The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning (11 page)

Anderson’s reply was swift. “That should be fine, son. Shaw, you and I can coordinate a guard detail later.”

Shaw spoke up for the first time. “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it. Probably have a Hunter squad go with them. I’ll contact you later today, sir.”

“Good. If there’s nothing further, then I’ll just say congratulations to us. I never thought this day would come, at least in my lifetime. Let’s stay focused, though. We’ve got a lot to do. Bunker Eight out.” There was a click from the line as the connection terminated.

“I assume we’re one of those that’ll be taking up your ‘limited flight capability,’ Doctor?” Gates asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Atkins replied. “We’ve only got three planes. We’ve got them organized to deliver to several bunkers each before holding as reserves, if needed. I’ll send the details to your staff.”

“Great. Bunker One out.”

Jim sighed with relief. That had gone as well as he could’ve hoped. Now if only the good news could last for a little while for once…

CHAPTER FOUR

Expeditionary Force Command
Joint Base Lewis-McChord
Tacoma, Washington

Eden Blake wiped an arm across her brow and cleared the sweat from her eyes. The hot, humid day wasn’t what she’d hoped for when she’d drawn dirt duty. Repair crews were a necessary part of life on the surface, but they didn’t so much repair as replace. For her, for today, dirt duty was just that. She’d dug part of a new trench for one of the sewer lines that had busted in the main camp. Others had gotten it this far, to the edge of the fence line, but it was her turn now. She almost wished she was still on restricted duty.

How did they live with such poorly made stuff back then? She hated to deal with the shoddy workmanship of the years gone by. Rusted pipes, cracked storm drains, whole buildings that were safer torn down than standing… all because no one was thinking ahead back then. At least they were building stuff to last now. With limited resources, they couldn’t afford
not
to build stuff to last, since everything was irreplaceable. Fortunately, the bunker builders had been thoughtful enough to include detailed building plans and training modules in the extensive server farms under the mountain. She’d heard that Bunker Seven’s took up three or four entire levels of the bunker, but the Hunter found that hard to believe.

Eden rubbed her aching back, leaned on her shovel, and ignored the pointed glances from her commander-for-the-day. Some days, it just didn’t pay to get up in the morning. Her left shoulder and side still twinged, but it had been long enough for it to be a minor irritant instead of crippling pain. At least it didn’t hurt to breathe anymore.

She saw her current CO lower his clipboard and start to head her way, so she put her cap back on and picked up the shovel… then stopped, cocking an ear back over her shoulder. Eden wished the rest of the crew would stop for a minute so she could concentrate on the sound she’d heard. Was that
aircraft
engines?

“Get back to work, Blake,” the lieutenant who’d walked over commanded. “I don’t give a damn whose daughter you—”

“Sshhhh,” Eden said and put a gloved finger across his lips as she listened harder. “I heard something.”

The lieutenant smacked her hand away. “You heard some—” He broke off as he heard the sound too. He turned to the rest of the crew and whistled, then drew a hand across his throat, the universal sign for “kill it.”

“There,” Eden said, pointing over the treeline just as the monstrous C-5M Galaxy crossed into view. All 222 feet of the massive plane’s wingspan shone in the bright summer sun as it banked and came in for a landing. Eden grinned. “The treatment is here. Let’s go meet the plane.”

She grabbed her pack and ran for the crew’s Humvee, not waiting for her CO’s okay. The rest of the work party joined her as she slid behind the wheel. The lieutenant was the last to get into the vehicle, and he gave her a sour glance as he got in.

“I give the orders on my crew, Blake.”

“Shit. Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—”

“Just drive.”

Eden sighed. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop screwing up. She gunned the engine, and dirt flew up behind the tires as they raced for the airfield. With the effortless skill of those with super-fast reflexes, she swerved to miss obstacles, including other vehicles, as they got closer. When she glanced over, the LT was pale and holding onto his seatbelt and oh-shit handle with clenched fists.

“That’ll be another week tacked on,” she mumbled, then slewed the Humvee to a stop next to another ExForce vehicle. Colonel Gaines glanced around at the sound of the screeching tires and glowered as the unit leapt down. More than one soldier was on shaky legs after the racecar ride they just had. “Hunter Blake and company requesting permission to view the landing, sir,” she said.

Gaines nodded. “Permission granted. Not like I could keep you away anyway.” He snapped his fingers with an evil grin. “We’re gonna need some help unloading. See to it, Lieutenant,” he said, motioning to her crewleader.

The colonel turned to one of the other men, a local survivor recruited after they found him in the ruins of Spanaway. “Martin, change of plans,” he said. “Take your guys over to the other side and help Marcy and her group with packing up their stuff.”

Martin looked over at Eden and she thought she saw something dark and unpleasant behind his eyes, just for a moment. When she blinked, it was gone, and he had started to gather his workers, all locals like him. She’d never met the man, so she couldn’t fathom why he’d level such a look her way. It didn’t matter now, as he was leaving, and she had a lot more to do anyway.

Shit,
she thought as the others turned on her, angry about their new assignment. “Hey, at least it’s not digging ditches, right?”

“You get the first heavy crate, Blake,” the LT said. Agreement from the others rang loud in her ears as they all walked to a safe distance from the descending plane. They might be happy about the treatments arriving, but no one liked moving heavy shit. “Show us how it’s done.”

ExForce Command Center

Sergeant Rita Sensa knocked once and entered her CO’s office, standing at attention. “Sergeant Sensa, reporting as ordered, sir.”

“Take a seat, Sergeant,” Gaines said. “Have the supplies from Bunker Seven been unloaded?”

“Yes, sir, and they’re on the trucks to take to the bunker. If they haven’t already left, they will soon.”

“Any problems?”

“No, sir…” Sensa hesitated. “Well, not really.”

“Well, are there or aren’t there?”

“Sorry, sir, it’s just that one of our volunteers disappeared shortly after the plane arrived, sir. We tried locating him, but no dice.”

“You think he was bitten? There hasn’t been an alarm.”

“No, sir. He was a bit odd, anyway, and I was about to cut him loose. So maybe it was a good thing that he took off.”

“Odd? How so?” Gaines leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised.

“He was a snooper, sir. Caught him eavesdropping more than once, busted him trying to sneak into restricted areas, etc.” Sensa hastened to add, “No security breaches, sir. But he sure tried. Too many red flags, so I was gonna eighty-six him, but he left before I could.”

“Sounds like he was here for more than volunteering, Sergeant.”

“I thought so too, sir, but who could he spy for? There’s no one left but us.”

Gaines was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. “Still, best to rotate the security on anything he had access to and double check all our secure areas.”

“Yes, sir. I already have.”

Gaines grunted. “Good. About the supplies—any idea how we’re supposed to use them? Did they send a technician or something?”

“Yes, sir. There’s a medic with them. He’s on the truck too.” Gaines looked distant again, so she followed up with a question of her own. “What’s wrong, sir?”

Gaines shook himself free of his daze and looked at her with such an intensity that she worried for a moment. Was something wrong?

“Close the door, Sergeant.”

Sensa closed the door and then returned to her seat, curious about what her CO was going to reveal. He’d never been a forthcoming person, but she’d heard the rumors. That he’d seen friends die from walkers, that he’d been in some pretty hairy scrapes. And, of course, that he’d had to kill his fiancée.

“We haven’t told anyone this yet, but Marcy’s pregnant,” Gaines said.

Sensa was grinning before she’d fully registered his words. “Congratulations, sir! When’s she due?”

“In about five months. We don’t have an exact date yet.”

“That’s great to hear, sir. I’m happy for you.” Suddenly, Sensa put two and two together. “No wonder you wanted to know about the tech. Can the treatments help the baby?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance yet to get briefed. That’s why I wanted to make sure they sent someone along.” He sighed and scrubbed his hands through his short hair. “Between the first Expo launching soon and the treatments and Bunker Four and… well, it’s all been a bit much.”

“I can imagine. Bunker Four, sir? What’s happening—”

“Never mind, Sergeant. I never should’ve mentioned it.”

“Mentioned what, sir?” Sensa asked with a wry grin.

“Good man,” he said. “Erm, woman.”

“No worries, sir. Do you want me to hold the trucks so you can speak to the tech?” Sensa reached for her shoulder-mounted radio.

Gaines thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I’ll talk to Colonel Blake about it later. I’m sure she has more info than I do and just hasn’t disseminated it yet. Dismissed.”

“Sir,” Sensa said as she stood and opened the office door.

“Oh, and Sensa…” Gaines trailed off as she looked around. “Keep this between us, will you? Marcy, I mean.”

“Count on it, sir,” she replied and closed the door on her way out of the office. She couldn’t fathom what Gaines would look like as a father, but it was going to be interesting to find out.

Governor’s Conference Room
Bunker Seven
Wheeler Peak, New Mexico

Bill Shaw, his wife, Jennifer, Governor Tom Ridgely, and several others had gathered around the conference room table. They’d been there for hours ironing out a plan for distribution of both prion treatments to the bunkers. That had been easy compared to actually implementing that plan. Bill took another long swig of pseudo-coffee and sighed. It just wasn’t the same.

“Still no word from Five?” he asked.

Jennifer shook her head. “Not a peep. We know they’re getting our transmissions. They’re just not responding. Still, that’s better than Four.”

Bill snorted. He, Ridgely, and Atkins had called to let Bunker Five know about the prion treatment, and the pissant little puke who’d answered had told them to fuck off and stop bothering him. Further calls had not been not answered.

“You know,” Jennifer said, “it’s not so much the assholes like these people we have to deal with that disturbs me. It’s the people in those bunkers who aren’t going to get the treatment.”

“How do you mean?” he asked.

“Jennifer, if I may,” the governor said before she could respond. “It’s simple, Bill. If we do get them the treatments, somehow or another, it’s likely they’ll withhold it from the people under their thumb. It will become a barter item instead of salvation.”

“Exactly,” Jennifer agreed. “These types of people will see it as another way to hold on to their power rather than provide it to their people. It’ll be the new ‘gold standard’ for the power hungry in every bunker.”

Bill sat down. “I see what you mean. It’s the Golden Rule: he who has the gold makes the rules. So, how do we fight it?”

Mary Maxwell, also in attendance, spoke up. “I have an idea about that, actually. Governor, is there a way to send a message between bunkers that bypasses the control center?”

Ridgely thought for a moment. “I don’t think so, but I’m no expert on these systems. We should talk to Roger Tate at Bunker Eight. He helped design the damn things.”

“Okay, we’ll table that for the moment until we talk to them. If we can do it somehow, I suggest we send a message to the people in those bunkers telling them everything. Just put it all out there.”

“But that would cause rioting, especially if the ones in charge haven’t told them,” Jennifer said. “Oh! I see where you’re going. While we deal with them externally, their own people can work on them from inside. That’s genius, Mary!”

Mary blushed and smiled. “Thank you. I just hope we can make it work. And it doesn’t solve the problem about people on the surface, either. The treatment could still be used on survivors, if there even are any.”

“Good points, everyone,” Bill said. “Last item on the agenda: Bunker Eight. Anyone talked to Anderson yet?”

“I did,” the governor said. “He’s ready to receive our convoy, but he’s worried about the trip. He said the way our guys will be coming used to be a militia-controlled zone. Especially between Lubbock and Abilene. He suggests we route the convoy either through Amarillo and Wichita Falls, then south or through Carlsbad and Fort Stockton, then east.”

“How bad were these attacks?”

“He didn’t say, but Anderson doesn’t exaggerate, in my experience.”

Shaw nodded. “Agreed. Let’s also look at backup plans to get the treatments to Bunkers Four and Five, regardless of their comms status. Governor, do you have anything you want to go over?”

“Literally, I need to talk about the weather,” he said, laughing.

“Oh?” Jennifer asked, who couldn’t help but smile. “What about it?”

“The
haboobs
are getting worse, and—”

Shaw always chuckled at the Arabic word for “big-ass sandstorm,” and this time was no different. But it didn’t take long for him to tune out, worried about the attacks that might occur on his people between the bunkers. It was a long way from northern New Mexico to just outside Austin, and a lot could go wrong. He glanced over at Mary and knew that her daughter Rachel would want to go.

As one of Bunker Seven’s best-rated Hunters, he hadn’t figured out a way to keep her off the mission. But losing Rachel so soon after her father’s passing would kill Mary. Maybe not literally, but it would destroy her spirit, and Shaw couldn’t risk that. He care about his friend too much to put her through that pain.