The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End (43 page)

Another click, and another slide, this one of row after row of warehouses. “This is the problem. There’s over a million square feet of warehouses, sheds, and other storage areas at the terminal alone. The Navy boys managed to lock it down so no one’s getting in or out, but that still leaves a lot of ground to cover. Commander?”

Anderson stood up as another slide appeared, showing the overall strategic action map. “We’ll be using four teams for this op: 1
^st
, 2
^nd
, 5
^th
and 8
^th
. I’d like it if we had more, but the other teams are at other incursion sites. We’ll go in small — by twos or squads, working fast. That doesn’t mean we take chances, but we’re going to be light on boots with this one, and we need to make every minute count.

“Eighth Team will be assisting the on-site Naval personnel with securing the perimeter, as well as helping with the screening. We’ve got a med team en route already to help with that, but they’ll need backup, and 8
^th
has gone with them. They’ll also pick up the walkers at the hospital and make sure no one there has been infected. Hopefully, by the time we touch down, most of the civilians in the port will have been screened and we can get them out of there. Lights!

“All yours, sir,” he said to the general, resuming his seat at the briefing table.

Maxwell looked out at the soldiers in the room.
Thirty-five men and women to search a million square feet of warehouses. This is insane.

“Alright, men, you know your jobs. You’ve trained for this. You’re ready. All the same, this is deep shit. I want your heads right, your game faces on. No fuck-ups, or the
last
thing you’ll need to worry about is a walker getting to you. Clear?”

“Clear, sir!”

“Good. Now grab your gear and report to the airfield on the double. Dismissed.”

Warehouse District, San Diego, California

It felt good to be back in action, on the ground against my old foe once more. I knew that was crazy, but I’d been asleep for more than a month. Anyone was liable to be antsy after that.

“Will you calm down?” asked Kimberly. “You’re making me nervous.”

We were huddled against the wall of the warehouse, our backs resting against the cool metal. Fluorescent light glared down from the fixtures overhead, but it never seemed to penetrate everywhere, leaving small pools of shadow here and there.

I chuckled and took a few deep breaths, slowing my heart rate. I felt like I’d had a whole pot of coffee, without the pleasure of actually drinking it. I turned to take up guard position as Kim shook her head and called in.

“Alpha Six, east section clear.”

“Roger, Alpha Six.” Commander Anderson was controlling the op, and his voice sounded tinny and strained.
Probably needs to get some sleep
, I thought. “Proceed to checkpoint three.”

“Acknowledged.”

Kim nodded and we moved to the north-eastern edge of the warehouse, clearing the door there and proceeding to the next warehouse over, where we began another sweep. Other duos were clearing other buildings, so we didn’t worry that we’d left something behind us. Anderson knew the search grid, so we left it in his hands.

“Eaton, Gaines, status?” asked Kim as we moved down the rows of stacked merchandise. Dalton and Rachel were both supposed to be in this building as well, clearing it from the other side, working both ends against the middle.

“On site, sir. Beginning sweep now.”

“Roger. Reynolds?”

“Angelo and I are about halfway done with our sweep, sir. Ames and Turner are on the east side.”

“Roger. Six out.”

I stopped and crouched at the end of the current row of whatever it was in these boxes, and looked at Kim. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“What, that Ames and Reynolds in the same building is a recipe for disaster?”

“Yeah, that.”

“They’re professionals. They can handle it.”

I scowled. “Tom is. Ames isn’t.” I sighed. “I guess there’s nothing for it, though. Let’s get this finished.” I hefted the SCAR and cleared the left side as we continued on.

Tom will just have to take care of himself on this one.

“Contact left.” A soft whisper from Eaton. Dalton looked and didn’t see it right away, but remained still, and eventually spotted it. There was no way that guy was still alive, despite the fact that he was walking around. “Two tangos.”

Shit, there’s another one on the ground. Must’ve been a snack for the other.
He went to one knee and sighted in on the mobile one. A sound like a muted cough, and it was just more dead flesh.
Highly contagious dead flesh, but no longer a walker, and that’s all that really matters.

He moved up a few feet until he had a clear shot and took out the other one as well. “Alpha Six, two tangos down.”

“Roger, continue your sweep.”

“Acknowledged.”

He was turning back to Rachel when he saw it. She was looking in his direction, smiling at him, instead of keeping watch. Otherwise, she would have seen it, too. He didn’t even have time to shout a warning, just brought his gun up and fired at the walker that was coming up behind her. The flash of fear and surprise that crossed her face was etched in his mind as his bullet struck the walker in the cheek, taking out the right side of its head and sending it flying backward.

Eaton ducked out of pure reflex as the shot went past and she felt it brush her collar without being slowed in the slightest. She rolled away from the walker, coming up facing it, gun ready. She knew she should be shaking, but she didn’t care why she wasn’t. All that mattered was that she was alive, and so was Dalton.

She turned back to him just as he reached her, lifting her in a crushing bear hug. “Can’t… breathe…” she managed to choke out, and he put her back down.

“Are you ok? Did he get you? Let me do a splatter check…” He began looking her over, searching for even the smallest drop of blood.

Under other circumstances, I’d welcome this much attention. Now, though, it’s not helping.

“I’m fine, D. Really. Let’s move out.”

“Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Carry on, soldier. That’s an order!”

He snorted, and moved to the next row as she reached for her throat mike and spoke. “Alpha Six, one more down. Clea-”

It wasn’t so much the bite that hurt, it was the knowledge that something as simple as that was all it took to end… well, everything. Her life, her plans for marriage, all of it.

“Fuck!” she shouted, slamming her weapon into the zombie’s gut, feeling its teeth tear a scrap of fabric from her ACU sleeve. “You son of a bitch!” She didn’t remember switching her SCAR to full-auto, but the stream of bullets she unloaded on the walker was evidence enough.

She didn’t know Dalton could move so fast, but he was by her side — or at least so it seemed — in less time than it took her to blink.

“What happened? Where did…” She saw his eyes catch on the ripped uniform, and he stared. “No,” he whispered. “No.”

Picking her up, he moved to the center of an aisle, where the light was brightest. Ripping the rest of her sleeve from her uniform jacket as though it were tissue paper, he carefully inspected the wound. It was clear even to Rachel that the bite had gone through the fabric and the skin. The teeth marks were clear, but it was the blood that mattered. Bright red. Flowing. Her blood.

Infected blood.

She looked up at Dalton, who had broken out his first aid kit and was swabbing the wound with what appeared to be enough anti-bacterial, anti-fungal, and anti-viral meds to kill a small village full of diseases. At least he had remembered to put on gloves. She ran her free hand over his cheek, smiling sadly, and reached for her mike.

“Alpha Six, Eaton. Code white. Repeat, code white.”

Dalton stopped what he was doing for a second, but then shook his head and continued. She could see his tears falling on her arm as he fought to resist the truth of what had happened.

“Ack…” came the halting reply. “Acknowledged. We’re on our way. Stay there.”

“Roger.”

Tom looked over at Angelo Martinez, his partner in the next warehouse over. “Did I hear that correctly?”

Angelo swore in Spanish and nodded, once. “
Si
.”

Now it was Reynolds turn to swear. A minute, then two, and he got himself under control.

“What now,
hermano
?” asked Martinez. “Do we go to them?”

Reynolds debated the idea for a moment, but his military training took over. “No. Nothing we can do for her now, anyway. Barnes will handle it. Let’s finish the sweep.”

“Roger.”

They moved off into the warehouse, checking row after row of boxes. There were some offices on the other end, but Ames and Turner were taking care of those.

Why couldn’t it have been that homophobic asshole, instead? Why did it have to be Rachel? What the fuck is wrong with this world?

He continued down the row to the end, where he signaled Martinez to hold.

“Contact right,” whispered Martinez. “Friendly.”

Tom glanced in that direction and noticed Janet Turner exiting one of the offices.
Ames has gotta be close. Might as well give them some cover, just in case.
He motioned for Martinez to scout the next row, and indicated he would cover Turner and Ames. Angelo nodded and moved off as Tom took up position to cover the others.

Fuck this,
thought Ames.
This little bitch thinks she’s hot shit cause she’s seen more action than I have. I’d like to show her some action…

He was following Turner, checking every other office in a staggered clear operation, a standard method for small offices like these, especially when time was of the essence. He knocked and opened the door when he heard nothing from inside the room. Unfortunately, the blinds on the office were down, so he couldn’t just look inside.

Who the hell puts blinds on an office window that’s inside a warehouse? Dumbasses.
He glanced around the room, noting the closet in the corner but not bothering to open it. No blood, no walker. Next!

He left the room, crouching as he took a slug of cool water from his CamelBak reservoir. Noticing movement across the way, he saw Reynolds take up a position at the end of a row, looking to his right at Turner as she exited an office. He raised his SCAR, looking at Reynolds through the scope. It was then that the realization hit him.

This is it. I could take out that bastard faggot now, claim I thought he was a walker and I shot to defend Turner. No one could argue that.
He heard the voice of his father again, ranting and raving about all the evils of the world, chief among them all the “
homo-sex-yuls
” taking over. He didn’t even notice his finger tightening on the trigger, his aim correcting to take Reynolds in the head.

Suddenly, Reynolds glanced his way and did a double-take as he saw the rifle in Ames’s hands pointed at him. Reynolds responded by training his own rifle on Ames, aiming through his own scope.

Son of a bitch! That asshole has the same idea!

Time seemed to slow for daddy’s boy Eddie Ames as he saw the muzzle flash from Reynolds gun, and he squeezed off a couple shots himself as he dived forward, rolling and coming up in a crouch, still aimed at Reynolds, who was now ducked behind some boxes. One of Reynolds’ fingers crept up above his cover and pointed twice to where Ames had been.  A cold chill ran down Ames’ spine.

With uncontrollable nightmare slowness, he turned to look behind him, expecting to feel the sharp bite of a walker at any moment.

Instead, he saw one lying on the ground with its head missing, the brains and other remnants sliding down the window with the blinds he’d been so pissed off about earlier.

Holy…
He couldn’t finish the thought. Turning back, he saw Reynolds glance out from cover, then move more fully into the light, his rifle trained square on Ames, who swallowed hard.

Pointing his weapon straight up, Ames looked at Reynolds and nodded once, in thanks. He could see the other man hesitate, then lower his weapon and nod as well. Both men moved to join their partners, a catastrophe avoided.

“Any chance she’s wrong?” I whispered to Kim, glancing at Rachel.

“None.” Kim leaned into me for a moment, and I thought for a second that she was going to break. I should’ve known better. “She… she’s done, David.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of another friend lost land hard on my shoulders. And she wasn’t even really gone, yet. That made it so much harder. Just that one smallish bandage on her arm and the missing sleeve to indicate anything was out of the ordinary.

Nothing will ever be ordinary again.

“Who’s it going to be?” I asked her in a whisper.

“I’ll do it,” she said. To her credit, it was without any hesitation.