The Dying of the Light (Book 1): End (16 page)

“Alpha, clear.” The other squads reported in as they also cleared their sides of the medical center.

“Charlie, clear.”

“Delta, clear.”

“Bravo, clear.” As this last transmission came in, there was the distant crash of breaking glass, and a quick gasp from the radio. “Scratch that, multiple walkers, northeast corner.”

Kim swore softly and keyed her mike. “Mobile Two, move to intercept and support. Charlie, assist.”

“Roger, Mobile Two moving to engage.”

As the strong wind shifted our direction, we finally heard the moaning of the zombies, loud enough to be heard even over that distance. Moaning that was swiftly cut off, followed by a laugh into the mike by Powell, the Bravo squadleader. “Ma’am, all targets down. Mobile two… well, she just ran them over, ma’am.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the idea, and the others joined me, except for Barnes. “Stay frosty, Bravo Six. Mobile Two, fall back to support position. Bravo, neutralize targets on the ground.” Zombies would get back up again unless the brain was destroyed, and despite a half-ton piece of military hardware rolling over them, something was bound to get missed. A few moments later, we heard again from Bravo Six. “Targets neutralized.”

“Charlie team, reinforce Bravo. Delta, Alpha is headed your way. Mobile units, set up rolling perimeter and activate REAPRs.”

I looked down at the REAPR strapped around my forearm to make sure it was on and functioning. The indicators on the device showed green across the board, meaning it was in contact with the base units attached to the big M-2 machineguns on the Humvees.

In simulated combat, we had discovered that it was the single best invention AEGIS had ever had to determine quickly whether a soldier had been turned, completely aside from its usefulness as an overall health and status indicator for the troops in the field. Zombies had no pulse, hence anything walking around with a REAPR and no pulse could safely be counted on to be a walker. This system, combined with motion-sensing and infrared imaging that indicated moving, cold targets, boasted a 99.8% accuracy rate in the identification of soldiers that had been turned.

We moved forward to the west to join Delta squad as we prepared to enter the hospital. “Delta, be advised Alpha inbound at your three.” No sense in having us round the corner only to get shot by our own troops.

“Roger, Alpha. Welcome to the party.”

We grouped at the entrance Delta had re-secured. There was a small metal-inlaid security window next to the door, or what had once been a window. The safety glass had shattered and lay on the walkway, presumably broken by walkers trying to escape the facility. The metal door had been bent and twisted by the force of the blows that it had sustained from the inside, and the cheap metal lock had given way. The chain that someone had locked it with was now wrapped around the door’s handle and the steel window frame, allowing only a small space between for anything to enter or exit. Through the window, I could see one crumpled form, and I assumed it was the zombie they had taken out to secure the door.

We crouched there in the now-bright morning sun, with the Humvees moving in their rolling perimeter around the hospital, churning up what little grass there was. The .50 caliber M2 machine gun swiveled atop their turrets, checking for targets in 360 degrees. The rest of the squad and I looked at Kim, ready for her orders.

“Bravo, Charlie, report status,” she said.

Powell responded. “Bravo and Charlie are go for entry.”

“Initiate sweep and clear. By the numbers.”

“Wilco.”

I ran forward, staying low as Reynolds moved up beside me to open the door as Martinez opened the lock. Eaton and Gaines covered me while Barnes maintained a rear-guard.

“On three,” Reynolds murmured quietly. “One, two, three!” He yanked open the door and I quickly scanned for targets as he and Gaines stepped to my side.

“Clear!” I whispered, hearing similar reports from Bravo and Charlie teams as they moved into their own entrances. I slowly entered the building, carefully rounding the corner of the hallway on my right as the others moved up. A shambling figure caught my eye at the end of the hallway, a flickering light betraying movement just before the signature moan reached us. “Walker spotted,” I said quietly, and then fired a three-round burst at the target.

The suppressor on my FN SCAR-H battle rifle softened the shots to nothing more than a few muffled coughs, and at least one of the bullets connected, showering the wall behind the zombie with blood and brain matter. “Walker down.”

We moved slowly through the medical center, carefully checking closed doors and open rooms. A small knock on a closed door would tell us whether it was populated by one of the ghouls or empty, and we put more than a few rounds into walkers that suddenly erupted from nooks and crannies. Fortunately, we had all trained well and knew what we were getting into, and we had no injuries.

This is too easy
, I thought. We’d only killed four zombies at this point, and Bravo and Charlie had put down another three.
We’re missing something, here. Where are all the walkers?

“Roberts, stand fast!” We all heard the voice of Commander Anderson on our radios, and froze where we were, our training having ingrained in us an immediate response to orders from a superior.

“It’s alright, commander, I knocked,” came Roberts’ voice. A second went by, then two, and suddenly we heard a piercing scream echo down the empty hallways, followed by a crash. The scream was abruptly cut short, and all was quiet once more. We were left looking at each other wondering what had happened.

“Bravo team, report.” Kim kept the fear and agitation she must be feeling out of her voice.

A pause, and Powell responded. “Ma’am, Roberts is down. Repeat, Roberts is down.”

“Understood. Mark for retrieval and neutralize.”

“Already done, ma’am. Bravo and Charlie teams are continuing sweep.”

I looked back at Kim and she motioned for us to continue. We moved through the rest of that section of the hospital, Eaton marking cleared rooms with her phosphorescent paint-stick. These were specially designed to apply paint that would fluoresce in night-vision goggles as well as glow brightly during the day. These were a god-send to the sweep teams, allowing them to avoid having to retrace their steps.

As we moved toward the reception area and our planned rendezvous, we found two more zombies and put them down. At the entrance to reception, we paused at a signal from Kim, then crouched down as she indicated more than ten targets were in sight. I crept up beside her and counted.

Well, this is where they all are
, I realized. I wondered why we hadn’t seen them from outside but realized they happened to be far enough back in the shadows to avoid direct sight-lines from the exterior. There had to be at least fifteen zombies standing still and quiet at random spots throughout the reception area — deadly terror given form and shape.

How I hated them.

“Bravo, Charlie teams, report,” Kim said.

“Bravo and Charlie clear and moving to reception.”

“Be advised, multiple walkers in reception.”

“Acknowledged.”

We waited motionless until we saw the dark forms of the other teams come to a halt in the shadows across the reception area. Kim signaled again, and we activated the laser sights on our guns, each targeting a walker. Fortunately, the zombies didn’t seem to notice the glowing red dots on the sides of their heads.

“Fire,” Kim whispered, and a sort of wet crackling noise enveloped us all as the silenced and flash-dampened muzzles of the machine guns sent their deadly cargo into the zombies skulls. Gore splattered the front door of the hospital, and I began to realize how little I envied the AEGIS clean-up crew.

“All teams, reception clear. Split into fire teams and make a final sweep. Commander Anderson, sir, you’re with me.” Anderson split off from the other group and came over to our side of the reception hall as the others split up to double-check hallways and doors as we headed back out the way we’d come in.

“Mobile units, Alpha Six; the hospital is clear. Report activity.”

“No activity, ma’am, though we did have some movement just after you went in. No hostile contact.”

“What sort of movement, soldier?”

“Ma’am, it appeared that we might have a walker to the northwest, but the movement wasn’t sustained and if it was really there in the first place, we lost it. It might have been nothing, ma’am.”

“Very well. Maintain scans of that area, just in case. Mobile Two and Three maintain patrol. Mobile One prepare for retrieval to north side.”

“Acknowledged, Mobile One moving forward for retrieval. ETA 1 minute.”

We left the hospital, ensuring that the facility was clear. There were no surprises, and we exited through the metal side door, leaving it unchained and open.

“Mobile One, patch me through to Sheriff Warren in his car.”

“Yes, ma’am. Patch coming up… now.”

“Hello, Sheriff Warren? Yes, sir, the hospital is clear, sir.” Kim paused, listening as we maintained our alert status, scanning the parking lot and open areas of the middle school across the street for any sign of walkers or infected people.

“No, sir,” Kim continued. “We didn’t find any survivors, sir. Yes, sir, we did a thorough search. Sir, I have to ask — have there been any reports of walkers anywhere else in town, sir? Okay. Okay, I see. No, sir, stay where you are. Thank
you
, sir.”

She rolled her eyes as she looked back at Anderson and I. “Like I wouldn’t look for survivors. He said there’s a small farmhouse to the northwest just past those trees. The Millers live there, and he hasn’t been able to get a hold of them. A deputy sent out there to collect them didn’t return, and he can’t get
him
on the radio, either.”

Anderson and I looked at each other, and then back at Kim, who shrugged. “They’re dead by now; you both know it and I know it. We’ve got a job to do, though, so let’s get it done.” Keying her mike once more, she turned to face northwest. “Mobile units, retrieve the teams and proceed northwest on Mobile One’s six.”

Mobile One rolled over to us moments later and we clambered inside.

There was some jolting as we turned a couple corners sharply, and then we came to a skidding stop on the dirt turn-around of a country farmhouse — or at least that’s what it looked like. A cop car with the Roosevelt PD logo was off to one side, its driver-side door standing open and a splatter of dried blood across the window.

“Lieutenant,” Kim said, addressing the vehicle’s equipment operator. “Scan for targets.”

“Yes, ma’am. One small heat signature, ma’am, probably a child, approximately ten feet underground in an open area of some sort. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

“Storm cellar. Any others?”

“No, ma’am, no other heat signatures. The computer indicates positive ID on four walkers in the house, one additional on the porch, ma’am.”

“
How
positive, lieutenant?”

“94% probability, ma’am.”

Kim hesitated, and I knew what she was thinking in that moment.
If they’re not walkers, she’ll be consigning those people to their death. Then again, if they’re not walkers, why aren’t they showing up on the infrared sensors?

“Very well, lieutenant. You are authorized to go weapons hot. Fire.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The lieutenant reached down and pressed a series of buttons on his controls, and the Humvee shook with the recoil of the big M2 .50 cal machine gun firing above our heads. “Targets eliminated, ma’am.”

“Alpha and Bravo teams, into the house. Charlie, set perimeter. Delta, recon for possible stragglers or runners.”

The team piled out, each moving to their assigned positions. Alpha and Bravo teams entered the small farmhouse, the gaping bullet holes left by the machine guns drawing our attention only slightly.
At least they’ll save on air conditioning.

Not that there was anyone left to worry about that bill.

As we cleared the lower floors, several team members stopped to put additional rounds into the walkers lying on the floor, one of them in multiple pieces. The sheriff’s deputy had clearly had a pretty bad day, his remains scattered across the living room.

“Alpha, with me. You too, commander.” Anderson glanced at me with a quick grin, and I grinned back. Kim was sure taking to her new role, and I was glad that I had confirmed that to Maxwell. This was what she was born to do. “Bravo, secure the second floor. Delta, check that shed out back, too.”

Acknowledgments came in from the other squads, and we moved out of the back door and around to one side of the house, where Kim motioned for me to open the storm cellar door as she covered the exit obliquely. I nodded and on her signal, pulled the door aside.

No zombies emerged, and we all breathed a small sigh of relief. As the light filtered down into the cellar, we could see a short ways in. The concrete steps were covered with dust except for some recent footprints, and those were small.

Brave kid
, I thought.
Hid down here not knowing what was going on upstairs except that it was bad. I wonder how long he’s been down here?