Anvil (28 page)

With nothing
to do other than wait, the Rangers and I sat in silence.  TJ had finished
his job, modestly accepting our praise for stepping up.  We had briefly
talked about what life had been like after the attacks, then had drifted off
into our own private thoughts. 

We’d been
sitting like that for a couple of hours when Drago spoke up.  I’d thought
he was asleep, his big frame relaxed in a chair with his long legs stretched
out in front of him.

“What was
that nonsense I overheard about you turning yourself over to the Russians?”

“It’s a long
story,” I said.

“Seems like
we’ve got nothing else to do,” Drago said.  “Besides, these other two are
boring.  Chico there can’t talk about anything other than his kids, and
TJ… well, TJ talks about video games like they were important or something.”

“Who was the
first one of us that knew to shoot them in the head?”  TJ said without
opening his eyes.  “Didn’t get that shit from watching documentaries about
Vikings.  And are you sure there’s really such a thing?  Always
thought they were just a crappy football team from Minnesota.”

“Nah,
they’re not crappy,” Chico chimed in.  “Crappy is the Cowboys.  The
Vikings are lousy.”

“Suppose
you’re a Dolphin’s fan.”  I couldn’t resist when football was being
discussed.

“Oh, hell
no!  Forty Niners!  All the way!”

“Chico, I
may have to shoot you,” I said with a grin.

“Don’t tell
me,” he moaned.  “Cardinals?”

“Nope. 
Seahawks.”

That was met
with groans from all three men. 

“Thank God
there’s not a Patriots fan in the room,” Drago said, eliciting chuckles and
agreement from all of us.

“If there
was, we could feed him to the infected,” I grinned. 

We bantered
back and forth for a bit, talking football and remembering our favorite players
and some of the games that stood out in our memories.  Chico killed the
mood when he said he had scored tickets for the upcoming Superbowl, his face
falling when reality came crashing back in. 

“So.  ‘Bout
those Russians?”  Drago prompted after several quiet minutes.

With a sigh
I shifted in my chair and started talking.  I told them everything. 
Not just why the Russians wanted me so bad, but everything I’d experienced
since the attacks.  By the time I was finished, all three were sitting up
and hanging on every word.

“Fuck me
running, Major, but what the hell?  Do you really think if you turn
yourself in the goddamn Russkies aren’t still going to make Hawaii glow in the
dark?”

Chico shook
his head as he talked.  TJ and Drago nodded in agreement with him.  I
just shrugged my shoulders.

“And what
about your wife?”  TJ asked.  “I know you said the Colonel promised
to take her to Seattle, but fuck.  How can you walk away from her?”

He wasn’t
judging me.  He was just voicing one of many thoughts I’d already struggled
with.

“If I don’t,
it’s a certainty that they’ll bomb Hawaii and Nassau.  If that happens,
well…  Anyway.  If I do, there’s a chance.  I can’t pass on that
chance.”

“But what
about this?”  TJ asked, waving at the racks of servers.  “Isn’t this
supposed to give us some super weapon to stop them?”

“I honestly
don’t know what this is supposed to do,” I said, shaking my head.  “Don’t
know if it’s offensive or defensive.  Don’t even know if it’s going to
work in time.  But I guess it doesn’t matter.  We aren’t getting out
of here.”

Everyone
fell silent, slowly withdrawing into their own thoughts.  Once again,
Drago surprised me when he spoke.

“What’s
halon?” 

“Fire
suppressant,” I answered, somewhat familiar with it from working for a tech
company in the civilian world.  “Why?”

“What does
it do?” 

“Puts out
fires,” I said, not trying to be a smart ass.  “It’s used in places where
a traditional sprinkler system would cause just as much damage as the
fire.  Like in here, around sensitive electronics.”

“OK, but how
does it work?”  Drago persisted.

“I’m not an
expert, but it displaces or disrupts the oxygen.  Something like
that.  When the system activates it floods the space and the fire can’t
burn, so it goes out.”

“Is it
toxic?”  He asked.

“Not sure,”
I said.  “About all I know is you’re not supposed to be in a room when the
system goes off, and if you are, you should grab a breather and get the hell
out.  Got an idea?”

“See that
cabinet with the breathers in it?”  He asked, pointing.

“Yeah…” 
I said, turning to look despite knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Saw several
of those scattered throughout the building.  Think they’ve got a big ass
halon system instead of sprinklers?”

I turned
back to look at the breathers, my eyes traveling up to the warning sign.

“I have no
idea,” I said.

“Assuming
that’s the case, what happens to all those females out there if the building
gets flooded with halon?  If it kills fires, well, just maybe…”

Drago looked
at me and lifted his eyebrow questioningly.  I thought about what he was
saying for a moment, feeling a small glimmer of hope.

“I have no
idea, but I’ll bet someone in Hawaii can tell us,” I said.  “But, before
we make that call, let’s think about this.  Assuming the whole building is
covered with halon instead of sprinklers, and assuming it would actually do
something to the infected, how do we trigger its release anywhere other than in
here?  Any fire system is going to be zoned.”

“Automation,”
TJ said.  All of us turned to look at him.  “Building like this, it’s
going to be computer controlled.  And were sitting inside the brain.”

TJ looked
around, standing and moving to twin touch screens embedded in the wall. 
I’d noted them earlier when I was searching the room, but hadn’t paid any
attention.  Reaching out, he tapped on first one, then the other, the
screens flaring to life.  He looked at them for a moment before facing us
and grinning.

I moved to
stand next to him.  Each screen displayed unique halves of the layout of
the building with hundreds of red dots scattered throughout the
schematic.  Controls ran down the right edge and across the top, each was
labeled as “
Master Fire Control
”.

“Right
fucking here!”  TJ said excitedly, pointing at the two displays.  “We
can control all of it from right fucking here!”

“Is it all
halon?”  I asked, trying not to get my hopes up.

“Yep,” he
answered.  “Look right there.”

I leaned and
saw what he was pointing at.  It was a legend.  Red dots were gas. 
Blue were water.  It must have been a default legend as there wasn’t a
single blue dot on the display, and I assumed
gas
meant halon.

“OK, that’s
great,” Chico said.  “But don’t get ahead of yourselves.  Even if the
halon will knock down the infected, and we don’t know it will, what do we
do?  There’s still about a million of them outside.  Won’t they come
charging in if the ones in here fall over dead?”

“Probably,”
I said.  “But there will still be halon filling the building.  It
takes a while to disperse.  We should have enough time to make the roof.”

“Definitely,”
TJ said.  “There’s another stairwell.  Closer to us.  We don’t
have to go back through the lobby.”

I looked
where he pointed at the layout as Chico and Drago stepped close to see. 
Sure enough, the diagram showed a flight of stairs going to the roof only about
a hundred yards from the server room.  We should be able to cover that
distance, climb the stairs and reach fresh air well before the breathers ran
out of oxygen.

“That only
leaves the biggest question,” Drago said.  “What happens to the infected?”

“Let’s make that
call and find out,” I said, picking up the headset that would connect me to
Lieutenant Hunt.  “While I’m doing that, someone call up our ride and make
sure he’s still in the area.”

Drago nodded
and stepped away, pressing his earpiece back into his ear as he started calling
the Black Hawk that hopefully had refueled and was orbiting the area.

“It’s not
halon,” the man on the comm circuit said. 

I had called
Lieutenant Hunt and within minutes he had found a Navy engineer that maintained
all of the data centers at Pearl Harbor.  He was an expert, and he was
telling me our idea wouldn’t work.

“Halon was
banned in the early nineties,” he continued.  “Bad for the environment.”

“But the
warning sign says halon 1301,” I protested, looking to make sure I was
remembering the placard correctly.

“Yep, it’s
probably old and they didn’t bother to take it down.  What you’ve got is
an inert gas suppression system.”

“Say again,”
I said, not liking the sound of that.  Inert didn’t seem like a term for
something that could kill thousands of females.

“You’re
actually better off than if it was halon,” he said.  “Halon isn’t good for
you, but they could survive it.  This is inert gas.  Most likely it’s
a mix of argon and nitrogen.  When the system is activated, it will flood
the building and drop the oxygen content to nearly zero.  Fire can’t burn
without oxygen.”

“They’ll
suffocate?”  I asked, starting to get the picture.

“Exactly. 
And fast, too.  It’s called Inert Gas Asphyxiation.  The body
breathes in as normal, but there’s no oxygen coming in.  Two, maybe three
breaths and a person is unconscious.  After that, death comes pretty
quick.  You want to be sure you either have the breathers already on when
you activate the system, or hold your breath until you put one on. 

“You can
survive several minutes on the oxygen in your lungs as long as you don’t exhale
and breathe in the inert gas.  We train and drill on this all the
time.  Anyone who works in an area with an inert gas suppression system
will know how to react when the alarm sounds.”

“OK, so what
else should I know?”  I asked, feeling real hope that we’d get out of
here.

“Nothing I
haven’t told you.  DO NOT breathe in room air once the system is
activated.  And if your breather runs out and you have to put on a new
one, hold your breath while changing.  If someone does breathe in and goes
down, get a mask on them as fast as you can.”

I thanked
the man and turned to fill in the team on what I’d just heard.  They were
as excited as I was, smiles breaking out all around when they heard how fast
the females would go down.  Drago, not surprisingly, was a little
skeptical.

“We’re sure
the infected can’t survive this?”

“They’re
still human,” I said.  “They still have to breathe air.  I’ve seen
them drown, so they need oxygen just like us.”

He nodded,
his smile a little bigger when I finished speaking.

“Is Sam
one-niner on station?”  I asked, stepping to the breather cabinet and
gathering up all the masks.

“He’s
orbiting the area.  Waiting,” Drago said.

I slipped my
night vision goggles on and looked down at the IR strobe that was still
attached to my arm.  It was flashing away.  Passing the breathers
around, I handed one spare to Drago and the other to Chico.  TJ and I
would grab extras when we exited the server room. 

Only one
thing left to do.  Pressing a button on the headset, I waited for
Lieutenant Hunt to answer. 

“We’re ready
to bug out,” I said when he picked up.  “The power’s on and the servers
are running.  Does Jessica need anything else from our end before we
leave?  Once we’re out, we aren’t getting back in.”

“Stand by,”
he said, putting me on mute.

I looked
around as the team moved into position, ready to go.  TJ stood by the fire
control panels, waiting for the order to activate the system and flood the
building with gas.  Chico was waiting to hit the button that would release
the door’s electromagnetic lock so we could exit.

“She says
you’re good to go and we wish you luck,” Hunt said a few seconds later.

I thanked
him and broke the connection.  Removing the headset, I stuffed it in my
pack.  Pulling my night vision goggles off, I put them in as well, then
took a deep breath and pulled the breathing mask on.  It covered my face
from hairline, if I had a hairline, to below my chin.  A rubber gasket
sealed against my skin as I tugged the straps tight around the back of my head.

Glancing
around, I looked at each of the other men, making sure their masks were in
place and snug.  Other than the black rubber gasket, the masks were made
of clear, flexible plastic which slightly distorted my vision.  But only
slightly. 

“Oh-two on,”
I called out, twisting the valve on my mask’s oxygen cylinder.

I could
immediately smell and taste the slightly metallic air as it began
flowing.  Satisfied everyone was ready, I met TJ’s eyes and nodded. 
He pressed several different spots on the touch screen panels, then stepped
back and looked expectantly at the controls.

After a beat
he looked over his shoulder at me and shrugged his shoulders.  The clock
in my head was ticking and I was about to tell him to try it again when a
strident alarm began blaring so loud we all jumped.  Two white strobes
mounted high on the walls began flashing and a pleasant female voice came from
speakers mounted in the ceiling.

“
Fire
suppression system has been activated.  Do not breathe in.  Put on
oxygen masks immediately and evacuate to your designated rally point.  Do
not breathe room air
.”

The
prerecorded message continued playing, looping, loud enough to be understood
over the raucous fire alarm.  TJ dashed over to form up with us and I
checked my watch.  We had five minutes of breathable air, and only had to
cover a hundred yards then climb a flight of stairs.  More than enough
time, so I held us back, waiting a full minute.  I wanted to make damn
sure the females were down and out before we opened that door.

When the
time had passed, I slapped Chico on the shoulder with the “go” signal.  He
pressed the green, exit button and the magnets holding the doors closed
released with loud thunks.  Chico and Drago pushed, but they didn’t
budge.  What the hell?

Chico
pressed the button again, but they were already unlocked.  With a feeling
of dread, I shouted for everyone to push as I rushed forward.  TJ came
with me and working together, the four of us were able to move the doors until
a two-foot gap appeared between them.

Looking
through I could see a chest deep mass of dead females.  They had been
packed in so tightly that when they died their bodies had only been able to
slump.  And all that mass was blocking the doors.

“Holy shit,”
Drago breathed when he got a look.

“Move,” I
shouted, grabbing TJ and shoving him at the opening.

He was by
far the thinnest of the four of us, slipping through easily after shrugging out
of his pack.  Scrambling up as he cleared the gap, he climbed on top of
the carpet of corpses, grabbing one of the doors and trying to force it open a
few more inches.

Chico was
next.  Tossing his pack through first, he wedged himself into the gap and
with the three of us helping, squeezed through with a minimal amount of
cursing.

Drago and I
looked at each other for a beat.  As thick as my chest was and as broad as
my shoulders were, he was bigger. 

“I’ll push
while they pull,” I said, shoving him forward.

His pack
went through first and he ripped his vest off over his head and tossed it
through before turning sideways and jamming his huge frame into the void. 
Chico had his arms, pulling as I pushed with everything I had.  TJ pulled
on the door, struggling to get solid footing on the shifting bodies beneath
him.

With screams
of effort, we finally got Drago through.  He might have left some skin
behind, but he wasn’t complaining.  I glanced at my watch as I took my
pack and vest off.  Three and half minutes gone.  And we were using
up oxygen fast with all the exertion.

“TJ. 
Find more breathers.  We’re going to run out,” I shouted over the radio.

As I stuck
my head through the gap between the doors, I noticed the air I was breathing
was getting stale.  Pushing with my legs, I shoved my shoulders through,
but that’s as far as I got before the sharp door edges dug into the top of my
chest and my shoulder blades.  I pushed, legs churning, but couldn’t get
good traction on the slick tile floor in the server room.

The air was
getting worse, the humidity inside the mask shooting up and creating a damp fog
on the inside of the plastic.  I was gasping now, my body struggling to extract
every last molecule of oxygen from the foul air.  Chico and Drago each
grabbed under my shoulders, linking their hands together in my armpits. 
They started to pull, but a voice shouted at them to wait.

“Hold your
breath!”

I couldn’t
see who was speaking through the fogged lens, but recognized TJ’s voice. 
Fingers were loosening the straps that held the mask tight to my face then it
was gone.  Cool air flowed across my skin and it took all my effort to not
let myself draw a deep, refreshing breath.

Without the
mask I was able to see, watching as TJ slapped a new breather in place and
wincing when he yanked the straps tight.  He twisted the valve on the
fresh O2 cylinder and leaned in, his mask inches from mine.

“You
good?”  He shouted.

I exhaled,
then gulped in fresh oxygen.  Immediately my head cleared and I
nodded.  Drago and Chico were changing their masks, and a moment later
they grabbed me again and began pulling.  My damaged shoulder screamed a
constant complaint, but was the least of my concerns.

They pulled,
grunting with the effort and I began moving.  The doors pinched, hard, and
I wasn’t sure I didn’t leave both nipples behind when I passed through.  A
few seconds later my chest was clear and they pulled me free with no
resistance.  Getting to my feet, I pulled on my vest and pack and nearly
fell over when the bodies beneath me shifted. 

Difficult
doesn’t begin to describe what it was like walking on corpses that are upright
and jammed in like cordwood.  I quickly learned that if you stepped on a
head, it would shift right out from under your foot as soon as your weight came
down. 

Shoulders
were the ticket.  Pick your footing, and make sure you stepped on
shoulders only.  It still wasn’t easy as the body would shift until the
ones around it kept it from moving.  There were all different heights of
females.  So every step had to be planned before it was taken.  It
was slow going, and it was creepy as hell.

I have a
good imagination, often to my own detriment.  As we picked our way across
the tops of the corpses, I kept picturing all of them suddenly
reanimating.  Hands would reach up, grabbing legs, and pull me down until
I disappeared beneath the sea of death I was walking on.

Caught up in
the waking nightmare, I missed a step and my foot sank into a void between two
bodies.  I went down to my hip, cursing and twisting my body just in time
to prevent my other leg from being injured.  Drago bent and grabbed the
back of my vest, helping me to climb back up.

As I took my
next step, a low whine started from over my head.  Looking up, I saw steel
louvers in the ceiling open as the whine quickly spun up to a loud roar. 
I felt a strong current of air blow across my body, and cursed again when
realization dawned on me.

“What the
fuck is that?”  Chico asked, looking around with his rifle up.

“Ventilation
fans,” I shouted.  “Clearing out the inert gas so people can come back
in.  We’ve got to move!”

I wasn’t
positive that was what was happening, but it made sense.  The fire
suppression system was automated.  It flooded the interior atmosphere with
inert gas to extinguish the flames.  There was probably a timer that would
turn on fans to suck in fresh, outside air to clear out the gas once enough
time had passed. 

I spared a
glance at my watch.  Eight minutes.  More than enough time to ensure
the fire was out.  Now, the system was restoring breathable air so it was
safe to come back into the building.

We moved as
fast as we could on the treacherous footing.  TJ was on point, leading us
out of the IT cubicle farm and down a long hallway.  Far ahead was a steel
door with a large blue sign attached to its face.  I couldn’t make out
what it said, but it was in the right place to be the stairwell entrance I’d
seen on the building schematic.

Far ahead
was a relative term.  It was probably no more than fifty yards to the
exit, but we were moving so slow that it barely felt as if we were making
progress.  Another glance at my watch as the air in my mask began to be
difficult to breathe.  Ten and a half minutes since TJ had activated the
system.  Two and a half since the fans came on.

I wanted to
rip the mask off and breathe fresh air, but the ventilation system was still
roaring over my head and a strong flow of air was rushing past me.  With
no idea how long it took to clear out the inert gas, I wasn’t willing to take
the chance.  Struggling and cursing, I kept moving, returning the favor
when Drago misstepped and went down.