Winchester: Over (Winchester Undead) (21 page)

Big Bend National Park, Texas

“Good luck up there, I hope you get us some good news!”

Sandra and Jack shared hugs with Jessie and Bexar before they started up the trail towards Emory Peak. The plan was for Sandra and Jack to be on the mountain for four nights, unless bad weather drove them back down to the camp. In the meantime, Bexar and Jessie’s goal, besides watching both kids, was to attempt to get the water pumps for the system of tanks pushing water into the Chisos Basin back online. With both kids to watch, that task would be harder, since both children were exceptionally good at “unhelping,” as all children tend to be. Regardless, it was a good trade, because in seven days Jessie and Bexar would have a chance to be alone on the mountain at the listening post. It wasn’t exactly a nice spa treatment at the 7F Lodge, but it would be nice to have some alone time in beautiful surroundings.

“And they’re gone. Let’s gear up and get that travel trailer from the Rio Grande RV park, then we can scrounge around the rest of the RV park for anything useful.”

“Okay, but I don’t want to be gone all day, Bexar, I don’t like being out of the Basin after dark,” Jessie replied.

“Right.
I’ll gather the kids if you want to gather some ammo and some food for the trip. Also, I’ll get the empty jerry cans; we can refill at Panther Junction on our way through.”

In twenty minutes, Jessie, Bexar, and both kids were loaded up and on their way to the Rio Grande Village. Two hours later the travel trailer was hooked up to the
Wagoneer and they were headed back to the Basin.

“Do you think the RV will make the road up into the Basin?” Jessie asked Bexar. “The sign says nothing over fourteen feet in length.”

“No Jess, I don’t think it will, but we could leave it outside the gate at the turnoff.”

“What if we put it down at Cattail Falls with the Scout? It could be a bug-out shelter.”

“That’s a good idea, I like it,” Bexar said.

The turnoff for the Basin passed by Bexar’s window, and they headed towards the unmarked gravel road leading to the Cattail Falls trailhead.

Another two hours passed, and the trailer was secured at their original campsite in the desert. After arriving, they decided to leave the trailer connected to the Wagoneer and drive the Scout back to the Basin with the kids. Bexar didn’t think the Scout was heavy enough to pull the RV very well. To complete the bug-out shelter, Bexar left five full jerry cans of fuel on the Wagoneer with the plan to rotate their fuel stock to keep the gas fresh. After returning to the Basin, Jessie gathered the remaining MREs, a five-gallon container of fresh water, and some other supplies to stock the bug-out RV.

“Do you think they made it to the peak yet?” she asked Bexar.

“Hell no,” he replied. “When you and I did that hike the first time it took us nearly seven hours to get up there from the tent camping area. I think they’ll probably make it to the top about supper time.”

Emory Peak

As predicted, Jack and Sandra made it to the very top of Emory Peak just as the sun dipped low in the western sky. They had needed to do a little bit of light bouldering, but made it to their destination without any problems. The big wall tent was too big and too heavy to carry up the mountain trail, so they’d left it with the base camp. Jack climbed back down to set up a basic lean-to shelter on the last section of trail before the short climbing section to the narrow peak. The wind on the peak was stronger than they anticipated, but what they hadn’t remembered from their previous hike up the South Rim were the solar panels powering a radio repeater, enclosed in a metal box, on the top of the mountain.

Once the lean-to shelter was erected with the help of some 550 parachute cord and dinner had been eaten, Jack climbed back up to the peak to begin setting up their ham radio, as well as the small hand-cranked shortwave radio. Sandra started cranking the shortwave to generate power while Jack broke into the metal box containing the radio repeater equipment.

“If Malachi was still alive, he’d be able to figure out this setup, and we could probably have radio communications from the cabins.”

“But he’s not, Jack,” Sandra said quietly.

“I know,” Jack replied, and fell silent.

“Sorry babe,” Sandra interrupted his thoughts. “Tell you what, it’s getting dark, let’s just try tuning through the shortwave, and in the morning we can get the ham set up properly.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The shortwave produced nothing but static while the two sat there, holding hands and watching the sky turn from red to a deep purple over the desert floor. Alone and safe, the husband and wife made love for the first time since their world had come apart.

Groom Lake, Nevada

Cliff and Lance made it topside without any problems, but once there they found the base eerily quiet.

“Weren’t there close to a thousand people who worked up here? Where did they go, man?” Lance asked.

“I have no idea,” replied Cliff, “but I doubt they walked off base to safety. If we’re lucky we might find a couple of survivors, but when I came on base last month I watched from a distance, and even then I didn’t see any movement or signs of life. Forget about it, keep sharp and stay frosty, remember what we’ve practiced. Keep your M4 ready in the SUL position, safety on and finger indexed—if a rotter pops up, get on target, thumb the safety, and press the trigger to the rear.”

Lance held his M4 with the ACOG sight and felt the safety lever with his thumb to make sure it was still flipped up and safe. Cliff led the hike, Lance falling behind about twenty feet, both of them walking in the middle of the road. It was strange for Cliff to be out in the open and in the middle of the road. He was used to using the buildings and their shadows for cover and concealment, but new enemies required new tactics.

The truck, now one hundred yards in front of them, appeared to be just as Cliff had left it. In his rucksack he carried a twelve-volt car battery from one of the backup systems that he thought should be enough to jump-start the truck, which had been sitting out in the open desert. Reaching the truck, Cliff opened the door, put the transmission into neutral, and pushed the truck forward to reveal the keys hidden under the front left tire. Before attempting to connect the jump-start battery, he tried the ignition and was surprised when the truck turned over, coughing to life with a loud backfire.

Lance joined Cliff in the cab of the truck and they started towards the runways carved out of the dry lakebed. Foot to the floor, the needle hovered at just over eighty miles per hour, but in the large expanse of the dry lakebed it felt like they were practically standing still. After reaching the end of the exceptionally long lakebed runway, Cliff turned the truck around and pointed it back towards the base. A handful of minutes ticked by before he finally brought the old truck to a stop on the flight line near the aircraft hangars. Cliff climbed into the bed of the pickup truck, leaning against the cab and preparing to wait while keeping an eye on the sky. Ten more minutes of careful sky watching passed before the overly large tail of a C-130 Hercules came into view over the mountains.

Cliff watched the plane descend in his binoculars and called down to Lance, “Looks like only the two port side engines are working. If they’re coming in for a straight-in approach, it’ll be a downwind landing. Shouldn’t be a problem for a Herc though, we have enough runway to land the Starship Enterprise.”

“Cliff?”

“Huh?”

“CLIFF!”

Cliff lowered the binoculars and turned around to see what Lance was so excited about. Shambling from between the hangars and onto the flight line were about fifty undead.

“Damn, didn’t hear them with the wind blowing,” said Cliff. “Well, we’d better stop ‘em before they get out on the runway and cause a lot of problems for our arriving guests. Lance, why don’t you stay with the
truck. When the Herc lands, drive out there and don’t let them taxi up to the flight line. Oh, and give me two of your magazines for your M4.”

“Where are you going?” asked Lance.

“I’m going over there to see a man about a horse. Where the fuck do you think I’m going? Go help those guys on the plane get to the safety of our underground facility, I’ll be back later.”

Before Lance could respond, Cliff had jumped over the bedrail of the truck and was trotting towards the approaching undead.

Cockpit in the C-130

“
Arcuni, do you see that truck on the runway?”

“Yes sir. Hopefully he won’t get in our way, but this Herc is landing now, whether we want to or not.”

The rudder trim was pushed all the way over, trying to keep the big turbo-prop flying straight with only two engines. Arcuni moved another level and the flaps descended, followed by the landing gear. With very little experience with the big cargo plane, Arcuni flared the landing a little late. The Herc slammed into the ground hard with too much forward speed, blowing out the tires on the right-side main landing gear. He pushed hard on the opposite side brakes while flaming the two remaining engines to feather. The pickup truck, driving fast across the lakebed, slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop just as the Herc skidded by, the nose gear failed, and the plane began a large carving skid across the lakebed. It finally came to a stop, and Arcuni started breathing again.

“Holy shit!” he cried. “Major, if we were on a regular runway we would’ve gone off the tarmac and onto the grass, which would have rolled the plane. The lakebed saved us!”

“Luck favors the prepared, and also the stupid. Let’s get moving. We need to get everyone un-assed, and get all our gear unloaded,” Wright said.

“Roger that, sir.”

Arcuni
finished shutting down the two remaining functional engines. The old C-130 had gotten the crew to Nevada, but it would never fly again. The guys in the back lowered the cargo ramp as the major made his way to the rear opening of the aircraft. In the still desert air they were greeted by a long-haired, scrawny civilian and the sound of sporadic rifle fire in the distance towards the flight line.

“Hey there,” said the civilian. “Nice crash. We need to get your gear and get you underground.”

“Right, who the fuck are you and what’s going on?” replied the major.

“I’m Lance, the last remaining scientist. That guy over there is Cliff, and he has a goodly number of undead he’s trying to keep away from your plane.”

“Okay Lance, we’ll get unloaded. Take these six guys in the truck and go help Cliff,” Major Wright said, pointing at six of the airmen who were carrying M4 rifles.

“But Cliff said …”

“No buts son, do it now.”

Lance shrugged and climbed into the cab of the truck while the six airmen climbed into the truck bed, and they drove off in the direction of the gunfire. The major and his remaining men had the plane unloaded in less than ten minutes, which seemed strange to them since it had felt like it had taken less than thirty seconds to load the plane under duress.

Shortly after the rifle reports had stopped, the truck returned with Lance at the wheel. Major Wright accompanied the fifth and final truckload of equipment to the service elevator that lowered them into the underground facility. The six airmen that had helped Lance and Cliff were already in their new living quarters and enjoying their first hot shower in over a month. New sets of old-style BDUs from the storeroom were provided for all the new arrivals.

Cliff strode over to the major. “Hi Major, I’m Lazarus, but Cliff’s actually my name, and I’m sure glad you made it safely.”

“Me too, Cliff,” the major replied, shaking Cliff’s hand. “It was really hit or miss, but compared to how we were living at Peterson, this place you’ve got is a five-star resort.”

“I understand. You’ll find that this facility is very well-stocked, and we have the necessary equipment and containments for Lance to continue his and his former colleagues’ work. Our communications, however, are severely lacking. I don’t think we can communicate outside of a handful of military channels, and I have no idea what’s left out there beyond what I passed driving here from Denver.”

“In that case, Cliff,” said the major, “you’re going to really like the shiny new toys we brought with us, but I know you won’t like the answers they’ll give you.”

February 5
th

Emory Peak, Big Bend National Park, Texas

The sun had just begun to break over the eastern sky when Jack finished cranking the shortwave radio’s charging handle. He consulted the list of known channels in the ham radio book, and after trying the frequencies listed for broadcasts from the U.S. with no
success, he turned his little radio to the BBC channel, where he was greeted by a faint voice.

“Sandra, found one!” he called out.

Sandra sat next to the open equipment box on the mountain top, with the solar panel and battery disconnected from the radio equipment they didn’t know how to use. Leaving her task, she sat next to Jack to listen to the shortwave radio broadcast.

“…
from Germany is that the government has apparently collapsed, and an estimated two million survivors are stranded without help, food, water, or power while the irradiated undead roam the cities. Berlin is reported to be a complete loss, and officials are still trying to determine the direction and strength of the radiation fallout with our limited information and dwindling resources. The quarantine in the United Kingdom has thus far been successful, with only a reported two percent reanimation and infection rate in the population. We remind you again to remain indoors, and to report immediately any family members who take ill. Take no chances with the dead or the undead—only head trauma will stop the threat. Although they may have once been a loved one, they are no longer human, and pose a great danger. Any bite or scratch will infect you, and you will most certainly die and reanimate. In other reports, engineers continue to work around the clock to restore power, with electricity already restored to a reported thirty percent of the United Kingdom. Stay calm, stay strong, and we will survive once ag
…”

“Jack, what happened?” Sandra asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, “the signal just faded out.”

“What was that about radiation fallout? Bexar said that EMPs don’t produce fallout, that we didn’t need to be worried about that.”

“It shouldn’t,” replied Jack, “but that report makes me think there may have been a nuclear incident or attack, if Berlin is gone and the U.K. is in trouble. I wonder who else is left. From what we’ve seen on our drive to Maypearl and then to here, I think we’ve lost a lot more than just two percent of our population.”

“Jack, I think it’s more likely
there’s only two percent of us left,” Sandra said wearily.

“If you want to get back to work on the solar panel for the ham radio,” he replied, “I’ll keep trying to find more news.”