The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End (23 page)

“So there’s a chance, then. Send a bunch of people into the bunkers, presumably to keep working the problem and hopefully finding a cure, and eventually we can come out and repopulate.”

Maxwell nodded. “That’s the idea, son. How well it works, and whether we have time to get all the bunkers done, is something we can’t control. But we can
try
, damn it, and that’s why we’re fighting; we cannot go quietly into this good night.”

“Dylan Thomas, sir?” I asked. “I never would’ve figured you for a poetry man.”

Maxwell chuckled. “I wasn’t always a grunt, Mr. Blake.” He noticed the others looking confused, sat a little straighter in his chair, and began to speak.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

“We fight to give them time to complete the bunkers, where we few may keep the species alive. We fight because we must. Any questions?”

He looked around and saw the set and ready faces around him; the faces of professional soldiers, ready to give their lives in defense of their country, as they’d been trained to do for years upon years.

“Good. One more thing, though. You are not cleared to discuss anything I’ve just told you with anyone outside this room. Clear?”

“Clear, sir!”

“Very well, dismissed. Report in one hour to the hangar for dust-off to Rawlins. Good luck.”

Rawlins, Wyoming

This is not going well
, I thought, tagging another walker in the head as Reynolds and I covered each other and moved down the hallway, back to back. “Seventeen!” I shouted over my shoulder as we paused for a moment to check ammo and take a breath. “This is insane!”

“Almost feels like a video game at this point, doesn’t it?” He replied, spinning and firing from the hip as a walker came through a glass door of the hospital. “Eighteen.”

“Yeah. I’m so damn sick of hospitals at this point.” I touched the mike at my throat. “Alpha Six, come in.”

“Go ahead.”

“We’re at a count of eighteen, here, and we’re almost done with this hallway.”

“Roger. Yours is the last for the first floor; Bravo and Charlie have cleared the other two, Delta has the perimeter locked down. Finish your sweep and report back to reception.”

“Roger, out here.” I stood, and nodded towards the last room in the hall. “That’s us, Tom. On 3?”

“Got it.” He maneuvered to one side of the door while I matched him on the other, keeping an eye on the long dark hallway as well. He knocked softly, and we heard a crash, followed by the moan we’d come to know so well. The rough scratching of dead claws at the other side of the door told us where it was, and I stepped back and covered the hall as Tom faced the door square on, raising his rifle.

The armor-piercing rounds punched through the hollow door as if it were tissue paper, and threw splinters of wood and plastic across the hall. We both held our breaths, listening for more sounds from the room, but there was only silence. I reached up and twisted the knob, throwing open the door at the same time I moved back. The walker had once been a young woman, from what I could tell, but the bullets had torn her head from her shoulders and splattered it across the room. We double-checked for stragglers, then jogged back down the hallway, headed for reception.

The rest of Alpha met us on the way, with Bravo and Charlie clattering down the steps moments after we arrived.

“Good work, team,” Kim said. “All squads, move out to the Strykers. AEGIS Actual, Alpha Six.”

Maxwell’s voice crackled on the radio as we climbed into the big vehicles. “AEGIS Actual, go.”

“Sir, we’ve finished our sweep of the hospital. Thirty-seven walkers identified, neutralized, and tagged for retrieval.”

“Good work,” the colonel said, knowing we could hear him. “Proceed to the high school and initiate containment procedures.”

“Yes, sir. On our way.” Kimberly turned to me. “We’ll sweep and clear the high school, then the junior high next door. Thank God he convinced the cops to order everyone back to their homes for safety.”

“I still don’t envy the man, though,” I said. “Not only does he have to work with those new teams, but he’s got that holier-than-thou bitch to deal with, too.” Kim raised an eyebrow at me, and I chuckled. “What can I say? I hate reporters.”

“No, ma’am, I cannot give you any more information than that at this time. As soon as I know something I can tell you, then I will. That’s all I can promise.” Maxwell gritted his teeth at the reporter from Cheyenne.

I’d rather be out there hunting walkers than dealing with this,
he thought.
At least with zombies you know what you’re dealing with. Okay, most of the time. This is why you get the big bucks, George.

“But surely general you can…”

“Colonel.”

“Colonel then,” said the woman, obviously exasperated with all things military and this puffed-up soldier in particular. “Surely you can tell us why the city is sealed off? Why we haven’t even been allowed to fly over it?”

Colonel Maxwell rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand.
This is going to be a real pounder of a headache
. “Ma’am, can I ask
you
a question?”

The cameraman stifled a chuckle as he focused on the colonel’s face. Maxwell glanced at him but said nothing.

“Call me Doris,” she said, missing the obvious annoyance in the colonel’s tone of voice. “Certainly you can ask.”

“
Ma’am
,” the colonel said. “Do you want to be sick? To spend the next month or so in quarantine, assuming you survive even the
initial
toxicity of whatever it is that’s causing this illness?”

“Of course not, but surely reasonable precautions can be taken to…”

“There are no reasonable precautions that I can allow
civilians
to take, ma’am. Civilians don’t have the training to handle a situation like this or the respect for danger that comes with it. USAMRIID, on the other hand, does have just this sort of training, and we’re working closely with the CDC to get this mess taken care of.”

He stepped forward and leaned towards Doris. “Now unless you’re volunteering to go into the city without the proper training or protection, then I suggest you get that camera out of my face and let me do my goddamned job.”

Doris blanched. “Uh, yes, colonel. You know where to find me if you have more information. Let’s go, Steven.”

“Oh, and Ms. Poole; one more thing.”

Doris stopped, back straight, and turned to the colonel. “Yes?”

The grin Maxwell gave her was calculated to instill the fear she suddenly felt. “If you or any of your colleagues attempt to enter the city through the perimeter without my personal permission, I will consider that a breach of quarantine, and you will join everyone else in town. Understood?”

All the backbone went out of the poor reporter as she nodded and left the trailer.

God, I hate reporters,
thought Maxwell.

She managed to make it back to the news van before she started laughing. Steven just looked at her and sighed. “What’s so funny, Doris? He was seriously pissed!”

“Oh, whatever. He was just grandstanding. No, I’m not worried about that. What’s funny is he was lying to us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Give me the disk, and I’ll show you.” He handed her the disk from the camera, and watched as she pulled up the footage from inside the command trailer. “What office did he say he was from?”

“USAMRIID.”

“Right. Now look at this.” She zoomed in, focusing on one folder lying somewhat askew in a stack of others. “See that symbol?”

“I can’t quite make it out. Looks like a gun and a castle of some kind.”

“Right. USAMRIID’s logo doesn’t look anything like this one. In fact, I’ve never seen anything like it before. I’m going to do some digging. Something’s fishy about all this.”

Steven just shook his head. “Doris, that’s not a good idea. Can’t we just report on what we know?”

She rounded on him, angry and raging. “You moron, reporting on what we know is never going to get us anywhere. You may be satisfied with that, but I’m not. And then that asshole Rick at the station couldn’t even give me a seasoned cameraman! If you’re going to stay in this job for very long, you need to learn a few things. I’m not going to sit behind a desk in the afternoon slot in some podunk little hick town for the rest of my life. This is my shot, and by god I’m going to take it.”

Steven sighed and held up his hands in surrender. “Sure, fine. I’m gonna go have a smoke. Just do me a favor and think about it again before you send that to anyone, ok?” He got up, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and opening the van’s door. “I’d hate to see you find out it’s nothing.”

When she didn’t respond, didn’t even turn his way, he shrugged and closed the door again, looking at the town beyond the military barricade as he lit up. He moved off into the trees near the road to answer a sudden and urgent call of nature.

He was only marginally startled when a soldier appeared in the trees nearby, camouflaged and blending in so well he’d hadn’t seen him, and he’d been waiting and watching.

“So?” the soldier asked him, his eyes scanning the trees closer to the road for potential interruptions.

The cameraman sighed. “She’s going to be a problem. Should I handle it?”

The soldier shook his head. “No. Just maintain cover; you’ll get exfil instructions.”

“Got it. Just wish I didn’t have to deal with that bitch anymore.”

The soldier grinned. “Don’t worry; no one will.” Suddenly he was gone, and the man Doris knew as Steven walked out of the trees. She spotted him, beginning another tirade as she marched over from the van.

God, I hate reporters,
he thought.

I looked down at the bodies, arranged in a line of half-closed body-bags; my squad rested nearby, on guard detail for the moment. Each of the men and women in those bags wore ACU, and all had two small holes in the middle of their foreheads. Soldiers, trained to destroy the enemy, but they’d become the enemy, instead.

Or would have
, I thought.
None of my team, though.
Somehow, that didn’t seem to help as much as I thought it might.

I looked up as Major Shawn Carver from Second Team approached. The squad came to attention, saluting.

“Never mind that,” he said. “Give me a sitrep.”

“Yes, sir. We’ve been ordered to guard detail, sir. Major Barnes and the rest of First Team are clearing the remainder of the junior high school now. We expect final sweep clearance within the hour, sir.”

“Good, good. Major Barnes is a good soldier; she knows what she’s doing,” he said, glancing at me.

“Yes, sir.”

He chuckled. “Well, we’ve only had one escape attempt, so I’d say the situation is fairly contained. Pretty boring, actually; I’d hoped we’d get some more action.”

I’m not sure what look I had on my face when he said that, but obviously it wasn’t what he expected.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, kid. I’m just as sad as anyone else about losing these fine soldiers,” he said, jerking his chin in the direction of the bodies. “I just can’t help but wonder if we could have avoided it with fewer people on the perimeter and more in the thick of it, as it were.”

I looked straight ahead. “Sir, I’m sure I can’t speak to the colonel’s force disposition choices, sir.”

Carver rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, Blake. I get it. You stay sharp over here. After all, we hardly need more bodies on the ground, do we?” We were startled as the automated .50 cal machine gun on top of the nearby Stryker rotated and began firing into the side of the junior high school, less than two hundred yards away. The rounds blew apart the old brick and mortar construction, and seemed to be tracking toward the corner of the building.

“Multiple targets acquired!” screamed the vehicle’s commander from inside. “Automated systems firing!”

As if we hadn’t heard the huge gun going off so close that it was painful just to stand near it. Of course, we had all hit the deck at that point and were looking for the targets. I spotted them coming around the corner, and my blood froze as I saw more ACU and booted feet from the cover of the Stryker’s side.