Up From the Depths (13 page)

I love my work,
Doyle thought to herself.
Damn, I should be getting pictures of this
.

She waited for the mist to dissipate and the infected to move closer to the building before arming the next sequence. The mindless infected took the opportunity of that lull in shooting to move closer to the steps that led to the entrance doors of the museum. Doyle’s engineers had planned for this event as well. They had scavenged one inch thick steel plating from construction and building projects then welded slides that prevented the infected from climbing the steps except only in a few places that funneled the horde into a tight space like a cattle chute. Doyle’s communication’s earpiece crackled.

“Ma’am,” Sergeant Winchester said. “The murder holes are full.”

Doyle flipped the next toggle. The thinly rolled Semtex mounted to the interior of the steel plates that formed the chute, covered with wax that held the imbedded nuts, screws, belt fed machine gun links, broken ceramic from coffee mugs, and spent brass in place, detonated. The heavy boom was heard and felt all the way up on the roof. Winchester knew from prior experience that anything caught in that blast would end up looking like a mixture of raw hamburger and tomato paste that had been put in a blender and turned on high with the lid left off. The heavy door rattled when the Semtex was set off. He was glad that they had used tarps held in place by books, sandbags, office furniture, and other heavy items on the inside. Blood flows and the doorway didn’t have a high threshold. No one left in the museum wanted Zulu slurry leaking inside.

The blast shredded hundreds of diseased, knocking back hundreds more and pushing the swarm back against the fence surrounding Central Park. Doyle watched all this from her perch on the roof, waiting for this exact moment. She held her finger over the next switch until she was sure there were enough hostiles in the kill zone. The horde surged behind the ones that had been thrown back, pushing forward towards the building again.

“What are you waiting for? Blow it!” Ski yelled when he saw the surge.

“Everybody get down!” Doyle yelled as she pressed the button. The half-inch plywood that was anchored to the rock and concrete fence at the park boundary and lying on the sidewalks simply disappeared. The plywood had been hiding the two hundred plus detonation cables that ran to the paper thin, rolled sheets of Semtex that was in turn mounted to more half-inch steel plating bolted to the fence. Embedded in each of these explosive sheets were nails, screws, gravel, and other odds and ends that the combat engineers could find then covered with a layer of epoxy to hold it all in place. They had spaced the sheets at fourteen inch intervals, essentially creating giant Claymore antipersonnel mines. The amount of bodies packed into the space between the fence and the museum was enough to muffle the explosion so that only a dull whump sound was heard. What the density of rotting flesh didn’t do was impede the particles that were shot out of the field expedient area suppressive devices. The mass of infected literally disappeared into nothing but rags and meat. After the first detonation, all the warheads that had been removed from DeMillio’s stockpile of M136 anti-armor weapons ripple fired. The street and sidewalk in front of the museum was swept clear in an orgy of destruction. Doyle cautiously peered over the edge of the roof. What she saw was jaw dropping and probably her best work. Her team had learned well from history and recent combat actions. Asymmetric warfare had its place and that had just been proven. The street ran ankle deep in gore, bodily fluids, and torn flesh. Organic matter painted the area in modernistic abstract art. What used to be diseased humans now looked like nothing more than red confetti. The entrance to the park that faced the museum was blocked with the twisted remains of the vehicles that had been parked on the street and the collapsed heavy fencing that had once made up the perimeter of the park. The push to reach the museum had been stopped. The infected were now totally contained within the perimeter of Central Park.

“Holy shit,” Ski muttered. “We just might live through this,” he said, surveying the chunky, reddish gravy that covered the area below him.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Doyle said. “There’s a lot more where those came from.” She pointed to the flow of infected still streaming into the park from the city.

“Holy shit,” Ski repeated. He watched as more and more infected poured into Central Park and were contained by the Hesco barriers and fencing. Some of the survivors from Doyle’s event were already shambling towards the new blockage. A distinctive sound made both of them turn and look at the sky.

“Heads down, people!” Doyle yelled as a screeching roar thundered overhead.

Aircraft from Crockett’s carrier group unloaded their payloads of bombs and missiles into Central Park. The last two aircraft dropped fuel-air explosives. The firestorm swept through the densely packed infected. Simultaneously, a perimeter of destruction was created for several blocks around the park. Buildings collapsed as supports were destroyed, falling across streets and into each other. The heady aroma of flammable liquid filled the air to mix with the coppery scent of vast quantities of blood, rotted flesh, chemical explosives, smoke, and sweat soaked humans. The fire from the horde within the park spread rapidly to those infected still pushing forward into the only opening offering egress. A loud whoosh that seemed to suck the oxygen out of the air like a black hole enveloped the area, incinerating everything in its path. To Ski, it looked like the gates to Hell had opened as millions of infected disappeared into the fiery conflagration. The defenders stopped shooting and watched, some slack jawed in awe, as the firestorm consumed the packed mass of viral carriers. Burning infected staggered and flayed around before succumbing to the heat. The wall of fire swept the park, igniting everything. They all knew the fire would burn for hours before it finally died out. Trees at the perimeter were igniting and exploding like Roman candles. Thick, black smoke reached into the sky, mixing with the gray clouds and carrying with it the stench of burning flesh, rubber, and hot metal. They could feel the heat from where they stood on the roof.

Luzetski had been optimistic about whether Crockett would be able to provide close air support. Now that the planes were in the air, strafing the park, their chances for survival had just gone up a few notches. Maybe they would all be alive for a few more hours.

Ski had stopped firing, reloaded, and stood watching what was left of the teeming mass of infected as they were consumed by the chemical fire. He knew that they had only bought a few hours before the fires died down to a point where the infected would push through. Now, they would definitely have to rely on the, utility, and subway tunnels.
Might not have to do that Thunder Run after all
, he mused. Each of the fighter bombers from Crockett’s carrier group expended all their ordnance one after the other then did a low level flyby, rocking their wings as they passed over the museum before punching full afterburner and gaining altitude.

***

Chapter 26

Joint Base Lewis/McChord (JBLM), Washington State

The thunder of weapon’s fire drowned the moans and shrieks of the infected. Somewhere in the back of Holroyd’s mind the new sound that the infected were making was being categorized for later contemplation while the rest of him went through the movements that only years of training could make automatic. Upton had fired the Ma Deuce empty and before he could load another full can, a small group of infected that appeared at the corner of the warehouse had grown into the leading edge of a large mass. Holroyd emptied his rifle into the closest targets, dropped the empty magazine to the ground but the group was too close for him to take the time to reload. Speed drawing his sidearm, he fired into the first few that had used the lull caused by the M2 and his rifle going empty to race to the back of the MATV and attempt to climb up. Holroyd stepped away from the vehicle and emptied his M9 as he laid down suppressive fire that gave Upton enough time to reload the heavy machine gun and rejoin the battle.

“Go! Go!” Holroyd yelled as he climbed back inside.

Sergeant Sullivan stomped on the pedal throwing up gravel from the rail bed. The gravel ricocheted off the concrete loading ramp and pinged against the armored hull. The heavy vehicle shuddered a little sideways until its deep lug tires found purchase and bit into the gravel then bounced over the railroad tracks before squealing on the rain soaked asphalt. Behind them, the Warpig crew was putting out a solid wall of destruction into the approaching infected as its driver raced to catch up with the other vehicles.

Holroyd inserted a fresh magazine into his rifle, mentally chiding himself for dropping the spent magazine. Movement in his peripheral vision made him look over as the supply/forage convoy split off and headed back towards Cascade. With luck, the infected would ignore them and continue following the gun trucks. It was important that those supplies make it back to Cascade. Not only was there more MREs to supplement the food stores they already had, there was winter clothing and water filtration equipment. Colonel Carter wanted the filtration equipment more than the other supplies as he was concerned that the water treatment plant that they had gotten back online only had filters and media for a few years. Holroyd put that out of his mind as he reached over and grabbed the handset from the SINCGARS radio mounted on the transmission tunnel. Keying the transmit button, he broadcast to all the vehicles and Cascade.

“Sandstorm! Sandstorm! Heavy contact! All units Rally Point Bravo! I say again, Rally Point Bravo!”

He knew that with the combined firepower of the gun trucks, they could battle their way out. He muttered a half remembered soldier’s prayer as he twisted around and leaned over the seat to count the cans of ammo that remained for the M2. They were in the serious shit now and the .50 was a hungry weapon. Turning back around he pat checked the pockets of his vest as he muttered the words half remembered.

‘
Yea, tho I ride through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for I am the baddest motherfucker in the valley
’

Returning to the task at hand, he drew his M9, ejected the empty magazine, removed a loaded mag from his vest and inserted it then hit the slide release letting the slide travel forward and strip off the first round in the magazine. He holstered it and looked over and up past his left shoulder at Upton who had finished feeding another belt into the M2. Upton was his team’s heavy weapons specialist. He was able to use just about anything up to a towed artillery piece and even then quite possibly that as well. Upton slapped shut the feed tray cover on the heavy machine gun and worked the charging handle once to feed the first round in then worked the handle again ejecting the first round and feeding the next in the link. Holroyd turned back around and reached up to his MH180 headset and Panther hearing protection and clicked the transmit button.

“Check, check. Radio check,” he said over the team net

With the weapons fire that was imminent, they needed to be able to talk to each other.

“Switch to VOX,” Holroyd said, as he knew that there wouldn’t be time to press and hold the transmit button when the action started. If they could contain the infected to the Logistics Center it would give them more room to maneuver. If they were pushed back into the Old Madigan area or onto the main post, space was limited and they’d end up with only a few vehicles being able to engage as the roads were narrower and still contained the barriers that had been put in place during the first few hours of the outbreak.

“Warpig approaching,” Upton reported.

Holroyd strained to see where the main gun truck was. He caught a glimpse of the mobile weapons platform as it stopped at the gate that divided the Logistics Center from the Old Madigan complex. Every weapon onboard was firing back into the Log Center as the other trucks slipped past and formed a cordon. The modified 1078 LMTV rolled through the gate last, weapons smoking and steaming as the cold rain pelted the hot metal. Holroyd’s vehicle had stopped in the parking lot of the old recreation center. Through the rain, he could see the men in the back of the Warpig reloading. The thunder of weapons fire vibrated the MATV as the other trucks went online. Tracers streaked out into the rain as the trucks rocked back on their springs. The gunners swept the area back and forth laying down suppressive fire that chopped up the infected as they attempted to squeeze through the gate to Old Madigan.

Holroyd watched, amazed and with some mild shock, as the infected threw themselves into the wall of death that was being sown. The front of the tainted mass literally evaporated only to be replaced by those behind it in a seemingly never-ending push.

“Break, break. This is team leader. All units standby,” Holroyd said. “Disengage and fall back to Rally Point Charlie. I say again, Rally Point Charlie.”

He received a confirmation from each truck captain and then motioned to Sullivan who nodded and accelerated out of the parking lot. Each truck began slowly moving away from the Log Center gate until one by one, they disengaged contact with the enemy, sped up and followed Holroyd out of the area and towards main post.

***

Chapter 27

Safeguard, New Mexico

Frank Durst tightened the last bolt that secured the winch to the frame of the SOTV. He straightened, stretched and looked over at Stone who was sitting in a folding lawn chair sipping a beer. Glancing over to where Burnett worked, he watched as she tightened down the mounting bracket for the last overhead light. She was perched on a small step stool and stretching to tighten down the bracket. Durst looked at her body. She was lean but had curves. He was staring at the expanse of skin exposed at her waist as her shirt had ridden up with her hands above her head. She caught his eye and smiled. Durst returned the smile then walked over to the rolling tool cabinet and replaced the wrench. Wiping his hands on a rag, he looked over at Stone who saluted him with his can of beer as he swallowed some pain pills for his leg.

“About time you two finished up. I was down to my last beer,” Stone said, taking a large gulp then belching loudly. “I’d had that done,” he glanced at his watch, “Forty-five minutes ago.”

“You could have helped,” Durst said. Stone looked at him.

“I could have. But, then you wouldn’t have learned how to do it yourself,” he said. Durst shook his head in amazement as he walked over to the cooler that sat on the concrete floor of the garage and lifted out a cold, wet can of Pepsi. He popped the top and guzzled down half the can then wiped his brow. Burnett approached and reached into the cooler for a 7-Up. She popped the top and drank slowly watching the interaction between the other two occupants of the large building.

“You think I need to inspect your work?” Stone asked as he finished his beer and crumpled the can.

“No. Not if you want to get out of here before dark,” Durst said. Stone nodded, grabbed his cane and levered himself up out of the chair. He walked in a small circle around his chair loosening up his leg muscles that had cramped while he had sat for so long. Once he had flexed his leg enough, he walked over to the SOTV and slowly walked around it.

“Looks good to me,” he said before heading for the door. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day. Go grab your shit and let’s get out of here,” he said as he opened the personnel door and walked out into the harsh sun. Burnett and Durst hurried after him.

Elsewhere within the vast Safeguard facility.

“John!” Cassie called out as she entered their shared room. Mecceloni stuck his head out the bathroom, half his lower face covered in shaving cream.

“What?”

“Stone is heading out,” she said.

“What?”

“I just came from the dining room. Stone, Frank, and those two nurses from Cannon are heading out,” she said.

Mecceloni quickly looked back at his reflection in the mirror and shaved, rinsed his face, patted it dry and stared at the face in the mirror. Shaking his head, he left the bathroom and grabbed his pants that were on the back of a chair.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Grab your gear. We’re going with them.”

Cassie stood there and watched Mecceloni zip up his pants then sit in that same chair and lace up his boots.

“C’mon! We’re going with them,” Mecceloni said.

“Shit,” Cassie said before she moved to grab her tactical load bearing vest and P90. Mecceloni had already shrugged into his vest and was checking his rifle by the time Cassie had changed into her boots.

“Shake it, baby. We got to go,” he said as he walked to the door and looked back. Cassie slid into her vest then grabbed the belt that contained her HK P45C and spare magazines on one side and the drop down magazine holder for the P90 on the other.

“Coming. I’m coming,” she said as she hurried after Mecceloni trying to buckle her belt. She saw him already at the elevator and jogged to catch up. The car arrived just as she did and the doors opened. They both stepped inside for the short ride to the surface. Cassie buckled the belt around her waist then snapped the buckles that held the holster to her thigh duplicating that action for the magazine holder on her other leg. As the elevator doors opened, she was zipping up her vest and then tying her hair into a pony tail.

“What about Woody and Sharon?” Mecceloni asked, as he paused at the door.

“They said they wanted to stay here,” Cassie replied as she patted her pockets for her sunglasses. Mecceloni nodded then hit the door release. She had just enough time to slip on her sunglasses before he opened the exterior door and exited. The blast of warm air hit her and took her breath away. She was still not used to this weather even though she had been living in Las Vegas for several years. Cassie hurried after Mecceloni and caught up with him as the Quonset hut roll-up door opened. She stepped to one side as the rumble of a diesel engine reverberated against the corrugated sheet metal and a tan colored, four-door somewhat odd looking pickup exited. The passenger side door opened and Durst stuck his head out.

“The Cut-Vee is all fueled up. We’re heading to a food distribution warehouse,” he said. “Follow us.”

Mecceloni watched the pickup move towards the main gate then walked inside and started up the CUCV. Cassie waited until he had pulled it outside before she hit the door closure switch and hopped inside. He already had the air conditioning on high to chase the heat out of the interior. As they followed Stone out the main gate, Mecceloni slightly shook his head and muttered.

“Goddamn cowboy,” he said. “Just has to play with his new toy.”

The two vehicles rolled along the access road to Safeguard then turned onto the highway. Stone sped up and started to pull away from Mecceloni before Mecceloni accelerated and matched his speed. Instead of following the highway into Clovis, Stone slowed, turned off the paved road, navigated through the ditch and onto a frontage road. Mecceloni followed him as Stone again turned off the frontage road and onto a dirt road. Mecceloni looked in his mirror. Both vehicles were leaving a trail of dust that a blind man could follow.

“Where the hell is he going?” Cassie asked.

“Shit if I know,” Mecceloni said.

Stone followed the dirt road until he turned off and drove up a shallow rise and stopped. The CUCV pulled up alongside him and parked. Below them was a large warehouse surrounded by a high chain link fence. Several semi-trucks were lined up inside the fence, some in staging areas and some in stalls awaiting their drivers. A dozen trailers were backed into the loading bays of the building. Durst opened the passenger side door and motioned towards the building before closing the door. Stone slowly backed up, turned back onto the dirt road and followed it down the hill before going overland again. He pulled up onto the two-lane road that ran perpendicular to the warehouse and stopped again. Mecceloni followed him and parked beside him, both vehicles facing the truck entrance. Durst opened the door and got out. Behind him, Burnett exited from the rear passenger seat and both of them brought their rifles up. When Burnett and Drewett had left Cannon, all they had were their M9s. Since their stay at Safeguard, Stone had made sure they had M4s and Mecceloni had run them through a remedial refresher course. Moving slowly and scanning the area for infected, Durst and Burnett approached the gate and stopped. While Burnett covered him, Durst studied how to open the gate. There was a small guardhouse that drivers would stop at to check in and out of the facility. That building probably controlled the gate. If there was still power going to the warehouse, unlikely, then all they’d need to do was scale the fence and open the gate from the inside. Durst moved back to Burnett then faced the vehicles and shook his head. Stone revved the engine and moved forward. Durst tapped Burnett on the shoulder and indicated that they should move out of the way. Stone eased up to the gate and slowly crept closer until the bumper made contact. He downshifted to 4-Low then gently applied pressure to the accelerator. The SOTV moved forward against the gate, the engine rumbling until the wheels of the rolling gate popped off  its track and the gate opened just enough for one person to slip inside. Stone backed away and Durst slid into the gap, rifle up and ready. He scanned the vast parking area before he motioned Burnett inside. Once she had slipped in, he let his rifle hang by its sling and crouched down by the gate opening mechanism. There was a key lock on the outside and the two openings that the chain drive went into but these apertures were too small for him to stick his hand in. A crash of glass breaking made him start and look over to Burnett who was using the butt of her rifle to clear away shards of glass from the broken window on the door of the guardhouse. She reached inside and opened the door. A few minutes of searching and she retrieved a small key ring and an odd shaped handle. Walking over to Durst, she gave him the keys. Durst grinned and shook his head as he used the smallest key on the ring to unlock and open the access cover. He switched the gate motor transmission to neutral then handed back the keys in exchange for the handle.

“Can you get the wheels back in the track?” he asked Burnett. She looked over at the gate.

“Yeah, no problem,” she said then walked over and grabbed the fence and lifted. Sliding the gate a little, she managed to get the wheels centered on their track then stepped back and gave a thumbs up to Durst. He inserted the handle and began cranking the gate open. Slowly, the rolling gate opened enough for Stone to drive the SOTV inside followed by Mecceloni. Repeating that same evolution, Durst cranked the gate closed. Breathing heavy from both the exertion and the heat, Durst walked over to the SOTV.

“Now what?” he asked after opening the door.

“Now, we go shopping,” Stone said. “See you at the door.” Stone sped off heading for the driver’s check-in door. Durst watched him drive off before he turned to Burnett who grinned then started walking towards the building.

“You shouldn’t be outside yet,” Drewett said from the back seat of the SOTV. “You need to heal.”

“Too late now. We’re already outside,” Stone said. Drewett glared at the back of his head then checked her rifle and medical pack.

Mecceloni carefully looked at the trucks parked in the lot as he and Cassie drove past them. They all had a layer of dirt on the windshields and trash piled up by the tires. A few of the trucks had flat tires. The majority of them had some kind of shipping company logo painted on either the tractor and the trailer or both. Several were obviously independent truckers presumably contracted to transport the company’s trailers. One semi stood out from all the rest. It had a garish paint job on the extended sleeper behind the cab of a winged Pegasus in flight against a black background filled with lightening strikes.

“You see that?” he said as they drove by.

“Yeah. Kind of cool,” Cassie said.

“That’s what’s called a condo. That sleeper is larger than all the rest. The tractor has an extended wheel base to accommodate the size,” Mecceloni said before speeding up and following Stone. An idea started forming in his mind. Maybe it was time to start looking outside of Safeguard. There had to be other locations that had been bypassed that had come through all this relatively unscathed.

St. John had a lot of supplies back at Safeguard but those supplies were finite. If this facility was untouched then there was a good chance they could max out their storage areas. Maybe if there was time, he’d go through the trucks and see if there were any notations on any bills of lading that were from other such distribution centers.

***