Carlie Simmons (Book 4): The Gathering Darkness (2 page)

McCarthy rested his arms on his knees and
shot a glance back at Mitchell while staring briefly at his own wavering reflection
in the glass. 

“Why do you think I was so savage in my
attack
—
you must have talked to the warden
—
thrill me with your
analysis, Doctor.”

McCarthy cleared his throat. “You were
threatened by another inmate and sought to defend yourself but decided killing
him was a better solution than simple maiming. Now you’ve landed in this
permanent vacation spot which is probably what you wanted all along.”

“Very good, except you forgot about the
part where I secretly removed the guard’s keys in the fight and now have access
to all of the doors on this level.” Mitchell smiled and then his expression
turned to stone. He sprung from the cot, racing to the entrance and grabbing
the handle of his door, jerking it violently.

McCarthy leaped up, knocking his chair backwards.
“Guard! Guard!” He clenched the pen in his hand as his face went white then
looked back at Mitchell, who was still locked inside, laughing, his bellowing
filling the chamber as the man held his hands around his waist.

McCarthy stood still, his cheeks turning
from white to red while his chest pumped furiously. Mitchell backpedaled and
resumed his former position on the cot. “Whew, I haven’t laughed that hard in a
while. Your face looked like a bug-eyed toddler who just pissed himself at his
first fireworks show.” Mitchell continued to laugh, wiping the tears from his
eyes with a sleeve from his coveralls.

As three guards ran up, McCarthy raised
his palm and nodded, trying to quell his mortified appearance. “It’s alright.
False alarm
—
it was just a false alarm.”

The lead guard walked up and looked over
McCarthy and then inspected the cell door. The burly man raised his baton up to
the glass at Mitchell. “You keep it up, you old fuck. I’ll bury your scrawny
ass myself in the back forty.”

McCarthy uprighted his chair and retrieved
his notebook but continued to stand. “Thank you, Officer, I can handle it from
here.” He straightened his glasses and took several deep breaths. The three
guards walked away, sneering at the prisoner while reluctantly reholstering
their batons and muttering threats against Mitchell between themselves.

Mitchell’s face had hardened again and he
resumed his dispassionate stare. “Do you have any further questions, Doctor?”

McCarthy clenched his white knuckles
behind his back while grinding out his response. “No, you’ve provided me with
everything I need for now.” The doctor grabbed his bag and scurried away,
sticking to the far wall opposite the other cells.

“Likewise,” murmured Mitchell who sat
erect on his cot and began tapping his fingers against his coveralls.

***

A few minutes later, Mitchell walked to the
glass wall, studying it like a ruminating architect. This place would suffice
for now and, most importantly, it was free of bars unlike the typical cell
blocks he would have been confined to prior to his violent outbreak. He
couldn’t bear the thought of looking out through wrought-iron shafts. Goose bumps
formed on his arms as he recalled the decrepit wooden shed that his stepfather
locked him in each night as a boy
—
the bugs and rodents crawling over him
as he sat huddled in the corner, crying from his bruises and the torment of
enduring another cold night alone. The moonlight glinting off the rebar that
was welded over the tiny window above the door was his only portal to the world
beyond his misery.

Mitchell took a deep breath and balled his
fists while the residue of his nightmare faded back into the inky well of his soul.
He thought of the panic in McCarthy’s eyes, imbibing the imagery while he felt
his own tension bleed away. Mitchell got up and moved to the wall to his right.
His eyes slowly floated over his drawings on the wall, making their way to one on
the upper right, a serene setting depicting the magnificent skyscrapers of
Dubai. Embedded in the scenes of the city were tiny circles resembling children’s
balloons. Each one contained the initials of various prison guards along with
the warden. Beside each initial were numbers that referenced a code Mitchell
had made up years ago for cataloging human psychological triggers and
personality quirks. He removed the flexible pencil from his shirt pocket and
drew in another balloon just above a shaded high-rise. Inside he wrote the
initials DM and under it, two numbers referring to McCarthy
—dilettante with
a rescuer complex.
Then Mitchell thought about the pleasurable feeling of
his hands around the man’s carotid, the heat emanating off the yielding tissue
around the larynx, the smell of adrenaline-fueled fear forced out with each
gurgled exhale, the pale man’s pulse gradually slipping away with each
constriction of his two-handed grip, until the doctor’s eyes glazed over and
his body became flaccid.

Chapter 1

Carlie and her team of five trotted up the
stairs of a medical research facility in downtown Sacramento, California.
Accompanying her were Eliza, Matias, and three other newly trained operators.
In the ensuing months since her arrival at Fort Lewis and the possibility of a
cure through Pavel’s research, Carlie’s team along with a half-dozen others had
been combing the Western U.S. for additional medical equipment and laboratory
devices that could aid Pavel and his group of scientists. Besides this constant
quest, they were always on the hunt for fuel and several of their missions
consisted of escorting convoys of tankers back to Lewis.

This latest mission was the twenty-ninth
in the past sixty days since Carlie and her crew had settled into Fort Lewis.
Since then, she had spent endless hours on helos flying to derelict cities to
salvage centrifuges, incubators, immersion circulators, and anything else
related to ramping up for large-scale production of the antidote once it was
completed. Pavel had made it clear that he was still several months away from a
breakthrough but everything was falling into place as long as he had a constant
supply of research equipment for his lab.

Sgt. Major Ron Duncan, who oversaw field
operations, had formed several high-level units comprised of experienced fighters
to conduct such retrieval missions, most of which were performed at night to
reduce encounters with the undead. Each were led by seasoned operators like
Carlie or Shane with members being cross-trained in a variety of skills to
complement the six-man units. Shane was asked to head up one of his own comprised
of three men who were experienced combat veterans along with Amy who served as
the team’s medic, and Jared, whose security-hacking and lockpicking skills had
proved indispensable on numerous occasions at high-level facilities. When they
weren’t on missions, they were training together, gathering intel on potential
sites to procure more supplies, or serving as a rapid-response team to quell a
zombie horde threatening one of their six smaller outposts in Washington.
Matias remained as helo pilot for both teams but now had joined Carlie’s ranks
temporarily, due to the recent loss of one of her men in a zombie attack in
Eugene, Oregon.

As they entered the lobby, the rain on the
streets intensified, making it difficult to hear. She motioned to her group to
take a knee. Everyone squatted behind overturned furniture in the pre-dawn
light as they waited for the storm outside to abate.

After she was done reviewing the floor
plans in her head, Carlie’s thoughts turned to Shane. She thought about him a
lot lately, often at inconvenient times like now. She was used to compartmentalizing
her personal feelings
—
a coping strategy she had used for years in a job
where personal feelings were afforded little space in the workplace or beyond.
The life of a Secret Service agent had always been governed by endless hours on
the clock and constant time abroad on assignments. It had become nearly impossible
to foster any kind of romantic relationships and she had simply given up,
immersing herself in her work rather than the occasional one-night stands that
her male co-workers enjoyed. Then the pandemic changed everything and her life
became about even greater responsibility. Carlie had become so tired of being on
the frontline hunt for a cure that she just wanted to be left alone when they
weren’t conducting missions or involved in training. She had withdrawn into
herself in an attempt to hold onto some semblance of sanity though her thoughts
of Shane, with his rugged features and teasing grin, only kept getting in the
way of this approach. It didn’t make things easier that he kept making his
intentions known with his compliments and occasional overtures. She always
shrugged him off or indicated that there was some pressing post-op work to be
done, then retreated to her room to read or just sit in the pleasure of silence
away from shooting, explosions, or the moans of the undead.

Carlie knew that she couldn’t keep putting
him off and she also didn’t want to risk driving away a man she adored and had
feelings for. She just wasn’t sure how to balance her needs for what miniscule
personal space one could get under their current living conditions and her desire
to be closer to Shane. It was a struggle just to admit to herself that such
desire was beginning to push its way upward from a heart that was accustomed to
being constantly sheathed in discipline.

Ten minutes later, the rain had subsided
enough where their hearing wouldn’t be obscured. Carlie stood and gave a hand
signal for them to proceed up the stairs to the left. As they moved onto the
third floor and headed towards the location of the main lab, she heard groans
emanating from the door to her right. She glanced back with her eyebrows raised
at Eliza. “And here I was hoping for one mission without having to whack a
single freak.”

She and Eliza moved up on either side and,
with a countdown of her three fingers, she motioned to Eliza to swing open the
door. Both women did a dynamic room entry, sweeping to their respective sides.
The piercing odor of rancid meat caused their eyes to water and both women
fought back gagging. Matias moved in behind with his flashlight flooding the
room on wide beam, illuminating the area like a small stadium.

Four corpulent creatures that were beside
the large exterior windows started moving towards them. “Machetes only,” Carlie
said. “I don’t want to risk damaging any equipment in here.”

She and Eliza dashed forward,
transitioning to their tarnished blades. The nearest creature twitched and
snapped at the air as it lunged towards Carlie, its yellow face resembling
curdled pudding. She cleaved it through the right temple, plunging into the spongy
interior. As it collapsed, a rotund beast in the corner wearing a security
guard outfit emerged from the shadows, its face a glistening, fleshy blur as the
beast rushed for her. Carlie sidestepped and slashed with her fourteen-inch
blade at the cervical region, as its body slammed into a white desk. The
creature turned and snarled, its head only held on by the slightest of tendons.
She delivered a swift sidestroke, slicing through the remaining ligature as the
head landed on the countertop, its jaws continuing to chatter while the carcass
below throbbed out ruby fluid.

Carlie pivoted and saw Eliza finishing the
last creature with a swift series of comma cuts across the base of the neck as
blood geysered out from the severed trunk. She looked around at the young
woman’s handiwork, the precise blade moves revealing Eliza’s skill. Carlie
sometimes marveled at Eliza’s animal brutality that she channeled into her work
dispatching the undead; her fearlessness in combat had given her a reputation
as a cunning fighter.

Both women cleaned off their blades and
pulled out their flashlights to aid Matias in sifting through the room for scientific
components. The rest of the team searched the remaining labs on the same floor
until they had procured the necessary equipment and carefully stowed it in
padded duffel bags. Outside they could hear rain pelting against the windows
and Carlie looked forward to the ending of another wet, miserable mission.

Chapter 2

Shane’s team held the perimeter outside,
the five men and one woman spread out around the parking lot across from the
building. It had been raining all night and now the rain was intensifying as
the gray dawn revealed the ravaged streets around them.

“We’re packing up the items for retrieval
now. I’ll squelch you on the radio when we’re heading back down to the ground
floor.” When Shane was done conferring with Carlie, he glanced over at Jared,
who was grinning, the first rays of sunlight illuminating his blue eyes.

“So when you gonna ask that little lady
out for dinner?” said Jared.

Shane smirked and shook his head.
“Probably not in this lifetime the way Duncan has us runnin’ and gunnin’ every
week. Besides, she’s always been married to the job. You forget I tried once
before in Tucson.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give things another
stab.”

Shane raised his eyebrows. “And I’m gonna
take relationship advice from a slick willy like you, especially given how much
you’ve flirted with her in the past.”

“Carlie’s too frustrating a woman to
pursue in my book. She’s got the romantic inclinations of a slow-melting
glacier. Don’t get me wrong—she’s an amazing woman on many levels but I just
don’t want to spend the rest of my nights alone. Besides, Carlie and I always
felt more like a distant brother-sister kinda relationship than anything else.
Then, of course, there’s always this other charming belle I’ve kinda taken to,”
he said, glancing over at Amy who was concealed twenty yards away next to a
cluster of empty crates.

“Yeah, I noticed. You two don’t exactly
keep your intentions for each other hidden. When did that whole thing ignite?”

“Oh, two missions ago when she split open
that zombie’s head that was nearly upon me and I found myself staring
eye-to-eye with this lovely maiden. Who could resist a gorgeous woman with a
crimson machete in her hand and a brunette mane? All this time she had been in
my presence and I was just too blind to notice.”

“You can’t resist any muchacha, dude, what
the hell you talkin’ about. You even said yourself that women got you into
trouble more than your line of work did.”

“Yeah, but I think I found the right one
this time. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“Pfff…” Shane muttered and rolled his eyes,
wiping several raindrops off his camo-streaked face. “Just be good to her,
tough guy. She’s family to me.”

“And to me—but not in a creepy,
hill-people kinda way.”

Shane heard Carlie’s three squelches on
the radio. “Alright, let’s make this a hasty exfil.” He motioned with his hand
to move and then they crouch-walked through the parking lot with each person
spreading out, weaving around burnt-out vehicles and stepping over numerous skeletal
remains.

Leaves fluttered on the ground near the
entrance as a humid breeze floated over the area. With the sun just cresting
the horizon, they could already hear the unpleasant shuffling of hungry flesh-eating
monsters making their way out on their daily rounds. Shane saw the first
cluster of twenty creatures shambling out from behind a medical marijuana
dispensary. He shook his head slightly at the sign on the building.
Surprised
that Californians even needed a prescription
—
those fuckin’ hippies.
 

Fifty yards away, he saw Carlie and her
crew in the lobby to the right, their arms loaded with pilfered equipment. He
raised his hand, forming a fist, motioning for his team to stop and stand
ready. Jared moved up behind him and covered the group’s rear. Amy was twenty
yards to his right. Compton, a wiry operator, was to his left while Langdon and
Kress, the two youngest members, were further down the line behind an
overturned bus.

Shane tapped on his ear-mic. “I’ve got a
shitload of tangos in the street approaching your location. You’re gonna need
to take the back door out instead.”

“Copy that.”

He waited, concealed next to a green dumpster
which reeked like putrid beef and was filled with the sound of buzzing flies. After
a few minutes he heard clawing inside the dumpster and stood to peer inside.
Raising the black plastic lid with his rifle muzzle, he saw a legless zombie
inside, its badly decaying body mostly reduced to raw muscle and tendon. “Stupid
thing must have fallen in here months ago and couldn’t get out,” he whispered.

“It probably smells us—or you. All that
groaning is going to draw the rest of those things over here,” said Jared.

“Well, I can’t risk shooting a round in
there and I can’t reach the fuckin’ meathead with my machete,” he said,
lowering the lid and taking a knee with his rifle trained on the growing horde
ahead. “Hopefully Carlie will be clear soon and we’ll be on…” Before he could
finish, the thing inside began bellowing like a lion roaring after making a
kill.

The noise was deafening, reverberating off
the inside like a taut drum. “Shit, how does it even have any vocal cords left
to chirp like that?” said Shane, his eyes wide. Peeking his head around the
dumpster, he saw the nearest dispersed pack of zombies beginning to converge
and flow in their direction. At the same time, he heard Carlie’s voice in his
earpiece. “The rear and side exits are compromised. We’re gonna have to exfil
out the front of the building as originally planned.”

“Copy that, give us a minute first so we
can draw them away from your location.”

“That’s not going to take much effort,
thanks to dumpster boy here,” said Jared.

Shane looked over at the location of his
people and then back at the crowd while tapping on his ear-mic. “Alright, let’s
backpedal and lure these things away from the medical building. Do not engage.
I just want to draw these pus-brains towards us while we make a loop around the
parking structure and then back towards the helo,” he said, moving away from
the dumpster and walking backwards along his previous route. “Jared will watch
our six and remember that for every fifty of these zombies, there’s bound to be
one fast mutant so stay sharp. We can’t afford to engage one of those things
again.”

The creatures were now moving in full
force towards them as their motion, accompanied by the shrieks from the
dumpster, continued to coalesce the crowd of yellow-faced freaks. On the slick
pavement, the creatures tottered like they had footballs attached to their feet.

“I’ve got movement at my three o’clock—at
least a hundred tangos,” yelled Amy. Shane looked to his right, struggling to
make out the sight in the driving rain and saw another crowd moving between
buildings, cutting off their intended route. He swiveled his head to the left
and saw a clear path beside a small park. Tapping on his mic, he alerted the
team to the change in plans and they began sprinting as one group, tightening
up their formation. As they ran past a playground, Shane took the lead and
pushed into a small parcel of woods. The undead had now formed into one current
and were closing fast. From his memory of studying the city layout, he knew
there was a courthouse not far from the park. He radioed his intentions to
Carlie, who was nearing the helicopter a mile from Shane’s present position.

A narrow footbridge made of planks led
across a muddy ravine with waist-high water rushing beneath it. “Alright,
everybody across, then we’ll blow this thing,” yelled Shane, his voice barely
audible in the downpour. The zombie’s frantic pace matched the raging storm as
they descended upon the park, rushing towards the bridge and the delectable
morsels of soft flesh on the other side. Shane paused before crossing and mowed
down a half-dozen of the closest zombies in quick succession, their blood and
bone fragments merging instantly with the falling rain.

Amy tore a grenade from her vest and waited
until Shane was across and then tossed it on the bridge. Everyone took cover
behind a massive fallen tree twenty feet away, huddled in the mud and fallen
leaves. The bridge erupted, showering splintered wood around the forest and effectively
sealing off any immediate chance of the zombies reaching them. A few creatures still
tried to get across, their clumsy forms gelling with the bridge debris washing
downstream.

“Whew—I wish all our getaways could be so
smooth,” exclaimed Jared.

“Don’t count your blessing yet,” said
Shane. “Just remember Murphy’s rule of combat—that the problem with the easy
way out is that it’s already been mined.”

“You gotta dampen the already damp mood,
man.”

Shane stood up, brushing a mound of wood
slivers from his shoulder. “It’s a short jaunt to the courthouse from here and
then we’ll be hitching a ride after that.”

They rushed through the overgrown treeline
for another three hundred yards, emerging on the cusp of a main intersection
near the courthouse. The sound of the furious river behind them had drowned out
any noise except the crunching of their boots on the forest debris. Shane
pressed his face through the thick foliage to scan the route ahead where he saw
close to a thousand ragged corpses milling towards their location, drawn by the
recent explosion.