The Dying of the Light: Interval (48 page)

“What? From what?”

He pulled his uniform shirt aside to show the wound he’d received.

“What the hell happened? I always thought you were bulletproof,” I said, grinning.

“Funny you should say that,” he said, laughing, and told the story, then repeating it again as the Shaws arrived. “It’s not as bad as it looks, just hurts like a son of a bitch.”

As he said that, I saw George Maxwell coming up behind him, but I thought it would be more fun not to telegraph that fact.

“Pain is just weakness leaving the body, soldier,” said Maxwell. “Or so I hear.”

Anderson immediately stiffened, then did a frankly amazing about-face, saluting the general, who returned it. “General, sir. I… I didn’t know you were going to be here.” Anderson gave me a withering look, and I held up my hands in innocence.

George chuckled. “Spare me the melodrama, Frank. Why
wouldn’t
I be here? What the hell happened? And welcome back, by the way.”

Anderson shook his head, laughing, then repeated the story for a third time.

Maxwell listened quietly, and then nodded. “Sounds like you made the right call to let them try to go home. Now let’s get everyone loaded up and back to the bunker. Recon says there’s a herd moving nearby, and we don’t want to get caught out here.”

Anderson turned to Gaines, who nodded and dragged Reynolds along to corral the civilians into the trucks we’d brought with us. It wasn’t comfy, but it was a damn sight better than being cooped up in a plane for days.

Anderson surprised us all when he turned back. “Sir, I’d prefer to get back to my people at Bunker Eight. If you can get us refueled, we’ll be on our way.”

Maxwell looked at him. “Look, Frank, I know you want to get back to Morena and the baby, but they’re fine, and you need medical attention
now
, not later. You’ll be on your way in a day or two, tops, I promise.”

“Sir…”

“That’s an order, Captain,” Maxwell said. “Besides, there are things going on that you all need to hear. We’ve got a problem, and we all need to figure out a solution soon. Or all of this,” he said, waving his hand at the planes sitting on the tarmac, “will have been pointless. So pardon my French, Captain, but get in the fucking truck.”

I laughed, as did the others, and Anderson finally nodded and walked with us back to the Humvees. Once the survivors were loaded up, we secured the aircraft and headed back to the bunker. With Maxwell, Anderson and the Shaws in the lead Humvee, I was in the second with Gaines, Reynolds, and Archer.

I brought Gaines and Archer up to speed on what had been going on with Bunker One and the renewed attacks by Arthur Beoshane. Gaines, in particular, was pissed, and kept saying we should just take the bastard out however we could. Cut the head off the snake. While I didn’t disagree with him, I was sure it wouldn’t be quite that easy.

I was soon filling in everyone about the constant attacks on Bunker One. The round-the-clock assaults were still happening, giving Kim and me little time to talk by radio or phone, and I was more than a little anxious to get back home.

With Maxwell, Anderson, and me there in the conference room, it was as close to a ‘council of bunkers’ as we were going to get anytime soon. Gaines, Reynolds, and Bill and Jennifer Shaw made up the rest of the small group.

“Basically, Beoshane’s a tool with delusions of grandeur and a really creepy dude who works for him. Not sure what the creepy dude is all about, but I do know he seems nigh-invincible,” I said.

“I can vouch for that,” said Reynolds. “It’s the same guy I saw with Beoshane ten-plus years ago, chasing us down in Tacoma. We don’t really know much about him, though.”

I shook my head and sat down. “There’s… more to the story.” I glanced around the room, taking stock of those sitting there. Leaders, all of them, and they could handle what I had to tell them. They’d been through Hell and back. But their people were a different story. “What I’m about to tell you has been classified by Governor Gates and Colonel Barnes as need-to-know only. Not even you know about this yet, George. Nor do you, Tom, Dalton.” Maxwell was surprised, but remained silent. Dalton and Tom just waited, trusting in me.

“His name is Driebach, and he’s not just your average creepy, invincible guy.” I went on to describe the scene that Masters had witnessed on the slopes of Mount Rainier, and what he’d found there. “Driebach survived an avalanche, but was obviously severely injured, judging by the blood where he dug himself out and how he had to drag himself through the snow. Then, he consumed about half of another survivor, who was alive at the time, and then walked away under his own power. That suggests that he can regenerate his health by eating people. I don’t know how it works, so don’t ask. We’re not even sure if that’s what really happened. All we know is that when we went back with a full tactical team, we couldn’t find him. So whatever he did allowed him to escape. Again.”

There were more than a few green faces at the table.

“Need-to-know basis, remember. There’s no need to go scaring people to death with stories of bogeymen, even if this one’s real.

“We know he works for Beoshane. The question is, how do we get to
him
? We’ve got to stop these attacks.”

Unexpectedly, Maxwell chimed in. “Actually, that fits with what I’ve been hearing.” We all looked at him, wondering where he was going with this. “Since before this whole thing started, I’ve had… well, let’s call them friends… in place in certain key areas to provide me with information that others might not want known. I’d heard rumors of something along the lines of Driebach, but I never paid them much attention. With what you’ve told us today about him and everything else, I think there’s a much bigger picture, here. I don’t think it’s Beoshane calling the shots on this, at all.”

“Then who?” I asked. “There’s no one else in the area.”

“That’s my point, exactly. I don’t think it’s someone in Seattle, or even Washington.” He pulled over a rolled bundle from a rack against the wall and spread it out on the conference table. It was a map of the US, with the locations of all ten bunkers marked. The sixth bunker had a large X drawn over it in red marker, and Bunker Nine just had a question mark. “I think what’s happening is that someone’s trying to take over the bunkers.”

“What, like Gardner?” asked Tom, who had a special place in his heart for that bastard, just as I did.

“No, Gardner wanted to rule with laws and structure, order amid chaos. Whoever’s doing
this
, though, is just looking to rule. Strong versus the weak, that sort of thing. I’m fairly certain, from reports I received at the time, that whoever it was is testing some sort of new weapon on these populations. I had word from Bunker Nine before we finally lost all contact, and they said they’d had a visit from someone. My guy in the bunker was pretty far gone at that point, so I never got a positive ID on the visitors, but he said that after they’d left, the people around him were… well, he used the word
mutating
. They weren’t turning into walkers, but they were going crazy, attacking and eating each other. Your report on Driebach reminded me of it.”

He pointed toward Bunker Six. “I can’t prove it, but I think he had something to do with Six as well. I had Kim send me over the records of your recon team, and I looked through their videos and reports. There was evidence of some sort of impact on or just above the mountain, roughly centered over the bunker. At the time, you weren’t looking for anything external, so you didn’t do too much investigating outside. But from what I saw, I think I know what happened.” He paused and sat back down. “I think it was a prion bomb.”

There was dead silence in the room as we all considered the implications of that statement. I was the first to speak. “So what you’re saying…” I had to swallow to get the words out. “So, what you’re saying is that someone has
weaponized
the zombie prion?”

George nodded. “Yes. And, more importantly, I know who did it.” When no one spoke, George continued. “I think it’s Malcolm Dagger. I’ve got some sources on the inside—and no, I can’t tell you who, yet—that found out that just before Z-Day, Dagger had somehow gotten himself assigned to a private research facility that was doing some black-ops government work using material ‘borrowed’ from USAMRIID. The records that my source has been able to recover indicate some high-level work with the prion, attempting to weaponize it. From what I’ve read, it looks like one of Henry Gardner’s pet projects that Dagger somehow appropriated.”

“Goddamn Henry Gardner straight to Hell. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.” It was only when I noticed everyone staring at me that I realized I’d spoken aloud. I looked back, unapologetic, and no one disagreed with me.

George coughed, and continued. “So based on this and other evidence I’ve put together, I’m pretty sure it’s him. I can’t prove it, yet, but I will, and soon.”

By this point, I’d been hit by so many surprises that this one just didn’t have the impact it might have, otherwise. Still, I had to make sure of what I was hearing. “Wait… you’re telling us that the head of Bunker Four’s military unit is behind this?”

George was clearly pissed at the idea.
As he should be
, I thought.
A former AEGIS operator betraying what is, essentially, the remaining sliver of the human race? Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed, too
.

“That little shit isn’t just the head of the military. Before they stopped transmitting last year, my sources told me that Governor Yarborough hadn’t been seen in years. That he’d holed up in his office and suite to run the bunker from there, like some sort of agoraphobic. Rumor had spread that he was ill, that he was confined to a wheelchair, that he was actually dead… all sorts of things.” He snorted. “Actually, I think that last one is true. I’m almost certain that Dagger has killed the governor and taken full control of the bunker. I don’t know what his plans are with this prion bomb, but it doesn’t matter. He needs to be stopped!” His fist slammed onto the table, making the whole surface jump.

“So that’s the question, then,” said Shaw. “How do you dig out a guy who’s buried five hundred feet underground? And don’t forget, this Bunker Nine is likely full of people who are similar to Driebach. Hell, for all we know, that’s where Driebach
comes from
.”

I sat back in my chair, trying to absorb the flood of new horrific information I’d just received.
What in the bloody blue fuck do we do now?

“Colonel Shaw to see you, sir,” said Sheila Hume, George’s assistant, as Shaw waited for the general’s response in the outer office.

“Come on in, Bill,” came the voice.

Maxwell stood as Shaw entered. “Get the door, will you?” Maxwell said.

Shaw dutifully closed the door and shook the hand the general had offered.

“Have a seat, Colonel. Thanks for coming,” Maxwell said.

“It’s the least I could do, sir, after your people rescued us. Frankly, I never thought I’d see the States again. How’s Atkins doing, by the way? I haven’t seen him since we got here.”

Maxwell laughed. “I’m sure he’s doing fine, since I haven’t seen my wife for more than a few minutes here and there, either. And she’s seven months pregnant! She shouldn’t be working as hard as she is…” He shook his head. “But that’s not what I asked you here to talk about.”

Shaw sensed the seriousness in the general’s tone, and sat up a bit straighter. “Yes, sir.”

“Colonel, have you thought about what you’ll do, now that you’re back?”

“No, not really. Jennifer and I are still working through some things, and really, we just were focused on getting back, figuring everything else would take care of itself somehow.”

“Well,” the general said, pausing briefly. “What if you were to work through those things here? At Bunker Seven?”

“That sounds great, sir. I don’t know how long we’ll be staying, but we can certainly use some down time.”

“You… you’re not getting what I’m saying, son.” Maxwell smiled and leaned forward, folding his arms on his desk. “What if you were to stay here? As in, permanently?”

Shaw’s eyes widened. “Oh! I hadn’t really thought about it, but if you’ve got some room… I can always work in the hangar.”

Maxwell shook his head again. “That’s… not exactly what I had in mind. You see, Colonel, I’m not in the best of health.” He smiled grimly, tapping his chest. “The ticker, they tell me. Not Mary,” he hastened to add. “She doesn’t know yet. Been trying to come up with a way to tell her, and don’t want to do it till the baby’s born.”

“How bad is it?”

“There’s a lot of medical gobbledegook that goes along with it, but basically, they said I’ve got anywhere from five to ten years left.”

“Well, that had to be something of a relief, I imagine. You get that kind of news and you’re thinking six months, ten months?”

“Yeah, that was it, but I’ve always been a pragmatic sort of guy. Thing is, we may or may not be out of the bunker by then. Depends on how things are shaping up outside, and who knows what will happen with this whole Dagger thing.”

“So where do I come in, sir?”

Maxwell leaned back and looked at the younger man once more. “I want you to take over from me when I’m gone. In the meantime, you’ll be my top man, learning the ropes of this place, the prickly people, etc. Our head of security just went a little bonkers recently and had to retire, so we’ll make you the new head for now.”

“That’s a hell of an offer, sir.”

“And not one you can take without discussing it with your wife.”

“No, sir.”

“Good man. There’s just one more thing, Colonel.”

Shaw sighed. “I think I know what you’re going to say, sir.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Shaw sat back against the chair, looking down at his hands, fumbling with his hat in his lap. “You want me to get some treatment for my PTSD.” When Maxwell didn’t respond, Shaw glanced up and saw the other man watching him. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“You wouldn’t, son,” said Maxwell. “That’s part of it. I know. I’ve been there.”