The Dying of the Light: Interval (21 page)

She laughed. “It’s not every day your wife comes home drunk on whiskey and smelling like a cigar factory, I guess?”

I chuckled. “No, not exactly.”

“I’m sorry, David.”

“It’s OK.”

“No, it isn’t. When you didn’t answer, I should’ve just come home.”

“We’ll have lots more chances for romantic dinners, babe.”

She turned in my arms, looking up at me with those deep green eyes. “We will, won’t we?” She asked it like a question, as though she wasn’t sure. She broke away, moving to sit on the couch, her feet tucked under her. “I learned something today.”

I sat down on the chair at the end of the couch, taking one of her hands in mine. “Oh?”

“Have you heard anything recently? About people being unhappy?”

“No, not really. I mean, people talk, but…” I gave it a bit more thought, and realized that it seemed as though I had heard more than a few people talking. More than the usual bitching, too. “Although, now that you mention it…”

“I think it’s bad, David. I talked to some people tonight that told me it’s much worse than either of us thought. We’re insulated—outsiders because we’re in command. They don’t want us to know, and so we can’t fix the problems. But we have a
major
problem. People are bored.”

I knew what she was driving at, right away. “And when people get bored, they get antsy. And that… well, that’s just a recipe for even bigger problems. So, now that we know, how do we fix it?”

“I have an idea, but I’m going to need your help. We need to get everyone working for a goal, again. I need to talk to Dr. Westman and the other shrinks, get some ideas from them on how we can move forward with a treatment, but I think I’ve got an idea. Give it a listen and tell me what you think?”

“I’m all ears, babe.”

“Good, because when you hear this, you’re gonna think I’m even crazier than I actually am.”

I doubted it, but I listened anyway. As it turned out, she was right.

I glanced over at Kim as we sat in front of the governor’s desk. Cool as a cucumber, like there was nothing special going on, Kim sat there unperturbed as the woman in charge of all of our lives looked over her very dangerous plan. I would’ve been a nervous wreck. I
was
a nervous wreck, and I’d only been involved in the last few steps of writing it up. It was crazy to send a group outside the bunkers at this point, even though it was just to look for supplies, but it was also necessary to give the men something to do.

It didn’t help that Daniel was sitting in the corner, just waiting to be useful. Even now, ten years later, he still gave me the creeps. Not because he was a bad guy, but it just wasn’t
natural
to be that quiet all the time. I looked at the one concession he had made to society, the wedding ring on his finger. The matching ring on the governor’s left hand shone as brightly, and I didn’t even want to think about how
that
had happened.

“I see you’ve got Dr. Westman’s vote,” said the governor. “Anyone else?”

“Yes, ma’am. If you look there, you can see that nearly the entirety of the medical staff advised that something like this needed to be done, and in fact, Dr. Westman indicated that he’d proposed several ideas himself.”

“He has. I rejected them as too dangerous.”

“But Governor—”

Gates raised her hand, bringing Kim’s protest to a stop. “I haven’t said no, Colonel.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Any civilians in this plan?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kim said, and Gates frowned.

I jumped in. “Ma’am, no civilians outside the bunker. They’ll be needed here to catalog inventory, find out what we need and to help store it once we return. We’ll also need most of the aircraft mechanics just to get the Skycranes back to flying condition.”

Gates looked surprised. “They’re not in flying condition now?”

I shook my head. “They’re in what is called ‘storage’ condition, ma’am. It’s minimal maintenance, designed to preserve the parts long-term. Oil is drained, some parts removed, etc. It’s like cleaning and oiling a gun you don’t intend to fire for a long, long time. Most of the aircraft and vehicles were put into storage mode, since no one thought we’d need them for twenty years or so. The Blackhawk and Stryker being obvious exceptions, of course.”

Gates laid the folder on her desk, and put her chin on her clasped hands, eyes closed. I’d seen her do this from time to time, and knew she was thinking hard about whatever decision she was going to make. I took this as a good sign.

“How long would it take to implement? To get everything up and running?”

“A month. Two, tops,” said Kim. “Daniel can tell you, the buzz going around about this is good—”

Gates eyes snapped open and speared Daniel in his seat in the corner.

Daniel, for his part, looked completely unfazed. “I reported the rumors to you last week, Angela. Your exact words were ‘Don’t bother me with rumors, Daniel.’”

Kim and I glanced at each other, but were careful to keep our amazement off our faces. Neither of us had ever heard Daniel refer to the governor as anything other than ‘ma’am’ or Governor. A grin, quickly covered, crept over Kim’s features, and I struggled to keep a similar one off of my own.

Gates sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. “That’s the problem with an assistant that has an eidetic memory,” she said, and smiled. “Even the worst of us deserve a little human forgetfulness.”

Daniel said nothing, but smiled slightly. I’d never seen so much as a smirk from him before, and Kim and I looked at each other again.

Well, well, well
, I thought.
He has feelings, after all. The governor has been good for him
.

Gates went on, “You wouldn’t be able to use all of the soldiers; we’ll need some stationed here, just in case.”

“Yes, ma’am. But Gunny Rains has trained five hundred-plus security personnel, and we can draw from them. We’ve got more than enough guns, though we’re lacking somewhat in ammunition.”

Gates smiled. “Gunny Rains has really come through for us, hasn’t he?”

The rest of us smiled, too. Gunnery Sergeant Milford P. Rains had come out of retirement to lead the training of what he had often called ‘the sorriest bunch of low-life, shiftless, no-talent scum this side of Creation.’ Now numbering just over five hundred strong, the security force of Bunker One looked on the man as though he were God. Or, at least,
a
god.

Gates sobered quickly, though. “How is it possible that we’re running low on ammunition? I thought practically all of Level Two…”

“Eight years of nearly constant attacks have dwindled our reserves, ma’am,” I said. “We need more. If I had to guess, I’d say we’ll run out in about a year, maybe eighteen months if Beoshane starts back up again.”

“And where will you get it? What about the other supplies?”

Kim answered quickly. “Our first priority is to get over to Joint Base Lewis-McChord and see what’s left. There’s likely fuel, maybe some ammunition, who knows what.”

“That may be a problem, ma’am,” said Daniel. “Highly-refined fuel, aviation fuel in particular, doesn’t last forever. Properly sealed and maintained, it
might
have lasted this long and still be usable, but there’s certainly no guarantees.”

“It doesn’t really matter, Daniel,” Gates said. “We need to get people doing
something
. Even if it’s something that ultimately doesn’t work out like we hoped. And we’re all assuming Beoshane hasn’t taken over the base, too.”

“Well, yes, we are assuming that, ma’am,” said Kim. “I don’t think it’s likely he’d have everything, though. It’s a big base, and unless you knew what you were looking for, you wouldn’t find most of it. Fortunately for us, we have the layout in the military database.”

Gates took another look at the file before her, then closed it and set it to the side. “Very well, you have my authorization. Life is bad enough being underground for twenty years without making everyone crazy. What can I do to help?”

“Just make the announcement, as we indicated in the plan, Governor. I’m sure Daniel can help you come up with something appropriate. I think you’ll be surprised how everyone will pull together on this.”

“I hope so, Colonel.”

The rotors of Alpha Squad’s Blackhawk turned slowly in the big hangar, the noise of its engines echoing and re-echoing and merging with that of the Skycrane warming up nearby. I had never gotten used to the weird shape of the Skycranes; they looked like they should either fall out of the sky or take off for the moon.

A bulbous cockpit enclosed the pilot and copilot of the aircraft, and the rest was… well, barely there at all. So skinny that it was more a suggestion of a frame than a frame itself, the housing that held up the engines, the rotor and the spindly landing gear was long and thin, leading from the top of the cockpit all the way back to the tail rotor. It was like some futuristic sort of bug.

Bug or not, the facts weren’t in dispute. The Sikorsky Skycrane could lift around twenty thousand pounds, which meant it could potentially lift two of the Blackhawk currently ahead of it in line, if we’d had another. That was a helluva machine, and the only way we could get so much of our bunker’s supplies loaded so quickly. I’d had drinks with one of the pilots once, and he told me what it had been like, flying for days on end transferring containers to the bunker. At one point, he’d realized that he and his copilot had been in their seats without moving for upwards of eighteen hours. When their CO overheard the chatter, he’d stood them down, ordering them to get some rest. They’d had to be helped out of the chopper, since their legs were numb from the waist down.

No chopper piloting for me. I don’t even like being
in
one, much less flying the damn thing
. I checked my harness one last time and looked up to find Kim standing there. She took my hands in hers and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, which was more than she usually did around the men. I smiled to ease her worry, and she smiled back. “You come back to me, Mr. Barnes,” she said.

“Will do, Mrs. Blake.”

There was a cough from behind me, and Kim rolled her eyes. I grinned. “Why yes, thank you, Tom, for volunteering.”

“Volunteering?”

“To stay and coordinate the security forces with Gunny Rains.”

“But I didn’t… Ah, hell. That’s a low blow, sir.” He turned to Kim, appealing my decision. “Colonel?”

Kim was the picture of innocence. “I don’t know what you mean, Captain. Mr. Blake has operational authority; if he needs you to stay, you stay.” She glanced my way, trying and failing to keep the smirk from her face.

“I suppose I may have misheard you, Tom,” I said, laughing as I squeezed Kim’s hand and then let go, sitting back against the bulkhead. The rest of the squad was also trying to hide their mirth, some more successfully than others. “Everyone ready?” With affirmative nods all around, I waved to Kim as I pounded on the forward bulkhead. “Take us up, Charlie!”

We rose slowly up through the hangar roof and out into the bright sunshine and blue skies. Even though I’m not a huge fan of heights, I could still appreciate the beauty. It felt like I was in the observation tower, but with the wind blowing in my face it was much more real and tactile, less like the videos that ran constantly on the screens in the bunkers, reminding us that there was a real world above us.

“We’re headed to JBLM, right, sir?” asked the pilot, his voice reverberating in my helmet. JBLM was Joint Base Lewis-McChord, a combined military base in Washington, nearest to Bunker One. McChord was on the north side; Fort Lewis on the west.

“Yeah, north side, near the main airstrip. Bravo is taking the west side, Fort Lewis.”

“Roger that, sir. ETA fifteen minutes.”

I looked over at the six members of my team, knowing that each of them was more well-trained and deadlier than I could ever hope to be. It felt good to have them watching my back.

“What’s our primary mission, sir?” asked Montero. I glanced her way and was struck, as always, by her eyes. She had the most piercing, light-blue eyes I’d ever seen. The fact that those eyes accompanied a body that would’ve done the warrior-goddess Athena proud was just a coincidence. Elizabeth Montero—from Whitefish, Montana—was taller than most of the male soldiers. Only Dalton Gaines topped her, and even that was only by an inch or so. She was strong, lean, and deadly. Tom had brought her back with him from the ill-fated 8th Team’s annihilation, and I was glad, though some of the stories he told about her battle prowess I found more than a little intimidating.

“We’re recon, Corporal,” I answered. “We’re to investigate the base, locate hostiles, and scout for any possible useful supplies. If we find anything, the Skycrane will come in and haul it out for us. We’re also to get a general sense of what kind of shape the base is in.”

“What if we find hostiles, sir?”

She looked a little too eager for that eventuality. I glanced over at Tom, but he just grinned and looked out the chopper door. “Walkers, we take out as quietly as possible. Otherwise, we are under strict orders not to engage unless fired upon, Marine. Is that understood?”

She nodded, a brisk, robot-like motion. “Yes, sir!”

The last ten minutes of the ride was spent in silence as each soldier went over his or her equipment, checking and re-checking it for any problems. It seemed like no time at all had passed when I heard the voice of Chief Samuels again. “Approaching McChord Air Force Base, sir.”

“Thanks, Chief,” I said, looking out the door as we approached. “Hold up here for a moment.”

“Roger that, sir.” The chief brought the chopper to a standstill, hovering in midair while I had Gaines and Tom—who had much better eyes than mine—look for hostiles, walkers or signs of other inhabitants.

“No hostiles, sir,” said Gaines. “At least, no living ones.”

“Walkers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many?”

“Estimate twenty to thirty visible, sir,” said Tom. “No sign of habitation or fortification.”

“Meaning either Beoshane isn’t here, or…”

“Or he’s being damned sneaky about it,” finished Gaines.