Run (Book 2): The Crossing (3 page)

“How do ya like that, ya little bitch?”

“Stow that shit, sailor,” Boone said as he reached for a zip tie. Pulling a wide, white tie from his belt, he grabbed the flailing arm of the helpless girl and fastened it to her other arm. Then he did her legs at the ankles, and Benotti warily let go of her and stood.

She looked up at her captors and growled, struggling so hard against her bonds that small trickles of blood dripped down her arms. She couldn’t have been any older than seventeen or eighteen, but the rage she was displaying made the men back up a step. She was actually trying to get to them while she was cuffed, inching pathetically toward them while scraping her skin on the asphalt. Her eyes were blood red, and there was a very small semi-circular mark on her left arm.

Chris, Dallas, Androwski, and Rick showed up from LAV Two. Anna and Seyfert from Boone’s LAV. They all stood clustered around the prone girl, watching her.

“So now what?” demanded Dallas.

Benotti harrumphed, “Fuckin’ shoot her that’s what.”

Anna looked horrified. “But she’s not, dead. She’s not one of them!”

“How do you know she’s not dead? Bitch tried to kill me!”

“Look at her neck, see the vein,” Anna countered, “it’s throbbing, she has a pulse.”

Benotti drew his sidearm and began screwing on a suppressor. Boone looked at him hard. “You secure that weapon.”

“Sir, that thing is not human. I’m sorry she’s just a kid, but look at her. She’d kill any one of us given the opportunity.”

“He’s right,” agreed Rick.

“Rick, you can’t mean—”

“I can, Anna. We can’t take her with us, she’s too dangerous.” The bound girl affirmed this by snapping her teeth together loudly and hissing. “What’s the alternative? Do we leave her here tied up so that she dies slowly, or cut her loose so she can attack the nearest person, probably infecting them?”

Dallas put his big hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Rick’s right, kiddo. We ain’t got a cure, and killin’ her’d be a piece of mercy. What if it was you? Would you wanna attack an old lady, or some kids?”

“No. No, I wouldn’t.” She raised her pistol, but Dallas put his hand on hers.

“Gotta save our ammo, hon,” he told her, and pulled out a two-foot piece of rebar from his belt.

“Hey, let’s get back in the tank-thing,” Chris said to her. “It’s no good being out here.”

Wordlessly, she went with him.

Benotti sat on the bench across from Anna after he shut the door to the LAV. “Sorry it had to go down like that.”

“I know. This plague thing sucks.”

He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Are you going to be able to pull the trigger if need be?”

She matched his pose and looked him in the eye. “Yes.”

He smiled and leaned back, resting against the seat-back. A stinging sensation in his neck caused him to put his hand under his tactical vest and shirt. His middle and ring finger tips came away with the slightest bit of blood on them.

4

Using the LAVs to skirt most of the larger towns, the team of twelve made good time on the empty highways and back roads. Most of the roads had been jammed full of deserted cars at the early part of the trip, but it was easy for the monstrous tires of the armored vehicles to tread outside the tarmac where the average car couldn’t go. They used the westbound lane to travel east where they could as well. Just east of Sacramento, a huge tow truck had smashed into the Jersey barriers, effectively blocking all eastbound traffic on I80. The doomed travelers in their vehicles had been swamped by the dead flooding from the city. Many car doors were open and even more windows were broken. Hundreds of corpses had been straining to escape the confines of their metal and plastic tombs only to be confounded by a simple seatbelt.

After the unintentional roadblock, it was easy to get back on the interstate and head east toward their destination. Boone would not relay their objective’s location until they were almost on it.

The LAVs crested a hill and looked down on the town of Brent in the early morning the day after the events of the depot. The small town sat in a valley in western central California, with scrub land on three sides, and high hills leading into mountains on the near side. The mountains would have been able to be viewed off to the west if the light was good.

Brent was dead, just like every other town they had gone through. At least it looked dead, with trash strewn about, three burned-out hulks of vehicles, and a few corpses littering the one wide, main street. Spread out over a few square miles, Brent’s draw certainly couldn’t have been tourism, as there was nothing to see here. Perhaps it had no draw at all.

Somewhere on the far side of the tiny municipality, and as yet unseen through the waning darkness, was their goal: a compound of three brick buildings surrounded by yet another chain-link fence a few miles outside the town proper.

Unlike the previous towns they had been through, this one was pitch black, no sodium-arc street lamps nor light of any kind perforated the darkness save for the headlights on the LAVs. The electricity was truly out here. It would probably stop working throughout the entire country soon enough, as unmanned power stations and relays began to fail.

Other than Cole and Stark, who were at the controls of the LAVs, the entire team gathered outside looking to their commander for guidance. Boone folded his map up and stowed his radio. “Okay people, the population of this piss-ant burg was nine thousand before the shit hit. That’s nine thousand potential enemies and nine thousand infection risks. We’re going to drive down that road,” he pointed at the main road, “and get to the facility ASAP. Once there, we’ll do what we did at the depot, with one exception. No sniper team. Get inside the gates and lock them behind us, then we’ll get the guns and canvas the buildings in three teams of three, with two remaining in LAV Two and Stark in LAV One. Do not take chances. Check everywhere. Even if you don’t think a human could fit in a tight place, check it. Nobody goes anywhere alone, and use your suppressors. We’ll give ourselves away when we drive through town, but still, be as quiet as possible when we reach the buildings. Dallas, you and Stark drive the LAVs in, and button up when we get out.” Dallas smirked and winked at the red tinted glass where he knew Cole was listening. “Anna, you hop in LAV One with Dallas and monitor the perimeter with the LAV cameras. Chris, stick with me. Everyone maintain constant contact, but zero chatter. The LAV weaponry is located in the storage shed to the left of the main building, so all three squads will hit that first, and if we have time, the other buildings. Load up the guns in the back of the LAVs, and we’ll sort it out when we have thirty miles of desert on all sides. Benny, you okay?”

Everyone turned to look at Benotti who had his eyes closed and was pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked up startled. “Yeah. I just got this really fucked headache is all. Ain’t slept in a couple days.”

“Okay. Well make sure you get some fluids in you before we get out of the LAVs, and more when we get back in.”

“Copy, sir.”

“Any questions? Then let’s go.”

They entered their respective vehicles and hunkered down for the fifteen minute drive through Brent. Dallas switched seats with a dejected Cole and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder as he passed him. “That’s the button to open the back, you have to push the switch up and hold the button down,” Cole said pointing. “This is the monitor switch, and this is comms. Don’t break my truck, you redneck prick.”

Dallas looked at him smiling. “Your truck just got a driver upgrade, ya Jarhead wannabe.”

“Fucking bumpkins,” Cole said as he shook his head and sat down.

LAV One rolled forward and the second vehicle followed immediately behind at a slow speed of twenty KPH. Not long into the town it was evident that the plague had not spared many here. Smashed in storefronts and hastily built barricades were everywhere. Many of the buildings and homes had broken front doors with spatter marks on the jambs and exterior walls, indicating the holdfasts were overrun from the exterior. Cole was using the spotlight on LAV One to illuminate alleys and shine in upstairs windows, but no humans were evident. Numerous corpses could be seen however, and not all of them were still. From alleys and doors, from open cars and windows the dead came out to see what was for dinner. Some of the bodies lying in the street sat up and attempted to grab the vehicles as they rolled through the town. Anything foolish enough to get in front of the big wheels was crushed beneath.

“Aww shit, look at this,” Seyfert said pointing at his monitor. Three figures were running from the south, directly at the slow-moving hulks. “Fuckers are damn fast.”

“Seyfert, confirm they’re infected.”

“Sir, they’re pushing shufflers out of the way to get to us, and the pus bags aren’t grabbing for them.”

“Shit, step on it then. Stark, maximum safe speed, and watch for road hazards, Dallas keep sixty feet off of us minimum.”

“Copy, sir.” Stark looked at Seyfert, covered his tactical mic, and said, “Whole damn place is a road hazard.”

Both vehicles picked up speed and soon the sprinters were left behind with the rest of the town. The LAVs thundered out of Brent and continued down the road for a few more minutes before they came to a turn off. The sign read I-80 East to the right, but no sign indicated anything to the left. Stark stopped, waiting for instruction.

“This is us,” Boone told Stark, pointing left. “Follow it for about three miles, and we’re there.” He looked out the window of the LAV. “It’ll be light soon. I haven’t decided if that’s good or bad.”

“At least we’ll be able to see better,” Seyfert surmised.

“So will they.” The lieutenant commander pointed out the thin window to a lone undead, ambling toward them in the pre-dawn light with its arms outstretched.

Stark took a left and brought the vehicle to speed. “Seyfert, think that dead guy was from the town?”

“Dunno, but I’m glad we’re out of there, I didn’t like it at all on that street with all them fuckers drooling over us.”

“Agreed.”

The minutes passed slowly until they reached the facility.

“Oh shit,” Seyfert blurted.

Boone looked up from his map. “What is it?”

“Somebody beat us here.”

Boone moved forward, hunched over in the LAV, to look at the forward monitor. Between two natural rock formations, a yellow, tube-steel gate was across the road barring entrance to the parking lot. Seyfert shined his searchlight on the area. The tollbooth-style guardhouse was almost completely destroyed, the glass broken and blood everywhere. Four dead men lay on their backs in front of the little shack, and two more blocked in the broken doorway.

“That gate is some serious business; we need to get it open.”

Seyfert started to get up. “Roger that, sir.”

“I got it,” mumbled Benotti from the rear. He flipped the handle down and pressed the yellow button. Grabbing a huge pair of bolt cutters clamped to the bulkhead of the LAV, he jogged down the ramp not waiting for it to finish opening. Benotti casually strode to the gate and applied the cutters to the lock, which fell away in two pieces when he was done. He pushed the gate wide and motioned the vehicles forward. When they were both past the gate, he closed it behind them and hopped in the back of the open LAV, closing the door behind him. He sat down on the bench across from Martinez, who looked at him strangely.

“You’re soaked.”

Benotti drew his sleeve across his forehead. “It’s fuckin’ hot, and that thing was heavy.”

Martinez nodded and the two vehicles drove forward. A kilometer up the access road, they arrived at the outskirts of the small facility. The fence was knocked down and there were bodies everywhere. Dozens of them. The buildings themselves looked secure, but there had definitely been a stand here.

There were lights on in the building indicating that either this facility had its own generators, or it operated on a different functional grid than that of the town of Brent. The vehicles pulled up to within thirty feet of the front door, and after a cautious three minutes, both rear hatches opened, unloading nine of the twelve passengers. They came out in spread formation, checking in all directions with weapons leveled.

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Okay, we do this quick. Rick, you’re with Martinez and Ush, Chris, with Andy and me, Benny, you’re—”

The window one story up opened and an older man stuck his head out, “Can I help you folks?”

“Yes, sir, you can tell me who you are and then open this door.”

“Well, as to the who, name’s McNalley. The other part is a no-can-do.”

“Why are you in a military facility, Mr. McNalley, and why won’t you let us in?” Boone demanded

“I work here. Worked I guess. You ain’t gettin’ in because I got my grandkids and my daughter-in-law in here and I don’t know you.”

“Sir, we are elements of the United States Navy, and we need—”

“Don’t give a rat’s ass about the Navy, and don’t rightly care what you need either. You can mosey on out of here or I can kill all of you.”

Boone smiled. “Mr. McNalley, we have armored vehicles, but I promise you we aren’t here to hurt you or to take—”

“You ain’t gettin’ me, son. I told you to move on. Why don’t you look in them bushes next to the door, or under that ashtray-thingie there.” He pointed to a tall chimney-type ashtray behind them. “Might wanna be careful though.”

Usher strode forward, got to one knee, and moved the brush aside. “Claymores.”

“Christ, there’s a brick of shape-charged SEMTEX in here with a cell phone detonator.” Androwski put the top of the ashtray back on carefully.

Boone shook his head and looked up, “Well done, sir. All we want are the armaments for these LAVs and we’ll go.”

“There’s three Bushmasters in that building there,” he indicated the building to his left, “but there’s a dead guy locked in there with em’. Got about a ten thousand rounds in twenty cases too. There’s two five fifty six SAWs for the pivot turrets too, the fifty cal HWMGs that are standard for them LAVs,” he pointed at LAV One, “ain’t here. ‘Bout eighty thousand five fifty six rounds, and then there’s the grenade launcher, but she’s a heavy sumbitch, and I only got smoke for her.”

“Benny, Andy, Rick, check for the Bushmasters. Watch out for the infected.”

“Hang on a sec there, Admiral,” McNalley said and ducked his head back inside. He came back out in a few seconds jingling a key ring. “These’ll open the door for you, I disabled the key card system when I got here a week ago. I got APMs and IEDs all over, so if you try gettin’ in or shootin’ at me, well, it’s gonna get messy.”

“You have my word, we aren’t here for anything but the arms for these vehicles.”

“S’what the last group of National Guard fellas said. They killed my son.” He tossed the keys to Boone.

“That’s reprehensible. What happened?”

“Don’t matter. They killed him, I killed them. They’re over there under that tarp if you wanna see. Gonna burn em when I get a chance.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, sir.” Boone tossed the keys to Androwski. “Get the guns.”

The three men hustled to the other building, Androwski fitting the key in the lock. “Get ready.”

Benotti got down on one knee ten feet from the door, and Rick moved to Androwski’s side, raising his weapon and sighting down the barrel.

“Do it,” Benotti said with a nod.

Androwski banged on the steel door three times. After a few seconds, clawing and scratching, and the distinctive mournful moan of the living dead could be heard from the other side.

“On one. Three, two, one!”

He yanked the door open, and a man in woodland camouflage fatigues came stumbling out straight at Benotti, whose body picked that moment to betray him, and he vomited on his shoes. A round from Rick’s M4 passed through the side of the dead soldier’s cranium, re-killing him before he could reach the puking SEAL.

Rick turned on his tactical light and shined it in the open doorway. Benotti looked up wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You okay?”