The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning (51 page)

There was a squawk from her shoulder, and she noticed that her earpiece had come out. She yawned, her jaw cracking as she pushed the earpiece back in.

“. . . you find her and you tell her to report on the double!” The voice was unmistakable. Her CO was super pissed, and she had a feeling the “her” in his little tirade was, well, herself.

“Hunter One, Alpha Four. Checking in.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” Marquez shouted. “Report to command on the double!”

She winced as she stifled another yawn and grabbed her gear from the back of the truck.

“Roger, Hunter One. On the double.”

She slung her rifle over her back and threw her bag over one shoulder as she ran for the command center. Fortunately, it wasn’t far away, and a few minutes later, she had dropped her bag just inside the door and stood at attention next to the map table.

“Hunter Alpha Four, reporting as ordered, sir.”

“Where the fuck have you been, Blake? We’ve got a situation here!”

“Getting some rack, as ordered, sir,” she said, dropping to the ease position.

Marquez snorted, started to say something, then stopped. “Uh, right. So we’ve got a problem. We’ve had some people go missing on the north side of the airport. I’ve sent a patrol to check it out but they haven’t reported back yet. Now we’ve got reports of the same thing happening on the south side, and some of the ‘gees are saying they saw walkers on the east. I need you to take a team out there and find out what the fuck is going on.”

“Roger that, sir. I’ll take Foretti and Giuliani.”

“Giuliani’s on the north team, but you can have Foretti. Manning!”

Another Hunter stepped forward from one side of the tent.

“You’re with Blake here. Blake, Manning’s from Three, so he kinda sorta knows the terrain. Find out what’s going on. Clear?”

“Clear, sir.”

“Well, don’t just stand there! Dismissed!”

The Hunters broke from their stances and rushed out of the tent. Eden spoke into her shoulder mic as she waved down a Humvee. “Foretti, what’s your twenty?” She looked at the Humvee driver and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Get out.”

The young civilian driver took one look at her and jumped out of the vehicle. He was probably on an official errand, but she was sure he’d find another ride.

“Foretti here. I’m in the chow hall.”

“Not any more,” she said as she threw the Humvee into gear. Manning climbed in, but Eden didn’t wait for him to get comfortable. The Hunter glanced at her, but she pretended not to notice. “I’ll meet you there in three. We’re headed to the south side. Gear up.”

“Roger that.”

It only took her two minutes to arrive at the chow hall, and she found Foretti ready to go. She slowed down, and he jumped in the open rear compartment and stood in the gunner position. She sped up as he settled, and they raced south across the tarmac toward the end of the main terminal.

The AEGIS forces had been able to house most of the refugees inside the terminal, though they were packed in like sardines. They had used other nearby buildings to hold the others, but there were still some that were in temporary Quonset huts and various other structures the AEGIS forces had brought with them for just such a need.

“All teams, be advised. ExForce reinforcements and equipment are inbound. ETA ten mikes.”

Eden didn’t respond, didn’t need to. It was good to know that more forces were incoming. She turned the corner toward the southernmost refugee enclave and swerved as a bullet ricocheted off the glass of the windshield. She began evasive maneuvers as she tried to steer despite the spiderweb of cracked glass that had replaced her view.

Foretti and Manning fired back, not that any of them knew where the shot had come from, but more were bouncing off the reinforced metal of the Humvee. She swerved again, and some part of her brain noticed the torn and ripped canvas of the refugee hut. Blood splashed over the ground, and there were screams from the woods to the south that had replaced the grassy areas over the decades.

“Command, Alpha Four, we are engaged! Taking fire from unknown hostile forces. Multiple unknown refugee casualties. Attempting to evade!”

Foretti grunted above her head and yelled, “Got one of the bastards! It’s the Church! Motherfuckers. Get some!” He continued firing, and Manning hadn’t stopped either. He hung half out of the careening vehicle as she turned hard and headed back to the north and reinforcements.

“Command, be advised, we are under attack from Church forces and are falling back!”

“Roger, Alpha Four. They’re pressing from all sides. Fall back to the terminal. Protect the refugees if you can.”

Eden glanced over at Manning, who shrugged and grinned.

She snorted. “Crazy motherfuckers, both of ya.” She found herself grinning too as she unlocked the windshield and folded the useless thing down out of the way.

“Let’s kick this pig!” she yelled as she drew her pistol and gunned the vehicle toward the nearest refugee tent.

Presidential Command Center
Bunker Five

“Next on the list, getting those refugees from Bunker Four squared away. What news on that front?”

“We’ve heard that they’ve all arrived in Des Moines, sir,” David said. “They are preparing for flights as soon as possible. One second, sir.” He stepped out of view of the camera to speak with someone they couldn’t see.

The tension ratcheted up in the room as others also stepped away, including the governors of Bunkers Two and Three, as well as Kimberly Blake. The audio pickups were able to catch snatches of conversation.

“. . . attack? By who? How long ago?” A man’s voice was strident, loud, and cut through the little chatter that remained in the room. Everyone was focused on those who had stepped away now.

Ennis couldn’t tell which of the men the outburst had come from, but a moment later, everyone had returned to the call, at least all the governors. He couldn’t be the only one to notice that the military commanders of those three bunkers had not retaken their seats.

“What’s going on, Governors?” he asked. “Who’s under attack?”

David Blake spoke first. “It appears that the thousands of refugees from Bunker Four are under attack at the airport in Des Moines, Mr. President. Our reinforcements and extra equipment haven’t arrived yet, though they should be landing any minute. They’re going to be dropping into a hot mess, though.”

“Who’s attacking them?”

“Reports are sketchy at the moment, sir—lots of chaos down there, as you might imagine—but it looks like the Church of the Divine Judgment has made their move.”

“Who’s in charge over there?”

Blake looked away for a moment, then back, and the tension was obvious in his face. “Lieutenants Luis Marquez and Eden Blake, for the moment, sir. ExForce was assigned to handle the evacuation and will take command once they arrive.”

“Eden Blake? Any relation?”

“Yes, sir,” David said, and Ennis could hear the concern and tension in his voice. “She’s my daughter.”

Des Moines International Airport

Major Tom Reynolds was not as young as he used to be. He felt every bit of his age right now as the plane shook and quaked with turbulence as it circled for landing. His bones ached in their sockets, and he knew that sooner or later, he’d have to stop with the field work and get busy riding a desk.

Tom looked over at his husband, the younger and much more fit—if he was being honest—Adrian Masters. The man was as tough as they came. He was also one of the most honorable people Tom had ever met—just one of the reasons he loved him.

“Call for you, sir,” the pilot of the C-130 said over his shoulder and patched it through to Tom.

“AEGIS flight, Coalition Command. Please respond.”

Tom was in command of the ExForce personnel on this flight and was prepared to take overall command of the coalition forces when he landed due to his friend Anderson’s untimely, if heroic, death. He repressed the sudden pang of loss he felt at thinking of his friend and mentor of twenty-plus years and responded to the call from the field below.

“Coalition Command, this is AEGIS flight. Go ahead.”

“Be advised, flight, we are under attack from hostile forces identified as Church of the Divine Judgment. You’re dropping into a hot zone, sir.”

“Thanks for the warning, Command. Can you fit everyone in the terminal building?”

“Negative, sir. It’s all full up with refugees as it is. We’ve got people spilling out of every building in walking distance, sir. We… We weren’t expecting this.”

“No doubt that’s why they’re here, Mr. Marquez. Pull your people back to the main terminal, get as many in there as you can, and we’ll have your back when we land. I don’t care if you have to stack people on top of each other. Get ‘em secured.”

“Yes, sir. Command out.”

Tom looked out the nearest window as they came in for a landing. He could see flashes of gunfire and fleeing vehicles. As they got closer, he could see civilians running ahead of the mishmash of vehicles and flashes of gunfire directed backward. The sheer size of the assault was staggering. There were hundreds of what he could only assume were Church forces nearly surrounding the airport. More were coming in from the west, he could see, and through the homes and overgrown landscaping to the east marched a horde of zombies, another hundred of those at least.

“Holy shit. How many of them are there?” Masters asked as he looked out the window as well, then pointed. “Our trucks are taking the brunt of the fire, shielding the civs as they retreat.”

“As they should.” Tom leaned forward. “Give me flight-wide comms.”

The pilot reached up, flipped a switch, and nodded back in his direction as he and the copilot worked to bring the plane down on the too-short runway. “You’re on, sir,” the pilot said.

“AEGIS flight, this is Reynolds. We’re dropping in hot. Everyone gear up for a fight. Stryker team, be ready for a rolling drop. Do not, repeat, do not activate REAPR. We’ve got civs down there, and dollars to donuts none of them have armbands. Weapons hot, everyone.” He paused, wondering whether to tell everyone exactly what was going on, then shook his head. It wasn’t like they couldn’t look out the fucking window and see it anyway.

“We are severely outnumbered, at least 2-to-1. We have walkers on the east and Church forces massing from all other sides. Strykers will take positions on the northwest and southwest corners of the airport. Teams Alpha through Foxtrot will back them up. Gamma and Hotel will take out the walkers on the east side.” He paused once more, searching for something to say that didn’t sound bleak.

“I don’t have to tell you all what’s at stake here. Thousands of refugees out there are depending on us to make it to their new homes, since their old one is now a smoking crater. Your number one priority is to see to the safety of those civilians. Nothing else. Those are refugees down there, people who’ve been suffering and dying under the regime of Malcolm Dagger. They deserve a chance, and we’re going to give it to them. Hoorah?”

If the resounding “Hoorah!” from his own plane was any indication, the rest of the soldiers he’d brought with him were ready to do their duty. He handed the mic back to the pilot, knowing anything else he said would only lessen their drive.

He unbuckled his seat belt, made his way back through the cockpit, and took the forward ladder down to the cargo area. He broke open his own kit and saw Masters and the other soldiers he’d brought with him doing the same. Many were smiling the smile of soldiers excited to do their job—not to kill the enemy, but to protect the innocent. They were pumped, which was just what he needed when they were facing such long odds.

The rumble and whine of the Stryker’s engines started up, and he wished they didn’t have to be in here with that loud bastard of a machine. He looked at the assembled troops and smiled. These men were ExForce, the hardest of the Hunters and other soldiers, assembled to take on the unknown wilderness and beat it back.

“Take your positions! I want us on the ground and mobile as that ramp comes down!” He could feel the plane descending and knew it wouldn’t be much longer. The men dispersed and unstrapped the flight tie-downs from their assigned vehicles. They prepared for a rolling drop, something none of them relished.

Tom took the opportunity to pull Masters aside for a last-minute review. “You know the plan. I’ll take command of the south side. You get to our man and set it in motion, then coordinate on the north side.”

Masters nodded. “He’ll be in play before you know it, sir.”

Tom looked into his husband’s eyes. He wanted to say all the things you should say in this situation.
Be careful. Don’t get killed. Come back to me. I love you.
But none of it needed saying. Adrian already knew it all.

Tom settled for bowing his head toward Adrian, who did the same. Their foreheads touching, they held each other’s arms for a moment. Neither one was religious, but if they had been, this would’ve been their prayer.

After a long moment, they separated, and Adrian nodded. “I’ll see you soon.”

Tom hoped that was as true as he wanted it to be. “I’ll see you soon.”

Secondary Terminal Building
Des Moines International Airport

Masters didn’t intend to be quiet most of the time. He just moved in a deliberate fashion, with an economy of motion that most people lacked. It wasn’t active stealth so much as lack of extraneous movements. This sort of “natural stealth” caused him to sneak up on people often, even when he didn’t mean to.

The guard was antsy, which wasn’t surprising given what was going on outside. He happened to be looking into the brig the command had set up when Masters rounded the corner from the building’s small lobby area, so when he turned around to see an officer standing where no one had been a moment before, of course he jumped back with a shout.

“Holy shit!” The man had his gun up and almost fired, but Masters was ready for that and had sidestepped and shoved the barrel of the rifle upward and away from them both.