Carlie Simmons (Book 4): The Gathering Darkness (13 page)

Chapter 35

Carlie saw the helo fly overhead and set
down out of sight in front of them. She was certain she had seen Shane lurching
over the side. She floored the jeep and sped up the road to the Blackhawk. Upon
jumping out of the vehicle, she ran to the side of the helo, the sound of rotor
wash fading away in her ears as her heart pushed all of her senses into a
narrow beam directed at Shane. The only eyes she noticed were his. She could’ve
thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him. Amid the frightful reality they
were all facing on this day of battle and the constant danger, she could have.
The gray world around her washed away briefly and it was him—only Shane before
her.

“I thought I lost you,” he said, hugging her
as he pulled Carlie into his arms, oblivious of the others, and pressed his
lips against hers.

She grabbed his jacket, returning the
gesture, her heart racing and her face flushing red. “I’m not going anywhere,”
she whispered in between kisses then pulled back as if to make sure he was
really there. She brushed the back of her hand across his cheek.

He smiled and pulled her back into his
embrace. “I don’t think I’m gonna let you out of my sight ever again. I’m going
to see to it that you get switched over to my team.”

She held her head up and grinned. “Bullshit—you’re
getting re-assigned to mine.” They both laughed and lowered their arms,
cognizant of the beaming faces from the rest of the group hanging out of the
cabin door.

Jared clapped his hands together one time
to get their attention then pointed to the north. “Epic battle at the dam,
remember.”

Carlie looked at him then at Shane as her
mind refocused. “We can’t go to the dam—we need to head to Lewis instead.
There’s a group of Mitchell’s troops headed there. He’s got some op involving the
mutants.” She grabbed his hand and motioned to Jake and the twins to get on board
while doing a hasty introduction of the new members. “Let’s head straight back
to base,” Carlie said. “We can compare notes on the way. We’ve also got a
convoy of semi-trucks to intercept that are loaded with Mitchell’s troops.”

Chapter 36

The east exit gate at Fort Lewis slid back
on its bearings as the fuel truck, ambulance, and two more trucks moved into
the central compound, heading to the delivery bay near A-Wing. Mitchell watched
their entrance on the laptop and waited for the trucks to come to a halt under
the massive Quonset hut.

He waited a few minutes for the drivers to
disperse and then motioned his men to open the hatch while he moved up
alongside the mutants. The drugs in Mitchell’s system were already stoking his
heartrate and he felt his hands trembling from the combination of stimulants
and the excitement of what was about to unfold. He activated the shock collars
on each mutant and then shoved their inert bodies to the hatch where his men
retrieved them, lowering the glistening figures onto the pavement below. When
the fuel tank was empty of creatures, Mitchell withdrew and squatted down
beside the cluster of twitchy figures. He reached into his pack and pulled out
a dozen Epinephrine pens and then stabbed each mutant with a large dose in the
side of their quadriceps. He scurried back and flipped on the remote control
device, his fingers ready to depress the shock button. Almost on cue, each
mutant’s milky eyes fully sprung open and they began rising, their limbs pulsing
with the adrenaline bursting through their systems.

As they started to move towards his men,
Mitchell depressed the remote control, providing a slight shock to keep their
rage contained. Their hissing and violent muscle spasms from the drug were
barely kept beneath the surface and he knew they had to initiate their plan
now. Mitchell removed the AK-47 from his back and racked the slide then grabbed
Deacon by the collar and pulled him close. “You take this tanker and ram it right
into the helo bay. That will draw everyone out of the buildings. After you jump
out before impact, rejoin my team in A-Wing—that’s where Lavine and the
communications center are located.”

The man hopped into the truck and sped off
as Mitchell’s team moved to the side doors that led out into the main compound.
“The rest of you split into your assigned groups and fan out into the B & C
Wings. Forget about D-Wing as that’s their research lab and we may need those
fucking braniacs in the months ahead. Remember, this is about personnel removal
so try to keep as much of the wings as possible intact. The rest of our alpha
teams should be here within the hour to ensure we fortify our new palace.”

As the truck disappeared into the helo bay
across the compound, Mitchell heard people shouting and taking cover as the
fuel tanker erupted inside the structure. Within seconds, fire crews and
personnel were exiting the different wings and rushing to the scene, leaving
Mitchell, his men, and the mutants with the distraction they would need to begin
dismantling the command and control of Fort Lewis.

Chapter 37

Lavine was in his office, a pencil tucked
above his ear as he pored over the wall map, studying the lines of attack laid
out around the dam and collating field reports from Duncan, Matias, and other
team leaders.

Just as he reached for a bottle of water,
he heard the roar of an explosion to his left. The floor shook, overhead lights
flickered, and books rained down from the shelves along the wall. He rushed to
the window and saw the massive helicopter bay engulfed in flames as his
personnel frantically darted around to help others and rush to fire trucks.

He searched the sky for any signs of enemy
aircraft but saw nothing. He realized it must be a small ground assault unit.
He backed up, his legs wobbly, and reached into a desk drawer for his 9mm Glock,
staring at it for a moment like some lost artifact. He rushed to the doors and
then entered the hallway cautiously, straining for any signs of movement in the
stairwell to the right. Lavine heard the sound of many boots trotting up the
steps followed by a faint hissing sound. He turned to run down to the
operations center on his left, his heart racing and his hands clutching the
pistol. As he rounded the first corner, automatic weapons fire strafed the
drywall, one round punching through his shoulder. He crashed into the opposite
wall, clutching his wound, then scrabbled against the corner and saw Mitchell’s
enraged face bounding like a famished lion towards him. Lavine struggled to
raise the Glock with his rubbery arm and then squeezed the trigger. It clicked
and then it dawned on him that he hadn’t chambered a round. Mitchell plowed
right through his extended arm and slammed him into the wall. Mitchell grabbed
Lavine by the hair and slammed his head into the wall several times. He felt
the man’s massive hands folding in around his skull as he was lifted off the
ground, his back pressed into the shattered drywall.

“Conrad, it’s nice of you to invite us
over for a visit. It’s been too long.”

Lavine stared into the tormented face and
the maniacal eyes, the bloodshot veins resembling rivulets of lava. He reached
his hands up and grabbed Mitchell’s wrists as the pressure on his skull
increased. Mitchell was grinding his teeth and emitting a crooked grin as the
powerful grip increased until Lavine’s vision blurred and he felt the bones in
his skull folding until his world was extinguished.

Chapter 38

After several unsuccessful attempts at
radioing Fort Lewis, Carlie switched the channel over to Duncan’s frequency. A
few seconds later his voice came over her ear-mic.

“Sure good to hear you’re still kicking,”
Duncan said. “When will your crew be arriving here?”

“Likewise. Listen, we’ve lost radio
contact with Lavine and any of the other channels at HQ. We have solid intel
that there is a small strike force heading to Lewis. We are inbound and should
be there in ten minutes.”

“Copy that. Looks like you’ve got your
work cut out for you then. Keep me posted and Godspeed to us all.”

Carlie flicked off the radio and held onto
the overhead railing. She peered out through the front windows at the ocean of
trees ahead. For the first time since she arrived at Fort Lewis, she felt like
it had become more than a refuge from the pandemic and flesh-hungry monsters
outside. It was now the last bastion of security and hope in the western U.S.
Though its battleship-gray walls and stark features never let her forget it was
a military base, it had become a haven—a home where she could shut out the
horrors of the world and hold out hope that they could rebuild some kind of
life while clinging to the vestiges of civilization. She glanced down at her
watch and knew they were running out of time. They had to get there and prevent
Fort Lewis from falling.

On the undulating blacktop ahead, Carlie
saw the lone semi-truck that had pulled out from Crowley’s ranch earlier that
day.

She tapped the stout pilot on his shoulder
and pointed to the two-lane highway ahead. “We need to remove that truck from
the equation—you got any Hellfires left on this baby?”

The pilot just turned and grinned as he
increased the speed and raced forward ahead of the truck. “Do I?” Once he was
two miles further up, he swung hard around and decreased airspeed while
descending. The semi was barreling down the road towards them, increasing its
speed, the bearded driver’s wide eyes seeming to nearly occupy his entire face.
The pilot thumbed a silver toggle switch that activated a small red screen
which showed the truck. He pressed the Fire button and sent two Hellfire
missiles downrange. Carlie felt the surge of power from the sides of the
helicopter followed by a contrail of white smoke as the missiles sped into the
engine block, instantly engulfing the semi-truck. The flaming log of molten
metal and incinerated bodies spiraled through the air as the force of the
explosion lifted the entire vehicle off the road momentarily before it came
crashing down into a heap.

Carlie tapped the pilot’s shoulder in
praise then motioned him to resume their race to Fort Lewis, whose borders were
only minutes away.

Chapter 39

Mitchell’s second in command, Jeffers, was
in the lead semi-truck as he and his convoy approached the last two miles of
road before the dam. The heavily treed area had helped to conceal their
location but he could see the forest thinning out as the narrow highway entered
the open grounds at the base of the spillway. To the right of the river flowing
out from the dam were the three generating stations. Each building was devoid
of windows and two stories high with reinforced concrete walls. Their roofs had
an array of electrical relays that spun out from massive transformers to
hydroelectric generators at the base of the spillway where the Grand Coulee
River flowed through the turbines. Two of the stations were on high ground
while the third antiquated structure was level with the meadow.

Jeffers had lost contact with the other
convoy and assumed that they had been taken out. Mitchell informed him on the
radio that he had successfully breached Lewis though the alpha teams hadn’t
arrived yet. Jeffers worried that they should have stayed at the prison and not
stretched themselves so thin in hopes of satisfying Mitchell’s bloodlust and
hunger for more territory. The man was unbalanced at times but had proven
himself to be a brilliant strategist and had ensured their survival since the
beginning of the pandemic. On a scavenging raid in Idaho a few months earlier,
Jeffers had considered making a run for it and striking out on his own but he
had nowhere to go. He only found comfort in the pack, regardless of how
demented it had become under Mitchell’s frightful reign. Either way, he was committed.
He had to make this work as Mitchell had informed him that he would be running
operations at the dam. This meant only occasional encounters with his boss and
the freedom to run his own small fiefdom.

Jeffers motioned for the driver to stop
then spoke into the convoy-wide intercom mounted on the dashboard. “I want two
teams of sharpshooters staked out along the woods here picking off lookouts or
resistance on the upper walls of the dam.” He paused, stroking his wispy goatee
while reviewing his plan. “Once we get the vehicles into the half-mile point,
we’ll cut loose the zombies and use them as cover to close the remaining
distance to the dam entrances. They won’t risk blowing up our rigs as that will
pose a threat to the generating stations ahead.”

Thirty men disembarked their vehicles and
floated into the treeline to set up their sniping positions. Once they were in
place, Jeffers had the rest of the convoy speed ahead fifty yards, plowing
through the security gates towards the first generating station. Within seconds
of entering the open field, his driver was pierced through the chest by a
high-caliber round. The truck swayed to the right and Jeffers lurched over to
grab the steering wheel to prevent the front end from smashing into a concrete
pylon. Another round shattered the windshield, spraying glass in his face. As
the truck ground to a halt, he leaped out the side door, yanking along a large
duffel bag. Taking cover near the wheel well, he removed his ghillie suit and
hastily put it on while watching the other trucks in the distance suffer
similar fates to his. He reached inside the cab and radioed his men to get out
and commence their operations. Gunfire from the treeline rang out as Jeffers’
sharpshooters began dispatching sentries on the dam above. The truck behind him
was the only one whose cargo area held convicts while the remaining rigs
contained hundreds of zombies. As the thugs piled out the back, he saw them
donning ghillie suits identical to his while the remaining trucks’ cargo areas were
emptied of the undead occupants.

The ghillie suit bore the overbearing
stench of rotting meat from the strips of zombie flesh dangling off the mesh
sides. This would enable them to blend in with the masses of undead and make
their way along the meadow. Jeffers had to muffle his face with his hand to
shield against the gut-wrenching odor but knew from prior experience with this
method that his scent would be masked from the zombies. He waited until the
horde was moving towards the dam, driven by the fresh scent of recently sniped
soldiers, until he merged into the corpulent masses and made his way past the
first generating station. A hundred more of his men were similarly embedded in
the growing throng of zombies as they wove their way towards the main entrance
at the base of the spillway.

As long as they stayed close to the
generating stations, he knew they would be safe from grenades or RPGs. Zombies
around him collapsed from the occasional overhead rifle round but his men in
the treeline were providing adequate cover fire for him to close the distance
to the target. Once there, he would have to breach the steel doors with
explosives and then let the undead filter into the stairwells. He had no idea of
the actual size of the resistance but he knew, with the presence of the undead,
that he greatly outnumbered their pathetic forces. Soon this monumental
facility would be his.