The Dying of the Light: Interval Page 4

  Kim choked on her reply. “I know that, David. We’ve talked about this before. But Mary hasn’t been able to find anything out yet. What if she never does?”

  “Then we can’t have kids, Kim!” I snapped.

  Pulling her hand from mine, she turned away. It was only when she started to sob that I realized she was crying.

  Way to go, asshole, I thought to myself. You destroyed one of her dreams and made her cry. Whatcha got planned for an encore?

  I sighed. Then a new idea came to me—something we would have thought of a lot sooner if we weren’t so distracted by the end of the world. “I know what we can do, babe,” I said, stroking her arm. “Why don’t we talk to Mary, and see what she thinks? Maybe, even if I’m infected, it won’t pass on to a baby. She knows more about the prion than anyone; maybe she can tell us if those fears are meaningless.”

  Kim wiped her eyes, and I held out a tissue from the box nearby. She said, “What if she says it’s fine and there’s nothing to worry about?”

  I groaned, remembering all my other objections. “I don’t know, Kim… I just worry about bringing kids into this world.”

  She nodded. “I know, I worry, too. But worrying is what parents do, no matter what. Look, I know the world is a pretty horrible place right now, but it won’t be that way forever. That’s the whole point of the bunkers, after all: to wait it out. We’ve got enough supplies to be down here for twenty years, more if we’re careful and supplement them. By the time any kids we have go topside, all the walkers will have rotted away, and we’re all going to have a fresh start.”

  I nodded, still uncertain, but recognizing that she was making sense. “All right. Fine.” I smiled at her. “Then let’s have another discussion. About what we’ll name them.”

  She smiled back, and kissed me gently, our first real kiss in nearly two weeks. I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her back. Just as things were about to get interesting, the red alert light began flashing in the corner.

  Of course. It’s like they were watching, or something. Bastards.

  I hit the call button, activating the speaker beside the door before I even realized I’d moved across the room. “Go for Blake.”

  The tech from the operations center was calm and collected. “Sir, we have an incoming ground force, estimated at forty to fifty hostiles, mounted, mostly in trucks. ETA at the barrier is five minutes, mark.”

  As the commander of Bunker One’s military forces, Kim’s input was naturally more important than mine, so I let her take the lead. “Barnes here,” she said. “Sound General Quarters. Activate Alpha Team and move Bravo to standby. I’m on my way up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As the connection closed, Kim turned to find me holding her Bluetooth earpiece out to her, along with her sidearm and uniform jacket. She smiled and quirked an eyebrow at my quick-change skills. “Does that uniform come off as fast as it goes on, soldier?”

  I grinned. “Yes, ma’am, it does.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to test that theory later then, won’t we?”

  “Hell yes.”

  She laughed as we left our quarters, the door automatically locking behind us. People were moving all around us as we made our way to the main elevator bank, but it was a disciplined madness, an ordered chaos, if such a thing existed. Everyone knew where they were supposed to be and what they were supposed to be doing. For most, it was remaining in their quarters. For some, like us, it was taking the express elevator all the way to the top, to Operations, from where we could see exactly what was going on and direct our response to the attack.

  “David, I want you at the gate observation post,” Kim said.

  Surprised, I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” I squeezed her hand and headed off to a different elevator, one that would take me to the main gate.

  Set about forty feet above the gate itself and buried behind layers of protective barriers, the observation post would give me a clear view of the entire approach to the bunker. It was the same spot I’d been in when Tom Reynolds had brought in the remnants of 8th Team.

  Kim was still giving orders as she entered the express elevator. “Gaines, get up top. I need your eyes. Johnny, you and Tom take the entrance. Everyone else, you know what to do. Let’s go, people.”

  I hit the button on my elevator and the doors started to close, and I wondered if someone new had found us, or if it was Tom’s old pal from a year ago, back up to his old tricks. Maybe this time we’ll get a shot at him and we can end this once and for all.

  As it turned out, none of us were that lucky.

  Bunker One’s Operations was a large room, lined with banks of computers and monitors from the hundreds of cameras placed around the exterior and interior of the base. Without knowing exactly what you were looking for, you could easily get lost trying to analyze so much input. So Kim didn’t even try.

  “What have we got?” Kim asked.

  “Looks like the same as before, ma’am,” said Captain Marcus Potter, in charge of the Operations Room for this shift. His gruff voice went well with his stout physique, and his dark skin contrasted with the grey at his temples. He pointed to one of the monitors, which showed the ragtag group of vehicles moving slowly up the bunker’s approach path. Potter turned to one of his technicians. “Get me a better look at that last truck.”

  The view of the last truck in the line abruptly clarified, thanks to the high-definition clarity of the camera lenses, and it was clear that it was the same guy that had attacked the bunker before. Kim sighed.

  “Wait just a second, Colonel,” said Gunnery Sergeant (ret) Milford Rains. He was just in Ops as an observer, since his Bunker Security forces were only used for internal matters. He was a valued asset and one hell of a soldier. “Can you push in a bit closer, Captain?”

  “Sure, Gunny,” said Captain Potter, enhancing the visual.

  “I’ll be dipped in shit,” said the old Marine, turning to Kim. “That’s the bastard that tried to recruit me.”

  Kim’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

  “Yes, ma’am! He came to me, oh, about six, eight months before I met up with Captain Reynolds, and tried to get me to join his little band of crazies. Said he needed good strong leaders who believe in the right sort of things.” He snorted, shaking his head. “He wasn’t happy when I told him I did believe in the right stuff, which is why I couldn’t join him. That and he was crazier than a shithouse rat. I can smell ‘em, ya know.”

  Kim struggled not to grin. “He didn’t take it well?”

  Rains cackled. “No, ma’am! Sent a couple of his boys around to convince me.”

  “Do I want to know what happened to them?”

  He looked Kim straight in the eye, not a trace of humor evident. “No, ma’am, you do not.”

  Captain Potter and Kim exchanged a glance, and she nodded. “Very well. Thank you, Sergeant. Can you tell us anything about him?”

  “Other than the fact that he’s a nutball?” asked Rains. “His name’s Arthur… now what was his last name? Weird one, very unusual.” He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Beoshane! That’s it. Arthur Beoshane. And he ain’t one of them religious folk either, ma’am, no matter what he might say. He’s just in it for the power.”

  “Well, thank you, Gunny. I’m sure that will be very helpful.”

  “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

  “Alpha, target identified as Arthur Beoshane. He’s confirmed in the last vehicle. You are authorized to take him out if you get a clear shot.” All the members of the newly reconstituted Alpha Team acknowledged the order except one.

  “David, do you copy?” No answer came, so she tried again. “David, do you read, over?”

  “Yes ma’am, sorry, I wanted to confirm something. Punch in on the second-to-last truck, and take a look at the cab.”

  Kim looked over at Potter, who was already bringing up the view on another monitor. The bouncing truck, the reflection of the windshield and the distance made it difficul
t to make out what was in the truck’s cab, but she was able to see enough. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Tom?”

  Captain Tom Reynolds was at his post just inside the bunker doors, watching on the monitors at the small security station. He said, “Ops, can you route the video down here?”

  “One second, Captain,” said Potter, motioning to one of his techs. “You should have it now.”

  Tom answered, “That certainly looks like him, ma’am. That’s the guy who was with Beoshane when they followed us here. They chased us from the wreck of the convoy all the way here. We lost a lot of good men, and that asshole is the reason why. Him and his buddy. If we get the chance, we should take them out.”

  Kim eyed Rains. “Gunny, any idea about that one?”

  Rains shook his head. “No, ma’am. He weren’t with t’other fella when he came by.”

  “Activate gate defense,” said Potter, one eye on the approaching vehicles. “They’re about to enter weapons range, ma’am.”

  “Perhaps we can try a little diplomacy?” said Governor Gates.

  Kim was startled, not having heard the woman arrive. “Glad you could join us, Governor, but they didn’t stop last time, and after what they did to Tom and his team, do you really want to give them the option?”

  “Diplomacy should always be our first response, Colonel.”

  “With all due respect, ma’am, this is a military matter. We’ll take it from here.” Without waiting for the other’s response, she turned back to Potter. “What’s the status on the Blackhawk?”

  “Ready to fly, ma’am.”

  “Good. Let’s hold it in reserve for the moment.”

  “Sentry guns firing!” Potter’s technician called out across the room. “Tracking multiple targets.”

  The sentry guns were a new addition since the last time Beoshane and his ilk had come up the mountain. Carefully hidden on either side along the road to the mountain, two minigun emplacements had been constructed. With a rate of fire between two thousand and four thousand rounds per minute and fitted with armor-piercing ammunition, these guns were capable of destroying virtually anything they fired at, as Beoshane and his group now found out, and rather quickly.

  The first trucks to turn the corner and enter the guns’ kill zone seemed to simply disappear under the massive amount of firepower directed their way. From Operations, Kim watched as first one, then two, then a third truck exploded in massive fireballs, scattering flaming wreckage of both men and machine in all directions. The smoke from the explosions blocked out the view from farther up the mountain.

  “Guns have ceased fire, ma’am,” said Potter. “They’re not tracking any targets at this time.”

  “Hmmm, so they’ve stopped,” Kim said, almost to herself.

  “It appears so, ma’am.”

  “Gaines, what’ve you got?”

  “Smoke’s pretty thick out there, ma’am. Looks like the wind is picking up a bit, though. I can just about—”

  There was a loud crack over the comm, and Kim hissed in pain, almost pulling the Bluetooth from her ear. “What the hell was that, Gunny?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, thought I had a shot at our boy Beoshane.”

  “Well?”

  “It wasn’t him, ma’am. But one more dead zealot…”

  “Understood. Just make sure to be off-comms before you take the next shot!”

  Gaines chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kim turned as a hand was placed on her arm. It was the governor.

  “Am I to understand Mr. Gaines is in the observation tower?” she asked, her face a mask, revealing no emotion.

  “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

  “And I presume he’s not firing through the glass?”

  “No, ma’am,” Kim said, knowing what was coming.

  “I see. Well, it seems I’m not the only one who can keep secrets, am I?” Gates said, a slight smile evident.

  “Uh, no, ma’am. Can we discuss this…”

  “Later? Of course.” Gates turned to walk back to her chair, then stopped. “It occurs to me, Colonel, that Mr. Beoshane isn’t stupid. Is that a sound assessment?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kim said, not sure where this was going. “From what Captain Reynolds and Lieutenant Masters have told us, he’s very intelligent.”

  “So why do something so obviously stupid as attack us head-on, especially given what we did to him last time?”

  “Sentry guns firing,” yelled the technician again. “Smaller targets this time, man-sized. They… oh, God…” Kim and the governor turned just in time to see the technician retching into a trashcan nearby, then glanced up at the monitor and saw why.

  So that’s what they mean when they say ‘fine red mist,’ thought Kim. She was more than a little queasy herself, but she powered through and fought off the urge to throw up breakfast. Gates was right though, this was too easy, too silly of Beoshane to try. There has to be another angle here, she thought. Something we’re not seeing…

  And all at once, she had it. “Potter, pull up the motion sensors on the mountain and pipe that through to the monitors in the Tower.” Potter nodded and began repeating her orders to the technicians who were already moving to comply. “Gunny, reposition for coverage of the mountain just above the main road.”

  “Roger, repositioning now,” he replied.

  “What are you thinking?” asked the governor.

  “This is just a diversion. Beoshane’s not stupid; he knows we’d make mincemeat of his guys and his vehicles. I think he’s going to try climbing.”

  “Contacts!” said one of the Ops technicians. “Four man-sized objects moving slowly up the mountain, ma’am.”

  “Gunny?”

  “One sec, ma’am. Almost ready… Got ‘em. Connecting video feed now.”

  Kim motioned to Potter, who put the feed from the Gunnery Sergeant’s rifle-mounted camera up on a spare monitor. It took a second for her to find them, as the climbers were heavily camouflaged, but she finally counted all four.

  “Permission to engage, ma’am?”

  “Permission granted, Gunny. Fire at will.”

  The video on the monitor jumped once, twice, four times as Gaines fired. Each time, there was a splash of dark red on the mountainside, and then all the climbers lay still.

  “Movement from the convoy, ma’am,” said Reynolds. “Looks like they’re pulling back.”

  “Confirmed,” said David. “And Beoshane does not look happy. He just shot one of the guys in his truck.”

  Kim glanced at the monitors surveying the situation. “All enemy forces appear to be in retreat.” She turned to Potter. “Stand down the Blackhawk and Bravo team and cancel the alert. Once the hostiles are confirmed gone, get a maintenance team out to those guns—I want them re-armed and ready to go in case they come back. Take a security team, just in case. They may have left some surprises behind.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Potter. “And what about the wreckage, ma’am? And the bodies of the climbers?”

  “Leave it all. We can always move it if we need to, but for right now it serves a better purpose.”

  “Ma’am?”

  Kim sighed and turned away, moving towards the elevator. “It’s a reminder, Captain. A reminder not to fuck with the people who live here. Can you think of a better one?”

  Chapter Three

  McMurdo Station

  Two years later; Z-Day + 3 years

  Major Bill Shaw rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair in the conference room… but not too far. He still remembered the spill he’d taken last week when he overextended that lean, and even though the only thing bruised was his ego, it was enough to remind him to be more careful.

  Any injury could kill you, down at the bottom of the world.

  He glanced over at Marshal Jennifer Michaelson, sitting next to him in the conference room but more than three thousand miles away in spirit as they listened to Arturo Onevás, administrator of Marambío b
ase talk about the problems he was having. Shaw had drifted off, but as he focused once more, Arturo’s strident pleadings became clearer.

  “We cannot hold out much longer, Colonel Burke. We’re down to a few days rations, at most. No medical supplies… I have no choice but to request, once again, refugee status at your base.”

  “And I have no choice but to tell you, Mr. Onevás, yet again, that I cannot grant you that status without first clearing it with my government. McMurdo Station is sovereign US territory.”

  Jennifer put her head down on her folded arms, clearly tired of listening to the conversation. Shaw could hardly blame her.

  “Perhaps you can ask one of the other bases…” continued Burke.

  “You don’t think we have already done this?” Arturo’s voice rose. “We’ve asked everyone. No one can spare the space, or the food, or the people to move us.”

  There was no dissent from the other silent listeners on the conference call, telling Shaw as clearly as if they had said it outright that Arturo was telling the truth. Without comment, without a vote, without any sort of discussion amongst the other nations, it was easy to see what had been decided.

  The Argentinians were being left to die.

  In retrospect, he should have seen it coming. All anyone had to do to know what was going to happen was to look at what had already happened. The United Nations had existed for nearly seventy years, and although it had accomplished some good, by the time the world died it had been no closer to its goal of unification than when it had started. The new “Antarctic Nations,” as they called themselves, were no better. Infighting, refusal to share resources, constant and useless talking among the diplomats… none of it did any good. They were all dying, slowly and surely. Due to their resources, the Americans might take a little longer, but no one was getting out of this.

  It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Jennifer spoke up, either. He should’ve been ready for that passion, that fire that he loved so much, to ignite her anger. But he was tired, and he didn’t spot it until it was too late.