The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning (26 page)

Ennis just looked at him but didn’t respond. Marjorie, for her part, was staying out of it, content to hold the president’s hand while she listened.

“Right, so we don’t know exactly what happened. That’s the bad news. I only know as much as I do because my skipper at the time was a little loose lipped on my sub, the
USS Texas
. When everything went to shit, he went a little off the rails.” Graves remembered for a moment everything that had happened all those years ago, thousands of miles away, down in the dark and the cold and the wet.

He shook his head to clear it and continued. “Anyway, the reports we received indicated that your chopper had crashed on the way to Bunker Five in Pennsylvania. The wreckage was pretty bad, sir, and there were no survivors. Everyone thought you were dead.”

“But you weren’t, at least not completely,” Marjorie said. “You somehow managed to crawl out of that busted-up chopper and get yourself found by me and Darnell. I patched you up as best I could, and here we are. The coma, though… I honestly don’t know. You were running a high fever when Darnell brought you in that day, and you had a big ol’ bump on that noggin of yours. Maybe you hit your head, and when you came to, you started to remember. Maybe your body just shut itself down to recover. We’ll probably never know exactly why the coma happened.”

“Do you remember anything, sir?” Graves asked.

Ennis shook his head and looked out the window. “Not much. I get flashes sometimes, but it’s dark. I’ve been trying to remember, and thinking back to those days, but most of the time, nothing comes to me…” He stared out of the window and struggled to recreate his past.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Pardon me, ma’am,” Graves said. “You patched him up? How did you… That is, you’re…”

“Blind? You can say it, Admiral. I wasn’t always without my sight. Twenty-five years ago, when I found this man wounded and bleeding on the side of the road, I could see enough to do what needed doing. Me and my boy got him back to my house, and I did what I could. I was an RN back then, so I knew what I needed to know to keep him alive. Darnell helped.” She paused and sighed. “Wasn’t till later that I lost my vision completely. It’s called macular degeneration.”

Graves nodded. “My grandmother had that. I’m familiar with it. My condolences.”

She shrugged. “It is what it is. Life plays merry hob with us sometimes, and we can either roll with it or let it knock us out. I’m much more of a roller.” She grinned, and Graves couldn’t help but respond in kind.

“I’m glad you’re both so cozy with each other,” Ennis grumbled with a slight grin. “But if we could get back to me for a second…”

Graves nodded, sitting up straight. “Yes, sir.”

“You said I was the president ‘as far as I’m concerned.’ What did you mean?”

“Well, sir, Vice President Marnes took over as acting president when you didn’t arrive in the Bunker and made it permanent later. Part of the ongoing ‘state of emergency.’ He’s been ‘in office’ ever since.”

“I could almost hear those air quotes, son,” Ennis said with a chuckle. “You mean to say he’s been the president for more than twenty years?”

“I’m afraid so, sir. That’s not on him, though. At least not completely. Hasn’t really been any way to hold elections.”

“Marnes… I think I remember him. Short, nasty little fellow?”

Graves smirked. “That’s him, sir.”

Ennis leaned forward, one hand on his temple. “Wasn’t there something about him and the secretary of defense? Didn’t they do something? I can’t quite remember…”

Graves scowled. “Yes, sir. They were collaborating with the monster Gardner to weaponize zombies, sir. Use them as combatants, even air-drop them if possible. At least General Maxwell believed so and had some evidence.” Graves paused and continued in a softer tone. “You yourself ordered both Gardner and the secretary arrested, sir. I believe you would’ve done the same to Marnes, had your chopper not gone down when it did.”

“And what happened to them? Gardner and the secretary?”

“The secretary of defense never made it out of Washington, DC, sir. There were… complications during his transport to a holding cell.”

Ennis raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the point. “And Gardner? I don’t remember what he did.”

“Well, sir, you’re better off if that’s the case. You don’t want to know.” Graves smiled, his normal warm grin replaced with a cold, calculating rictus. “Gardner got what was coming to him, sir.”

Ennis shivered at Graves’s tone and demeanor. “Okay. So, to sum up, I’ve been dead for twenty-five years, but not really, and the guy who was my VP now runs the country.”

“Yes, sir, that’s an accurate assessment.”

“So that leaves me with just one final question, Admiral.”

Graves nodded. “What the hell are my men and I doing in Pennsylvania?”

“That would be it, yes.”

“We should speak in private, sir.” Graves nodded in Marjorie’s direction.

Ennis didn’t so much as twitch. “Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of this woman. She saved my life, Admiral. She has as much of a right to hear it as anyone.”

“Yes, sir. I’m here because Gardner was just the tip of the iceberg.” Graves sat back and considered how to phrase what he had to say. “I know you like summaries, Mr. President, so here’s the gist of it. Bunker Four is now ruled by a madman, one of our own former personnel. This madman, Malcolm Dagger, has developed a method for weaponizing the zombie prion itself, not just the walkers, and has tested it against two other bunkers. Bunker Six, in California, is empty. Wiped out. Everyone there is dead. Bunker Nine got buried under heaps of Mississippi dirt because it’s full of nightmares created by Dagger. We call these super zombies Driebachs, after the name of one we were able to interview.”

The president started to speak, but Graves held up a hand. “Respectfully, Mr. President, if you can hold your questions, there’s more. The remaining bunkers and I believe that Dagger intends to or already has infiltrated Bunker Five. We believe he’s going to do this in an attempt to blackmail the other bunkers into doing whatever he wants. Intel said he’s going to threaten the launch of one or more nuclear missiles using the launch codes available to him in Bunker Five. That or launch more Tomahawks with prion payloads, likely against civilian targets this time.”

Ennis stayed quiet and waited for Graves to continue.

“Mr. President, the Bunker Council sent me to take Bunker Five and secure those launch codes. Not only so that Dagger can’t use them, but also so that we can.”

The president’s eyes widened. “Wait, you actually
want
to launch the missiles?”

“Well, yes and no. We only want to launch two of them. Specifically, two missiles armed with ‘bunker buster’ warheads, and only against the Driebachs in Bunker Nine.”

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“Not as much as you’d think, sir. They’re precise weapons, and these have undergone continual maintenance since Z-Day. They’re on my sub, the
Texas
. They should do the job with minimal collateral damage. But whatever ramifications there are, they’ll be far, far less awful than letting thousands of Driebachs out into the world.”

“Are they really that bad?”

“Worse.”

“Any humans still in that bunker?”

Graves shook his head. “Not that we know of, sir, but I’m afraid it doesn’t matter. Even if they’re holed up somewhere inside the bunker, there’s no way out for them now. Not after we collapsed the entrance. They’re dead already—if there are any of them alive, anyway.”

“There’s no other way?”

“There may be a way to set off the bunker’s self-destruct system remotely, and our technicians are working on that, but if not, this will be the only option, sir.”

Ennis sighed and looked out the window as he ran a hand over his chin and the scraggly beard he’d grown after being asleep for months. “It’s a helluva thing, Admiral.”

“I agree, sir.”

“No, I didn’t mean the missiles. That sounds like a well-thought-out plan by you folks. What I meant was that it’s a helluva thing waking up from a long sleep and finding yourself starting to remember things from more than twenty years ago, not the least of which is that you’re the president of these here United States. That’s a lot to deal with, and now this…”

Graves nodded. “I understand, sir, and I wouldn’t normally have bothered you, but this is kind of a big deal. I actually wanted to sort of ease you into the decision-making process, sir, but there just isn’t time. I want to say it’ll get easier, but it won’t. There are a lot of hard choices to make in the next few months, sir.”

“Talk like that only makes it harder. Makes me want to crawl back into my bed and pull the covers over me. Same thing you would do, ain’t it?”

Graves remained silent and refused to take the bait.

“I’m not the president any more, Admiral. I’m just a man.” Ennis sat forward and rubbed his hands together, elbows on his knees. “I wouldn’t even know how to be president now.”

Graves shook his head. “With respect, sir, that’s not the case. Though I’ll grant you that the situation is unusual, I’m sure if any were left, we could find some Constitutional lawyers who’d argue that you’re still the president. I think our current situation is a bit beyond anything the Founding Fathers envisioned anyway. To top it off, Marnes is clearly unfit for office, and now that you’ve been found alive, he should step down anyway.

“We can get you back to civilian life once the crisis is over, and we’ll hold elections or whatever, but now is not the time for that. We need a leader, sir. A leader people my age remember. Someone our military folks will respect and take orders from.”

Ennis grunted, ceding the point to the younger man. He looked up at the admiral. “Do you know what happened to my wife? My children?”

“My understanding is that they made it safe and sound to the bunker during the evac on Z-Day, sir. I would assume that they’re still there.”

The trio remained silent as Ennis continued to look out the window at the folks going about their business in a small town. After a long moment, he sighed and turned back to the admiral. “What do you need from us?”

“I’m glad you asked, sir.” He pulled a small notebook from his pocket and opened it. “I’ve got some notes here…”

Staging Area
New Salisbury, Pennsylvania

Jackson looked up as Graves walked into the temporary HQ tent that the Fleet forces had set up. Concealed in heavy pine forest from prying eyes, it was invisible to anyone who didn’t know exactly where to look.

“How we looking, Jack?” Graves asked and glanced around the tent to find everything in tip-top shape, as he expected from his XO. “Everything good to go?”

“Yes, sir. Roving patrols, a pair of scouts out working their way to the bunker, and we’ll have comms to Bunker One in a few moments.”

“Excellent.”

“Sir, who was that back there?”

Graves turned to the younger man, surprised. “What do you mean, ‘who was that?’”

“Just that, sir. I have no idea who that man was.”

He sighed. “Sometimes I forget how young you are,” he said. He looked around at most of the men in his unit. They all were or were close to the same age as the commander. “I forget how young you all are.” He paused for a moment. “That man was—is—the president of the United States, Ennis Norman.”

“No shit, sir?”

Graves chuckled. “No shit. As far as you and I and our unit and the rest of the smart folks go, he’s still the president too.”

“What about Marnes, sir?”

“Fuck Marnes,” Graves said as he glowered at the commander.

Jackson nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Now get me Bunker One.”

“Right away, sir.”

Graves only had a moment or two to take in the view of the spectacular Pennsylvania woods before O’Reilly notified him the connection was ready to go. He moved back inside the tent and sat down in front of the comm gear.

“Papa Bear, this is Baby Bear. Do you read me, Papa Bear?”

There was silence. Then a voice came through, one Graves recognized as David Blake’s. “This is… ahem, this is Papa Bear.” The man was clearly trying to stifle a chuckle. “Go ahead, ‘Baby Bear.’”

“Har har har. Tell your wife I get to pick the codenames next time.”

“You bet. What’s your status?”

Graves lowered his voice, not wanting any would-be spies who might have made it through the perimeter to overhear him. It was enemy country, after all. “We’ve got a situation here you need to be aware of. Mockingbird is alive. Say again, Mockingbird is alive.”

Silence was the only response, and it was long enough that he was about to ask if they needed to re-establish the link when Blake came back on the line. “Sorry, Baby Bear, can you repeat? Mama Bear is now listening.”

“Say again, Mockingbird is alive. He’s impaired, though. Severe memory loss. Even so, he and the locals were able to give us some useful intelligence. We are still a go for the op. Mockingbird is on-board with our original plan in all respects.”

The response this time came from Kimberly. “What’s your estimate on mission go?”

“We need to confirm some of the intelligence, map out some routes, a few other things. Give me three days?”

There was a long pause. “Roger that, Baby Bear. Three days is good. We’ll contact you again when everything’s set on our end.”

“Acknowledged, Mama Bear. Baby Bear out.”

Graves sighed. “Next time, I get to pick the code names. Let’s get started on this intel and surveillance. We don’t have much time.” He glanced out the tent flap to the northwest and Mount Davis, invisible from his present position. He could feel it weighing on him, pressing him downward, threatening to roll over him like Sisyphus’s boulder. One day, he’d be free of all this.

But for now, Graves sighed again and turned back to the small table. “Let me see those maps, Jack.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mount Rainier National Park
25 miles east of Joint Base Lewis-McChord
Washington