed in a helicopter back in his Army days, and his best was getting so drunk before a flight to Los Angeles that he passed out and slept the whole way.

Wondering if anyone had any Xanax, he was interrupted by Rick asking him to give them a hand pushing the plane out. When they had wheeled the aircraft into the sun, Steve saw that it was bigger than he thought, but still too small for his comfort. Not that its size mattered. Big or small, sooner or later they all crashed. Fear rose up in him, and he started thinking of ways to make it to Arkansas by ground when he heard a whine.

The fear left him in a flash as he whirled around, bringing his rifle off his shoulder and into a firing position in one smooth motion. He stopped when he saw it was only Pep, leaving him wondering how he could be ready in a heart-beat to take on a legion of the dead, but scared shitless to fly.

“I thought we agreed to leave Pepper back at the fort,” he said as he lowered his rifle. The dog had been hidden in the back of the second Jeep, but with all the activity, she had stuck her head up to find out what was going on.

“Cindy wouldn’t go if she couldn’t bring Pep,” Linda explained.

From the back of the Jeep, the little girl called out stubbornly, “And I won’t. Pep is my dog. Where I go, she goes.”

Not having any experience in dealing with little girls, Steve turned away to gather his thoughts. This brought him into direct view of the plane, causing him to turn back around. His mind spun as to how to deal with the situations as he watched Pepper bound out of the Jeep and look around before spotting him. With tail wagging, she came over to sniff at him before walking over to pee on the side of the hangar. From the back seat of the Jeep, Cindy was crying softly. Everyone was looking at him with accusing eyes, since this was obviously his fault, and just then Rick called out, asking what they were doing standing around. He followed this up with a terse, “Tighten the hell up, man. You should have your people ready to get onboard already.”

Now I’m the bad guy, Steve thought ruefully.

Holding up his hands in surrender, he said, “Pep can go on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Linda asked.

“Someone needs to give me a Valium.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Washington, D.C.:

Through a fog of pain, General Eastridge listened to Captain Moore’s situation report. When he had first been hit in the hip, he had refused morphine since he didn’t want the drug to cloud his thoughts, but now he was reconsidering his decision. Waves of nausea brought on by his throbbing wound were causing him to black out at times, and when this happened, he was no help to anyone.

“We’ve taken the eastern section of the city, sir,” Moore told him.

“Dog town?” Eastridge rasped out.

“There are still a few hold outs, but we’re mopping them up right now,” Moore said.

Eastridge cringed inwardly at the phrase ‘mopping up.’ These were American troops they were talking about, not some half-assed terrorists.

“How many casualties?” the General asked.

After checking the notes in his hand, Moore said in a quiet voice, “One hundred and ten dead, with almost twice that wounded on our side. Casualties will be forthcoming about the Chairman’s people. It was a lot of hit and run fighting in Dog town, and we had to level a few buildings.”

Eastridge closed his eyes in pain, but it wasn’t from his wound. After a few seconds, he asked, “What about the Capitol building?”

“We had to level it, sir,” Moore answered. “The Chairman and his people went underground, so we’re trying to ferret them out. We’ve secured all the access in and out of the area by blocking the subways and walkways.”

“Is he in there?” Eastridge asked.

Moore nodded and replied, “We’ve intercepted radio traffic going in and out of the command bunker, so this is where he is, sir. The communiques are very disturbing.”

Eastridge made a ‘come on’ gesture, so Moore continued, “He tried to activate the US Strategic Command.”

This made Eastridge’s blood go cold. These were the men and women in charge of the nation’s nuclear weapons.

Having been told only five minutes earlier that he was to brief the General, Moore checked his notes again before continuing, “The good news is that they refused to answer him. The Chairman has all the codes, but I think when he called for a strike against Washington with a low-yield nuke, they saw the insanity of it.”

“Does he have the ability to fire them from the command center?” Eastridge asked, knowing that while the Chairman would be safe from a nuclear blast in his bunker, he and his men would be turned into radioactive dust.

“It’s possible, sir, but not likely,” Moore answered. “We managed to contact Strategic Command ourselves and received this answer.” Pulling out a slip of paper, he read, “During this time of upheaval and crisis, the Strategic Command has secured all nuclear weapons until such a time as a stable government is reestablished. All exterior commands have been bypassed, and all orders for the release of any weapons of mass destruction by anyone will be ignored. God bless America.”

Well, at least we don’t have to worry about being consumed in a fireball, Eastridge told himself. But what about all the other ordnance lying around out there? Even though the United States had banned chemical and biological weapons, this didn’t mean that they didn’t have them. Sooner or later, someone was going to crack open a bunker in East Corn Silo Iowa while they were looking for food or shelter. When that happened, they would either accidentally unleash hell on themselves and the local area, or they would find a Pandora ’s Box of death that they could use to carve out a fiefdom through threat of melting everyone’s skin from their bodies.

Shaking this thought away, Eastridge said, “What else?”

Captain Moore checked his clipboard again and continued, “The Chairman also called for a nationwide uprising at all military bases across the country. From what we’ve been able to gather, this order was also ignored. We received a few reports of shootings, but these were isolated. Intel says that it appears everyone is waiting to see what’s really going on.”

General Eastridge made a huffing noise and said, “They all saw the orders issued by the Chairman and knew what was happening, so it looks like they are on our side.”

“Or on their own side, sir,” Moore told him.

Eastridge nodded somberly as he realized that his plan to bring America back under cohesive leadership might have instead fractured it. The Strategic Command had taken control of their own facilities, so how long would it be before more bases, camps and forts did the same? It wasn’t like the chain of command had been looking out for their best interests by keeping them supplied with what they needed. And on top of that, their leaders were now going at it like two kids fighting over a shovel in a sandbox.

With determination in his voice, Eastridge proclaimed, “We can bring everyone back together, but first we need to establish some kind of leadership. To do that, we have to eliminate the Chairman. Once that’s been done, we can take control and release the supplies he was holding back for his world domination plans.”

“Supplies, sir?” Moore asked.

Eastridge nodded and said, “We have stockpiles of ammunition, food and fuel scattered across the country that we have orders not to release. The Chairman was hoarding them for use in his invasion of the Far East and Russia. They’re not huge caches, but they can be used to keep everyone going until we find a way to deal with the dead.”

Recalling something, Moore started flipping through the pages of his clipboard. With everything that had been going on at the time, he had mostly forgotten the incident. Stopping, he refreshed his memory as he scanned a sheet of paper for a few seconds before saying, “I remember this coming through. We also received a report from Fort Polk. They were in contact with a group that claims to have someone that is immune to the HWNW virus. I took the call myself.”

Excited, Eastridge tried to sit up. Wincing at the pain in his hip, he lowered himself as he grunted out, “What was the outcome?”

“I ordered them to make their way to the research facility in Arkansas by any means possible, sir,” Moore told him. Seeing the look of despair on the General’s face, he continued in a worried voice, “I didn’t know what resources we had under our control, and you were unconscious at the time. I took the call when we were storming the Capitol, so everything was pretty hectic. Is it important, sir?”

Knowing that the Captain had no idea what was going on, General Eastridge said, “It’s very important.” Seeing the crestfallen look on his aide’s face, he continued quickly, “But it’s not your fault, you didn’t know what was going on. Now, we’ll just have to do the best we can to clean it up. This was the only contact with this group?”

“That was it, sir,” Moore said.

Gathering his thoughts, Eastridge said, “I need you to get in contact with Fort Polk. Have them get back in contact with this group and find out exactly where they are. Then, I want you to use every asset at our disposal to get them safely to the research facility in Russellville. I don’t give a damn if it’s by helicopter, plane or mule train. Just get them there. When they arrive, they are to contact the commander of the base, Major Cage, and only him. I also need you to send a message to Cage to expect them. The Captain knows to pull out all the stops to bring them in.”

“Anything else, sir?” Moore asked.

Pointing toward the direction of the Capitol building, General Eastridge answered, “First things first. Before you get on the horn to Polk, I need you to blow that son-of-a-bitch out of his bunker so we can get on with this thing,”

Bell airfield, Jasper, Texas:

After handing the last of the backpacks through the hatch to Heather, Steve stuck his head inside and looked with trepidation at the interior of the plane. With the sun shining through the windows to light up the earth tone seats and bulkheads, it appeared inviting, but his thoughts were that it looked like a tube-shaped coffin. Using any excuse to delay the inevitable, he turned to see if there was anything else that needed to be done before he climbed on board. Noting that their packs had been loaded and everyone else was already seated inside, he realized that the only thing missing from the airplane was him. Spotting Rick Styles coming toward him, he felt relief at the reprieve.