The Beginning of the End (Book 1): Toward the Brink (6 page)

Whatever Elliot’s idea was, no one ever got to hear it. A volley of pistol and shotgun fire erupted from the entrance of the main building.

Sergeant Mulhaven rushed toward the sound of the gunfire with Elliot Goodwin close behind, securely holding Cindy’s hand.

“Be careful going ‘round that corner, Sarge!”

People were running in all directions, some calling for help while others just screamed. Elliot and Mulhaven assumed the officers had opened fire on the protesters. Their assumption was incorrect.

“What the fuck is going on?” Mulhaven yelled.

Police officers were taking cover behind one of the Army Hummers and a Twin Falls police car and were firing at what appeared to be the members of the demonstration, but when Elliot looked closer, the pallid color of their skin and the revealing green foam on their faces and clothes told a different story. An officer blasted a “protester” in the chest with his twelve-gauge riot gun from point-blank range, sending him cartwheeling backward.

“Oh my God, he shot him! He just shot him!” Cindy cried.

Elliot and Mulhaven both witnessed the shooting but weren’t as shocked as Cindy; nearly a dozen police officers armed with semi-automatic 9mm pistols and pump-action shotguns were taking cover from what were, to all appearances, unarmed civilians. Something was clearly wrong with this picture.

“Jesus Christ! He’s getting up. Is he wearing a vest?”

“Even if he was, you don’t get up from a blast like that, boy.”

“Sarge, we need to pull everyone back and get a better picture of what we’re up against. And one more thing: Don’t call me boy.”

Mulhaven nodded; his respect for this young man grew and grew. He grabbed his two-way mouthpiece and held it closer.

“All cars inbound to the medical center, re-group at …” Mulhaven looked to Elliot for guidance.

“Locust! We’ve got to clear those schools!”

“Locust Street,” Mulhaven continued. “I repeat: all cars inbound re-group at Locust.”

“Get them to pull back to Buchanan.” Elliot pointed to the group taking cover. “We need to …” He stopped cold when he saw the look on Cindy’s face. It was as if she’d seen a ghost—or worse.

# # #

The Tall Man drove through the center of Twin Falls, aware of all the commotion and sirens. He didn’t think they were all police and fire trucks rushing to attend the explosion of Dennard’s car. No, something else was up, and he figured it was related to the chaos at the medical center. He was on his way to his next “assignment” for Langlie. He had to make a small detour to give a report, and Langlie wasn’t the recipient. He drove into a members-only underground car park, swiped his key card, and went inside.

“Row seventeen, row seventeen,” he muttered. “Aha!”

He saw the 2013 black metallic Buick Lacrosse with tinted windows parked in row seventeen. He backed his SUV in next to the luxurious sedan and put his window down. A few seconds later, the Buick’s window followed suit.

“Ah, Mr. Black,” a voice said from the dark interior of the car. “How good to see you once more.”

“Thank you, sir,” the Tall Man said. He couldn’t very well say, “Nice to see you too,” because he couldn’t and never had. He referred to his “real” employer as the Hidden One.

“What news do you have for me?”

“Dennard is no longer a concern.”

“Good, good. And what errands does our Mr. Langlie have you doing now?”

“I’m to burn Dennard’s house with his wife inside. My other men are burning down the main office, and Langlie was going to torch his own house.”

“Langlie doesn’t like to leave any evidence for anyone, does he? He’s not concerned about the law discovering who did it; that’s bleeding obvious, isn’t it? He wants to be sure the formula isn’t discovered. Hmm. Baer evidently has plans for its further use, perhaps wherever they are absconding to,” the voice in the dark said. “You haven’t by chance discovered where that is, have you?”

The Tall Man didn’t like the accusatory tone but said nothing. The last thing he needed was to be suspected of a double-cross by the Hidden One.

“Sir, are all these sirens connected with what is occurring?”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Black. Our little police force is finding it quite a task. They won’t be the only ones to face a crisis today, and I’m sure you’ll find out about that. For now though, you need to take care of Dennard’s house but keep Mrs. Dennard alive—for now at least.”

“Yes, sir. Should I …”

The whir of the window rising in the Buick indicated the conversation was over.

The Tall Man drove out of the car park and watched three fire trucks rush by. They headed in the direction of the Baer Industries office, or perhaps the burning car of the late Paul Dennard. He wasn’t concerned where they were going; his mind was elsewhere.

What was he alluding to when he said,
“They won’t be the only ones to face a crisis today,”
and that
“I’ll find out about that?”
Does he have plans to do away with Langlie or perhaps Baer himself?

He vowed to be extra cautious from now on. Otherwise, he might end up like Dennard.

# # #

The attentions of the three had been on the developments at the front of the main building entrance. They’d lost concern regarding the open ER staff room door. Elliot turned back to check on Cindy and instantly came face to face with the terror that was confronting the officers cowering behind the vehicles out front.

“We got a problem here, Sarge!” Elliot grabbed Cindy by the arm and pulled her to him.

“My fucking God! What on Earth …?” Mulhaven lowered his pistol and stared at the inhuman manifestations confronting him.

“Elliot! What the hell are …” Cindy staggered, her mind refusing to accept the sight before her.

“Shoot, Mulhaven, shoot!” Elliot wrapped his arms around Cindy. “Not here, girl. Don’t you faint here!” Elliot dragged her away from the demonic visions. When Mulhaven hadn’t fired, Elliot had no alternative.

“Hold on,” he told Cindy. “Sorry, Sarge, but we don’t have time for this.”

He reached over and pried the Sig Sauer P-226 9mm from Mulhaven’s hands then turned and raised the weapon in a single, fluid motion. Elliot was quite adept with pistols and revolvers from the time spent practicing at the range. When he wasn’t busy with homework, chores, sports, or gun range practice, he amused himself with games on the computer. One of his favorites was Left 4 Dead, and he knew only too well that to kill a zombie, you had to shoot them in the head. He aimed at the target, eased the safety selector, and fired. Cindy jumped with fright at the sound of the gunshot. Mulhaven awoke from his dazed state. The semi-jacketed bullet hit the abomination directly in the forehead, spraying the wall behind with a green mist. What had once been a healthy young man spiraled in a macabre dance before it collapsed. The legs jiggled and the arms thrashed before more green foam erupted from its mouth. Whatever it was, it was
dead.

“Get to the black and white!” Mulhaven yelled.

Two blasts from a .357 Magnum had Elliot’s ears ringing. Mulhaven had come back to reality, freeing his backup S&W 627 from its ankle holster and firing at the encroaching ghouls.

“Stay with me, Cindy!” Elliot yelled.

She was about to race for the cruiser, but Elliot didn’t want her any further than arm’s length away. Not with all these … these … zombie things around.

“Let’s go, Sarge. We can’t get ‘em all.”

“I’ll cover you ’till you get to the car.”

“Bullshit, you’re coming with us!” Elliot grabbed the epaulets of Mulhaven’s uniform.

“All units. Attention all units attending the Twin Falls Medical Center. Fall back to Locust Street.”

Mulhaven’s two-way came to life with instructions as the three sprinted for the black and white SUV of the Twin Falls Police Department.

“How the hell did they know?”

Mulhaven didn’t answer; he was focused on starting the SUV and getting out. He spun the tires as he reversed to where the other group of officers was.

“The head! Shoot ‘em in the fuckin’ head then get your ass to Locust Street!” Mulhaven ordered.

Amid the hail of gunfire that ensued, a victorious chorus of “Fuck you, zombie!” was heard; then the pounding of feet as the officers ran for their lives.

“There’s your answer.” Mulhaven pointed further ahead toward Locust Street. “Twin Fall’s answer to the Terminator.”

Standing at the intersection of Locust and Filer was Captain Brandt. He was dressed in black combat fatigues with a Twin Falls Police Department patch on each arm, black combat boots, a ball cap, an M-16 slung over his shoulder, two 10mm Colt Delta Elites strapped to his hips, and a Ruger Super Redhawk .44 Magnum under his left arm in a shoulder holster. To complete his image, he wore mirrored aviator sunglasses. Binoculars dangled from a strap around his neck.

Mulhaven brought the Jeep to a halt right next to the captain.

“You saw everything, sir?” Mulhaven asked.

“I saw enough.” Brandt kept looking toward the medical center and the officers scurrying their way back. “Any idea what caused those people to behave like that? Are they using PCP or something?”

“Sir, those
people
that you’re referring to,” Elliot got out on the other side of the SUV, “are, in my opinion, dead.”

If Elliot, Mulhaven, or Cindy expected a reaction from the captain, they didn’t get one. Brandt turned his head deliberately, easing the mirrored sunglasses from his face.

“And you are?”

“Elliot Goodwin. I’m a—”

“He saved my life, sir.” Mulhaven knew that his captain had no time for civilians.

“Are you suggesting those well-armed officers are taking cover from the walking dead? Seen one too many Romero films, have we?”

Elliot thought his demeanor was a little odd. He didn’t flinch at all or dismiss the notion.
He knows something
.

“Is there something you’re not telling us, Captain?” Mulhaven asked.

The captain smiled—a chilling smile. Elliot read nothing but disgust on his face.

“Okay, I might as well fill you in now. You’ll find out soon enough, or maybe Boy Wonder here will figure it out. We are to cordon off the city, evacuate the public, and wait for the National Guard to arrive.”

Elliot and Mulhaven exchanged concerned looks while Cindy came up from behind and joined them. Brandt gave her more than a customary glance, which didn’t escape Elliot’s attention.

“There have been similar disruptions across the state. A major outbreak in Boise has been reported and, like this, it started at a hospital. In other places, it also began either at hospitals or clinics … initially.”

“Initially? What do you mean ‘initially’?” Elliot asked.

“It appears it’s no longer confined to medical facilities. Individuals have succumbed to the illness in offices, factories, stores, and homes across the state. No one knows what it is, but the symptoms are the same as the sickness we had a few months back. Only worse.”

Brandt looked at the three with as much interest as he would a statue.

“Judging by firsthand accounts, the afflicted appear to be devoid of all conscious reasoning.”

“Conscious reasoning!” Elliot had heard enough from this moron. “They’re dead—
fucking dead—
and they want you … You saw what happened down there. So don’t give me any shit about the ‘afflicted,’ all right?!”

“I’m sure your families are probably worried about you, young man. You should take your girlfriend and return home. You’ll only be in the way if you remain,” Brandt said, ignoring the protestations of the young man.

Sergeant Mulhaven then stepped up to the plate.

“Sir, before you do that, there’s something you need to hear,” he said. “Tell him, Elliot.”

# # #

In the alarm that had been generated around the medical center, Rookie policeman Rodney Tibbuts had been forgotten. He was last seen taking the hysterical young nurse from the medical center to the clinic a few blocks away.

“You’ll be okay in a few moments, Ma’am. Just hold on.”

The nurse could be heard tossing around in the back seat. A moan or two was also heard.

Well, at least she’s sort of conscious. That’s always good.

Tibbuts felt a stream of liquid hit him in the back of the neck. Green gunk that smelled of an open sewer splashed over his face and burned his eyes.

“Are you crazy? What the fuck …”

Arms reached from behind and started pulling him backward. Without any control of the vehicle or the ability to see, he slammed his foot on the brake pedal while his foot could still reach. Pedestrians ran, car horns blasted, and the police SUV skidded into an oncoming car. Officer Tibbuts, who hadn’t fastened his seat belt for the short dash to the clinic, was ejected through the windshield of the SUV and slid across the hood before landing face first on the road. But at least he was alive … for the time being.

# # #

“Excuse me, sir,” an officer said to the Twin Falls Chief of Police, who had situated himself in the operations room. “We have reports of another house fire and a Twin Falls officer involved in a head-on collision, sir.”

“Damn, what’s with all the fires on top of these outbreaks? Are any of the other cities reporting fires?”

“Not at this stage, sir. I …”

“Sir, we’ve lost all contact with Boise police. They’re effectively offline!” another officer yelled.

“I wonder if this is how revolutions feel,” the chief muttered.

“Sir?”

“Oh, just the feeling of isolation as everything crumbles around you. I sense the walls are coming down, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.”

The chief walked toward the window and looked out across his city. Plumes of smoke were visible in two different directions. Sirens wailed as fire trucks rolled from the Fire Department building next door, and faintly, ever so faintly, were the sounds of gunfire in the distance.

The city was under siege.

The telephone rang in the Goodwins’ Army/Navy Surplus Store. Elliot’s father picked it up immediately.

“Hello, Dad?”