Apocalypse Atlanta (56 page)

“Hey sarge?”

Peter unhooked the radio and adjusted the volume knob slightly before answering.  “What’s up Mendez?”

“Yeah, we’re in . . . where are we again guys?” Mendez said.  “Ah, T-7.  Anyway, there’s a desktop computer in here that’s connected to a satellite modem setup.  As far as I can tell it should be good to go if we can get power to it.”

Peter thought for a few moments.  They were plenty of apartments in the complex yet to be checked, but he wasn’t holding his breath for a generator to turn up anywhere.  It simply wasn’t the kind of thing he’d ever expect an apartment dweller to have around.  “Can you bring it back here?”

There was a pause.  “Uh, it’d really be better if we left it in place.  I wouldn’t want to screw anything up by trying to unhook it all.  Plus taking the satellite dish would mean un-snaking some cables that go through the walls, and the dish itself is bolted to the building’s roof.”

Crawford, who was lingering in the small entry hallway to the apartment so she could smoke without getting yelled at by any of the non-smokers spoke up.  “A couple of the places we ransacked had them battery things Smith was talking about.”

“UPS units.” Whitley said.

“Yeah, them.” Crawford drew on her cigarette and turned her head sideways so she blew out of, instead of into, the door.  “Maybe we could run around and collect a bunch of those.”

Peter frowned.  “Aren’t those things supposed to only be good for a minute or two.”

Crawford shrugged.  “We could plug them up together or something I guess?”

The radio in Peter’s hand sounded again.  “Hey, did I hear someone say they needed some power?”

“Yeah smart guy, what’ve you found?” Mendez said before Peter could respond.

“Well, I think I just became the Goddamned hero of the day.” Johns said, and Peter could definitely hear the grin in the man’s voice.  “We found an apartment where whoever lived here was apparently a big camper.  There’s enough gear here for two or three carloads of city pukes to ‘rough it’ hipster style out in the sticks.”

Peter waited a moment, as Johns stopped speaking.  When the man didn’t resume, Peter depressed his transmit button.  “Okay, so what’s the good news then?”

“There’s a huge honking inverter here, right next to a little mini fridge and a set of camp lights and some other stuff that uses power.”

“Inverter?” Peter asked, then his eyebrows went up.  “Like for a car?”

“Bingo.”

“Hey.” Mendez broke in.  “How big is it Johns?”

“It’s portable, less than a foot square.  Not too heavy, weighs about as much as a bag of sugar I guess.”

“No you fucking idiot, the rating.” Mendez snapped.  “The power rating.”

“Uh . . . how do I tell that?”

“Christ, look on it.  It should be marked somewhere.  How many watts?”

“Oh.” Johns sounded a little sheepish.  “Says 1500 watts.”

“Mendez, is that enough to run that computer?” Peter asked.

There was a pause, then the Guardsman’s voice came back, sounding optimistic.  “I think so.”

“Great.  Johns, look around for any extension cords, and get them and the inverter over to Mendez.” Peter said.  “And for fuck’s sake, be careful you don’t drop it.”

“We’re on it.”

“Good.  Mendez, you hold there.  What are you again, V-7?”

“T-7.  Tango-7.”

“Okay, sit tight.”  Peter clipped the radio back on his belt and picked up his AR where he’d left it next to the glass doors.  “Where’s Hernandez?”

Crawford nodded from her position at the door, indicating he was outside.  Peter brushed past her and found Hernandez standing a little back from the back side of the upper landing.  The Guardsman was eyeing the zombies that were in view along the fence.  Peter joined him and studied the fence for a few moments as he slung his weapon behind his shoulder.

There were maybe fifty or sixty zombies at the fence, all of them pressed up against it.  They’d been watching the humans moving inside the complex for the last hour or so, as the recon teams ran around searching apartments.  They were like dogs who were fascinated by the actions of nearby humans.  Hungry, ravenous dogs.  Peter almost wished they were dogs; at least dogs would show some emotion if they were going to act that way.

Not the zombies.  They were just there.  You knew what they wanted, what they were going to try to do, but they themselves showed no reaction or visible opinion about it.  It was as if they were just a force of nature, or robots or something.

“It sounds like we might have a way to find out what’s going on.” Peter said when he got tired of looking at the zombies.  It didn’t take long.  They were still unsettling to him.

Hernandez nodded.  “I heard it.”

“You okay to hold the fort here then?” Peter asked.  “I’m going to take Whitley and head over to see about getting the power run in.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, started to turn away, then reached out and clapped the soldier on the shoulder.  “Hey, cheer up.  Things are looking better.”

“I hope so.”

Peter hid a small frown as he turned and went back to the door of the apartment they’d taken over.  “Whit– oh good, there you are.”

The woman was just stepping out of the apartment, her M-16 in hand.  “Right here sarge.”

“Come on, let’s go see about powering that computer up.”  He turned and went down the stairs.  Her footsteps sounded right behind him.  As he glanced around the parking lots, he heard her skip forward two steps to come abreast with him.  “Vehicle.” he said conversationally as they walked.  “Need a vehicle.”

“Car right there.” Whitley pointed at a Chevy Cavalier in a space about thirty yards away.”

“I’m hoping there’s something bigger around here.” Peter said.  “An older SUV or a full sized truck ideally.  I don’t want to have to fool around with the stupid ignition code module, and the more power it’s already set to generate for itself the better we’ll make out.”

“Okay, old SUV or a big truck, got it.” Whitley nodded.

The complex was configured like a miniature city only a block in size, with little streets that wound around between the neatly laid out buildings.  It took about five minutes to briskly walk around clockwise, glancing down the cross ‘streets’, but Peter finally spotted a Ford Bronco on the east side of the complex.

Changing direction to approach it, he stopped at one of the landscaped flower beds and used his pocket knife to pry out one of the decorative brick border stones that edged it.  “Watch out for flying glass.” he said to Whitley as they finally reached the SUV.  She turned her head, and Peter threw the stone from about ten feet away.  He closed his eyes right as he threw, but he heard the flat cracking sound of breaking safety glass, followed almost immediately by the whooping siren of the Bronco’s car alarm going off.

When he looked, he saw the driver’s window was broken with a rather large hole through it, though a lot of the glass still clung to the opening.  Peter unslung his AR and used the barrel to clear the window out, then reached in and unlocked all the doors.  Reslinging his weapon, he opened the driver’s door and reached in to pop the hood, then went around to the front and raised it up.

It took him a few moments to orient himself, but he was able to neutralize the after-market alarm by cutting it off from the vehicle’s battery.  As the siren went silent, Peter pursed his lips as he considered the engine compartment for a few more moments.  “Ah, there you are.” he muttered, spotting the starter solenoid.  Using the blade of his pocket knife, he completed the circuit.

The Bronco’s engine immediately started turning over, and caught after a second.  Peter closed the hood and slid back behind the wheel.  Using the knife again, he was able to jigger the steering lock off without too much trouble.  “Okay, hop in.” he told Whitley, hitting the button to unlock the doors..

“Damn sarge, you got me wondering now.” she said as she got in on the passenger side.

“Why?” Peter asked, shifting into reverse and backing out of the space.

“That was fast.  You have a misspent youth or something?”

“Hell yes.” Peter grinned.  The gas gauge was showing just over half a tank was left, he saw as he glanced at the dashboard.  That should be enough for the moment.  “But I know how to do that because I’m a damn fine mechanic.”

“I see that.”

“To be fair, this is an old fucking car.  The new ones are a lot harder to work around a missing key.”

Peter drove around to building T and bumped the Bronco up over the curb, putting it as close to the hallway and stairs all the ‘T’ apartments opened out onto as he could without blocking them off.  As he set the brake and got out, movement on his left caused him to spin and crouch.

“Woah, hold up!” Smith blurted, holding his hands up and out to show he was harmless.

“Don’t sneak up on people, for fuck’s sake.” Peter grunted, removing his hand from the grip of his M45.  “Especially in the middle of this zombie shit.”

“Didn’t know you were jumpy.” Smith said with a grin.

“Fuck jumpy.” Peter said.  “I’m alive.”

“Yeah.” Smith turned as the rest of his team joined them.  Candles was nominally one of Smith’s people, but the angry Guardsman was still sulking back at ‘camp’.  He’d been replaced by Oliver, who was unhappy but in a more general and fearful sense.  Oliver just wanted to be safe, where as Candles was pissed about the others not signing onto his preferred plan.

“How much cord is there?” Whitley asked.

“We found two.” Johns said, shrugging.  “Dunno if it’ll be enough.”

Peter eyed the bundles Harper had in his left hand.  “Bet they’re not.  Give all of it to me and I’ll get started on hooking it up.  Check with Mendez and see if there are any cords in that unit, then scrounge some of the other units in this building and see what you can come up with, okay?”

“Yeah, got it.” Smith nodded, turning to the stairs.  “He’s in seven, right?”

“Right.” Peter said, taking the inverter Johns handed him.  The unit definitely looked like it was designed for a camper who liked to bring some urban luxuries with him.  It had four sockets on one end, and a long length of cable on the other that would connect directly to a vehicle’s battery with clamps like on jumper cables.  He set it carefully aside and leaned back into the Bronco, popping the hood open so he could work.

“Sarge, they might need me upstairs.” Whitley said.

“You’re with me.” Peter replied.  “This will only take a minute.”

“It’ll fuck us over if those idiots upstairs start plugging things in willy-nilly.” she protested mildly.

“What, you know more about it?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I do electrical work, both service and civilian.” she said with a nod.  “In fact I contract out to a couple larger shops, or at least I did before all this started.”

“Hmmm, good to know.” Peter said as he started unwinding the cables on the inverter.  There was more than enough for him to set the inverter on the sidewalk underneath the SUV, then pay the cables out and up to the engine compartment.  Carefully he clipped the clamps into place, then knelt and eyed the inverter.  There was a switch on its front face.  When he thumbed it, a green light lit reassuringly. 

“Well, let’s go keep willy and nilly from happening then.” Peter said.  He plugged one of the extension cords into the inverter, then headed for the stairs to the second floor of the building, paying the cord out as he went.  It was a short cord, he had to plug the second one into the first halfway up the stairs.

The door to number 7 was standing open, with Dorne leaning against the wall next to it on guard.  Inside, Peter found a pretty cluttered living room that had every inch of wall covered with shelves and bookcases.  There were some books on those shelves, but mostly he saw cases for DVDs.  There had to be thousands.  The cord in his hands ran out right as he entered, so he dropped it and frowned.

“Where you guys at?” Peter called as he took in the entertainment center at a glance.  The television alone was bigger than his dining room table.  Well, that probably made sense.  Whoever lived in downtown Atlanta probably had money.  The rent couldn’t be cheap.  And someone willing to keep that many movies on hand probably wanted to watch them on a nice screen.

“Back here.” he heard a voice respond.

Peter turned that way and saw Teves standing at the little intersection of the hallway.  As Peter moved to join him, he saw the layout was identical to the apartment they were camping in.  He heard activity in both bedrooms, but Mendez’s voice had come from the right so he turned into that one.

“Inverter’s hooked up.  We need at least one more cord to stretch into here.”

“Yeah, I heard we needed more.” Mendez said without emerging from the closet.  Peter took another couple of steps in to clear the doorway, to let Whitley in and also so he could see Mendez better.  The Guardsman was digging through the closet’s contents without much concern for how he left them; there was a growing pile of items and boxes at the man’s feet.

“Where’s the satellite come in at?” Whitley asked.

“In here.” Mendez said, then cursed almost in unison with a particularly loud thump.  “Goddamnit, that hurts.”