The Reckoning - 02 (27 page)

             
I noticed her accent was different. It sounded like she was from Minnesota or Wisconsin, from the inflection and tone.

             
“Not before we got them,” said Lasagna. “We’re armed, too.”

             
“Look, pal,” I said, starting to lose my patience. “Two of you aren’t even holding your weapons in any position to use them. In the first salvo, you’d be down two people before they got a shot off. This guy
might
get a shot off before one of us got him.”

             
I was gesturing at Shades.

             
“The only one of you who would for sure get a shot off would be Chastain, there,” I said, gesturing at her. “And that’s a 12 gauge pump. She’d get one shot off. Unless it hit one of us in the head or thigh, I’d lay even odds we’d walk away from it. We’re all wearing body armor and none of you are. So, cut the bullshit and let us talk to Kidman.”

             
Shades swallowed hard as he assessed his team. Lasagna brought his rifle down slowly and held it in both hands. Weasel-face brought his AR down and the magazine fell out, clattering to the ground. Chastain shook her head in disgust, but her shotgun never wavered.

             
“Look,” I said, “we’re not here to fight. I just want to talk to Josh.”

             
Weasel-face, Lasagna and Shades started whispering back and forth. Chastain sighed and lowered her weapon. Then she walked over to the fence, right across from me. Keeping her weapon down, she lowered her sunglasses with her off hand. Her brown eyes locked on mine.

             
“I hope you’re not setting us up,” she said, “but you can probably tell we need the help.”

             
“You’ve done an amazing job securing this place,” I said. “It looks solid.”

             
“Yeah, that was all me and Kidman. Those three can barely lace their boots without help,” she said, softly.

             
She nodded, indicating the three stooges who were still whispering heatedly amongst themselves. I gave her an apologetic shrug. While they continued to debate, Chastain pulled a walkie-talkie off of her belt and keyed it up.

             
“Packer to base,” she said.

             
I noticed her Green Bay Packers watch and smiled. Wisconsin, it was.

             
“This is base, go ahead,” replied the radio.

             
“Sarge, we have two Nathanael County Sheriff’s Deputies out here who claim they know you. Names are Matthews and Grant.”

             
“I know both of those guys,” replied the voice. “Let them in.”

             
The three idiots stopped arguing and gave Chastain a dirty look.

             
“You heard the man,” she said. “Open the gate.”

             
Lasagna climbed into the cab of the semi and fired up the engine. Grinding the gears, he finally found reverse, then promptly killed the engine trying to move it. He managed to kill it three more times before he moved it far enough for us to get through the gate. Once we pulled inside, Weasel-face took over driving the truck and pulled it forward, blocking the gate once more. Weasel-face might suck as a Security Officer, but it looked like he could handle a big rig. I filed that tidbit away.

             
Everyone piled back inside their vehicles and we followed the two trucks back down the ramp and into the Underground. At the bottom of the ramp, we were fully underground. One road continued on ahead to a parking lot and several sets of loading bay doors. Another road turned to the left. That’s the direction the trucks went, so we followed them. I knew from experience that this way would take us past several warehouses that contained machine parts and hardware along with a couple more food storage units.

             
We continued on until we came to a section we referred to as “the Hive.” It was owned by the local utility company and had a name of its own, but we never called it by its real name. It was a massive data storage facility, containing dozens of servers and data storage units for companies all over the area. It had its own power supply and security system. We used to joke and say that the entire internet was backed up down there. We weren’t far from wrong.

             
Sergeant Josh Kidman was waiting for us outside the Hive. He was in his mid-thirties with short blonde hair, balding on top and at the temples. He had a perpetual “beer gut” but it didn’t seem to slow him down. He was also one of the smartest people I ever met. Why he was with a bottom rung security company, I’ll never know. But down here, he held the keys to the kingdom.

             
As we parked and got out of the vehicles, he smiled and came over to where I was standing. Matthews came strolling up, just as he arrived. Grinning broadly, he shook both of our hands, warmly.

             
“Good lord, it’s good to see you two,” he said. “I figured you guys were either dead or long gone.”

             
“How are you holding up down here?” I asked.

             
“Not bad,” he replied. “We sealed the entrances early on. No zombies ever made it inside. Not to mention that we’re far enough from town and traffic that nothing drew them this way. We’ve got the five of us, plus six warehouse employees that didn’t run for the hills when the shit hit the fan and a few truck drivers that didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

             
“Where are they?” asked Matthews.

             
“Inside the cold storage unit,” he replied, “keeping the systems online.”

             
“That’s good,” I said. “Any chance you’d open the doors for a few survivors.”

             
“I thought I already did,” he said, grinning. “You guys are welcome to stay down here as long as you want.”

             
“We’ve got a few survivors of our own,” I said. “Back at the jail.”

             
“How many?” he asked, turning serious. “Are they inmates?”

             
“No, not inmates,” I said. “They’re other officers and survivors we’ve picked up, here and there. We’ve got weapons and medical staff, too. All in all, about seventy people.”

             
“That’s quite a few,” he said. “Yeah, we’ve got the space and food to spare. Bring them on down.”

             
We might have to borrow a couple larger vehicles,” said Matthews. “I don’t think we have enough to do it all in one trip.”

             
“There’s an Army Reserve storage depot in the west lot,” he said. “You can take whatever you want. We’ve already been through it. No weapons, but there are lots of conex boxes full of MRE’s, clothing and gear. There are a bunch of vehicles up there, too.”

             
“Any Hemmitts
[10]
?” I asked.             

             
“What’s a Hemmitt?” he replied.

             
“A big-assed truck with eight wheels,” said Southard, “four in the front and four in the rear.”

             
“Yeah, there are a few of those,” he said. “Different kinds, though. Some of them have big storage tanks on them.”

             
“That’s good,” I said. “We can use them, later.”

             
I asked Josh to show me their defenses. We hopped into a security truck and drove to the other entrances. They were sealed tightly. One was secured shut with a rail car and another was blocked with a semi-trailer that had been turned on its side and shoved into the entrance with fork-lifts. It was a good set-up. Then we went around to the front entrance and looked out.

             
I had to admit, I was impressed. The main loading dock was sealed off with more trailers, making a wall around the area. At any given time, there are dozens of trucks parked down there, and they’d used most of the trailers to make the wall. It was heavy and solid. It would keep out even a massive zombie horde. We only had the one entrance that could be driven out of, and it was well secured. We’d just have to make sure it had a guard on it at all times.

             
I went over the inventory data with Josh and decided that if the generators lasted, we would have enough food to last through the summer and the following winter. We could make that last longer if we hit the American Wholesale Grocers warehouse before the
Freemen
did. If we took a couple of the truck drivers with us, we could take a massive amount of food in one trip. But, that was something for another day.

             
Right now, I had to plan on the evacuation of the jail and relocating everyone here. That was going to be no small task, either. If we loaded the jail bus, all of the Humvees with a trailer and took two of the Hemmitts, we might just be able to pull it off. At this point, I was less worried about the zombies than I was the
Freemen.
They knew about the jail and were probably watching us. The last thing I wanted was for them to follow us to the Underground. It needed to be our ace in the hole.

             
Once we returned to the group, I headed over to Matthews. Taking him aside, I told him about the modifications to the entrances. He seemed as impressed as I was, but then a look of concern crossed his face.

             
“Did they think to check the ventilation shafts?” he said, worry on his face.

             
“Josh!” I yelled, motioning for him to come over to us.

             
“Yeah, what’s up?” he said, trotting over to us.

             
“Did you check the vent shafts?” asked Matthews.

             
“Damn it,” he cursed. “I hadn’t thought of those.”

             
“Alright,” I said. “Don’t panic. Matthews, I’ll leave you and your Humvee here to oversee security. Check the air shafts and make sure they’re secure. Go ahead and do a full sweep of the Underground. Even the unfinished section.”

             
“Shit, Wylie,” said Matthews. “That could take days. This place is fucking huge.”

             
“Well then,” I said. “Concentrate on the shafts. Once we have everyone here, we’ll break into teams and sweep the caverns.”

             
“I had my people sweep the caverns a couple times,” said Josh.

             
“Josh, buddy,” I said, “no offense, but those three morons over there couldn’t sweep a floor with a broom. The one you call Packer seems pretty good, but the others are idiots.”

             
“They’re good guys,” said Josh, defensively. “They’re security officers. They haven’t had the training you guys have had. Not to mention, only Gagne and me were in the military.”

             
“What was your MOS
[11]
?” I asked.

             
“I was a Boatswain’s Mate in the Coast Guard,” he replied.

             
“I forgot you were a Coastie,” I said, grinning.

             
“Let’s not get that started,” he said, smiling.

             
“What about Lasagna?” I asked.

             
“I can’t remember,” said Josh.

             
“Hey Gagne,” yelled Matthews. “What was your MOS?”

             
“71 Lima,” he replied. “Why?”

             
“Aw, shit,” I mumbled. “He was an admin specialist…a stinking clerk.”

             
“Great,” said Matthews. “Basically, not much help.”

             
“He’s been to basic training,” I said. “At least he
should
know how to shoot.”

             
“You couldn’t tell by the way he carried his weapon,” said Matthews.

             
“Guys,” said Josh, “knock it off. They’re my guys. I trust them and you should, too.”

             
“Sorry, Josh,” I said. “You’re right. We’re going to have to trust each other to survive this. We’ll just have to bring them up to speed on weapons and tactics. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

             
“Alright,” said Matthews. “I haven’t worked down here in years. I’m sure that they’ll know it better than I do. I’ll take a couple of your guys with me to check the vent shafts. I’ll put a couple of my people on the gate to keep it secure until you get back. We’ll post the Humvee up there with the machine gun.”

             
“Sounds good to me,” said Josh.

             
“I’ll leave Southard, Jade, John and Bowman here with you,” I said. “I’ll take Spec-4 and Winston with me. If I can borrow a couple of your truck drivers, we’ll pick out a couple Hemmitts and take them along for the big stuff.”