The Dying of the Light: Interval (3 page)

Shaw saluted as Colonel Burke looked up and stood, coming around the desk and perching on its edge.

“Major Bill Shaw, reporting as ordered, sir.”

“Come in, Major,” said Burke, returning the salute. “Have a seat. Oh, and get the door.”

Shaw shut the door, wondering what the hell was going on, and sat down, looking at the colonel quizzically.

“What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room. Clear?” asked Burke.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve just had some flash traffic from the world, and you’re not going to like it.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here, sir, and guess that this is why Mr. Hacker isn’t in his office at the moment?”

“Got it in one, son. I’ve been ordered to take immediate command of McMurdo and all US operations on the ice. I’ve also been informed that all air traffic—and I mean all—is being grounded, effective immediately.”

Shaw felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Wait, what?
All
traffic, sir?”

Burke sighed and sat behind his desk once more. “You’ve seen the news, Bill. You know what’s going on. We’ve lost control of this thing. Plans are being put into motion, but they’re not gonna save everyone. And you are
not
clear to divulge that to your men. Hell, even
I’m
not supposed to know.”

“This is a helluva thing, sir. What the hell do I tell my crew?”

“You tell them whatever you have to tell them, Major,” said Burke. “They’re not going home anytime soon. None of us are. Our orders are to sit tight, batten down the hatches, and wait for further word.”

“What about the plane, sir? It’s not going to stay where it’s at—it’ll sink first, break through the ice…”

“The stores that are on board are being moved to the warehouses now. She’ll be empty soon. I’ve already got a crew ready to knock out some walls in one of the bigger warehouses, and I think we can just squeeze her in there. It’ll be tight, and we may have to bulldoze some structures along the way or add on to the one we finally choose, but that’s our only option to get her on solid ground. And we have to keep her; she may be our only way out of here in the end.”

“Yes, sir.”

“See to your men; I’ve designated some rack space in some temporary quarters in Hotel California—what we call our dormitory. Depending on how long this thing goes, we may end up with a bunch more buildings out here. I tell ya, our one saving grace is having ODF drop off their last load of stuff two weeks ago. We’re gonna need it. Dismissed.”

The tall, graying pilot looked a bit lost. Though he was headed for Hotel California, likely to join his men there, he seemed worlds away, barely even noticing the emergency personnel running by him, let alone the crowd near her office. Jennifer Michaelson, US Marshal, stopped and grabbed at his arm, looking him up and down. “You the pilot that just came in?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, your man is tearing apart our infirmary. Come with me.” With strength belying her smaller frame, she dragged Major Shaw into a full-out run.

When they arrived at the infirmary building, there was a crowd outside, stamping their feet and chattering. A couple of security vehicles had lights flashing near the entrance, and two more guards were keeping people out.

Michaelson grabbed Shaw once more and practically threw him at the doors, which the guards opened.

“Ma’am,” one said as she went in, and she grimaced. Even given the circumstances, she was still aggravated when she got called ‘ma’am.’ It made her feel old.

She could hear yelling from up ahead; at least, it sounded like yelling, but it was incoherent. No words. More like a moan, really. Shaw began slowing down, and Michaelson started dragging him instead.

“Oh, shit,” Shaw suddenly said, stopping in his tracks entirely.

Michaelson whipped around to face him. “What is it, Major?” she asked, though she was already starting to suspect what he would say.

“Franklin… he was sick when we got on the flight. None of us thought anything of it, since he came through the scanner clean.”

Michaelson shook her head. “You brought a man sick with the
superflu
onto my base? I’ll have your ass for this. For now, we have to deal with it. Go on!”

She shoved him hard, and he stumbled forward. They turned the corner just in time to see another security guard fly across the hallway and slam into the wall. He didn’t get back up. From this angle, Michaelson could just see into the treatment room, and wished to a god she didn’t believe in that she couldn’t.

The patient was strapped to a gurney by one arm and both legs. He had obviously broken out of the first restraint, and was pulling and tugging at the second, roaring and trying to free himself. Covered in sweat, blood ran in trickles from his nose, ears, and eyes. As he caught sight of Shaw, he roared again, his free hand clutching and grasping at the pilot.

Suddenly, Major Shaw seemed completely calm. Without a word, he grabbed the Taser from Michaelson’s waist, stepped clearly into the doorway, and fired at Franklin, hitting him right between the eyes. Fifty thousand volts flowed into and through Franklin’s brain, and he began twitching, laying still only once the charge had been exhausted.

Shaw moved quickly, releasing the brakes on the gurney’s wheels and pulling hard, rolling it into the corridor. “Help me with the other end,” he said to Michaelson, indicating the foot of the bed. “We need to get him outside. Now.”

Shaw yelled for people to clear the hall as they moved to the side door and down the ramp. He directed the gurney to an empty part of the parking lot next to the building, then locked the brakes on the gurney once more. He glanced around, and seeing a security vehicle nearby, ran over and began pulling equipment out of the back, throwing it on the ground.

Michaelson just looked on in shock; she knew command decisions when she saw them, and this was clearly Shaw’s show, as much as she might hate that. She didn’t know what would happen next, but she was willing to let it go… at least for the moment.

When he came back, and she saw that he was carrying the security vehicle’s spare gas canister and two road flares, she started to regret her decision. “What the hell are you—”

“Not now. Step back. Step back!” He began pouring the gasoline on the patient’s still form. As the liquid splashed over the man’s face, he spluttered and began to regain consciousness, making a sudden grab for Shaw. His huge fist snagged in the pilot’s jacket pocket, and he was almost pulled in. Shaw twisted like a snake, more flexible than anything Michaelson had ever seen, and the jacket was suddenly off him, the gas canister lying on its side on the ground. Franklin roared as Shaw picked up the gas can and finished pouring the contents onto the gurney, then threw the can underneath it.

Shaw stepped back as he held one of the road flares, then lit it.

“Stop right there!” Michaelson had let this go far enough, and she was now holding a gun pointed at his head from only a dozen feet away. “Put down the flare!”

“I can’t do that,” replied Shaw, looking at her steadily, as if he hadn’t just poured gasoline over one of his own crewmembers and was now about to set him on fire. “You don’t understand.” He moved to throw the flare, and she yelled again.

“Don’t make me shoot you! Drop the flare!”

“I have to do this, or we’re all dead, anyway,” he said. “Shoot if you want.”

He tossed the flare onto the gurney, and ducked as the shot she fired went wide.

She couldn’t even hear herself yelling. The fireball was huge, and engulfed the gurney immediately. After a moment, she could hear the roars of the creature that used to be Franklin inside the fire, eventually ceasing as its lungs burned from the inside out.

The smell was horrific, and the major turned to vomit on the cold ground.

Michaelson holstered her pistol and took off her jacket and threw it around Shaw, who struggled for a second until he realized what she was doing. He pulled the jacket the rest of the way on, glancing at her.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

“You know what it was. The superflu.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I haven’t exactly heard that burning people alive is a necessary protocol for the superflu. And you didn’t even hesitate, once you laid eyes on him. You have been
trained
to do this. That means you know something we don’t. Something important enough to justify setting a living man on fire. Now spill.”

“You think I
liked
doing this to my friend? I’ve known him for almost six years!” He spun, kicking the empty fuel can across the snow and ice. “Six years! And he’s died the most horrific death I could dream of, and I had to do it, I
had
to, because it wasn’t him anymore.” He leaned against the back bumper of the security jeep.

Jennifer gave him a moment, then walked up to him, laying one hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

He looked up as another vehicle arrived, lit by the light of his friend’s funeral pyre. Colonel Burke stepped out, and walked over to the pair quickly, sizing up the situation as he did so. The major was all business once again as he snapped to attention.

“Major?”

“Sir,” said Shaw.

“Are you injured, Major?”

“No, sir.”

“What happened here?”

“Protocol Alpha, sir.”

Burke’s eyebrows rose far enough to high-five his receding hairline. “No shit?”

“No shit. Sir.”

“And he was the only one?”

“As far as I know, sir. We should check Lieutenant Evans, but I don’t believe he was compromised.”

“Very well. I’ll interview the medical staff and double-check. You see to the rest of your men. Report back to me in an hour.” He turned to Michaelson. “And Marshal, none of this gets out. See those gawkers?”

He pointed to the corner of the building, where a few people had started to gather, attracted by the smoke.

“Yes, sir,” said Michaelson.

“Good. And the ones inside. They
will
keep quiet. Get to it, people,” he said, then walked into the infirmary.

Michaelson gave orders to the security men, then turned back to Shaw. “This isn’t over, Shaw,” she said, getting his attention again. “I still want to know what really happened here.”

He glanced over at her. “I can understand that, Marshal…”

“Jennifer. Jennifer Michaelson.”

“Well then, Jennifer, first thing I’d like to do is bury the Prez here.”

She snorted. “You’ve got a lot to learn about Antarctica, Major Shaw.”

“Call me Bill.”

“We don’t bury anything here. Ground’s too hard, even when you can find it under the snow.” She nodded her head toward the bay. “Before all the new ‘green’ regulations, we used to drag it out there and let the ice take it. McMurdo Sound has the dubious distinction of being one of the most polluted waters in the world, Major. Now, we ship most of our waste out. Best we can do is give him a burial at sea.”

Shaw sighed. “Guess that’ll have to do then. I’ll get my guys.”

Jennifer looked at him. “You’re an odd one, Shaw.” She hesitated, then nodded. “Fine, I’ll have a couple of my guys escort you out there, since you’re all newbs. Wouldn’t want you falling through the ice, too.”

Shaw turned and headed for Hotel California to find his men.

Z-Day

Civilians were packed in everywhere, jammed into every nook and cranny—the gym, all three bars, the common rooms of every dorm and warehouse. The broadcast was on every satellite channel, overriding every other bit of programming.

Major Bill Shaw, Marshal Jennifer Michaelson, Director Reuben Hacker, and Colonel Burke were watching the broadcast from Hacker’s office, neighboring the large common room. And Shaw had never seen a president look so weary.

“What I think you all need is the truth, something you can understand without having a doctorate, something that actually tells you what we’re facing here. You deserve to know the truth, so that you can protect yourselves and your families as you see fit. So I’m trusting you with this information, knowing that you will live up to my faith in you. With that in mind, ladies and gentlemen, what we are dealing with is—and I say this with utmost sincerity—zombies.”

Shaw could hear shouting from the main room, and more than a little laughter, but the laughter had an edge to it that sounded a little crazy. He glanced over at Jennifer and saw that she’d noticed it too, but she shook her head at him and pointed to the television, where the president was continuing.

“As you know, this illness is not contained to our corner of the globe. Other nations around the world are being notified at this moment by their leaders, who have been working closely with us since the beginning of this crisis. This disease is a global pandemic. Medical facilities, cities, towns, and even whole countries are being overrun by the infected.

“Many of you are familiar with ‘Mad Cow Disease.’ The agent which causes this disease—a prion—is a natural protein that has become twisted from its normal form. In the case of this ‘new flu,’ however, the situation is much more dire. The prion will kill its host within sixteen to twenty-four hours after initial infection. Once dead, the host will then re-animate, and seek out new hosts.

“There is no cure. Once infected, the host will die and reanimate. This process may take more or less time, depending on where on their body the victim was bitten. And yes, the primary mode of transmission is through bites, although any contact with bodily fluids will also result in infection.”

“I don’t have to tell any of you what a zombie is. You’ve seen the movies and TV shows and read the comic books. What we are dealing with here is nothing short of a horror movie come to life. The dead are walking, and they’re hungry.

However, as bad as this may seem, all is not lost, and even now a long-planned series of actions are taking place to safeguard our way of life. What you see here is a drawing of a bunker, built into the side of a mountain. This bunker will hold thousands of people, including all the food, water, and other facilities necessary to shelter them for up to twenty years. We call this Project Phoenix.