Fade to Grey (Book 2): Darkness Ascending (79 page)

Walter pressed
the ‘stop’ button on the micro recorder, and then called out over the radio.
“All
units get ready.”
He set down the Fish and Wildlife radio and picked up the
PA transmitter.

“ATTENTION RICHLAND PERSONNEL, THIS IS WALTER SHELDON.
WE HAVE MONITORED THE SITUATION AND DO NOT WISH TO ENGAGE IN HOSTILITIES. WE
WILL NOT, HOWEVER, SURRENDER OUR PEOPLE OR RESOURCES. RAY INGRAM—AND SEVERAL
PEOPLE WHO USED TO SHELTER HERE—HAVE MISINFORMED YOU. THINK ABOUT WHAT THEY’RE
ASKING YOU TO DO. THEY WANT YOU TO MURDER PEOPLE WHO WANT NOTHING MORE THAN TO
BE LEFT ALONE. WE’RE ASKING YOU TO LEAVE WITHOUT BLOODSHED. SOME OF YOU MAY
HAVE FALLEN FOR THE LIES THAT RAY, DIANE, AND OTHERS HAVE TOLD YOU. DON’T BE
FOOLED, AND DON’T RISK YOUR LIFE. THINK ABOUT IT PEOPLE . . . IS THIS REALLY
THE KIND OF MAN YOU WANT LEADING YOU INTO THE FUTURE?” Walter queued the
recorder until the digital time counter matched the one he had jotted down. He
hit play and held it up to the PA transmitter.

 . . . RAY,
I’M TRYING TO BE NICE, AND I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU THINK YOU HAVE A JOB TO DO.
BUT JUST SO I’M CRYSTAL CLEAR ON THIS, YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT YOU WILL MURDER
INNOCENT CIVILIANS IF WE DON’T TURN OVER OUR LIVES AND POSSESSIONS TO YOU. IS
THAT RIGHT? . . .

 . . . I’LL
BURN DOWN THE GAS STATION WITH EVERYBODY IN IT RIGHT NOW IF YOU DON’T HAVE THEM
COME OUT AND LAY DOWN THEIR WEAPONS . . .

The burly paramedic grabbed his radio and practically
screamed in aggravation.
“All units prepare to fire. Your target is the gas
station and any resistance!”

The noise of car doors opening and weapon being racked
sounded from the pickup trucks and the fire engine.

“Don’t do it Ray,” Andy said from the ground. “You may
kill me, but like you said, I’m an old man. And I can promise that you won’t
walk out of here if you pull that trigger. You’re surrounded Ray, and not only
will you get yourself killed, but you’ll get all of your men killed as well.”

“The hell I will,” Ray snarled. “You’re full of shit,
old man, and I know that you hardly have anybody left to defend this place.”
Next to him, the tall man slid the shotgun off of his shoulder and looked
around nervously.

“Really,” Andy said, “is that the information you got
from Little Jimmy?”

At the mention of the rotund sniper’s name, both Ray
and the grey haired man exchanged a hasty glance. Taking his own radio off of
his belt, the tall man looked down at Andy as he spoke.
“Fireball calling
lightning bolt, do you copy?”

Silence

“Fireball calling lightning bolt, respond.”

The dead air gave no hint of an answer to his call.

“Look up on the roof, Ray,” Andy gestured with his
nose toward the gas station. The camouflage-clad arm of the decoy poked over
the lip and waved. Visible even from this distance was Mr. Lee’s alteration,
and the middle finger on the dummy’s hand was poking up prominently.

The PA crackled to life again. “MR. INGRAM TOLD YOU
THAT WE WOULD BE AN EASY TARGET. HE LIED. DON’T THROW AWAY YOUR LIVES,
GENTLEMEN. YOUR SNIPER HAS BEEN CAPTURED, AND YOU ARE SURROUNDED. LAY DOWN YOUR
WEAPONS AND COME OUT INTO THE OPEN. I GIVE YOU MY WORD THAT IF YOU SURRENDER,
YOU WON’T BE HARMED. NOTHING WOULD MAKE BE HAPPIER THAN FOR EVERYBODY TO GO
HOME SAFE TO THEIR FAMILIES, BUT I ASSURE YOU THAT IF YOU ATTEMPT ANY HOSTILE
ACTIONS, WE WILL CUT YOU DOWN WHERE YOU STAND.”

The first glimmer of doubt flashed across the
paramedic’s eyes as he gazed down at Andy.

“You can feel it, can’t you Ray? The barrels of about
a dozen rifles all pointed . . . right . . . at . . . you.”

“Shut up.”

“Call off the dogs, Ray. Have all of your men lay down
their weapons and come out. It’s the only way this ends nice for you,” Andy
said.

Ray kicked a hard boot toe into Andy’s shoulder,
following it up with another smash into the old man’s ribs. A grim smile lifted
the mustache on his face as he crashed a third kick at Andy’s face, and a trickle
of crimson began draining from the old man’s smashed lip as Ray looked down and
glared. “Little Jimmy is a loss I can easily replace, but he’s not the only
weapon in my arsenal.” With a cunning smile like a rat walking over his dead
friend’s back to get the cheese in the trap, Ray brought the walkie-talkie up
to his mouth. “
Fireball calling dragon, fireball calling dragon,
proceed
forward for immediate backup.”

Andy watched the confusion slowly spread across the
bearded face above him. The gray haired man mimicked the expression of
uncertainty, and then called out on his own radio.
“Fireball calling dragon,
do you copy?”

The only sound was the rumble of the plow truck’s
engine.

“Ray, maybe we should rethink this.” It came from the
shotgun wielding man.

“Listen to him Ray,” Andy said, “we’ve taken out your
sniper and your armored truck. Your whole team is surrounded. Don’t be a fool.
Tell your men to lay down their weapons and surrender. Don’t force our hand,
Ray.”

For an answer, the paramedic dropped the muzzle of the
submachine gun toward the ground and pulled the trigger, sending a single round
into the old man’s leg.

KA-WHOOM
.
The sonic boom of the 30-06 rumbled through the parking lot. It was the third
odd sound in a row to reach Andy’s ears in rapid succession. The first had been
a metallic
clink-clack
of the submachine gun cycling when Ray had shot
him in the leg. A millisecond later was the meaty, wet towel
THWACK
of a
150 grain, polymer tipped, boat tail bullet smacking into the shoulder blade of
the paramedic. In slow motion, a fountain of frothy pink exploded upwards from
Ray’s chest, and his bearded face looked down in astonishment and disbelief at
the spray of foamy blood. He sank to his knees and fumbled for the trigger of
the machine gun, lifting the barrel toward the prone figure of Andy.

“Son of a bitch,” Andy swore as the suppressor swung
towards him and the world all around exploded in rifle fire. His wounded leg
burned like fire, but he forced himself to roll just as the chatter of the
silenced submachine gun joined the riotous symphony that deafened the parking
lot. Another bullet smacked into him as he rolled underneath the truck, and a
third impact slammed into the back of his head a split second later. Light and
sound began to fade into oblivion as darkness descended. His eyes closed to the
muted sound of the PA system blasting out Walter’s voice.

“Hold your hand right there. You need to keep pressure
on that, do you understand?” Callie began to wrap a heavy layer of gauze around
the wound in the man’s wrist. He was one of the lucky nine. Twenty-three people
from Richmond had taken part in the assault against the marina. Nine of them
were still alive. Of the nine, only five were unwounded. Two of the five were
the driver and passenger of the armored vehicle that Mike and Callie had
captured. The four living, but wounded members of the assault team were being
patched up just enough for the return trip to their own medical personnel at
the shelter.

Under the armed watch of Mr. Lee from the rooftop, as
well as the ground level, shotgun wielding Preacher Dave, Bucky, and Crowbar
Mike, the survivors had loaded all fourteen of their deceased companions into
the beds of the pickup trucks. When they were finished, a nudge of Bucky’s
shotgun directed them to take a seat on the gravel next to the wounded.

“What’s the verdict Doc?” Walter said as he looked
down at the bandaged body of Andy lying on the couch in his office.

“He’s got a through and through in his right calf and
another graze on the left side of his rib cage. Other than that, just a few
scrapes and contusions.”

“Then why is he unconscious?” Eric asked.

“He’s got a goose egg on the back of his head. It
might have been when Ray was kicking him, or maybe he hit his head on something
when he was rolling. I really can’t say,” Doc answered.

“But he’ll be OK?”

“He should be, pending any unknown complications.”

“Hey Doc,” Walter grinned, “what say we borrow some
lipstick from the girls and draw big red circles around Eric’s eyes. I’ve even
got some gray camouflage face paint that we could use on him. That way, when
the old coot wakes up, Eric here can lean forward and start groaning. It’ll be
a hoot to watch Andy’s reaction.”

The smile that spread across the Doc’s face was
mirrored by Eric. “No,” Doc said, “let’s not risk any cardiac events, at least
until you’ve got me a fully operational medical center.”

“Well heck, with the new sergeant that Estes brought
you’re already fully staffed,” Walter chuckled.

“I haven’t met her, but I understand that she’s got a
broken arm, correct?”

Walter nodded. “Don’t worry Doc, once we get these
people up and out of here, you, Callie, and Rebecca will get to give all of our
new recruits a look see.”

“Where is everybody?” Doc asked.

“Most of ‘em are still holding in their positions.”

“Why?” Doc asked.

“Because,” Walter stood and sighed as he answered,
“like it or not, we’re sending potential enemies back to their home. They know
that we whooped their ass, and I’d bet my left nut that when they start telling
the tale, it’ll include about a hundred armed men shooting at them from all
directions. I’ve told all of our long-range forces—Sam, Thompson, C.J.—as well
as all of Estes’ men to stay hidden for now. There’s no reason for them to know
our true numbers.”

Doc nodded but said nothing.

Walter turned and looked at Eric. “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“I want you to know,” Walter said to the group of men
sitting on the gravel in front of him, “that I’m truly sorry you were led down
this path by a few untrustworthy members of your shelter. All of you know that
our world is experiencing a tremendous loss, and the last thing that we need is
to squabble amongst ourselves. Consider today a lesson. Find some people at
your shelter who have a good heart and the common sense to lead you through
today and whatever lies in the future. I’m not given to speechmaking, and this
is where mine ends.” He stepped to the side and Eric slid forward.

“I missed most of this unfortunate event, but I’ll
echo what Mr. Sheldon just told you. The people sitting next to you, and your
loved ones back at the shelter are going to be the key to any hope you have for
survival. We’re in the same boat here. I just returned from Devils Lake, and
it’s overrun by those things just as much as Richland supposedly is.”

“There ain’t no supposed about it,” one of the seated
men commented.

“It’s not just up here,” Eric said. “We don’t have
much information, but there’s a good chance this is happening everywhere across
our country . . . maybe even the entire world.” The nine surviving members of
the Richland assault team stared up at Eric quietly. Behind them, also hunkered
on the gravel, was the bulky form of Little Jimmy—the corners of his mouth
still showed traces of bright yellow mustard.

“What are you going to do with our guns?” another man
asked.

“The powers that be here have decided to give them
back to you,” Eric said. The crowd murmured, and flashes of relief crossed
their faces at Eric’s answer. He continued, “I think everybody here knows how
importantly our survival depends on having reliable weapons, and as a gesture
of good faith, we’re giving yours back to you. We’ve removed the ammunition,
and we’re going to lock them all together with a thin cable. You’ll be able to
easily cut it off when you get a few miles down the road.”

“What about the vehicles?”

Eric looked at the shattered glass and bullet-ridden
panels on the assembly of vehicles. Amazingly there were no flat tires, but one
of the pickups was dribbling out antifreeze. “They all go with you except for
the half track. That stays with us.”

A few of the men started to protest, but they were
quickly elbowed down by their cohorts.

“I’ve been asked to say this in parting, so hear me
out. We didn’t bring this fight to you . . . you chose it, you planned it, and
you paid the price for it. At some point in the future, if any of us are still
alive that is, we might greet you as a friend. But with that understanding,
also know that this marina is not accepting, nor can we support any additional
members, so leave with your lives and go bury your dead. Any attempt at further
hostilities will be met with an immediate and overwhelming response, and no
prisoners will be taken. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Several heads nodded.

“OK,” Eric said, “saddle up.”

It took a few minutes for the men to divide up among
the vehicles, and when they had turned them around and lined up on the road,
the confiscated weapons were loaded into the bed of the last pickup in line.

“Hold up a second, Walter,” Eric said when he noticed
the squat submachine gun. “Leave that one here.”

The black metal weapon was slid to the ground, and
then a looped section of thin aircraft cable was threaded through the receivers
of the remaining firearms. A chintzy luggage lock secured the cable to itself,
and then the tailgate was shut. Walter and Eric stepped to the door and nodded
at the driver. “Be safe,” Walter said to the man.

A barely perceptible tilt of his nose was the only
reply, and he put the truck in gear and pulled away.

When the convoy moved out of sight, Eric reached down
and picked up the submachine gun. Turning in a slow circle, he let out a deep
breath and said, “I think we’ve all earned a nice long vacation, don’t you?”

“What are the odds that we’ll get it?” Walter answered
as Mike and Callie stepped up next to them.

A vision of glossy black eyes leapt to the forefront
of Eric’s memory. “Not very high, I’d imagine.”

Walter keyed the radio in his hand.
“All units,
return to the marina . . . repeat, all units return to the marina.”

Callie tapped Walter on the shoulder and beamed her
smile. “Mr. Shelton, what else needs done?”

“I believe that you two owe me an armored car.”

“I call driver,” Callie immediately shouted as she
took off down the road with a Crowbar Mike at her heels.