No Easy Hope - 01 (46 page)

“CREEPS IN THE BUILDING! GET UP! EVERYBODY UP!” I shouted as loud as my abused throat would allow.

A couple of seconds later, the door to Ethan’s shack slammed open and the big man moved toward me with a speed that belied his size. He brought his fire axe with him, and switched into a two-handed grip as he ran. Steve appeared out of nowhere brandishing his pistol in one hand. I skidded to a halt ten feet away from the struggling figures, trying to line up a shot. It was impossible. The doorway was too narrow, and the Sergeant thrashed desperately as he tried to break the powerful grip of the infected attacking him.

“Fuck, I don’t have a shot. Steve?”

“No, Goddamnit.” He swore.

“Guns down! I got it!” Ethan shouted.

Ethan sped in front of us, and we both lowered our weapons. The front of the Sergeant’s uniform was covered in blood, and he was holding the revenant’s gnashing teeth at bay with one hand by pushing against its throat. Another ghoul appeared at the entrance and tried to reach over the one attacking Cartwright to get at him. Ethan shoved the handle of his axe beneath the ghoul’s jaw and pushed backward. His shoulder and arm muscles bulged under the strain. The creature snarled and redoubled its efforts to bite Cartwright again. Ethan bared his teeth, and pushed with everything he had. He managed to get the infected’s head far enough away to hit with my rifle. I took a few steps forward and to my right.

“Close your eyes and look away.” I ordered.

Ethan complied, and I lined up the sights. The report was deafening inside the confines of the warehouse. A jagged hole appeared low on the creature’s forehead, and as it slumped to the ground, Ethan fired a powerful front kick to the chest of the ghoul behind it. That bought him enough time to drag the Sergeant inside and shut the door. He slammed the bar down, and Cartwright sagged against the wall behind him. Ethan took a few shaky steps back, his chest heaving. Sergeant Cartwright gripped his right shoulder just below the collarbone and slid slowly to the ground.

“I’m fucked.” He said. Cartwright stared at his shoulder for a few seconds, then grimaced and bashed his head backward into the wall.

“FUCK!” He shouted.

“Hey, Eric.” Steve said.

I jumped. “What?”

Steve pointed at my rifle. My finger was on the trigger with the barrel pointed in Cartwright’s direction.

“Shit, sorry.” I said, quickly lowering the weapon.

Bill hustled up from somewhere behind me with a first aid kit in his hand.

“Ethan, you’re covered in blood son, get Andrea to clean you up. Steve, you got a knife on you?”

“Yeah, right here.” He handed over his pocket knife.

Bill took it and kneeled down beside Sergeant Cartwright. He sat the knife down and pulled a pair of latex gloves out of the first aid kit. As he began to put them on, Cartwright held up a hand.

“Don’t bother, doc. Ain’t no point.”

“I don’t remember asking for your permission, Sergeant.” Bill said. “You’re a guest in my home, and you are in need of medical treatment. Now take your hand off your shoulder and sit still.”

Cartwright hesitated, then did as Bill said. Bill used Steve’s knife to cut away Cartwright’s bloody shirt, exposing the torn and bleeding flesh beneath. He opened up a pack of gauze and pressed it into the wound. The Sergeant grimaced, but did not cry out. I looked away, and let my rifle dangle from its sling.

The rest of the compound and all of the soldiers were standing in a loose gaggle, staring at Bill and Sergeant Cartwright. I wanted to yell at them to close their damn gaping mouths and show some respect until I saw Stacy standing among them. She held a hand over her mouth and looked to be on the verge of tears. Lieutenant Jonas, to his credit, was the first to recover. He began firing orders at his men and galvanized them into action. Steve took control of everyone else and got them moving again. Those who were sober enough to do so went back to preparing breakfast. Everyone else dispersed into red-eyed clusters, whispering and holding each other. I slid my rifle around to my back and walked over to Stacy. She put her arms around me and buried her head in my chest. We just stood there for a while, holding one another. Noah Salinger stared at us for a moment, then turned away and walked into his shack. His expression was not a happy one.

Bill finished dressing the Sergeant’s wound and had Justin put his bloody clothes in a plastic trash bag. Cartwright got to his feet and staggered shirtless to the front of Bill’s shack. He looked pale from blood loss, and was clearly in a great deal of pain. I let go of Stacy and kissed her on the head.

“I meant to ask you about something last night.” She said.

“What’s that?”

“Remember when we were getting ready to go into Alexis? You said something about the creeps following you?”

I went rigid, and my blood turned to ice. How could I have forgotten?

“Son of a bitch.” I whispered.

“What?” Stacy asked.

“You’re right, Stacy. I should have remembered.”

I turned and walked toward Lieutenant Jonas, cursing myself for a fool the whole way. He was in front of Bill’s shack speaking in low tones with Sergeant Cartwright.

“…so what do you want to do?” Jonas asked.

“I…I don’t know. Give me a minute to think about it, LT.”

Jonas nodded and stood up, his expression carved out of flint.

“It’s your choice, Sergeant. Take your time.” He said, and walked away.

I caught his arm as he walked by. “Lieutenant, could I have a word with you in private?”

He stopped and glared at me. After a tense moment, he looked down and his expression softened. “Certainly, Mr. Riordan.”

I led him to the other side of the warehouse near my truck.

“How long have you been on the road?” I asked him.

“About two weeks or so. Why?”

“How long do you typically stop for?”

“No more than four hours, usually.”

“Have you ever noticed any infected following you?”

Jonas frowned. “Well…they always seem to be nearby, wherever we go. I don’t know if they were necessarily following us. I just figured that because there are so many of them…” He trailed off.

Jonas was a smart man. The light of realization slowly began to dawn on him.

“Oh my God. I led them here.”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s not your fault. I’ve seen this kind of thing before, I should have remembered.”

Jonas shook his head. “How could I have missed that?”

“Lieutenant, I have something I think you need to see.”

“What?”

“Hang on a second.”

I climbed into the bed of my truck and rooted around in a couple of boxes. I found the original copy of Gabriel’s manual on how to fight the undead, and handed it to Lt. Jonas. We sat down on a couple of empty five-gallon buckets and I told him everything I knew about Gabriel, Aegis, the Phage, all of it. When I finished, he stared at me as if seeing me for the first time.

“That’s quite a story, friend.” He said in a small voice.

I nodded. “Don’t I know it.”

“So what do you propose I do?”

“I propose you keep that manual. I propose that you read what is in it, and train your men accordingly. I further propose that you take it with you back to Fort Bragg and disseminate additional copies to your leaders, as well as everyone who has taken shelter there. I have managed to stay alive by following the lessons laid out in that document, and so have the people here at this warehouse.”

“Where is this Gabriel character? I would like to speak with him.” Jonas asked.

“Why? Everything he would have to say to you is right there in your hand.”

“Still, he might have valuable information.”

“Gabriel left the military for a reason. He wants to be left alone, and quite frankly Lieutenant, he’s earned it. If he wants to contact you, that is his choice.”

For a long moment, Jonas glared daggers at me with hard, granite colored eyes. I could tell what he was thinking, and I felt my bowels turn to water in my gut. I kept my gaze steady, and prayed he would flinch before I started sweating.

“Fine.” He said, heaving a sigh and looking down at the binder in his hands. “Does your friend know a way to stop the infection from taking hold?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Jonas lowered his head into a weathered hand and massaged his temple on one side.

“Then I have one shit-fuck of a day ahead of me.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked away. I found Bill near Stacy’s shack and asked to speak with him.

“So what do you want to do?” I asked.

“About what?” He said.

“About the infected.”

“The Sergeant hasn’t turned yet.” He snapped.

“I’m not talking about him.”

“Then what are you…oh…right.”

I took a half step closer and leaned in. “They probably followed the soldiers in. I spoke with Jonas, and I don’t think he knew what was going on. There weren’t any guards up this morning to sound the alarm, so God only knows how many more of those things are out there.”

“This is all my fault. I never should have canceled the guard.” He said, miserably.

“Damnit, Bill, this is not your fault. Now I need you to think, okay? What do we do?”

Bill looked ready to say something nasty for a second. The moment passed, and the gears of his mind started turning again.

“We need to get somebody up top to see how many creeps we’re dealing with.”

“What about the rolling door?” I asked. “It’s completely covered by the shipping container except for a few feet at the top. Open it up, and let me climb out there to see how many of them there are.”

Bill considered for a moment, then nodded. “Good idea. Get Steve and Earl, and meet me down by the door.”

I did as he said, and within a couple of minutes, the four of us were ready to go. Steve hauled on the chain that opened the door, and Earl stood with his back to the shipping container, fingers laced in front of him. I stepped into his hands and climbed on top of the container. After I slipped under the door, I reached a hand down for my rifle. Bill handed it up to me stock first.

I got to my feet and looked around at the crumbling concrete lot beyond the warehouse. About thirty or forty undead started that damned awful croaking when I stepped to the edge of the container. Five minutes later, there were almost a hundred of them, reaching and moaning and straining. I raised my H&K to my shoulder and went to work. The anger and despair that had been growing in me over the past few months boiled over as I fired into them again and again. Without realizing it, I had started shouting and cursing at the infected as I put them down. Normally it would have been distasteful work, but anger can make anything easy. I stayed on the container for a couple of minutes waiting, hoping for more undead to show up. When they didn’t, I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before I climbed down and went back inside.

“It’s clear.” I said to Bill. He and the others were staring at me.

Bill went back to the other side of the warehouse to let Lt. Jonas know that the infected were gone, and to ask for his men’s help clearing the bodies out. I dug a folding stool out of the back of my truck and sat down on it. Ethan came over and sat down next to me on an empty bucket.

“That was a good shot, earlier.” He said.

I stared down at the concrete between my feet and nodded.

“You okay?”

“I’m pretty fucking far from okay, Ethan. So are you. So is the world.”

Ethan shrugged. “That doesn’t change anything. We still have a job to do.”

I looked up and glared at my friend. “And what job would that be, exactly?”