Human Extinction Level Loss (Book 2): Substation (The Last Stand of Gary Sykes) (10 page)

Nine

Beverly turned from the side mirror and looked out the back window.  The lift stopped moving and she felt the truck bounce as Gary climbed from the bucket onto the roof.  The wave of Zombies washed around the truck and began slamming their bodies into it.  To Beverly’s relief, the truck’s rocking was impeded by its proximity to the wall.  She looked through the windshield and out the passenger side at the sea of ruined faces and gnashing teeth moving in around her.  A cacophony of moans was the soundtrack of the horror that assaulted her as they surrounded the truck and closed in. The faces became lost to view as they pushed against the truck and soon all she could see were clamoring arms and grasping hands pawing up at her. 

Gary raced across the roof.  Panic seized his heart as he heard the moaning Dead below, amplified off the concrete wall of the building.  He knew the Dead were assaulting Beverly and tried to push the thought out of his mind, that more than likely she would not be there when he came back out.  He had other, more pressing matters to attend to as he ran up to the door.  He skidded to a stop and dropped the bolt-cutters.  Raising the crowbar high over his left shoulder he was about to hit the door handle when he paused.  A thought occurred to him. It was a trope in movies for the hero to be about ready to smash the door lock, then pause and try the knob, only to find that it was unlocked.  Gary lowered the crowbar and grabbed the door handle.  It didn’t budge.

“Figures,” he said.

Gary raised the crowbar high over his left shoulder and held his breath.

“Use the force, Gary,” he said, then brought the crowbar smashing down on the handle.  There was a metallic sound and the handle was a bent and mangled mess at his feet.  Gary watched the door swing open.

“The force is strong with this one,” Gary said as he grabbed up the bolt-cutters and ran down the steps leading to the main breaker room below.

Gary’s confidence was bolstered by his attack on the door lock.  The thought that it was just a cheap door lock,  more a formality than anything, and not a deadbolt sprang to his mind and his confidence wavered.  He knew he was not strong, that Beverly had to to cut the locks for him.  He lived in his mind, not his body and most days he was fine with that.  Today, at this moment he was not sure that what he had would be enough.

Gary reached the bottom of the stairs and raced over to the row of terminals.  There, as if mocking him, hung the five large padlocks.  He dropped the crowbar and stepped up to the first lock.  Gary took a breath, closed his eyes and tried to focus.  Images of the Jedi, swamp planets, and little green curmudgeons filled his mind as he felt the bolt-cutters in his hands.  He began to squeeze the handles on the cutters and met resistance.  After several seconds, his shoulders and arms began to ache.  Undeterred, he took another breath and squeezed again.

“Use the force, use the force, use the force,” Gary chanted to himself.

He squeezed harder on the cutters, his arms burning. The cutters slipped off the lock and Gary fell to the floor.  He lay there breathing, with pain in his arms.  He almost wanted to cry as he sat up and rubbed his shoulders. 

“I’m such a loser!” he shouted.

He thought again of his Paladin, his mind scouring any resource he might tap into that would allow him to do what he needed to do.  For a second he thought it might work, then remembered his Paladin was on the chopping block for a cowardly act and Gary’s confidence failed him.  His Paladin was not a coward, he did what he thought was right for the good of his people.  These thoughts were another false start and Gary sat slumped on the floor.  He would sit there until Beverly was forced to flee, then he would wait for the inevitable.

“You’re no Paladin, you’re no Jedi knight, Gary Sykes.  You’re… you’re… that little nerd from Ghostbusters… Louis somebody,” Gary muttered to himself, his head in his hands.

Several seconds passed, then Gary chuckled to himself.  “There is no Dana, only Zuul.”

Gary looked up the ceiling, and in a fit of anger and frustration at the world and himself shouted.  “There is no Dana, only Zuul!”

Gary was pissed.  He felt an energy course through him.  He stood and turned to the row of terminals.  “There is no Dana, only Zuul, you motherfuckers!”

He picked up the bolt-cutters and marched up to the first lock.  Gary placed the blades onto the shank and squeezed.  His face turned red and the burning returned to his shoulders. 

“There is no Dana, only Zuul!” Gary said, more grunting than shouting. 

The handles began to come together and then there was a tinging metallic sound followed by a ‘clunk’ as the shaft snapped and the big lock fell to the floor.

“Yeah!  There is no Dana, only Zuul!” he shouted again, then moved on to the next lock.

Gary jammed the bolt-cutters on the lock and shouted his new mantra.  The lock snapped and fell away.  Gary was in Berserker mode.  He moved down the line and the pattern repeated.  A moment later, the last lock fell to the floor and Gary surveyed the field of battle.  Open terminal doors and busted locks stared back at him.  He raised the bolt-cutters above his head and shouted.

“We came, we saw!  We kicked its ass!”

Gary stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“Ghostbusters.  Who’d a thunk it?” 

His euphoria gave way quickly to the present reality and he started flipping the breakers in each of the boxes.  With the last switch flipped, Gary ran back to the stairs.  He got half way up then turned and looked back down at the vanquished terminals.

“If anybody asks, it was the force,” he said to himself before turning and racing back up to the roof.  As he burst through the door and scanned the edge for the bucket lift, his heart sank.  The lift was nowhere to be seen.  Beverly was gone.

Inside the truck, Beverly careened and bounced across the yard.  She had no way of bringing the lift back down and it gave the truck an awkward balance.  She had held out as long as she could for Gary, but the press from the horde got to be too much.  She had started to fear that the Dead would get so thick around her she would never be able to get away.  It was touch and go when she finally decided to thin the herd.  The truck had spun its tires in the gravel for several uncomfortable seconds before getting traction and lumbering out into the yard.  Now Beverly once again used the truck as a weapon and mowed down as many of the Runners, Walkers, Shufflers, and crawlers as she could, all while keeping one eye on the roof for Gary.

Gary ran to the edge, confirming what his eyes were telling him.  Where the truck had been, now was only torn up gravel and crimson stain.  He was about to turn and slump down against the waist high ledge and wait to either starve to death or to be a meal for the hungry down below when he heard the truck horn.  Gary looked up and couldn’t believe his eyes.  In the distance, Beverly was racing the truck parallel to the building.  She had her left arm out the window and was waving at him.  Gary watched in joyful bemusement as Beverly guided the truck into a pack of Zombies, sending them flying, before she turned the truck toward the Interconnection.  Gary stared in disbelief as the mangled truck came toward him.  Behind the truck, an even larger pack of Undead gave chase.  Gary knew it was going to be close and crawled up onto the ledge of the building and waited for Beverly to make her approach.

Seconds later, Beverly turned the truck and it pulled up to the wall.  The bucket lift stopped in front of Gary and he climbed in.  Gary was about to lower the bucket, when he looked back out into the yard and saw the horde bearing down on them.  He didn’t have time to call to Beverly before the truck lurched forward and away from the building.  The bucket lift bucked like a rodeo bull and Gary was nearly thrown out.  He grabbed onto the sides in a white knuckle death grip and tried to hold on, not daring to try and work the controls to lower the bucket for fear of being thrown to his death.  He looked up and his world was a blur of jolts and jitters.  All he could be certain of was that Beverly was headed right for a large group of shufflers that were the only thing standing between them and the central control building.  Despite his grip on the bucket, Gary was once again almost thrown out as the impact traveled through the truck and up into the lift. 

Seconds later, the jostling stopped and Gary’s world became clear again.  He looked around to see what had changed.  His breath caught in his throat as he looked down and from his bird’s eye view, saw the truck surrounded by the biggest horde so far.  He heard the engine race and tires spin as the truck tried to press through the mass. The engine sank to a low, mean growl and black smoke poured from the tailpipes, wafting up passed him.  The truck whined then lurched forward as the mass gave way.  In the bucket Gary was thrown back and nearly tumbled out.  He regained his balance and looked forward as the control building in the distance grew nearer.  Gary reached out and midst all the rattling and shaking, was able to pull the lever that lowered the bucket lift.  Like an albatross coming in for a landing, the bucket kicked, up and down, left and right, as it descended.

The truck rolled to a stop at the same time as the bucket lift finished lowering.  Gary hopped out and climbed down in a hurry.  He came around to the driver side as Beverly climbed down.  Gary went to the front door and Beverly followed.  She came up short as instead of going in, Gary blocked her way.  Behind them, the Shuffling Dead began to regroup and come toward them.

“Gary, what are you doing?! We have to get inside!” Beverly cried.

A resolute sadness crept into Gary’s eyes as he looked at Beverly.

“No, Bev.  I do.  You need to get back into that truck and get home to your family,” Gary said.

Beverly stared at him, her mouth working, but no words came out.  Understanding and acceptance washed over her and she took a step towards Gary.

“Bev, please-” Gary said, his words cut off by Beverly’s.

“There was a mass shooting at the lake…”

“I know, Bev…” he said.  Gary looked behind Beverly at the advancing horde.  Every fiber of his being cried out to push Beverly into the truck and then turn and run inside, locking the door behind him, but Beverly’s eyes locked him in place as she continued.

“My husband… he risked his life and took out the shooter.  A lot of people died, but… not everybody, because of what Mark did.  He is one of the bravest, most selfless men I know.  And now you’re another one, Gary Sykes.”

Tears filled both their eyes as the words washed over Gary.  Before he could say anything, Beverly rushed forward and hugged him.  Then she turned and jumped in the truck and slammed the door behind her.  She didn’t look back at him as she hit the gas and cranked the wheel in a hard right.  She plowed through the advancing horde a final time, then sped off into the night.  Gary watched until the truck turned left out of the plant and onto the road.  When the taillights disappeared, Gary pushed open the door and went inside as the Zombie horde advanced on the building.

Epilogue

Gary slammed the door behind him and slid the deadbolt into place.  He backed up and stared at the door, waiting for something to happen.  In the hallway leading to the control room, there was only silence. 

Maybe they forget all about me, pass on by
Gary thought.

Several more seconds of silence passed and Gary turned and walked down the hall towards the control room.  He got about half way when he heard it.  A thump, small at first, sounded on the other side of the door.  Gary froze.  Another thump, same as the first, but quickly followed by another… then another… and another.  The door sounded like it was being assaulted by softballs.  Gary listened.  Just under the thumps and bangs, he thought he could hear something else… moaning.  He ran the rest of the way down the hall.  He had to hurry. There wasn’t much time left.

Gary rushed into the room and up to a console in the back of the control room.  It was covered with a plastic sheet.  He ripped off the plastic and scanned the board.  On the left was a series of monitors.  Above these on the wall were several more.  To the right was another console, this one an array of dials and switches.  Above that was a panel of indicator lights with another panel of switches.  A single light flashed on the left of the indicator panel, under it were the words,
Grid Array
.  Gary pushed this and the rest of the lights on the panel lit up.  The monitors on the wall turned on, displaying representations of the Western, Eastern, and Texas Interconnections. Under each of the three Interconnections were five indicators with labels beneath each one of them,
Line Voltage, Frequency, Phase Sequence, Phase Angle,
and
Waveform. 

On the panel, just to the side was a Synchroscope, one for each of the Interconnections.  At the top of each scope was a red arrow between a ‘plus’ sign and a ‘negative’ sign.  A pointer on each pointed straight down

Gary sat in the chair in front of the panel and flipped a switch labeled
Shaft Energy. 
Overhead, a computer generated female voice sounded.

Synchronous Generator Speed Initiated.  Generator field energized.  Eastern Grid Synchronization in fifteen minutes

Behind Gary and down the hall the banging and thumping grew louder.  Gary turned and his face paled.  He turned back to the console and watched as the pointer on the Eastern Interconnection Synchroscope slowly rose.  After the photo ops and handshaking were done, a new technician was supposed to be running this station, but Gary had grabbed the training manual and read enough to know what needed to be done.  It was really nothing more than monitoring rates at his own station, only this was the whole U.S. grid.  Sweat poured off his brow and his hands shook as he flipped switches and turned dials.