Until Morning Comes

A Carlie Simmons Post-Apocalyptic Thriller

By

JT Sawyer

Copyright

Copyright 2014 by JT Sawyer

No part of this book may be transmitted in any form whether electronic, recording, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction and the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, incidents, or events is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Editing provided by Emily Nemchick

Thank you for your interest in this book. You can get updates on future releases and my free, non-fiction survival eBooks by signing up at the JTSawyer website.

This book is dedicated to the warriors of the special operations and personal protection community who face danger each day for our country—America’s finest sons and daughters.

Terms Found in the Book

PPD   Personal Protection Detail

POTUS   President of the United States

MP-7   Submachine gun used by Secret Service agents. Often two are carried in shoulder holsters beneath their dress coats during public functions.

Chapter 1

Sunday, 1100 Hours, Sonoran Desert, Southwest of Tucson

“Out of ammo,” Carlie Simmons shouted as she bolted behind a cement barricade to begin a tactical reload of her Sig-Sauer P229 pistol. Gerald, her partner and an older operator, ran ahead of her, his weapon sending a hail of rounds downrange to its intended target.

After releasing the slide and racking a new round, Carlie resumed her position, weaving past Gerald into the doorway of a two-story house. As she entered the bullet-riddled dwelling, she deftly placed two shots into the heads of the terrorists on the staircase and another volley into a semi-hidden figure crouching behind a civilian in a distant archway. As she and Gerald wound through the upper levels of the dilapidated shoot-house, they dispatched the rest of the cardboard hostiles with three seconds to spare on the timer.

An overhead buzzer shrieked out the end time and both of them holstered their weapons. After returning to the ground floor, Carlie removed her hat long enough to shake a piece of loose brass from her blond ponytail. She removed her ear protection and stepped out into the already intense heat of the desert sun, the sunlight shining across her athletic figure.

“Not bad—not bad at all,” said Gerald, who had turned and pointed back to the overhead monitor with her score. “You’ve got the edge in the competition and on the street, alright,” he said with a doting grin.

Carlie was at once pleased and disappointed to hear his compliment. “I got one round a little off-center on that last headshot. It could’ve been better,” Carlie said, resting her hands on her nylon ballistic belt.

“Out of thirty-nine rounds fired, and all of ’em right in the kill zone, you have to complain about a micrometer of difference with one shot that only you would notice and that wouldn’t have any bearing on dropping a bad guy,” he said, shaking his head. “I know I demand perfection but don’t be that hard on yourself.”

“Yeah, well, it matters to me, especially if I’m going to make the next cut of applicants for the D.C. position.”

“You’ve got the highest scores in today’s inter-agency surgical shooting match so far, as well as the best in our Southwest agency’s track record. You’re the only one who’s going to lose sleep tonight,” said Gerald, who had seventeen years more experience than her.

A voice came over the speaker from the range master. “Final round commencing.”

They put their ear protection back in place and moved over to the shade of a cottonwood tree behind the range master’s elevated observation platform. The two agents who stepped forward at the white starting line were from the Drug Enforcement Agency and had grimy, dust-covered clothes compared to the neat appearance of Carlie and Gerald, who were clad in their agency’s typical attire of button-down shirts, suit coats, and creased pants.

“I heard those guys just got off a week-long deployment south of the border and raced here for the competition—I mean ‘inter-agency training,’” said Gerald, shaking his head at the raggedy appearance of the two men.

“Hell, they look that grungy all the time, even off duty, for crying out loud,” Carlie said. She looked over at the lithe figure of the nearest DEA shooter named Shane, whose tactical vest bore the handwritten saying “caballero” in red ink.

She glanced around at the other two-man teams standing on either side of her—shooters from the U.S. Marshals, FBI Hostage Rescue, NSA, and the U.S. Border Patrol’s Tactical Division. The Southwest bureau chief for the Secret Service had spearheaded this bi-annual training event to foster inter-agency cooperation and information sharing on counter-terrorism techniques. For Carlie, it was another excuse to be on the range honing her pistol-craft and to learn from veteran operators. Though she got her share of looks from the alpha-dogs beside her, the fact that she was the only female field agent in the Southwest branch never bothered her. Carlie’s considerable physical prowess and skill under fire had earned her a place of respect within the small circle of elite operators that she had come to think of as brothers. Growing up as an army brat with three competitive brothers made her feel at home in the company of such men.

The final match finished and the two DEA agents went back to their table to strip off their gear and wait for the final scores. Carlie strode over and stood under their shade canopy.

Shane Colter, a senior DEA agent with a scruffy beard, looked up from his gear bag. “Carlie, Carlie, you look so spiffy in those city slicker clothes. Doesn’t your agency ever let you slip out of that snazzy suit into something practical for a few hours at the range?”

“If there’s anyone who should worry about their clothes, it’d be you two. Whew,” she said, waving her hand before her, “even the ravens are afraid to fly overhead.”

“This is what happens when you have a real job working in the field busting bad guys instead of sitting in air-conditioned coffee shops babysitting the president’s daughter,” said Matias, a wiry agent of Panamanian descent who was Shane’s second-in-command.

Carlie looked back at the range and then returned her eyes to Shane. “Not a bad bit of plinking, fellas,” she said.

“Yeah, well, Navy SEAL training, you know,” said Shane.

“Wow—you were in the SEALs?” she said with wide eyes while putting her hand over her mouth. “Why, I had no idea—oh wait, yeah I did, because of those other 79 times you told me and that cool tactical watch you’re wearing.”

Shane chuckled while placing a fresh magazine in his Glock 17 and reholstering it on his belt. Then he peeled off his leather gloves, which revealed his thick hands and scarred knuckles.

“You oughta come out with us sometime,” he said. “I mean, along the border to see what real runnin’ and gunnin’ looks like. I bet you’d get a taste for that life and want to jump ship to our kick-ass agency. There are no fancy suits to be worn in our unit, either,” he said, smacking his palm against his filthy vest.

“No thanks. I’m three months away from a potential position with the Counter-Assault Unit in D.C. Then I can be out of this blast furnace. Gerald’s been preparing me and says I have a good shot at making the next batch of applicants.”

Shane looked up at the protective gaze of the older man, who was examining him from a distance. “Gerald’s the guy to take you to the Promised Land, that’s for sure. He’s a helluva mentor from what I’ve heard but do you really think they’re gonna let a 007 muchacha like you out of your current gig with the president’s daughter? I mean, she’ll probably be on campus for another three years or more.”

Carlie thrust her hands on her hips and tilted her chin up slightly. “D.C. is calling and my record here on that security detail will only serve to further those ends. If everything goes according to plan, I should be headed east by Christmas.”

“Well, don’t forget the wild bunch ‘down under’ when you’re gone. And when the time comes to sail on, I’ll take you out for a steak dinner to celebrate.”

“You eat meat? I thought you were a vegetarian.”

“Ouch, that hurt my feelings. Now I’m gonna have to make you pay the tab.”

Carlie had taken Shane up on an offer to go out for dinner two months previously but knew she better not pursue things further after that first encounter. He was just out of a recent divorce and she found it necessary to squelch her budding interest early on rather than risk a relationship that could potentially conflict with her career goals. There would be time for longer-lasting romantic involvements elsewhere once she was assigned to D.C. and could unwind more. Nothing was going to interfere with her personal goal of being assigned to the detail of the president.

Carlie flung her hair back with a smile as she walked away. “Better keep practicing if you want to beat me.”

The range-master, a gray-haired man in a Stetson, moved down from his observation platform with the results. After reading the scores, he leaned back and retrieved a six-pack of Heineken from a red cooler and handed it to Carlie and Gerald. “Secret Service cleans up again.”

Carlie held up the unopened bottle and nodded to the other teams, noticing Shane slowly shaking his head as a faint grin widened out from beneath his mirrored sunglasses.

The range master stepped into the circle of agents. “Last group out locks up the place. I’m headin’ out early. There’s supposed to be a decent storm coming in from Baja tonight so don’t dally here too long or you’ll need a kayak to float out of this canyon.”

Chapter 2

After the match, Carlie drove her agency-issued black Suburban back to Tucson with Gerald riding shotgun. The air-conditioning was cranked up to level four and Carlie was still wrestling with the discomfort of her button-up shirt sticking to the leather seat.

“Gonna be another scorcher today,” mumbled Gerald while checking his texts. “108 degrees is the forecast, I heard.”

“Yeah, but at least it will cool off to a frigid 90 degrees tonight,” Carlie chuckled while turning the radio dial. “Have you heard who won the Diamondbacks game last night?”

“Nope—is that a baseball or a hockey team?” chided Gerald. “You know me, when I’m home, which is almost never, I spend time with my two grandkids. I ain’t got time to follow sports or anything else.”

Carlie and Gerald had only worked together for the past year and she looked upon him as a close mentor. Most agents who worked the personal protection details of the president, vice-president, and their families were assigned to one person’s detail and stayed with them for three years or until a transfer to another assignment came in. She had been with the Tucson office for one year, coinciding with the arrival of President Huntington’s daughter, Eliza, coming to the University of Arizona. During that time, Gerald had shown her the ropes and really taken her under his wing, passing along his decades of fieldwork around the globe in his work with two former presidents.

At thirty-one, Carlie was the first female field agent to be appointed to the Southwest Division of the Secret Service. Despite the sentiment in the department that she was hired to fill a minority quota, she had achieved the highest field operative and aptitude scores in recent years. Prior to getting hired for the Personal Protective Detail section, she had worked the standard six years in investigations that all Secret Service agents had to undergo prior to applying for protection. Before that she had served four years in Army Intelligence as a Russian linguist. This still got her the occasional assignment within the Secret Service to work as an interpreter for visiting Russian dignitaries coming to the West Coast.

While Carlie was going on about which team won the last Diamondbacks game, the barely audible voice of the radio announcer pierced through their conversation with news of a rash of violent attacks that had happened in the southeastern U.S. the previous night.

“Sounds like another new street drug is being circulated,” said Gerald. “Reminds me of the time when I was working a detail in Europe for Bush. We had a bunch of crazed protesters hopped up on PCP. Man, I swear we must have kept the pepper-spray companies in business that week.”

No matter what the topic, Gerald always had a personal anecdote to share and Carlie just sat forward in rapt attention. She reflected on what Gerald had said to her a year ago upon accepting her field position in personal protection. “Though it’s seldom spoken about between agents, just remember that every day you are expendable and the sand in your hourglass will only be yours again when you retire—if you retire.”

Those words had hit home last month when she was briefly assigned to a protective detail for a former vice-president’s visit to Brazil. She rubbed her right shoulder, where she was still nursing a knife wound that she had received after disarming an attacker. One of several attackers whose faces she tried to blot out of her mind.

Chapter 3

After the training event, Shane and his team of six men flew in their helicopter back to the DEA tactical operations center in downtown Tucson to do their after-action report from their recent deployment to Mexico. After serving two years in the Navy SEALs, Shane was forced to leave due to a severe shoulder injury from a night jump in Afghanistan. After months recuperating, a friend told him about a position with the DEA. Six years later, and with countless drug interdiction operations under his belt, he was tasked with heading up his own unit.

Shane’s desert camouflage shirt and pants bore a medley of dirt and sweat from the training event at the range that morning. His weathered face contrasted sharply with his black scruff, which had thin wisps of bleached hair from too much time under open skies.

The debriefs were always done informally around the gear table in the armory where they could field-strip their weapons, perform maintenance on their gear, and resupply before heading home. Shane had even snuck in an ice-cold twelve-pack of beer so they could partake of what he called “post-mission urban hydration protocols.” Everyone knew having alcohol in a federal building was a hefty violation on Shane’s shoulders but the simple act only made the men lift their bottles higher to him during their silent toast.

“I know we already hashed some of this out on the trip back through Arizona, but was there any more follow-up on the ultralight plane routes used by the cartels on the Indian reservations?” said Matias. He was stripping his M4 and peering down through the barrel.

“You heard the commander of the federales down there and what our boss here said. They’ve got our intel on the situation and will take ‘operable action’ against any border threats.”

“Which means nobody wants to step on toes and piss off D.C. unless there’s 100% confirmation of a threat, and even then, they’re going to bury their heads in the sand and point fingers after the fact,” said Rory, a young operator with sandy-blond hair and bear-like hands.

Shane leaned over the table and took a swig of beer while several droplets of condensation dripped onto his dusty boot. “Our job was just to identify the dope-running corridors used by the ultralights and relay that back to the State Department. Their boys on the ground will now have to work with the federales and our border patrol units to expand on any security risks.”

Matias rolled his eyes. “This is just like last summer all over again when we provided solid intel on that cartel working the canyons ten miles north of our border and the State guys later denied knowing jack-shit about it because El Presidente was making an important PR trip to Washington.”

“Sometimes these operations down south don’t feel too much different than missions I did in Afghanistan. It’s another region of the globe but the same dictators slinging around their profiteering agendas,” said Rory.

Shane finished the last of his beer and slammed the container on the table. “I’d love to solve the rest of this world’s problems but I could sure use a cold shower and a slab of pizza in my gut so I declare this official meetin’ over. Let’s rendezvous in sixty minutes at Cheese Fiend’s Pizzeria on Speedway and finish this shift in style. Matias is buying,” he said, looking at his friend with a grin.

“Not likely, amigo. I got two kids going into college in Phoenix, remember. Rory’s got my vote. All he has to worry about is that flea-bitten alley cat he has at home, so he’s got plenty of dineros to blow on his friends.”

Chapter 4

It seems like Jared Sweinhart had spent most of his life jogging—or more like sprinting. He had just returned from a morning run through the upscale neighborhood in north-central Tucson. The place comprised of million-dollar homes with their Spanish tile roofs, luxurious watered lawns, and gated perimeters. Just the kind Jared like to case to determine which would provide the highest yield of stolen goods with the least amount of trouble.

Jared had only been in the Southwest for three weeks after fleeing his hometown of New Orleans in search of more fertile ground where he could start over as a thief and con-man. Before that, he had gone by Michael, Tony, Donovan, and numerous other aliases, moving from city to city during the past eleven years, not counting a three-year stint in prison in Pensacola, Florida. His father, a habitual street hustler, who had died in a craps-game gone bad in some dank alley, had always told him that to stay put too long, anywhere, would be certain death.

His plan was to selectively pilfer a few trendy homes in Tucson, fence the goods across the border in Mexico, and then make his way up to Phoenix for a while before heading to Vegas. That’s how it always worked—do a circuit of three cities, never staying longer than four weeks. This provided three weeks to recon the most worthwhile homes, a week to do the deed, move the stolen items, spend time with a few fine ladies, and then toss his valuables in his weathered Tommy Hilfiger daypack and be on his way to the next city.

He preferred working upscale homes in ritzy neighborhoods rather than snatch-and-grab hold-ups on the street like other cons did. Those kinds of bottom-feeding criminals gave thieves like him a bad name. He despised the ones he had to live with during his three-year prison stint. Most of the goons in his profession had poor hygiene, few teeth, and could barely spell their names in the ground with a stick. Jared prided himself on always being clean-cut, well-dressed, and articulate. His ruggedly handsome face, striking blue eyes, and southern accent also added to his disarming appearance. Jared’s greatest weakness was women, which was what ultimately led him to being behind bars in Pensacola.

As his morning jog wound down into a brisk walk along the cactus-lined sidewalk, he saw a thirty-something woman with a tight bun of red hair walking her two Pomeranians. He immediately noted her faux-gold earrings and cheap Korean watch with the imitation glossy diamonds inset in the dial. The watch rattled around on her shotgun-freckled wrist. Jared recognized her as a woman from the apartment complex where he was staying under an assumed name. He had signed up for a three-month lease using the credit history and identity of an old childhood friend’s deceased father.

“Morning, ma’am. How are you on this fine day?” he said with a slight Louisiana accent and a half-smile that accentuated the huge dimple in his right cheek.

“Why, just fine, thank you. Lovely day, isn’t it? I just love the smell of those cactus blossoms in the air,” she said, breaking her stride. The two lap-dogs stopped to investigate Jared’s new green-and-white Nike running shoes. He moved back a few inches so the dogs didn’t slobber on them. He always wore expensive tennis shoes that he kept meticulously clean—not like the lowbrow riff-raff he had grown up around with their filthy twelve-dollar generic tennis shoes with the cheap imitation-rubber soles.

“Certainly is, and are these your little tour guides through the city?” he said, bending down to pet the dogs.

“Oh, yes, they go everywhere with me. Even to the mall—I have a chest harness to carry them so they can see what I see. They’re my only companions now that I’m divorced and stuck in my apartment.”

Jared ran his hand over the black-and-tan mops of the two dogs, casually glancing beyond to their owner’s alluring gold ankle bracelet that was unblemished and was of above-average design. His gaze quickly traced up her shapely, satiny legs and he looked up into her eyes. “I sure wouldn’t want to be a four-legged critter in the desert.” he said.

“Ooh, are you a southerner?” she cooed, pushing her free hand up against the side of her hair. “I just love that charming accent.”

“Yes, ma’am. From Tennessee originally—Gatlinburg— you know, the real home of country music, not Nashville with all those inebriated one-song wonders.” He grinned while looking at her with his cobalt eyes. He had to keep shuffling around so the diminutive dogs wouldn’t drool on his shoes.

“Country music—are you a performer?” she said, leaning back on one hip. “My daddy, God rest his soul, used to love Patsy Cline and Arlo Guthrie.”

“Oh no, ma’am, not me. With my crackly voice, I’d get tossed from even a Karaoke bar. No, I’m down here for a few months…uh…doing some internal auditing for American Express. Just can’t wait to get out of this furnace and back home to where there are more lakes and rivers.”

“Well, there’s the pool at our apartment complex—you should visit sometime. I usually go down for a dip in the late afternoon,” she said, tugging on the pink leashes of her dogs.

“Why, that’s mighty kind of you. I’m going to be tied up with work and business meetings the rest of the week,” he said. As lovely as she was, Jared needed a woman to be a complete package—good looks, nice legs, and most importantly, quality jewelry that could be hawked when things went south in the relationship, which for him was usually at the start of each month.

A forlorn look spread across her face. “But when I see the afternoon sun, I’ll be thinking of you down by that pool,” he said, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “Maybe if there’s time, I can swing down and partake of your kind offer,” he added, offering his hand to shake hers while unconsciously studying the tan line on her ring finger that had previously housed a considerably wide wedding band.

“Mary—you can call me Mary.”

“Jared…my good lady…it’s been a pleasure talking with you,” he said and then continued with his jog down the street.

While Jared couldn’t help notice someone’s jewelry and personal manners, he also just loved people. He hated being alone in his apartment. His father had tried to instill in him that a con-man needs to be a loner and not get attached to any person or place, but Jared relished the company of others, especially women. He just loved being in a lady’s presence—any size, any age, any color; not simply to meet his primal needs but just for the pleasure of their fragrance, laughter, and the sheen of their velvety hair. His father, however misguided his sparse parental advice had been, was right about women—they were the loveliest creatures on earth.

It was a weakness he was well aware of and one that had caused him to linger in a city longer than he should have on occasion, but a personal flaw in his precarious line of work that he could not overcome.

He finished his jog and strode through the parking lot by his first-floor apartment. As he walked past an ornamental display of flowering yucca plants, he paused to read the grisly headlines of the newspaper lying beside his neighbor’s front door: Hundreds Killed in Overnight Cannibalistic Rampage in Several Southeastern Cities. He glanced down at the images and shrugged his shoulders, Hmm…maybe I will stay out west. Too many congested places back home and people always bitching about their lawns and how their car needs waxing. And now they’re chomping on each other, Christ!

He unlocked his door and went into his one-bedroom apartment, feeling the cool blast of air-conditioning. After his shower, while donning a long-sleeved blue dress shirt with pseudo-pearl buttons and blue pleated slacks, he heard the sound of a vehicle coming to an abrupt halt in the main parking lot. A glance out the corner of his bedroom window revealed two U.S. marshals moving in on his abode with their Glocks drawn. The first man looked to be around six feet and two-twenty with giant shoulders and a lopsided haircut. The second man was lean, with a face like an old boot. Both had the predatory look that Jared knew all too well.

Jared slid on his sweaty Nikes, impatiently brushed a fleck of dirt off the tongue of the right shoe, and grabbed his pigskin Hilfiger daypack. He climbed out the back window just in time to gain a short gap between him and his pursuers. The marshals saw him dart across the back alley and the chase began.

The next hour saw him winding through alleyways, over fences, and finally through the back of Tiberto’s Mexican restaurant, eluding his pursuers through his superior physical conditioning as he had done on so many occasions before. While his heart was racing from his escape, his nerves were still and his facial expression stolid.

Thinking he had lost them, he casually unruffled his shirt collar, grinned, and turned to walk down the steps of the restaurant. The next moment he felt the wind forcefully exit his chest and his ribs compress as one of the marshals slammed him to the ground and deftly applied the handcuffs.

“Well, if it isn’t Jared Sweinhart—or is it Larkson or Janson this time?” said the burly man hunkered over him with one knee on Jared’s spine. “I’ve got a nice holding cell for you downtown, hillbilly.”

Chapter 5

It was 1:40 p.m. as Carlie pulled the SUV to the security gate at the United States Secret Service building in downtown Tucson. She depressed the window button and flung her hair back while handing her ID badge to the lanky guard.

“Morning, Paul. You lads going to be able to keep cool in that little sweat box today?” she said, nodding to the booth behind him where another guard was waving to her.

“I’ve been out in hotter than this before, Ms. Simmons. Nothing can compare to the summer heat of Fallujah,” the young man said, robotically scrutinizing her photo before him.

“Yeah, I hear you,” she said.

Carlie pulled into the parking garage on the second floor and left the engine running while she gathered up her belongings, allowing her to partake of the A/C for a few more minutes. She grabbed a water bottle off the armrest holder and took a long sip while adjusting the holster on her right hip.

As Gerald disembarked with his range bag, she leaned out the window. “I’ll be right in. I need to call my brother in San Diego and let him know about making it out for his birthday this weekend.”

After not receiving an answer, she left a message on her brother’s phone and then exited the vehicle. Removing her gear from the back, she turned and saw a dark-haired man approaching. He was wearing a made-to-match blue suit and paisley tie and his brightly polished Italian shoes echoed off the concrete walls.

“Ms. Simmons, good afternoon. My name is Agent Phillip Alderman with the Department of Justice’s Office of Internal Investigations,” he said, extending his hand.

“Hello. I’m headed upstairs to unpack my range gear and then going home. Is this something we can discuss tomorrow?”

“Regrettably for you, no,” he replied without a trace of expression. “Will you accompany me to the conference room where we can begin?”

“Begin what?” she said, trying to recall if she had missed an email about this guy showing up. She knew it was probably connected with the fatalities that had happened on last month’s security detail in Brazil. In the intervening six weeks since the event, she had tried to pour herself back into work with her usual obsessiveness but the nightmares stabbed through her mind every night.

She took a deep breath and pushed away the memory. No way I’m gonna go through another week of interrogation on that incident. Gerald had better be in that room along with my supervisor. I’m not going to have a justifiable shooting…she swallowed hard…a defensive shooting tarnish my application to the D.C. office.

“Are you former Secret Service or just with the investigation division?”

“Actually I was an agent briefly, long ago, before transferring to the Department of Justice. I always preferred investigations over the idea of being someone’s disposable bodyshield.”

She led the way through the parking structure to the stairs. They moved up two flights and into the main office structure where the other agents had their individual offices. She strode past Gerald, who was staring in surprise beside the drinking fountain.

Carlie pushed open the conference room doors and threw the dusty range bag on the table, then stood with her arms folded while Phillip casually lowered his briefcase and opened the lid.

“Ms. Simmons, I am here because we need to discuss the matter of the defensive shooting by you on the afternoon of July 6 outside the embassy in Rio,” he said, pulling out a tin of red licorice drops.

How can I trust a man who eats that crap? This guy can’t be a former field agent—look at those soft, lotiony hands.

“It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m off the clock, plus I’d like to have my bureau chief here for any questions about that incident.”

“Look, from the various reports I’ve read, I’m sure this can’t be easy to talk about given the age of the attacker you killed, but we do need to address this, now that all the facts are in.”

“I know what the facts are, and if we could ever stick to just the facts at these meetings then this whole thing…” She stuttered and rolled her eyes. “This whole thing could probably be stuffed into a file already. But you people always want to play the head games, hoping for an emotional exposition where…..”

“Uh, that’s not exactly what I had in mind, Ms. Simmons. I am just here as part of the inquiring board put together to investigate the actions and judgments of Secret Service agents with a history who are applying for assignments in our D.C. office.”

Carlie stood with her hands oscillating between being balled in fists or resting forcefully on her hips. The face of the teenager she had dispatched on that dreadful day began seeping back into her psyche. She knew her training had over-ruled everything else once she had seen the young man raise his pistol but her disciplined tactical mindset was struggling to contain her dormant anguish. Carlie shook her head slightly, trying to clear away the haze of that memory but only seeing the young man’s glazed brown eyes as if she was standing over him again.

“So, let’s begin with why you signed on in the first place to be on a protective detail, Ms. Simmons? I mean, it’s not for everyone.”

“Free airfare and lots of nice hotels with those kidney-shaped pools, I guess.”

Phillip glared at her, tapping his slender fingers on the glass table. “I’ve just gotten through hours of travel and my usual courtroom patience has grown thin. This questioning process will take a few hours this afternoon followed by a polygraph tomorrow and a follow-up with your supervisor on how this will affect your operational status. In the meantime, I do suggest you cooperate with me before my jetlag clears, causing me to cogitate on your non-compliant tone,” he said, rolling his pale, spindly fingers around in the licorice tin.

Polygraph…non-compliant tone…why, this son of a bitch. Where the hell is my bureau chief? She knew that most of the twenty field agents were off today, except those on the security detail for the president’s daughter. Carlie had figured Gerald and her bureau chief, Michael Enright, would be present for this though.

 She leaned forward with her fists on the table. “Look, I am in the field of executive protection and the training that we receive…”

“Please skip the job description from the federal recruiting ad and just get to the heart of the matter,” he said, motioning her to sit down as he began sliding back into his chair. He glanced over her shoulder as several agents moved quickly past the room.

“Not until my boss and my partner are present.”

“Actually they were supposed to be here by now,” said Phillip, looking out through the windows of the conference room.

A bald man in a blue blazer rushed by, pausing at the conference room door. “We’ve got an emergency briefing with the chief now,” he said, then scurried away down the hall.

Carlie looked at Phillip, raising an eyebrow. Maybe they got a report about a D.C. circus monkey parading around in a suit.

Carlie hopped up and walked down the green-carpeted hallway, with Phillip following behind as other agents peeled out of their offices.

When they arrived at the briefing room, Carlie saw that nearly all of the department’s twenty field agents on the weekend shift were gathered around, querying each other.

Michael Enright, a burly African-American man, entered the room and motioned to his assistant for the lights to be dimmed. The overhead visuals came across the screen behind his left shoulder as he began speaking. The images were from different televised news stations throughout the U.S. which showed dozens of savage attacks. Though each occurred in different locations—a mall, a grocery store, a school yard—the horrific scenes all bore a resemblance: dozens of ghastly-looking humans with yellow skin and heavily wrinkled faces maniacally assaulting innocent pedestrians, mauling them and then moving on to another victim.

The room was silent as the chief spoke. “Last night there were police reports being circulated about groups of deranged individuals chasing and biting people along the coastline in the southeastern United States. Reports began coming in late this morning from Orlando, Denver, Dallas, and most recently Santa Fe. Bite victims seem to become infected within thirty minutes and begin the disease transmission all over again through hunting down others. Dallas SWAT reported that headshots are effective in neutralizing the threat. The Arizona National Guard is being mobilized as we speak, to help contain any potential threat. So far, there are only a few isolated reports here in the Southwest and I am going to meet with the governor shortly to discuss options about closing our borders.”

Carlie took a slow sip from her water bottle, not even noticing the cool fluid as she tried hard to swallow. She thought of her brother and how he should be notified of what was going on even though it was against protocol. He has to know by now, though, with all the news reports. She forced herself back to the chief’s voice when she heard her name called.

“Gerald and Carlie—you’re heading up a support detail to go to U of A’s medical research school to help secure Gemini and offer assistance to her dayshift crew. A helo will be inbound to your location for possible extraction. I’ve already been in touch with Gemini’s detail and they know you’re coming. The rest of our teams will concentrate on potential ex-fil efforts for the senator and his family if this outbreak creeps any further north towards the city limits.”

“Roger that, sir,” said Gerald from across the room, nodding over to Carlie.

Everyone in the room knew the code name Gemini stood for Eliza Huntington, the nineteen-year-old daughter of the President of the United States. She was in her first year of pre-med school at the University of Arizona. Being as her father was in his second term, she had the usual four-man security crew following her every move 24-7. Though she liked to shy away from the media, her past comments about her “remora-like bodyguards” as Eliza called her Secret Service detail, had never sat well with Carlie and the other agents who had worked her PPD over the past year. Carlie also suspected that the main reason her own transfer requests to D.C. had been ignored was because the Secret Service needed a female agent on Eliza’s protection detail. Part of her didn’t mind sitting back and learning from the more experienced agents. She had patiently waited through five rounds of applications for the D.C. position during this past year and was now growing tired of the constant battle to move ahead in the pile of applicants who seemed to be passing her by.

Gerald had made his way across the room while the chief continued doling out orders to the others. He came over to Carlie and leaned over her shoulder. “Time to go get princess un-charming from her university castle?”

“If she’s still there when we arrive—she’ll probably be in the courtyard signing off on another Save the Sonoran Desert petition,” she said before turning away. She walked back to her office to grab her shoulder bag and headed downstairs to the armory. Carlie glanced over her shoulder and saw Phillip hastily packing up his briefcase in the conference room.

Back to some honest-to-God work with real warriors, she thought as she strode down the hallway to the stairs.

Chapter 6  

Gerald and Carlie’s teams quickly moved to the tac-ops center one floor below. This was the heart of their facility that not only contained sophisticated satellite imagery and computer databases for providing real-world intel to agents in the field but also housed their considerable armory.

The room was located in the rear corner and was designed like a bank vault with a two-foot-thick steel door. A small war could be waged with the sub-machine guns, tear gas, sniper rifles, LAAWs rockets, and ballistic shields that were neatly arranged on either side of the aisle. Crates of ammunition and magazines were laid out alongside each firearm along with night-vision goggles, gas masks, two-way radios, and trauma kits.

Once inside, Carlie flung open the metal security grate over the rifle armory to her right and extracted two HK MP7 fully-automatic submachine guns with 30-round magazines and accompanying leather shoulder holsters. The MP7 was utilized by all Secret Service agents on protective details and used a 4.6 x 30mm armor-piercing round.

Placing the rifles on the table beside her, she strapped on the holsters and then pulled out eight loaded magazines from the rack. The other agents were alongside her performing the same motions as the sound of magazines being loaded and chambers being racked echoed off the steel walls.

Gerald was loading his tactical vest with canisters of tear gas and magazines, continuing to work without moving his eyes. “You need a painkiller for the splinter in your ass from that D.C. suit upstairs?” he said to Carlie.

“And why weren’t you in there? I could’ve used some back-up,” she said, slinging the rifles in the holsters. “You should see the guy I’m dealing with—he claims he was one of us a long time ago though he doesn’t strike me as someone with any stones to even be able to handle a weapon.” She tucked a mic into her ear and then the radio unit onto her vest.

“The section chief had already called me over to discuss this event that was unfolding or I would’ve joined your little party. Besides, you’ll have no trouble handling him—that putrescent turd was in the Secret Service about sixteen years ago and got shifted to Department of Justice.”

“He mentioned that. Why the transfer?”

“He wounded another agent in a live-fire drill at the shoot-house in Virginia. Because his father was politically connected, rather than boot his sorry ass, he was given a cushy job working investigations with DOJ. Otherwise known in government circles as discipline through promotion. Now he’s one of the stooges responsible for deciphering the chaos of what unfolds during and after a shootout, if you can believe that.”

“This job is full of never-ending irony, it seems,” she said, placing six pistol magazines into her tactical vest.

Chapter 7

On her jog down the stairs to the subterranean parking facility, Carlie double-checked the Velcro on her body-armor vest while the other two teams of four agents were quickly tossing their gear in the heavily armored black Suburbans. She opened the rear hatch on her vehicle and tapped in the code on a secure weapons locker that was integrated into the rear structural layout of the cargo area. Though each agent was supposed to inspect the vehicle’s tactical kit after each workday, she never cared to rely on chance.

The spring-assisted lid popped open, revealing an additional array of weapons similar to what they already carried on them, along with a satellite phone, pistol suppressors, night-vision goggles, and two canisters of smoke grenades. She slammed the lid down and walked around front to climb into the driver’s seat, where she noticed Phillip getting in from the opposite side.

“This is a security detail. You’re not authorized to…” Before she could finish she heard the bureau chief’s voice in her earpiece.

“Carlie, be informed that Phillip Alderman will be accompanying you and your team as an observer for the campus link-up with Gemini’s team.”

She clenched her teeth and shot a piercing gaze upward at the ceiling. “Copy that, sir.” Then she swiftly slid inside and fired up the engine. She clamped her hands on the steering wheel and forced herself to exhale without cussing.

Gerald was pulling on his vest while sliding into an identical Suburban beside her. Carlie began backing out while Gerald motioned with a whirl of his index finger to do the same.

As they raced along the confines of the garage and through the retracted security gate, she tried to channel her frustration to the white lines on the pavement ahead. Upon entering the intense desert sunlight outside of the parking garage, everyone slid on their sunglasses.

Besides Phillip next to her, there were three other agents in the back. One was in his early thirties and had a trim black mustache, while the other was slightly older and had a neatly shaved head and massive neck. The third man was the smallest, with a barrel chest and a boxer’s flattened nose.

The bureau chief’s voice, back at the command center, came over their mics. “I just got word that the first lady is secure in Virginia but the VP is missing. His protection detail was savagely mauled outside of Dallas and he is presumed dead. I know you’ve all been through countless extraction drills before but exercise extreme caution with the attackers and don’t hesitate for a minute to drop them, regardless of whether they look like deranged university students. The CDC is saying this is an epidemic sweeping across the country right now.”

“Copy that,” said Carlie. Jesus—we’re really going to be dispatching college kids? What the hell is going on? She thrust her mind back to the present. “Any further communication with Gemini’s PPD at the university?”

“They are at the same location as before—on the fourth floor of the Keating bioresearch building where she normally does lab work in room 48 from 1445 to 1620. They’ve been instructed to head to the roof for helo extract on my command.”

As the two vehicles sped along Highland Avenue towards the university, Carlie saw dozens of people frantically running two blocks to the east.

Chapter 8

Jared was adjusting his cuffed hands behind his back as he shimmied around on the back seat of the prisoner containment area in the U.S. Marshal’s four-door Crown Victoria.

The thickset, muscular driver was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he listened to an Elvis tune on the radio. “This is gonna be a good week if it starts out with us bagging our first shitrag on Monday,” Mr. Rock-and-Roll said.

The marshal in the passenger’s seat had a coarse crop of short, poorly cut blond hair that caused his head to resemble an old paintbrush. Jared still felt the sore spot in his spine where Q-Tip had pinned him down. Mr. Rock-and-Roll had just finished radioing in their position and turned to peer through the bars at Jared, who was sitting in the right rear seat. “So, why Tucson, hillbilly? That’s what I want to know. Your MO has you hitting homes along the Midwest and East Coast for years. Now you wanna crap in our backyard—what gives, tough guy?”

Jared studied the man’s rugged features—his square jaw and the squint lines around the eyes. He had seen dozens of guys like this one before when he had been called into lineups at police stations, and even in younger days while in juvey. He knew the type well—self-righteous Bible-quoters who sat at their computers poring over America’s Most Wanted photos while dreaming of the big fish and that magical call to come in so they could rush out the door in their shiny tactical vest carrying the assault rifle with the big banana clip on it.

Jared stared back at the man. “I heard the dry air here was supposed to be good for my allergies—same reason as Doc Holliday going to Tombstone, you know, for his bronchial issues.”

“Holliday had TB,” said Q-Tip.

“Yeah, that’s just one of many bronchial afflictions that you can get, professor,” said Jared, glancing out the window at several students sprinting across the sidewalks on either side.

The man grabbed the bars and slightly bared his teeth. “It’s Agent Raines, you shit-nugget. You should mind your manners—we’re not some beer-swigging country cops like you’re used to dealing with, you fucking mongrel.”

“Man, I bet the federal government must have passed up a lot of good applicants to get to you two.”

“Shut your piehole, hillbilly. If you’re not a good boy, you might accidentally slip going up the stairs to our processing center,” said Rock-and-Roll.

“Is that where you guys stroke your shiny rifles while drooling over centerfold pinups, wondering if your neglected wives back home are doin’ the deed with the neighbor across the street?” said Jared as he watched two black SUVs race through a red light in the opposite direction.

“Gimme the two-block warning before we get to headquarters,” said Q-Tip to the other marshal, “so I can Taser his ass. We’ll just say he had a seizure from the intense heat.” The marshal unbuckled and pulled out the Taser from his belt.

“Whoa, there—take it easy…you know, you guys should really get into an anger-management program. I mean, don’t they have therapists on staff to help wring out those Neanderthal brains of yours so you don’t blow a gasket?”

“The only thing I’m gonna blow is…” The man’s head slammed against the metal bars separating the seats as a pickup truck crashed into the passenger’s side of the Crown-Vic. The vehicle spun sideways, reeling into a mailbox and a row of bicycles outside a coffee shop. Jared looked up and saw the streets filled with panicked people fleeing in every direction while yellow-faced attackers pursued them.

“Good Lord, what the hell are those things?” yelped Jared, who sat frozen in his handcuffs.

The marshal in the driver’s seat slowly lifted his head from the front airbag and checked on his partner, whose neck was contorted and his face ashen. “Son of a bitch, he ain’t got no pulse.” As he frantically unbuckled himself, a pock-marked man in his thirties with a jaundiced face smashed his fists against the driver’s window. The man was gnashing his jaws wildly as a trickle of fresh blood ran down his lips He kept squeegeeing his wrinkled face against the window, trying to get inside.

“These goddamned meth-heads think they can take over my city—not a chance,” yelled the marshal. He slammed the unlock control, accidentally hitting all the buttons, which caused the rear-door security latch to open. Jared half-smiled, manipulating his cuffed hands behind him and around his legs until they were before his chest, then he unbuckled his seatbelt. As he readied his escape, he saw the marshal forcefully swing open the driver’s doors, sending the attacker into a serving cart full of coffee carafes. When the man rose, the marshal removed his pistol and shot the crazed person in the head. Jared recoiled back into his seat at the sound and then he saw two people fling themselves over the hood of the mangled Crown-Vic and savagely maul the marshal. The large figure collapsed with an ughh sound to the pavement, dropping the Glock next to the rear door. A pool of ruby-red blood swirled along the pavement, mixing with the pitchers of fresh cappuccino from the tipped-over cart on the sidewalk.

Jared gasped and lowered himself below the tinted windows as he heard the ghastly sound of crunching bone outside the vehicle. He felt his heart racing like he had just stolen his first car, and glanced down at the unusual sight of his trembling hands as a continual wave of screaming from the unfortunate victims outside rang through his foggy brain.

Chapter 9

“Did anyone else see that?” Carlie said to her team. “A bunch of people sprinting in different directions a few streets over by that pizza place back there.”

“Looked like they were spooked by something,” said the bald man in back. “I only caught a glimpse of them.” The other agents began scanning the city around them. The street they were on bore the familiar air of another hot day in the desert, with people holed up in the A/C of shops and bookstores.

Gerald’s adrenaline-soaked voice came over their ear-mics. Carlie listened intently, glancing over at Phillip, who had a frostbitten look on his face as he peered around the chaos unfolding on the streets.

“What do you mean we lost contact with the PPD?” barked Carlie into the suburban’s encrypted telecom system as she drove through a red light two blocks from the university.

“The team leader indicated they were headed to the top floor of the bioresearch building, followed by the sound of gunfire, and then the mic went dead,” said Gerald, followed by a long pause. “Shit—there’s a group of people that just attacked a couple of college kids over by the bookstore. What the hell is happening?” he said in a gravelly voice.

Carlie followed the front vehicle with a fast right turn, speeding down Vine Street, which ran directly towards the center of the university. As they swerved to avoid several dozen students running across the street, Carlie glanced in her rearview mirror. About fifty yards behind her vehicle, she saw an elderly man with a cane being assaulted by a throng of disheveled people who were viciously biting him, like fire ants swarming over an intruder.

“Christ, did you see that?” she said to her teammates in back, who were opening their suit coats to offer better access to the two MP-7 automatic sub-machineguns. Phillip was still craning his head to take in the carnage in the streets to the rear.

As the vehicles closed the distance to the main campus, people were streaming out of buildings and running between cars in the two-lane street. They were screaming and sprinting in every direction like water droplets flung on a hot grill. In pursuit were gray-faced humans chasing them, jumping on some or dragging others down to the ground in a mad frenzy.

Gerald’s shaky voice came over the telecom speaker again. “We are going in hot. I repeat, this will be a hot extract. We are going right up Mabel Street to the research building where Gemini is located, do you copy?”

“Roger that,” she said, gripping the steering wheel and trying to pace her breathing. Months of training in vehicle evasion and high-speed maneuvering while under fire came to the forefront as she focused her vision on the vehicle in front of her while intermittently letting her peripheral vision extend out for any approaching threats. Tunnel vision was critical at times in shooting and precision work, but she had been trained to also account for the big picture around her.

“Approaching the four-story building, eighty meters to the northeast,” Gerald said. Carlie saw his vehicle slam over the street curb as both Suburbans flew onto the spacious sidewalk that intersected the nursing and toxicology buildings, near their intended location.

While the Suburbans beelined for the building, a crowd of a few hundred students was scattering around the courtyard, heading in their direction. Behind the bewildered group were yellow-faced attackers whose cheeks were deeply furrowed. They moved like they were jolted by electricity, their speed and agitated movement cascading over those who were fleeing.

Carlie saw Gerald’s SUV zig-zag in the narrow confines beside the buildings while dodging people. Then she saw the lead vehicle slam into a cement pylon as she veered to the right, just missing the bumper and crashing through a plate-glass window of the chemistry building. She slammed the brakes, coming to a halt before the front desk.

Carlie took a deep breath and quickly performed a mental scan of her body for any injuries. With the thick metal-reinforced sidewalls and bulletproof glass, the Suburban had absorbed a considerable amount of punishment but was still intact.

Carlie unslung her weapons and shoved open the door, jumping out and sweeping the lobby. She could hear the hissing of the front tire, which was nearly flat, and then caught the hum of automatic weapons fire to her rear as agents from Gerald’s vehicle sent rounds into swarms of maniacal attackers coming their way.

She leaned across the black hood and began delivering short, controlled bursts of gunfire into the oncoming attackers to her left. What had started out as a few crazed people had now turned into dozens as the assaulters ran directly into the hail of bullets.

The lifeless eyes of the attackers were fixated on Gerald’s crew regardless of the bullet-riddled bodies stacking up before them.

Within seconds several of her colleagues near the lead vehicle had been savagely mauled, and then she saw Gerald get seized by three attackers and go down in a twisted mess of biting jowls and clawing hands. Dropping in her third magazine, Carlie began moving towards Gerald’s location, and looked on in horror as she saw his head severed and arterial spray throbbing from his corpse. She felt a wave of nausea spout up insider her and her vision start to grow hazy, but she instinctively lifted her weapon and began shooting at the incoming horde of attackers, whose faces were the color of old cheese. Carlie, Phillip, and another agent began bounding backwards towards the staircase in the lobby.

“Come with me to extract Gemini,” snapped Carlie, forcing the words out. She bolted for the stairs with the bald-headed man from her team and Phillip on her heels. Terrified students were pushing past her in their frenzy to escape the building.

As they ascended, she briefly glanced back at the other SUV outside and could see the last two men firing their weapons into enraged creatures heading for them. Carlie stopped and aimed her rifle at the incoming rabid attackers heading into the lobby, who moved like a school of barracudas, hurtling themselves at any students in their way.

Running up the stairs, Carlie lowered one weapon and reached up to her ear-mic to contact the downtown headquarters. “Alpha One, do you copy? This is Team Two.”

“Go ahead, Team Two.”

“We are on foot, inbound for the package. Team Leader and four other agents are KIA. Primary evac route has been comprised. Request immediate evac on roof, over.”

“Copy that. ETA to your position is ten minutes, over.”

“Copy, Team Leader Two out.”

As they crested the landing to the third floor two creatures lept over the stairs. Carlie shot one in mid-air, ripping into its head with a volley of bullets, while the other slammed into the bald-headed man behind her, tearing at his face like a feral dog. Carlie deftly kicked the creature in the head long enough to dispatch it with her MP-7.

“Holy shit, what are these things?” said Phillip, standing over the mangled body of the former agent. “They look like people, but how can they move so fast?”

She glanced over at Phillip, whose eyes were racing along the stairway walls above. Carlie forced herself to swallow while feeling her dry mouth constrict.

“Looks like we’re it,” bleated Phillip, whose face was pale and clammy as he looked down at the dead agent. He started to sway like he was going to faint, then leaned against the wall.

Carlie’s eyebrows were scrunched together, her gaze focused down below on the lobby. My God, how can Gerald and the others be dead? He was the best of us and now our elite group has been wiped out in minutes. Gerald can’t be gone. She had seen dead bodies before but not one of her closest friends. She felt guilt at not having gone down fighting alongside her colleagues, but also inside her was an animalistic rage. She wanted to shuck off the steely exterior that had been drilled into her and slaughter all of those creatures down below. The civilized part of her mind winced, and she forced herself to take several deep breaths.

Carlie had trained for such high-adrenaline moments for years, but nothing of this magnitude. She felt her stomach tighten up in coils and the blood rush from her face, wondering if her training was going to be enough. She swung her body away and forced herself past the dead agent, stepping over the blood-smeared steps. A single line of sweat rolled down her temple, stinging her eye as she forced away the image of the deceased agents below.

“What…what do we do now? We should get out of here before more of those things come,” said Phillip, who was clutching the metal handrail.

As she peered up the expanse of stairs above, she could hear the clamor of movement in the lobby below. She removed a tear-gas canister from her vest, popping the pin with her trembling fingers, and dropping the device down through the middle opening in the stairs. “We’re here to extract Gemini. Hopefully this will slow those things down.” She bent over and grabbed two rifles off the dead agent and thrust them into Phillip’s chest. “Here—I hope you don’t need a refresher course because I don’t have the time.”

“It’s been a while but the old skills should still be there,” he said with a gulp.

Emerging on the last step to the fourth floor, Carlie paused on the landing and peered into the window. She saw two dismembered bodies lying on the green-tiled floor but didn’t hear any movement in the corridor.

“This was the last contact we had with Gemini’s detail. We’ll start with room 48 and work back from there,” she whispered to Phillip.

 Using hand signals, she motioned to him to open the door while she swiftly entered the hallway, swinging the MP-7s to her right while he covered the left.

Chapter 10

Carlie and Phillip moved side by side down the hallway, stepping over three mangled Secret Service agents as well as numerous college students, all of whom had bite marks on their necks but also bullet wounds to the head. She could see the numerous spent magazines and shell casings littering the floor. This attack was swift and unpredictable. These things must have overrun the others before they could get away. Carlie knelt down beside the bodies to check if any of them were the president’s daughter, then she moved down the hall in a low squat.

Phillip motioned down the hallway, keeping his weapon fixed ahead. “A pile of spent shell casings by the last door on the right,” he said.

“That’s room 48,” whispered Carlie, who moved forward, positioning herself to the right of the door. She remained hunched and moved up to the rectangular window on the lab door, noticing the blood on the silver handle. Peering inside, she saw the room contained overturned chairs, a shattered wooden table, and six more bullet-ridden corpses.

She nodded to Phillip as they prepared to do a dynamic room entry, something that she had performed hundreds of times in their bi-monthly training events. Carlie flung the door open and entered to her right while Phillip inserted himself to the left.

“There in the corner,” he said, motioning past a table to a cabinet. “The other agents are all down.”

“Shit,” Carlie said, moving up to look at her fallen colleagues until she stood over the body of the last man. “Daniels here must have killed the attackers before dying from his wounds.”

“But where the hell’s the girl?” Phillip said, scanning the room. “She must be dead too. We should get out of here, Carlie—before it’s too late.”

“We’re not going until we have located Gemini. Get any extra mags off the bodies,” Carlie said.

Phillip was staring at the mangled figure beneath him, his eyes unblinking.

“Phillip—did you hear me?”

“Copy that,” he stuttered.

“Remember your previous training and we will get through this,” Carlie said, as if Gerald were right behind her saying those same words to her. “Right now, we’ve got to locate the girl. The helo will be here any time.”

As Carlie stood up, she heard movement coming from behind a cabinet near the corner. They both rushed forward, sliding the ceiling-high unit aside. Behind it was a large wall vent. Carlie knelt down while lowering one of her weapons and removing a flashlight from her vest.

“Gemini, are you there?”

“Carlie—is that you? What’s happening?” said a young woman’s voice from the dark confines of the ventilation shaft.

Carlie yanked the mesh screen off and shone her light down the square galvanized shaft.

“There’ll be time to figure that out later. Right now, we need to get you to the roof. There’s a helicopter on the way.”

She extended her hand and saw slender, tan fingers reach out for hers as a terrified woman emerged. Eliza’s black corkscrew hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her lab coat bore red splotches.

“Eliza, are you OK—are you injured?”

“I think I’m alright,” she whispered through trembling lips.

As Carlie looked the young woman over for any signs of trauma, she saw the shadow of another figure emerging from the ventilation shaft. An older man with a slender gray beard and bent wire-rimmed glasses was struggling to climb out of the narrow passage.

Phillip had his weapon trained on the figure as Eliza moved to help the man out. “It’s alright. This is Professor Alan Beauchard. I’m his lab assistant and was working here with him when we heard all the screaming outside.”

“Anyone else jammed in there we should know about?” said Phillip.

“That’s it. We were the only ones to make it. The other agents were all bitten but killed the attackers in the hallway. After Daniels shoved us in the ventilation shaft we heard more gunfire and then it was silent until you arrived. Where are the other agents now?”

Carlie stepped aside, letting Eliza see the dead figures splayed on the floor behind her. “We’re it and we need to get to the roof now.”

“Oh my God—how can they all be dead? Dear Lord, this can’t be happening,” she said, clasping her hands over her mouth and hunching over.

Carlie grabbed Eliza’s arm, yanking the sobbing woman and pulling her towards the entrance.

“Move, before more of those things come this way.”

Carlie tapped her ear-mic. “Alpha One, this is Team Two, we are headed to the extraction point, over.” As they moved past the bodies and over broken glass, she heard the pilot screaming in pain and then static ensued. She repeated the call but got no reply.

She repeated the message two more times but to no avail. “The helo must have been comprised. Time for Plan B.”

“What is Plan B, young lady?” said the nervous professor, whose hands were shaking.

“Plan B is head to the roof and wait for another airborne assault team, as going down below is not an option.”

As they entered the hallway, Carlie led them back to the stairwell and slowly pushed open the heavy steel door. She covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve in case any wisps of tear gas had floated up from the lobby, but all she saw was the gray plume below cloaking the final resting place of her friends. A subtle lilt of breeze in the lobby was swirling grit and airborne glitter upward, and she could hear the sound of footsteps coming from below. She motioned everyone to enter the stairwell and begin moving up to the roof. As she did, she peered over the edge of the handrail and could see a harried group of blood-soaked, infected humans, including two former agents, leaping up the stairs towards them.

Chapter 11

Carlie looked up at the door to the roof and then back down the hallway to her right beside the open door. “This way; we’re going to Plan C, D, and E until we are out of here.”

As they ran to the elevator, Carlie yelled back to Phillip, “Secure the door with the fire hose on the opposite wall. I have to pry open the elevator so we can climb down.”

“You got it,” he said, slinging his weapons and smashing out the glass on the wall compartment. Then he unraveled the thick canvas hose and pulled it across the floor, attaching it to the door handle on the stairs with a series of half-hitches. By the time he was finished, a dozen creatures were pawing at the narrow window and slamming their contorted bodies against the thick metal.

Carlie stood in the middle of the elevator and began prying the silver doors apart. “Get down here, both of you, and help me. This is too heavy to do alone.”

Eliza and the professor lent their hands until the doors were peeled back eighteen inches. “Phillip, can you find something to jam in between the doors?” she shouted under heavy breathing.

He kicked open a door to a nearby office and quickly returned with a metal chair. Once it was wedged inside, Carlie removed her grip and pulled out her flashlight, aiming its beam into the shaft below.

“We’re going down there—are you kidding me?” said Eliza.

“Unless you want to stay here and be ripped apart by those piranhas, you’re going to follow Phillip down the service ladder. Once we’re all inside, I’ll release the door. That should buy us some time.”

“What about you, Carlie?” said Eliza, whose face was still pale.

“I’ll be right on your heels after I slow these things down.”

They could hear the metal door of the stairwell being yanked violently, followed by the sound of the small glass window shattering. Raw, yellow hands pawed through the opening, attempting to scrabble their way through.

“Down the ladder you all go,” snapped Carlie as she ran forward to procure the remaining weapons off the dead agents on the floor. She ran back to the elevator shaft while Phillip led the others down the dark passage. Carlie laid three rifles from the fallen agents on the ground and then readied her own MP-7s. She steadied the barrels on the now-rickety stairwell door.

As the fire hose gave way from its wall mount, the door broke away from its shattered hinges. Creatures began flooding through the entrance. Carlie unleashed a volley of fire from both weapons, spraying the mass with head and neck shots as best as the fully automatic weapons allowed. Seven of them went down in the first volley but were quickly replaced by a dozen more ravenous ghouls. Again, she fired repeatedly, dropping more creatures until both weapons were dry, then grabbed the replacements off the floor and continued the deafening spray of bullets, clenching her jaw with the release of each hail of gunfire.

A shroud of gunsmoke roiled into the corridor before her, eventually coalescing into a veil of red mist where the bullets impacted the unending wave of attackers. The entrance and hallway grew choked with bodies but more creatures struggled to climb over the mangled carcasses. Carlie kept waiting for the carnage to end but the flood of creatures didn’t diminish. She finished another surge of firepower and tossed the smoking rifles down while grabbing the last MP-7.

Eight more creatures had entered the hall, slipping on the wine-colored floor full of skull fragments, which gave her a few critical moments to finish them off. The last one that collapsed at her feet was a hulking brute with shovel-like hands. Like the others, its skin was jaundiced and its cheeks were sagging rolls of flesh, like the ripples on a beach.

With her MP-7 nearly depleted, and with no end in sight of the monstrous horde, she slung the weapon and retreated back to the elevator shaft. She lowered herself down, grabbing the cold metal rungs with her trembling hands. She removed her pistol and used the butt to slam the desk chair out of the way as the doors slid closed and darkness ensued. As she descended she heard clawing and muffled shrieks at the elevator doors until the sound grew faint with the approach of the lower floor.

Stepping off the ladder, she heard the fluty voice of Phillip, who was standing in the shadow of his flashlight beside the others. “What do we do now? Those things are just going to keep coming—they won’t stop.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,” said Carlie, trying to calm the tremors in her upper body.

Carlie aimed her flashlight into the corner of the cramped space. “There’s a service door here that may lead to another corridor.” She motioned to Eliza to help her open it and then she climbed through the square enclosure.

“Looks like it’s navigable. It’s a straight passage that goes on for at least 300 meters,” Carlie said, pulling her head back inside. Carlie’s mind snapped back to the ghastly creatures she had dispatched. What’s happening in the world? The briefing earlier said the attacks started last night back in the Southeast…and now…now this has swept across the country. What could’ve caused this?

She blew a strand of hair off her nose and leaned against the wall of cables while placing a fresh magazine in her rifle. Carlie refocused her thoughts on the passage ahead. It was all that mattered right now. As thoughts of an imminent rescue slipped away from her, she gulped in a breath of musty air and pushed forward, leading the others through the narrow corridor.

Chapter 12

When nightfall came, Jared found the streets of downtown Tucson to be relatively quiet if one could shut out the distant gnawing of flesh a few hundred yards to his right, where four creatures were feasting on a decapitated mailman. He studied them, noting their lemony faces, which bore heavy wrinkles and reminded him of armadillos.

The street lights were flickering above, illuminating the sidewalk outside the Crown-Vic where he had hidden for the afternoon. The vehicle had been left running earlier when the marshal exited, and the air-conditioning was still cooling the interior despite the slightly ajar front door. Jared mulled over how much fuel was left and if he should try to drive away from the scene of horror or try to duck into one of the nearby university buildings three block away. The campus area seemed to have suffered less destruction than the burnt-out shops and restaurants lining the downtown corridor, and he could see a few lights on in the upper floors of some of the nearby structures.

Most of the late afternoon in his cramped hideout had been spent trying to silently open the car door and attempt to search for the handcuff keys that he hoped were still attached to the shredded corpse of the marshal outside. He had managed to locate the blood-encrusted Glock in the man’s severed hand but the keys were not to be found. It had taken hours just to extract the pistol, as he had to constantly halt his efforts and duck out of sight beneath the tinted windows of the Crown-Vic whenever frantic survivors ran past in their futile attempt to escape the growing crowds of other-worldly attackers.

If I can just get those keys and my trusty daypack out of the trunk, life will be relatively peachy, he thought as the faint odor of dried flesh from the pavement pierced his nostrils. No way I can stay here in this damaged rig, despite the nice leather seats. He raised his head slowly above the bars, looking past the dead marshal on the passenger’s side and out at the four figures on the sidewalk by an overturned ice-cream cart. Jared panned his head around the city block in search of other survivors but only saw body parts, abandoned vehicles, and darkened buildings. Again, he noted the campus structure two blocks away, which had a single light on in the lobby.

Hmm…that place seems like my best bet and may offer the hope of other survivors…strength in numbers and all that. But I need a distraction if I’m gonna have a chance of even making it there on foot. He looked around at the street ahead and back at the body of the marshal. Then he mulled over his options and finally raised his eyebrows in wonder.

“Hell, yeah, Jared—you are a genius, a Confederate Einstein,” he whispered, while a slight frown crept out from the corner of his mouth. Jared looked down at his shaking hands with a look of surprise. He had always been the cool-handed thief with unruffled nerves but now he was trembling in fear like he was a newbie working his first heist.

Jared took a deep breath and tried to drive away the horrific images on the street from his mind. He refocused on his escape plan and ran through it like he was rehearsing for a house robbery, visualizing his actions and contingencies. When he was confident of his scheme, Jared raised his head and scanned the surrounding streets one more time. “If all else fails, I’m gonna take a bunch of those cantaloupe heads with me,” he whispered while palming the Glock.

He waited for the four nearby creatures to delve into the carcass and then he took a deep breath and began moving. Slowly opening the left rear door, he slid onto the entrail-encrusted pavement, shuffling towards the deceased marshal, taking pains not to soil his Nikes by stepping in any blood. Then he scanned along the nylon ballistic belt for any signs of the handcuff keys, then padded the soiled pockets. He felt something in the front pants pocket and reached inside and pulled out a pair of stainless-steel keys, trying to suppress a slight grin.

Then he moved backwards to the driver’s door and insinuated himself between the seat and the punctured air bag, trying not to look at the bloated figure beside him. He removed a folding knife from the pants pocket of the deceased marshal and flicked it open, then pierced the edge of the airbag. The marshal collapsed into the door, his head thunking against the tinted window. The engine was still idling and the vent blew a stream of cold air across the man’s pale forehead and his unblinking eyes.

Jared stowed the blade and removed the marshal’s pistol and spare magazines. Then he began working the miniscule key into the left cuff while crouching low. With one side free, he inserted the key into the right cuff, but it wouldn’t fit. He tried again but the key would only enter part way. He grimaced and slowly tried manipulating the key, but something was jammed in the tiny portal, preventing entry. “What the hell are these, some cheap Asian imports?” he muttered as he switched to forcefully trying to make the key fit. As he twisted it in place and started cursing, his right foot accidentally thrust the ignition pedal down, causing the engine to rev. Out of all the times to have trouble getting out of handcuffs, it has to be today, really?

Jared froze and looked over the half-arc of the steering wheel at the four creatures on the sidewalk, which were now standing and sniffing the air. “Shit, looks like our getaway just got bumped up, partner,” he said, sitting erect and glancing at the body next to him. He stuffed the key in his shirt pocket and thrust the shifter in reverse with his manacled hand. The creatures broke into a run, their shrieks piercing the inky black street around him.

As he spun the Crown-Vic around, the headlights shone on dozens of creatures slipping out from the confines of alleys and storefronts. With the ghastly images filling the rearview mirror, he slammed the gear into drive and raced forward along the littered street. He careened against an abandoned bus and towards the university. The building's light in the distance, which had served as his only talisman of hope, grew brighter with each second.

More wrinkly-faced monsters began pouring into the street behind him like a flash flood raging through a canyon. His eyes grew wide as he saw hundreds of them sprinting behind the vehicle. He looked over at the slumped figure of the marshal lolling against the door. “You should’ve worn a seatbelt, bro, and you’d still be here to dish out justice,” he said, leaning over and opening the door. “Glad you could help with my getaway though, Sergeant Q-Tip.” He shoved the man out the door onto the street and continued speeding away. In the mirror, he saw the tangle of creatures slow as they descended upon the bloated body.

“A good payoff comes from stellar planning. Such a great mind, all alone in so small a world,” he said with a grin, looking at the shrinking images of his pursuers in the rearview mirror while trying to ignore the fear thrashing at his insides. As he redirected his eyes back to the dimly lit street ahead, the car ran over an upturned Harley Davidson, causing Jared’s head to bounce into the padded ceiling, followed by a grinding noise as the bike wedged itself under the front axle. He could see sparks showering the pavement in every direction.

“Nice going, Ace,” he shouted as the Crown-Vic sputtered along the street, coming to a halt beside a burger shop half a block from campus. The car’s engine chortled and smoke rose from the seams of the hood. Jared swung open the door and leapt onto the sidewalk, both Glocks in his hands. He ran a few feet forward and then abruptly spun around, racing back to the vehicle and popping the trunk latch. Then he dashed around the rear and removed his faded Tommy Hilfiger daypack. Flinging it over a shoulder, he sprinted towards the four-story campus building ahead, his Nikes crunching along the endless glass shards from broken storefronts. As he ran, he could hear the surrounding corridors between buildings begin to fill with the sound of shuffling and shrieking.

The illuminated building ahead shone like a lighthouse to a lone sailor. Jared’s pace increased as the sound of his panting was drowned out by the menacing noises permeating the oppressive night air.

Chapter 13

Carlie led the weary group through the arid tunnel while scanning the gray concrete walls for directional indicators. The passageway was only four feet wide and seven feet high and used by maintenance workers for the electrical conduits that ran overhead. She caught movement on the floor ahead and saw a crème-colored scorpion scurry away from her flashlight. Moving by a blue folding ladder, she saw a schematic diagram on the wall. Carlie tore the laminated sheet off and studied the layout.

“This map coincides with the initial recon Secret Service did on these tunnels. It looks like we will come to an intersection in another hundred meters and then we have our choice of going to Drachman Hall, the Nursing School, or Skaggs Pharmaceutical Center,” she said while looking at Eliza and the professor. “Our security details have studied the layout of the campus extensively but since you both spend way more time here, do you have any thoughts on which one has more windows and doors and therefore should be avoided?”

“The pharmaceutical center has immense brick walls to retain the cool air inside and is usually unoccupied on weekends. That would be a good choice compared to the other locations,” said the professor, who was flitting his fingers around in his pants pockets.

“That’s my recollection as well,” said Carlie. “When we did the initial security sweeps of the campus buildings, that place stood out as being pretty fortified. We’ll stay put there until we can get out a message and I can get a better look outside for potential escape routes.”

“So what then? After we go to the pharmacy building, do we just wait or is someone else coming?” said Eliza, whose eyes were welling up with tears and panic.

“I want you to just focus on the sound of the ground beneath your feet as we walk this tunnel, Eliza. After we get up top and scout the area, I’ll fashion a new plan for dealing with what lies ahead.” Carlie had worked with Eliza enough during the past year to know that she was not a simpering brat, but she also knew that Eliza’s stubbornness coupled with her status had caused others to cave in to her demands. It had been a constant struggle between Eliza and the rest of her security detail to come to an agreeable daily schedule that would keep her safety at the forefront while allowing her the illusion of some personal freedom.

“But what if…” Eliza said through trembling lips.

“Shh—there are no ‘what-ifs,’ only the next plan and the next one after that until one of them works and we get out of here, no matter what it takes or how long we have to endure this. We will get out of here.”

She nudged Eliza on the shoulder and then led the way into the dark tunnel, scanning ahead for any signs of movement.

Carlie whispered over her shoulder to the older man behind Eliza, “So, Professor, what exactly are you a professor of? Anything that can help us out?”

“Immunobiology is my specialty. I do stroke research, specifically looking into what causes breakdowns in the brain’s vascular systems and how to prevent it, though I’m afraid I am at a loss as to what is happening.”

“Well, any clue on whether this is bacteriological or viral?” said Phillip.

“My thought would be viral but not much can be ascertained until blood samples from victims have been analyzed, though the sagging facial features are intriguing. That is something usually associated with Bell’s palsy, which is caused by damage to the facial nerves. The degree to which this has manifested itself may indicate something connected with viral meningitis, which is what most scientists believe triggers Bell’s palsy.”

Great—more mystery to add to the bellyful I already have today, thought Carlie.

Chapter 14

Eight stories up, at the downtown division of the DEA building, Shane was adjusting the night scope on his suppressed .308 rifle as he squatted along the low concrete wall. Beside him were six other men equally poised, each one scanning the dimly lit streets below for signs of movement. A recent thundercloud had settled over the city and was sending a light patter of rain over downtown.

After completing the debrief earlier that afternoon, he and his team had walked downtown to the pizzeria when they heard about the attacks unfolding throughout the city. A wave of crazed people had already swept through the streets around them and he and his men found themselves trapped between their location and the DEA headquarters. Using their service pistols, they were initially able to hold a defensible perimeter in the office three stories above as thousands of people were slaughtered below. They waited until nightfall to evade the attackers and make their way back to the tac-ops center. By day’s end, the six-man team had made it back to their headquarters to find it devoid of life.

Matias leaned over towards him. “I’ve got a cluster of tangos down by the hardware store three blocks away. They just keep walking into things and stumbling over themselves like drunken frat boys. I don’t think these things can see very well in low light.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. There are about a dozen over by the courthouse, some of which just fell onto a clump of cacti and are all tangled up,” said Shane, staring at the illuminated green images in his scope. “Although, wait a minute,” he said, staring at three creatures who had shimmied alongside one another and were busy smelling the nighttime air. “I think they’re onto someone nearby.”

He watched as the trio started sprinting towards a small bakery and crashed through the front window. They dragged out two men and began ripping them apart. Shane fixed his sights on the creature’s heads and dropped them. “Damn, these things may not see well but they got the nose of a tracking dog.” He racked another round into his rifle. “Alright, let’s go to work, boys. It’s time to reduce the population of those coconut heads and give any survivors below a chance at staying alive through tonight.”

The rooftop became the scene of muffled gunfire coupled with subtle muzzle blasts as their sniper rifles delivered countless rounds downrange into the soft heads of creatures roaming the street. With a payload of weapons and millions of rounds of ammo in the armory vault below, there was little concern about running low at this point and each man continued systematically culling the yellow-faced denizens below.

Thirty minutes later, Shane fired his last round and slid out the empty magazine. “Let’s call it a night for now, boys. Tomorrow we can see what’s left down there.”

“And what about our families?” said Mark, a thickset shooter leaning against the wall and pouring water from his canteen over his begrizzled face.

“This building was as far as we could get for now,” Shane said. “I don’t want any losses. Until we can get some fresh intel tomorrow and come up with a plan for getting your loved ones out of harm’s way, we’ll stay put.” He lowered his rifle on the warm asphalt roof and took off his boonie hat, letting the raindrops wash over his face. “I know we’re all in strung-out shape from being in the field and coming into this shit-storm, but stay frosty.”

“Roger that,” came the reply of tired voices around him.

Matias sat back on his pack. “I’ll take the first watch, so why don’t the rest of you go down below, down some chow, and get a bit of rest, if you can.”

Each man stood partway up so as not to expose his figure above the roof’s retaining wall, and made his way to the stairwell.

Shane stayed behind and sat down against the landing pad of the helicopter they had come in earlier in the day. He pulled out an MRE package from his pack. Tearing open the foil, he extended it to Matias.

“Not only no—but hell no, sir! You can’t get me to take in another spoonful of that shit. The pigeon droppings on these roof shingles would make a better meal.”

“You’re a funny guy—I mean funny, ha-ha not funny queer. Just don’t wake me later because you got a tummy ache from not getting in a late-night dinner.”

Both men laughed but their smiles quickly faded. “What the hell you think is going on, Shane? I know we were out of touch with the world for a stretch but I ain’t never heard of anything like this before.”

“I wish I had an answer. Notice how we didn’t even hear about any signs of the National Guard being deployed or road blocks being put up by the Sheriff’s Department. Whatever this is, it unfolded fast and caught everyone by surprise.”

Matias wiped the rain off his face and then stretched out his hand towards Shane. “Alright, you got me wondering what I’m missing with your dinner. I’ll take a hit off that MRE pouch, now.”

“You hypocritical motherfucker.  That is so like you. Just like when I’m taking a dip of chew and you’re like, ‘No, sir, none for me—that shit’ll kill you,’ and then five minutes later you’re asking for my tobacco tin.”

“Geez, mi hermano, now you’re sounding like my wife. Always riding my back—getting on me about trivial matters.” Matias grew quiet and looked down.

“I know, my friend, I’m worried about everyone’s families, too,” Shane said slowly, glancing up at the clouds and thinking back to Carlie’s lovely face from earlier that morning. Hope you made it out alive, mi amiga.

Chapter 15

As the service tunnel ended, Carlie climbed up the rusty metal steps, brushing aside rat droppings as she went. She tried lifting the hatch but it was locked from the other side. She used the butt end of her rifle to repeatedly slam the attachment while holding on to the ladder with her other hand.

Once it was open, she slowly lifted the hatch an inch to survey the lobby area. All she could see was the gray underside of steps, as the entry was located directly under the first-floor staircase. She climbed out and swept the corners ahead, then motioned to the others to come up.

Once inside, Phillip and Carlie cleared the small lobby area while the professor and Eliza huddled together under the stairs.

The Skaggs Pharmaceutical Building was a two-story structure with only a few skylights in the ceiling and immense brick walls which helped to keep the structure at an even sixty degrees year-round. Walking along the sterile corridor near the front desk, both of them swept along the first floor, which consisted of a toxicology lab, drug repositories, a refrigeration unit for pharmaceuticals, and faculty offices. The building was evidently not occupied on weekends and Carlie could see the deadbolts on the solid steel front doors were still in place. The only windows were overhead skylights that had computer-controlled louvres and shades with special filters to block excessive UV rays. Dusk was upon campus as the last slivers of light pierced through the overhead windowpanes.

“This building seems defensible with the high brick walls and only a few overhead windows, right?” Phillip said.

“We don’t have a choice for now,” Carlie said. “Let’s rest here for a while, rehydrate, and see if I can make contact with HQ.”

“Do your comms only patch into the downtown office?” said Phillip.

“Yes, but we may be able to get through to central command in Washington on the sat phone in the vehicle—if I can get to it.”

“You mean the sat phone…out there,” he said. pointing the muzzle of his rifle forward while running his other hand back along his sweaty forehead.

Carlie frowned, thinking of standard operating procedures. Normally, there would have been two more rescue teams in by now and numerous airborne assets on the rooftops. HQ must have been totally caught off guard and are either locked down fighting for their own survival or... She paused, rolling her shoulders forward. Or…dead.

She knelt down and removed all the magazines and weapons from her vest and shoulder holster and laid them on the cement floor, then did an inventory of the remaining rounds. “Give me five minutes to saddle up here and swig down some water and then I’ll be on my way. In the meantime, I want you to stalk up to the east window and recon the path to the Suburban.”

Eliza stepped forward with her hands folded over her chest. “We could be out searching for other survivors, you know. Aren’t you supposed to have more agents here by now?”

Carlie could feel the resentment welling up from her gut. “You mean besides the ten good men we lost today just trying to save you?”

“My father has you hound me for years, and for what—what is the point of all your training if we can’t rescue the other people out there?”

“It’s because of our ‘training’ that you’re able to stand before me and complain at all, Eliza. And the same reason that, come tomorrow at this time, you’ll be sipping a caramel latte in your father’s secure bunker. Until that time, I’ll continue to cling to you like a lizard to the shade.”

Eliza’s raised her eyebrows, looking at the professor, who was silent, and then back to Carlie.

“There are other students trapped on campus who can use our help, Carlie,” said Eliza, whose eyes continued to grow wider.

“I agree, but there’s only—” She paused, looking at Phillip, who was approaching from the other room. “Only one of me, and you and the professor are my primary concerns right now. When reinforcements arrive, we can round up any other students we find.”

Eliza’s adamant glare eased up. “I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass, really, I’m not. I know you and the other agents always saw me like that but I just feel like we should be doing more than crawling under a rock to hide.”

“Eliza, you didn’t witness the craze of attackers I killed in the science building and you probably didn’t see the battle unfold around the other agents on your protective detail. Hiding out is exactly what we need to be doing right now until the tactical advantage swings in our direction.”

Carlie could see a look of helplessness washing over Eliza’s face and realized she needed to occupy her with something that could contribute to the group’s wellbeing. “Right now, the best thing you can do for us is to scour through the cabinets and supplies here and assemble anything that can be of value to us, got it?”

Eliza nodded and unfolded her arms, looking over at the professor, who had stepped forward. “I’ll give you a hand, Eliza,” he said, and they both walked into the adjoining room.

Carlie began thrusting her weapons back in their holsters and stuffing the remaining magazines in her vest. Then she stood up and met Phillip, who was returning from the back room.

“Agent Simmons, are you red-faced because of the heat or did I miss something?” he said.

“Being hardheaded can be a good thing, especially for a woman, but right now, I just need Eliza to be a capable follower,” she said, rolling her eyes. “How’s the area outside look?”

“It’s about one hundred meters to the SUVs. There are a few of those infected things wandering around between us but not like the numbers we saw earlier. There are several large cement flower gardens interspersed along the walkway and a couple of park benches. If you can bound between the flower gardens, you should have ample cover until the last third, when it’ll have to be an all-out sprint to the vehicles.”

“Sounds like fun. I mean, who wouldn’t want to run an urban obstacle course with dead cannibals pawing at your sides?”

Phillip emitted a half-smile, which put a crease in his pasty cheeks. “You’ve gotten us this far and the army or somebody should be here soon, right?”

Carlie watched his fingers nervously flutter on the strap of his weapon and could see the terror in his eyes. He comes out here to grill me and try to toss my career in the hole, and now he’s sidling up next to me. What a gimp—and I have to trust my back to this guy. I just hope he remembers how to distinguish the good guys from the bad guys in a firefight.

“Time to roll,” she said, moving over to the tool rack in the maintenance closet and pulling down a garden shovel. “This might be a better tactical choice than my firearms, so I don’t bring any unwanted attention. At least until I can get to my pistol suppressor in the vehicle.”

They walked over to the side exit, which was nestled along the rear of the building. Carlie gently opened the door an inch and peered through the crack. Immediately before her was a small grove of palm trees and low shrubs which skirted along the right side of the arboretum for twenty feet. The air creeping in carried the pleasant fragrance of sweet lilac flowers coupled with the repulsive odor of baked flesh from the bodies littering the hot cement. Her mind struggled to focus on the lilacs but the other smell stabbed through the warm night air, quickly removing any trace of comfort that this was all a bad dream.

She squatted down and continued opening the door while creeping out onto the walkway. Phillip stood in the doorway, slightly off to the side to avoid silhouetting himself in the entrance, while providing rear cover support.

Carlie looked over to the Suburbans in the distance. Their hoods reflected in the faint moonlight. She panned over to the cement gardens. Holding the spade in her hands, Carlie got into a hunched position and turned back to nod at Phillip. Then she began creeping along the cluster of manzanita bushes to her right, beyond which she could see numerous contorted dead bodies strewn about the courtyard.

Chapter 16

Carlie was skulking beside the edge of the second cement flower garden when she heard a dragging noise to her left. Gripping the shovel, she squatted low against the coarse concrete wall. She still felt the nervous jolt of adrenaline surging through her entire body and queasiness in her stomach but it had returned to more manageable levels.

The campus lights lining the sidewalk were not functioning and she had to strain her eyes in the dim moonlight to see what was headed her way. The air held a hint of moisture and a thundercloud was towering in the distance. She couldn’t shake the nauseating odor of blood and viscera that was emanating from the cement path, and she raised her shirt collar over her nose to help quell the stench.

Carlie eased her head up between a clump of yucca plants and could see a disheveled person with a soiled red chin shuffling down the sidewalk. It looked like a man in his early twenties who wore a red jersey. His face was the color of butter and his eyes were bulging out of deeply furrowed cheeks. The creature’s right sleeve was torn off and one shoe was missing as he staggered up to a headless corpse by a park bench. It sniffed the air, searching for the body, then knelt down and began greedily tearing into the trapezius muscles.

Christ—what the hell is that thing? Never heard of anything like this before. It’s like the whole world has turned into something out of a midnight horror flick.

As she began to slide forward while keeping her eyes fixed on the scene of horror, the edge of the tarnished shovel grazed the concrete wall. The creature instantly whipped its head around in her direction and sat up, sniffing the air. She saw its wild eyes trying to locate the sound and looking right at her but not comprehending her still image. The wind is carrying my scent away. The creature can’t locate me. Its eyesight must be severely affected by the darkness. Finally, one thing I can use to my advantage.

A second later it went back to feasting, but then it lifted its head again and stood. This time it focused its gaze in the opposite direction, towards the nursing building across the street where a group of eight other creatures were pounding on a door. The creature before Carlie let out a guttural cry and then bounded over the pavement to join the others, who had succeeded in breaking through the door. They disappeared inside and Carlie heard some muffled screams, followed by silence.

After skirting the flowerbed, she crept up to a park bench and could see the Suburbans thirty yards ahead. She thought back to the many deer hunts she had gone on with her father in upstate New York. She had learned skills of stealth that she had further refined in the urban wilderness while working various security details over the years. Carlie remained in a low squat and cautiously moved from one derelict light post to the next, avoiding stepping on the scattered body parts littering the pavement.

Cautiously she beelined for her SUV, which was half hanging out of the shattered front lobby of the bioresearch building. She made it to the driver’s side and paused to make sure she hadn’t alerted any creatures. Leaning the shovel next to the front of the vehicle, she climbed inside over the back seats. Depressing the finger pad code on the lid of the weapons locker, she pulled out a dozen rifle and pistol magazines, two pistol suppressors, a first-aid kit, four smoke grenades, the satellite phone and solar battery charger, two pairs of night-vision goggles, a lock-pick set, and the .308 sniper rifle. She jammed the smaller items in a backpack from the rear cargo area and then slung the rifle across her back after exiting the Suburban.

She began retracing her steps when she heard subdued voices coming from behind a door under the stairs. Carlie moved past the front of the vehicle and listened intently. She could make out a man and woman whispering. Moving towards the utility closet, she slowly threaded the suppressor onto the barrel of her pistol, then positioned herself against the wall with the weapon aimed low.

She tapped lightly on the hollow door. “Who is inside? Identify yourself.”

The voices grew silent and then she heard a man’s voice. “David and Nadine. We’re students here. Are you the police?”

“I’m federal law enforcement. Unlock the door—you’re not safe holed up here.”

She heard the hinges creak as the door slowly opened, revealing the pale faces of the young pair. The man looked to be around nineteen and had shoulder-length hair and multiple ear piercings on his left side; he was clad in pajama bottoms, slippers, and a white sleeveless shirt. The woman was a few years older with a deeply tan face and blond pigtails. She had almond-brown hair and was dressed in jeans, a red t-shirt, and cowboy boots.

Like petrified zoo animals peering out of their cage, they slowly moved out of the confines of the closet and stood up next to Carlie.

“You’re a cop?” said David.

“Can you get us out of here?” whispered Nadine.

“No to the first question and a big maybe to the second. How long have you been hiding here?”

“I don’t know,” said Nadine. “We were headed to bio class after breakfast when those things started attacking everyone.”

Carlie looked over the man’s clothing while shaking her head. “You go to class in your PJs and velvet slippers, eh?”

David frowned. “What are you doing here and what’s with the rifle?”

“My name’s Carlie. I work for the federal government and what I’m doing here will be revealed to you shortly when we get back to a more secure location over by the pharmacy building.”

“We’re going out there with all those things roamin’ around?” said David.

“I just came from there. Follow my lead and don’t make any abrupt movements—I think these creatures have poor vision at night.”

They both reached back into the closet and removed their daypacks, then followed Carlie out to the rear bumper of the SUV. She scanned the courtyard and then motioned for them to drop low and follow her to the first flower garden. She stopped and grabbed the shovel, handing it to David, who gave it a puzzled look and then handed it to Nadine, who gripped it firmly in her calloused hands.

They made it to the edge of the pharmacy building and paused to survey the region behind them. Carlie saw three more creatures forty yards away fighting over a mutilated arm and a few more over by a drinking fountain, wandering aimlessly. As she turned to move, she noticed a lone figure striding down the central sidewalk that separated the courtyard. This figure moved with purpose and was not staggering like the others. It moved towards the drinking fountain, stopping momentarily to smell the air around the other creatures, then shoved them out of the way and continued walking north. It had the bearing of an aggressive Rottweiler intent on defending its territory.

The trio resumed stalking to the back door of the pharmaceutical building where Phillip was waiting. Once they were inside, they retreated back to the stairwell as he quietly locked the door.

“Whoa, that’s some serious firepower, bro,” said David to Phillip after looking over the display of weapons hanging off his shoulder and belt.

Phillip moved alongside Carlie. “Where did you find these two scholars?” he whispered.

“Crouching in a broom closet by the vehicles.”

Phillip leaned closer. “Under normal circumstances, I’m all for providing assistance to those in need, but what are we supposed to do with them? There’s only going to be so much room on the rescue helo.”

“We’ll cross that bridge soon enough. I wasn’t about to leave ’em alone and defenseless,” she said, taking the sat phone and spare batteries out of her pack and handing him the sniper rifle. “I’m going to step over by an open window out back and make a call to cent-com in D.C.” Carlie walked off, leaving Phillip to go through the contents of the pack.

****

Over by the far wall, the four survivors were nervously doing first-name introductions and exchanging stories of their narrow escapes. After staring at Eliza and then back at Phillip in the distance, David raised his eyebrows and snapped his fingers. “Hey, wait a second, Eliza, is your last name Huntington, as in President Huntington’s daughter?”

Eliza scrunched her nose and lowered her head. “I’m afraid so.”

“You’re the one on campus with the entourage of guys in suits always following you from a distance, aren’t you?” said Nadine.

“Check that box, too. And don’t forget the reporters and photographers hanging out in the cafeteria, by my dorm room, and the coffee shops around town. Wherever I go, there they are, waiting for the moment when I slip up.”

“So those two agents are here to get you out? Aren’t there any more of them?”

Eliza looked up at the ceiling while folding her arms. “That was the plan.” Eliza gazed over David and Nadine’s unkempt appearance and took a deep sigh. “I’ve always longed for the day when I can look like you two—and just be so…so ordinary.”

“Still, it must be totally rad having the White House as your home,” said David.

“I hate the White House, and the Oval Office, and Camp David, and family dinners with visiting dignitaries, and anything else associated with politics. There’s a reason I came to Arizona—to get as far away from that world as possible, so spare me the ‘aren’t you lucky’ speech. I’m not even sure why we’re talking about this given all that’s just happened.”

Chapter 17

As Jared dashed for the campus building, he glanced over his shoulder and saw two creatures twenty yards away and gaining. One of them was wearing a shirt that read Cheese Freak’s Pizzeria and the other was a football player in cleats. Then he heard dull thuds and saw them collapsed on the sidewalk, their heads split apart. He briefly saw a glimmer of rifle fire from a distant roof downtown. Jared made a sharp left turn by a campus security booth and then made the final sprint for the building ahead. As he sprinted across the lot, he stepped in a puddle of semi-dried blood, which soiled his Nikes. He looked down in disgust.  

Across the courtyard, he saw a few creatures wandering around but no sign of movement near the illuminated lobby before him. The sign outside the entrance indicated it was the Toxicology Laboratory. He could see the extra thick security glass and reinforced foundations around the lobby.

Jared knew he would be silhouetted by the light so he opted to head to a side door fifty feet to the rear. He was standing in the darkness a few feet from a headless woman. Beside her wispy, fly-bitten corpse was a spilt bag of groceries. In the subdued light he made out several squashed bananas, a bottle of shampoo, assorted yogurts, and a package of sugar-free Gummi Bears. He reached down and grabbed the sweets, popping a sticky green bear into his mouth.

He shoved the rest of the package in his back pocket and then swiveled his head to either side, searching for movement. Jared crouched low and darted for the metal exit door, gluing his back to the stucco wall upon arriving. He tucked one Glock into his beltline and worked the door handle with his right hand as one end of the handcuff swung like a pendulum, its polished surface glinting in the faint light.

Feeling the door locked, he shrugged and then held his right hand up so one end of the handcuff chain dangled over the deadbolt, and then placed the muzzle of the Glock on the chain. Jared noticed his hands trembling, which caused him to scrunch his eyebrows together in wonderment. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger as the .40 caliber bullet shattered the silver chain and liberated the door lock. He opened one eye and tried to hold back a smile of self-admiration, then yanked the door open and ran inside, entering a stairwell.

Emergency lights shone throughout the levels above. He was about to sprint up the stairs to the fourth floor, where he had seen the lights, but heard the sound of screaming. His eyes raced along the walls as he tried to shut out the noise and think of where to run. He spotted an acrylic sign on the wall to his right which read “Mortuary Sciences Below.” Great—more dead bodies. Sounds like the shindig I just left.

He jogged down the cement stairs for two levels to the last floor and slowly opened the heavy door, his Glock trained on the hallway. He could hear faint voices–coming from a room ten feet away.

Hey, alright, some other survivors. Now if they can only be the U of A cheerleading squad, I can die a happy man, he thought as he entered the chilly air of the hallway.

He stood outside the stainless-steel door and strained to make out the voices inside. It sounded like five or six people were discussing their plan for fleeing the campus. He tapped the pistol on the door and moved alongside the cement wall, hearing the voices inside grow silent.

“Hey, open up in there. I’m all alone and need a place to hide out.” He could hear the voice of a young woman arguing with others inside.

“You wanna survive the night, you should consider letting me in,” Jared said. “I’ve just come from downtown and there are a whole lot of creatures out there who are gonna be looking for fresh meat soon.”

The arguing continued inside until the woman finally told the others to be quiet. Then the door opened slightly and Jared saw the face of a lovely brunette appear with a golf club in her hand. She was dressed in navy blue pants and a light blue shirt, and wore a bronze badge above her shirt pocket which read, Amy, Paramedic.  She moved into the hallway, looking over Jared and the pistols in his possession and then scanning both directions of the hallway. “Quick, get inside,” she said, tugging on his shirt, the sleeve of which he made sure concealed the single handcuff.

Chapter 18

Carlie extended the folding antenna on the top of the Iridium sat phone and dialed in the code for central command in Washington. She stood by a slightly ajar window for better reception, feeling the cold air trickle out past her tired fingers.

Four attempts and ten minutes later, she tried calling Washington as well as Secret Service offices in the Four Corners region, but to no avail. Carlie closed the window and powered off the device, then returned to the group, giving a grimace to Phillip as she approached.

“Was there any luck with contacting your colleagues?” said the professor, who stood with his hands buried in his pockets.

“No, but standard protocol is to try at the top of each hour over a ten-minute interval,” she said, stowing the phone back in her pack.

“What’d you see out there?” said the professor.

“A few dozen creatures milling about. They seem to have piss-poor eyesight at night, which was mighty helpful. I also saw one that exhibited near alpha-dog behavior over the others. Not sure what that’s about.”

“What now, if central command is off-grid or disabled?” said Phillip.

“I’ll try a few more times throughout the night. The juice in the sat phone is half gone, the way those things work, so I have to be picky with our attempts until tomorrow, when I can pull out the solar charger. Cent-com is hopefully only down for a short time until POTUS and his cabinet regroups.

“For now, we should all get some rest,” Carlie said. “There are two couches and some chairs in the employee lounge around the rear. Phillip and I will take three-hour shifts on guard and keep trying to get a message out.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” said Nadine as she and David began walking towards the other room. She turned before entering, looking at Carlie. “Thank you for coming to get us, ma’am. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t showed up.”

Carlie nodded while raising an eyebrow. “You’re welcome.”

“Yes—thanks to both of you,” said the professor. “We are indebted to you.”

Eliza unfolded her arms. “Rescuing others is programmed into their cell structure.”

“We are not programmed for suicide, Eliza, and I certainly didn’t take an oath to die for you or your father but rather for the office of the presidency. There’s a big difference.”

“I just can’t take sitting still here any longer when there are others besides me that can use help,” Eliza muttered before heading into the back room.

“Ah, she is brash at times, but I’m quite sure she is grateful,” said the professor, leaning forward in a low whisper to Carlie.

“Sometimes Eliza’s insulation from the real world prevents her from seeing the bigger picture,” Carlie said, then looked at the professor. “Why don’t you join the others, sir, and we’ll wake you when we have any news.”

After everyone had left, Carlie leaned against the wall next to Phillip, who bore a faint grin. “What’s up with you?” Carlie said.

“I just find the irony of your situation intriguing. It hadn’t dawned on me until I saw you interact with Eliza just now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, Eliza despises anything to do with D.C. and its politics and has tried to remove herself from that setting as much as possible while you—you desperately want to be assigned there and be immersed in that world at any cost. Funny thing is—your wish will come true when you finally get her back to her father.”

“You mean much to your disappointment at not being able to hamstring my career with your tawdry investigation?”

“Well, my probing will probably be a moot point after all this, now, won’t it? Though I do worry about you—did Gerald and the others try and help you through your PTSD over shooting that young attacker or were you just trying to bury your head in your work as the psych evals have indicated?”

Carlie got up and moved towards him until he backed into the wall. “Piss off,” she said, standing a foot away from his face with her fists balled up. “Did my psych eval also mention anything about my temper?”

As she stood across from him, the overhead lights began flickering in the room as well as in the adjoining buildings. Then the room went dark and she heard the flow of cold air stop pouring forth from the ventilation system above. The campus was black and only the occasional lightning from the approaching thunderstorm, shining through the panes of glass above, outlined their surroundings.

Phillip stared at the ceiling and A/C vents. “Great—that’s just fucking great. We are so screwed. Now those things are going to come in here and they’re going to…”

“Shut it, Phillip, and take a deep breath. I don’t need you panicking the others and you’re the only reasonably capable shooter I have so pull it together,” she said, grabbing his chin. “Phillip, are you with me?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Got it,” he replied in a wobbly voice.

“Now listen, it’s going to heat up in here pretty quick. We’ve got plenty of water so we can use that for getting through the night and then we’ll have to retreat down below into the service tunnel during the day.”

Carlie walked across the room and into the employee lounge, where the others were splayed out across the furniture. “The power just went out across campus so that means no air-conditioning. I’d advise soaking some towels, sheets, or your clothes in water and wrapping that around you to stay cool throughout the night. You can also lie on the ground if it gets too hot. This is what the early residents did here until the advent of A/C so it looks like we’re going to be sleeping like pioneers for tonight. I also want everyone to fill up any bowls, containers, and water bottles in case the water mains shut down.”

As everyone was quietly at work gathering supplies and then settling back down to rest, Carlie’s thoughts raced back to her oldest brother and his family in San Diego. It would be a violation of protocol to call him on the sat phone—God, I hope they are alright. She pulled out a picture in her wallet, stowed behind her ID, of her three brothers and her father. All of them were lazily reclining around the woodsmoke of a fall deer camp in the Sierra Mountains. How she longed for such peaceful times again. Her eyes floated over the faces of her two youngest brothers. One had died in Afghanistan three years earlier and the other had retreated from the family, finding solace in his work in Africa with the Peace Corps.

She considered going in the back room to make the call to her oldest brother but then glanced over at Eliza in the other room and refocused her mind on the mission ahead.

Chapter 19

As the night wore on and the rain storm intensified, Carlie sat up on one elbow from her makeshift bed on the concrete floor. Phillip was standing nearby on guard duty and came over to her side.

She reached over for a water bottle and downed half a liter, then reslung her pistol in her belt holster. It had been a restless two hours of sleep due to the unfamiliar noises, the sweltering heat, and the uncomfortable floor arrangements. The conditions reminded her of most of her other assignments when she was abroad—the four-hour nights of sleep, skipping meals, catching another red-eye flight to a different time zone, and standing in the cold or heat for days on end, doing the advance work before a protectee arrived. Despite the globetrotting, she could barely recall the sights she had seen in the cities she visited. Her job was an endless blur of memorizing escape routes and potential target vectors.

As she stood up, she could see the delicate ornamental flowers in the lobby were already beginning to wilt and die. “What’s the temp in here?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

Phillip walked over to a large wall monitor with a thermometer and craned his neck to read the gauge. “Looks like eighty-four degrees. This place is going to be an oven soon. Temps this week were supposed to be around 110, I heard.”

“I’m going to try the sat phone one more time and then it’ll have to be recharged. While I’m doing that, have everyone organize all the water, food, and sheets, and get them down in the tunnels before sunrise. That’ll have to be our new hideout for the day.”

Phillip nodded and then walked into the employee lounge while Carlie retrieved the sat phone from her pack and headed to a rear window.

After powering up the unit, she dialed the familiar number for central command in Washington. After the third ring, a man’s voice came over the line. “Cent-com, Vectra One, authenticate.”

She took a deep breath and blew a strand of hair off her face. “This is Carlene Simmons, AZT9662-Agent 3088 SW, over.”

She could hear typing on a computer keyboard and then the voice returned. “Confirmed, Agent Simmons; what is your location and status?”

“I have secured Gemini and we are at the University of Arizona. Our local command center has been compromised and primary evac routes are cut off, over.”

“Please hold,” the monotone voice replied, and then returned a few seconds later to indicate he was placing the call on speaker.

“Ms. Simmons, this is President Huntington along with General Adams. Is my daughter OK?”

“Yes, she is unharmed, sir. Her security detail hid her away until we got to her.”

“Thank God. I am forever indebted to you and your colleagues.”

Carlie then heard a deeper voice come on the line. “This is General Adams; can you give us your exact location? We will coordinate with any remaining Homeland Security and law-enforcement agencies in the region to expedite your extraction. We have lost contact with most of our teams but we will get to you.”

“Current position is in the pharma…” The phone emitted a beep. Carlie pulled it back from her ear, staring at the LED screen as the battery expended itself and the unit powered down.

“Dammit,” she said, while rotating the antenna closed. She unrolled the flexible solar power charger and laid it out on the windowsill before her and connected the phone. Now we’ll have to wait until sunrise to juice this baby back to life. I guess it’s time to locate a deck of cards and settle in as the dorm babysitter.

Chapter 20

After the power outage had crippled city buildings, Shane and his men retreated during the night to the cooler confines of the subterranean parking garage below their tactical ops center.

As sunrise came, he stood poring over a map on the hood of a black Humvee, looking at possible routes to each family member’s home in the region. Given their tightness as a group on the job, it was typical for agents to live in close proximity to each other. This provided a support network for the wives and children when their husbands were deployed on missions.

Now, his thoughts were solely on assisting his men in getting their families back to the tac-ops center, which would be their safest location for riding out whatever hell had just been unleashed.

While he and Matias went over approach routes and exfil options, Rory came over and handed the inter-agency radio to Shane. “We got a call that just came from cent-com in D.C.”

Shane placed down the GPS unit and grabbed the radio. “Yes, this is Agent Shane Colter with the DEA.”

The voice on the other end was General Adams. Upon hearing this, Shane set the phone down on speaker and snapped his fingers above his head, motioning for his men to gather around.

“Go ahead, sir.”

“We just received word from one of our Secret Service agents that the president’s daughter is alive and being safeguarded at the University of Arizona. How far is that from your location, Agent Colter?”

Shane folded his arms across his chest and looked up at Matias and the others. “That’s about fifteen minutes’ drive or three minutes via helo, sir.”

“I’m sure you and your unit have been through a lot in the past sixteen hours but I have to ask—are you mission capable to extract them? You are the only federal response team left in the region.”

Shane sighed and took a deep breath, looking down at the map on the hood with the highlighted streets and back up at his men’s inquiring eyes. “Yes, sir, I am good to go. I can have boots on the ground shortly.”

“Understood. We don’t know how long they can hold out,” said the General. “We have lost contact with their security detail. I have their sat phone number, which I will relay to you. Thermal imaging indicates that they are located in the Skaggs Pharmaceutical Building. We have pinpointed that as being on the north-central perimeter of the main campus, near the medical center.”

“Can you provide us with a satellite linkup so we can have real-time intel on the hostiles on the ground and thermal imaging of the survivors' location?”

“Yes, I am going to hand you over to my second-in-command, who will give you everything you need. And Agent Colter, I don’t have to remind you what’s at stake here.”

“No, sir. I’m crystal clear on that,” he said with a muffled sigh, then clicked off the speakerphone.

Matias frowned. “Great, now we gotta go haul in this little chica when our own guys need to get back to their families.”

“And who declared Mondays on the job are always dull,” said Shane, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering if Carlie was at the university. He had worked with various female federal agents over the years and found them all to fit the same profile: square-jawed tomboys that were emotionally aloof. Not Carlie—she had the usual cool exterior and confident sensuality of a fighter but exuded a sunny disposition beneath her jade green eyes.

“Monday…is it really Monday? This feels more like Dia de los Muertos to me,” said Matias.

Chapter 21

“So how long y’all been holed up in here?” said Jared to Amy, while looking over the eight college students slumped on chairs around the mortuary science room. Some were sitting while others were in clusters, leaning against each other, trying to feverishly call out on their smartphones.

“Since Tucson became cannibal central,” said Amy, folding her arms and brushing a lock of brunette hair off her shoulder. “How is it you made it here?”

Jared tucked the Glock in his beltline and ran his fingers over his day-old scruff. “Just out for a morning jog when everything went to hell in the city. I hunkered down near a bank a few blocks from here and then made a dash for it when I saw some lights on campus.”

“And you always go for a jog with two pistols, eh?” said Amy.

“Yeah, well, I happened across these on my sprint through downtown.” He leaned a hand on the wall and looked over Amy’s figure and into her eyes, then down at her left hand, which had a gold engagement ring. “And what’s your story, sister—you an ambulance driver for the university?”

“Paramedic for the city,” she said, flicking her badge with a finger. “But I teach on campus two days a week and was prepping for a lecture tomorrow—until I saw the rampage outside. I gathered up anyone I could find in the building and we headed down here, figuring it was the most secure place in the area. That was probably fifteen hours ago.”

“I don’t know what’s safe anymore,” Jared said, slumping against the cool concrete wall. “This day sure turned out a lot different than I ever expected,” he said, thinking back to the marshal who had planted his face on the pavement.

Amy tossed him a bottle of water. “Stay hydrated. By your accent, it doesn’t sound like you’re from around here, and being out in the heat all day can turn you into jerky pretty fast.”

“You got it, Doc, thanks,” he said, twisting off the cap and gulping down the liquid. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the package of slightly squashed Gummi Bears. “Here,” he said, tossing them to Amy. “My admission fee for letting me enter your fine abode.”

Amy opened the package and pried out a single sweet, then she walked over to the others and began dispensing what remained.

Jared looked around the dimly lit room. The stainless-steel tables had become makeshift workbenches filled with gauze, water bottles, and an assortment of bludgeoning weapons like an ax, splintered broom handles, and golf clubs. On the rear wall was a garden hose and spray nozzle along with bottles of bleach that were used for sanitizing the floor after autopsies. The entire room had a strong clinical odor, and the floor was slightly sloped, with a small drain at the center.

Jared scanned the other people slumped around him, taking in their features along with anything shapely or sparkly that caught his eye. Sitting in the corner closest to Jared were three women in their late teens. One was short with a round face and red hair. She had on a silver watch and dangling gold hoop earrings with a high luster that looked like the real thing. Next to Pumpkin Head was a blond woman who had a splatter of blemishes on her face and was wearing a faux-gold necklace with a ruby-red insert that looked like it was from Malaysia. Lying beside Freckles was a tiny woman with silky black hair that stretched past the soft curve of her back, but she was devoid of jewelry.

A few feet away from the Raven were two young men leaning back on their chairs and frantically trying to text on their smartphones while quietly cursing. One of them was gangly with dented cheeks that made him look like he had been beaten with a bag of coins when he was younger. Next to Pockmark was a heavyset guy with a nose like a toucan and a shaved head. Jared noticed that neither of them wore anything on their wrists or hands, figuring they spent most of their money on computer games or porn-on-demand videos. Across from Bird Beak were two dark-skinned women. The petite one on the right wore a medley of Western and Mexican clothing and glitzy cowboy boots.

Besides her wavy jet-black hair and shapely figure, she was heavily adorned with gold rings, bracelets, stud earrings, and an alluring necklace whose high sheen was evident even in the dim light. Yowza—put her on the list of first to yank outta here. Resting her head on Tex-Mex’s shoulder was a lanky woman with a pleasing neckline and delicate fingers that bore a single gold Claddagh ring. From the moment Jared arrived, she had been talking constantly to her friend. Her mouth never seemed to stay shut as she nervously yakked about her roommates, pet goldfish, and her classes. He gazed over her lovely features and then felt the urge to plaster duct tape over her beestung lips. Instead he glanced away from Chatty Cathy and looked over the last lone figure slouched against the wall. He was dressed only in cut-off shorts and a tank top, his long dreadlocks almost as grimy as his bare feet.  Jared shook his head as he stared at him. Maybe that’s what smells like an old sponge and is fouling up the air in here. He probably doesn’t have to worry about getting chomped on by those things. We might want to use him as our secret weapon.

Jared turned away from Floor Mop and glanced up at Amy, who was filling some water bottles from the metal sink. He walked up and stood beside her, noticing her slender features and lovely eyes. “You have a plan for finding help? Do you have a two-way radio?”

“We’ve been cut off since we got here, dude, and our phones don’t work for shit,” said Floor Mop.

Amy shrugged her shoulders. “No one knows we’re here. I figured we would wait until morning and then I’d go upstairs and take a look around and see about getting in touch with the police.”

“There ain’t nothing to see up top. They’re all dead—the cops, the folks who lived and worked downtown. Hell, most of the buildings are gutted or burnt out. From where I holed up, I saw hundreds of those prune-faced freaks bounding across the streets, tearing up anyone they got a hold of,” he said, leaning both hands on a table. “At first there were just a handful of ’em chasing people but, by nightfall, the city had emptied of anyone alive and only their hungry shrieks echoed off the streets.” He paused as he felt the wide eyes of the others in the room upon him, their mouths agape. “As far as I can tell, I was the only survivor in the region—everyone else got torn to pieces. Still, there must be a few guys alive in the central downtown area,” Jared said.

“How’s that?” said Tex-Mex, who had moved closer.

“Because a couple of those things that were about to grab me all of a sudden suffered from Exploding Head Syndrome as somebody with a rifle nailed ’em dead center—somebody from a rooftop downtown who had eyes like a barn owl. Whoever it was saved my ass.”

Chapter 22

White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico

President Huntington stood before the immense wall-sized computer monitor, digesting the visual images of destruction before him. Satellite newsfeed from around the world showed every major city being impacted by the strange disease as streets still ran amok with wanton carnage.

Around the secure bunker eight floors below the facility, his ad-hoc staff of analysts, military personnel, and remaining Secret Service agents were busy collating data from the surviving field operatives spread around the nation.

Eighteen hours earlier he had been in Albuquerque at a ceremony for WWII veterans and now half of his cabinet were dead or missing, the country’s civil infrastructure was shattered, and his daughter was still in harm’s way.

His eyes grew heavy from lack of sleep and he exhaled deeply as he saw General Adams approaching. With the vice-president dead and many of his military advisors gone, the always forthright three-star general had become his closest confidant on tactical matters. Huntington stood stoically with his arms folded across his chest in an attempt to hide his constant fist-clenching. “The DEA group in Tucson—have they commenced their rescue?” he said to General Adams.

“My team is in touch with them. They’ve just departed and we’ll know very soon about their progress. There is a major storm rolling in from Baja that could hamper their efforts.”

“And what about our allies in the UK, Europe, and elsewhere—how have they been impacted by this?”

“London is still under attack, with their death toll in the millions, similar to our large cities here. Germany, France, and Spain have fallen and are black holes right now. In Israel, Denmark, and Japan the more geographically isolated areas have escaped some of the large-scale devastation but no single place around the globe seems to have been spared.”

“And it appears that there are only a few defensible regions in the U.S. that remain safe havens—is that right?”

“The analysts have told me that Cape Cod and Newfoundland are still intact in the east. Fallon Naval Air Station in Nevada is where our remaining special operations teams from the western states are gathering to set up an incident command post. We should have more of those units online over the next few hours and have a better grip on our remaining capabilities.”

“I don’t understand how it could’ve come to this—we’re the most well-funded, well-informed country in the world, and we were somehow hamstrung enough to have missed this coming at us.”

“Agreed, sir, but the tiger is out of its cage and now we have to consider containment efforts before we risk losing any more people.”

“Containment—you mean drone strikes. You can skip the pc jargon, General; this isn’t a round-table meeting of UN delegates and political pundits.” Huntington pulled his shoulders back and raised an eyebrow. “Drone strikes are off the table for now. I’m not going to vaporize our cities. You don’t burn your home to kill a mouse, General. That’s insane, not to mention the collateral damage to remaining survivors still left around the country.”

“Drone strikes might not seem like an option now but with the current exponential rate of spread, we know that cities like L.A., Denver, New York, and others will be completely overrun in ninety-six hours,” the General said, walking up closer to the computer monitors. “This option may rise to the forefront soon if we’re to have any hope of salvaging the remaining areas and keeping those regions intact that are already secure. We can even commandeer the drones from here.”

“We’ll revisit this topic later, General. For now, let me know when we have something from the CDC on what exactly we’re dealing with, and grab me the minute you have word on my daughter.”

Chapter 23

“It sounds to me like the Secret Service and their protectee are safe where they’re at,” said Martin, a lithe DEA operator with a caterpillar-thick mustache. “Why not have them stay put through tonight, and after we retrieve our families and regroup here, we can extract the detail on campus?”

“Because the orders were given,” said Shane.

“The university is only a few miles away,” said Matias. “We should be able to get in and out quickly, if we can coordinate with them.”

“Yeah, but we’re also wasting precious time right now getting back to our homes,” said Martin. “I say we get to our families first, as planned, and then retrieve the others on campus. All the rules of engagement have changed, sir.”

“These are all solid tactical solutions; however, getting back to our neighborhoods is eleven miles one way with the vehicles. That’s not going to be a short drive given all the accidents and clogged streets, especially if we encounter other survivors along the way. The helo can only hold a few and it’s low on fuel.”

Shane mulled over the recent orders and then thought back to the conditions on the street that he had witnessed during the daylight. He intimately understood the critical window for survival in the heat without power and water. Being recently divorced, he thought more of his men than his own personal life. Matias had already been in touch with his wife and kids in Phoenix at his sister-in-law’s house prior to comms breaking down and Rory was a long-time bachelor. As for the other men, whose families resided in the nearby suburbs, Shane knew how imperative it was to get to them without delay.

Before the others could speak, Shane stepped forward, placing his hands on his hips. “Look, if this was any other day, I’d be giving the order to throw your gear in the rigs and be on our way downrange to the university, but not today. You’re going to have to decide if you are coming with me or going your own way back to your family. Your honor and integrity as warriors will not be diminished in any way in my eyes. I am good with whatever you choose.”

The men all bore grimaces and the tension in the air was evident. Shane moved to the vehicle and rolled up the city map. “I’m leaving for the university as soon as we have their location and have figured out our extraction plan, so hop in the helo if you’re with me. If not, then the other vehicles and armory are at your disposal. Godspeed, my brothers.”

During the next hour, Shane pored over the sat-imagery sent to him on his mobile laptop. He could see clusters of dozens of people spread in dorms and buildings around the university. He identified eleven groups of survivors spread around the campus. Some were only a few people while others numbered up to fifty.

He had pinpointed the location beneath the pharmacy building and detected six heat signatures, two of which were heavily armed. “This has to be them,” he said to Matias, who had just come down after packing the rest of the helicopter on the roof with tactical gear.

“What’s the plan once we get to them?” said Rory.

“Get ’em out and back here. This building is the most secure and well-equipped facility around here. Then it’s up to D.C. to finish their end of the girl’s extraction. After that, I plan on heading south in the helo to provide air support for the rest of our guys retrieving their families.”

“And what if we come across other civilians on campus? We just gonna fly past ’em waving a banner that says, ‘this helo is reserved for the president’s kid’?”

Before Shane could answer he inched closer to the laptop screen, scrunching his eyebrows together. “Looks at this,” he said, pointing to a cluster of nineteen figures huddled in the cafeteria of a large dormitory. He zoomed in on the image and could make out the figures squatting nearly motionless as a cluster of forty or more creatures were moving in the hallway outside. “Look at how those things are massing. At first, they were all spread out in different directions until the lead ones picked up on something and they all unified. Are they going off of sound or scent when they detect their prey?”

Matias looked at the glowing red glob of creatures flooding the hallway enroute to the unsuspecting survivors, two rooms away. “Madre de Dios—it’s like a wildfire sweeping through the building.”

Within seconds the wave of creatures began assaulting the flimsy doors separating them from the survivors. Shane and the others watched helplessly as the creatures broke through the barriers and flooded inside. The heat signatures of the students were reduced in under a minute and then the creatures dispersed throughout the hallway as if their grisly collaboration had never occurred.

“Is this for real, man?” said Rory, who tightened the baseball cap down on his forehead. “How is it that we can even get heat signatures on those creatures—I mean, aren’t they dead?”

“I’m not sure what to make of them—alive, dead…somewhere in between. But one thing’s for certain, we need to get there fast. Those students who were just killed are infected and will be adding to the growing numbers of those things.” Shane slammed the laptop closed and stood up. “Let’s saddle up. We may not have much time.”

Chapter 24

After Shane was ready, he went down to the sub-basement where the other three men were preparing to depart in their Humvee. “Stay in radio contact with your handheld units and keep me updated on your progress, the road conditions, and eventual return to base,” said Shane.

The men shook hands and hastily climbed into the tan vehicle while Rory stood at the security entrance. After tapping in the security code to the concrete barrier door of the subterranean garage, the Humvees sped up the entrance ramp and into the wave of heat in the streets above.

Once his men were on their way, Shane and Rory grabbed duffle bags of weapons and gear and made their way up the eight floors to the roof. The rotors of the helo were already in motion, as Matias was inside preparing for departure. After all three men were strapped in, Shane gave the thumbs-up sign and Matias eased off the helipad.

Veering to the southwest, they flew over downtown Tucson, past crumpled cars, shattered storefronts, and thousands of mangled corpses lining the crimson streets below. Three combat tours overseas couldn’t compare to the staggering death toll Shane observed beneath him.

How could this have happened here in our own country? My God, this looks more like Somalia or Tikrit. Shane thought of his men speeding home to their families. Would they make it and would he ever see them again? And what of Carlie—was she one of the agents still alive at the university? If those creatures haven’t gotten her, then the triple-digit heat will. I sure as hell hope she and the others are alive and that this is going to be a quick snatch-and-grab.

As Matias swung towards the north end of campus, Shane scanned his laptop map and pointed ahead to the L-shaped pharmaceutical building in the distance. “It’s only two stories, and those things might be able to get to us. You’ll have to set it down on the taller research building two hundred meters to the east,” he said, staring back at the computer image.

Matias circled around the large cluster of medical facilities. Shane and Rory both strained to see any signs of movement on the roof. “Set her down and let’s see about getting into the service tunnels. My laptop shows the route to be clear of hostiles.”

Matias landed fifty yards away from the stairwell entrance. As the rotors wound down, Shane and Rory jumped out and dashed for the entrance with their M4s in low-ready. The wind had increased considerably and they were pelted by a driving rain. Rory pointed to the south and they could see a mile-high wall of sand and dark clouds moving in over the city.

After they regrouped, they headed down the dark stairwell with their night-vision goggles on while scanning the landings of each floor they descended. Arriving at the first floor, Shane raised his left hand in a fist for the others to halt. He pointed below, where they could see several creatures bustling around the lobby.

Shane and his men secreted themselves against the cinderblock walls while peeling off to either side of the door and keeping their rifles at low-ready. He could approximate the footsteps of three creatures slogging along the tiled floor outside the door.

He thrust his index finger down the stairwell and the three deftly sprinted down the cement steps, taking up positions behind a row of water-storage containers. Shane pulled out his laptop and scanned the thermal images in the area. He could see the Secret Service group still at their location and then glanced at the other dwindling clusters of survivors. Shit, there were eleven other groups earlier and now there are only five. These things are systematically devouring everything in their path. That one group is still alive next door in the mortuary sciences room though—but for how long?

He closed the screen and inserted the laptop in his backpack, then motioned to his men to continue moving forward. They floated down the corridor, and after several turns and another half-flight of stairs, arrived at the tunnel entrance by the elevator service doors. Matias used bolt cutters and removed the padlock. They climbed inside and made their way through the murky passageway for another two hundred meters.

Rounding the corner, Shane could make out six figures crouched beside a vent outlet, most of them appearing to be asleep. One was standing guard with a rifle while the familiar shape of a woman was resting a few feet away.

Shane removed his NVGs and took out a flashlight. He flashed two patterns of three flashes. “Carlie, is that you?” Shane whispered into the darkness, hoping it was indeed Carlie who would be on the receiving end. “Carlie Simmons—–can you hear me? It’s Shane Colter with the DEA. Do you copy?”

Chapter 25

“It’s starting to warm up in here,” said Jared, who had unbuttoned his shirt while looking over at Amy, who was standing nearby, sipping from a water bottle. She had just come from checking on the other students, who were strung out around the large room.

“Yeah, welcome to the Southwest—where life in the summer is only possible through air-conditioning,” Amy said.

“You grow up here or are you a transplant like everyone else I meet?”

“I grew up in Williams, a small town west of Flagstaff. Tucson is as big a city as I ever want to live in but it has an awesome emergency medicine program, which is what brought me here.”

Jared let out a half-smile. “Scraping street drunks off the pavement and being their taxi service to the hospital every night doesn’t sound like my idea of fun, no matter how much it pays.”

She stopped sipping and scowled at him. “What is it that you said you do for a living?”

“Oh, I’m self-employed. I come up with investment solutions for people who have significant holdings and wouldn’t mind seeing them go to better use.”

“So, you’re an economic advisor?” said Amy, whose hands were clasped tightly around the water bottle.

“More of a personal finance specialist—I bring many decades of field experience from wealthy patrons around the U.S.,” he said, running his tongue over his front teeth. “It’s a rewarding and lively field,” Jared said, barely recalling the canned speech he had recited so many times over the years to women of Amy’s age.

Jared heard some heavy breathing to his left and saw Bird Beak, a rotund man with a sweaty bald head, dozing off. Jared leaned over towards Amy and whispered in his coy southern accent, “You gotta wonder how a basted pork chop like that made it out of the clutches of those things up above. I mean, some people just pop into this world bein’ lucky bastards.”

“With all that’s happened today, you can smugly sit back and just mock people? I’ve been standing here sipping my water for maybe three minutes and I’m already questioning my decision to open the door and let you in.”

Jared chuckled and stood up. “Ah, but what happened to that caregiver’s oath of yours? Besides, with my pistolas, I’m the best bet you have of getting out of here. You know you made the right decision.”

“That’s the only thing about today I’m unsure of,” she said, tossing the empty bottle past his face and into the trash bin beside him before walking away.

Chapter 26

Carlie was half-awake, her ponytail pushed back against the cool cement wall. Her mind was vacillating between the horrific events of the past eighteen hours and her now seemingly trivial frustrations from the other life she knew.

She thought about how things had been swept away so quickly and the world brought to its knees. Her mind raced over past intel reports and security briefings about bioterrorism and pandemic threats. Did someone release a virus or is God just punishing us for our ever-growing culture of moral decay?

She knew the latter thought was the vestige of her strict Roman-Catholic upbringing, but one she had hardly felt the need to consider since adolescence. There is no God. That was always the patriarchal establishment using religion for social control, not unlike the way politicians use the mainstream media today. There are puppet-masters everywhere, always trying to manipulate human lives and social destinies, she thought while looking over at the dim outline of Phillip nearby.  

She reached by her side and felt for her water bottle, forcing the tepid fluid down her throat. She peered into the black tunnel ahead, wondering, dreaming, doubting, her eyes still heavy from sleep. No future, no past. Then she slipped into a familiar scene that unspooled in her dreams. It happened the same way almost every night—a teenage boy’s face shrouded in a head-wrap. He was smiling at her, the sweet look of youthful innocence amongst a backdrop of palm trees and attendant parrots flitting across the cobalt sky. Then she saw him pull out a pistol from his jacket and a second later his white cotton shirt was sprayed red as he fell backwards onto the dusty road while the flock of birds scattered.

“Carlie, are you there?” a voice whispered from the void, sending a shiver down her neck. She shook her head and forced away the nightmare while wiping a tear from her cheek. “Carlie Simmons—are you there?” She wondered if she was still dreaming and pried her eyelids open. In the distance, she saw something flickering, the ends of its shadows lying between the light and dark.

“I hear someone,” said Eliza, who was tugging on Carlie’s sleeve.

“Yes, I heard it too,” said the professor, pointing to the flashing light.

Carlie sat up, shaking her head and sliding her MP-7 back into her palm. She leaned forward, straining her eyes towards the sound. She pulled out her flashlight and shined it down the corridor towards the distant outlines of a vaguely familiar face that had just come into view.

She stood up and took a deep breath. “Shane—Shane Colter, is that you?”

“Roger that, Carlie. We’re on our way down to you.”

Carlie lowered her weapon and felt the creases in her forehead soften. She yanked her body away from the wall and began moving towards the approaching figures.

Shane and his men arrived to beaming faces as everyone encapsulated them with hugs or handshakes.

Shane embraced Carlie, which caught her by surprise. She half-hugged him and then pulled back.

“I thought we had dinner plans tonight—how come you never called?” he said with a grin.

“Where’s the rest of your rescue detail?” said Eliza, cutting in.

“Ah, we’re it,” said Matias.

“You mean, here in the tunnels, right?”

“No, I mean we are all that is left in the entire city—and maybe in the Southwest,” said Matias.

“What do you mean?” said Nadine. “The entire region has been hit by this?”

“From what we’ve gathered during our brief updates with D.C., this is global and everyone is scrambling for places to hide. All of the major cities have been hit hard and some have even been completely engulfed.”

“Well, why are we waiting here then? Take us to Air Force One,” said Phillip.

“There is no jumbo jet on the tarmac,” said Shane. “We’ve got one helo for the bunch of you and that’s it.”

“What’s your plan, Shane?” said Carlie.

“We’re not going anywhere for a while. There’s a haboob that just moved in over the city. Whether that will last an hour or all day is beyond me, so we need to stay put near the helo so we can be on our merry way when the weather clears.”

“Got it,” said Carlie. “This is the only defensible place in the vicinity where we have been able to lay low without running into any of those things.”

“This location is a little bit of a jog to our LZ,” said Rory. “If we can get back to the top floor by the helo, we can secure that stairwell enough that we should be good to go when the time comes.”

 Shane set his pack down on the floor and pulled out his laptop, scanning the images and route back. “Jesus, there are only two groups of survivors left now and those things are massing in the courtyard above us.”

Shane moved beside Carlie, brushing against her arm. They stared at the surrounding architectural layout of the buildings.

“We are here—just below the pharmacy building,” said Shane, tapping the L-shaped image on the screen. “Our helo is here on this building. When we arrived an hour ago, there were five other clusters of survivors spread around campus. Now there are only you guys and these other two groups, one of which is right next door.”

“What are you thinking—see if we can rescue them and make it up to the helo?” said Carlie.

Shane rubbed the whiskers on his chin. “I have to try. Those creatures move like a swarm of thirsty bees. The people trapped on campus aren’t going to last for more than a few hours. I think the storm may have skewed the creatures’ senses long enough to have bought everyone some time but who knows how long that’ll be the case.”

Phillip had moved behind Carlie and Shane. “Your primary mission, Agent Colter, is to get Ms. Huntington and the rest of us out of here.”

Shane gave half a glance over his shoulder. “And who the hell are you again?”

“Phillip Alderman, with the Department of Justice.”

“So you work for the government too, like me then, eh?”

“That’s right.”

“Yeah, well last I checked the American people are who we both serve.”

“Protocols dictate that the president’s daughter is priority one. Anyone else is of secondary concern.”

Shane stood up and moved up to Phillip. “You’re right—you’re absolutely right. I will adhere to that protocol and get her to safety. As for you, there sure as hell ain’t no protocol dictating that you’re on that same flight. In fact, I may need another shooter to help me rescue those other folks—you can join my team.”

Phillip stepped back, slouching his shoulders. “I’m here only in an advisory capacity to observe Ms. Simmons.”

Shane looked back at Carlie and then shot a hard glare at Phillip. “Ms. Simmons is one of the finest warriors I’ve ever met and is probably the sole reason your innards aren’t painted on the pavement outside.”

“Look, Agent Colter…” Before he could finish a swath of dust broke free from the rafters above and floated down over them. Shane swept his flashlight overhead and could see the floor rumbling, followed by the sound of movement.

Shane turned and glanced back at the laptop with wide eyes. “How did they find us so fast?” he said. They all craned their necks up at the thunderous sound and then Rory pointed to the laptop as a red amorphous mass of creatures poured over the hallway image directly above them.

Chapter 27

“Let’s go,” shouted Carlie, who snatched her pack off the ground and grabbed Eliza’s arm. Shane had already tucked his laptop away and was trotting down the corridor towards the ladder which led up to the pharmacy building.

“Matias, you take the others back up the way we came. Rory and I will hold ’em off here,” Shane shouted.

“You got it, Jefe,” said Matias, who was already trotting with the others into the dark passage. Carlie and Eliza followed behind him while the professor was on their heels along with Nadine and David. Phillip was at the rear.

Shane heard the animalistic shrieks of dozens of creatures above as they began tearing at the floor hatch.

“Toss a canister of tear gas on the floor under the hatch and then let’s retreat back to that first corner,” said Shane. “We’ll snipe the rest as they move forward.”

Rory pulled the pin and flung the device against the cinderblock wall. As the gray smoke spiraled upward, Shane could hear the floor above reverberate. Finally the hatch was ripped off its hinges and numerous heads appeared around the frayed edges, choking on the thick smoke. The two men had already backpedaled down the narrow passageway until they were at the corner. Shane leaned his shoulder against the wall for support and focused his M4’s nightscope on the first distant figures that had fallen down into the tunnel.

Rory was a few feet away, kneeling on one leg. He shot the first creature with a round to the forehead. Shane followed by killing two more creatures. They strained to see any more movement, but the pillar of gray smoke roiling into the light obscured the passage.

“Maybe the gas is overpowering them?” whispered Rory, who continued peering through his scope.

“We need to fall back anyway before this smoke reaches us, so let’s….” Shane squinted hard into his scope as the tunnel entrance above darkened with a slithering mass of creatures pouring into the tunnel like a torrent of muddy water breaking through an embankment.

“Holy shit,” said Rory as he began dumping rounds into the sinuous mass of creatures streaming towards them. Both operators were now furiously discharging their weapons, trying for headshots but taking any hit they could.

“Fall back,” yelled Shane, and Rory got up and sprinted away while Shane kept shooting. After he had emptied his magazine, Shane turned and ran past a utility box and gas meter while reloading. As he neared Rory, who had taken up a position beside a tool cabinet, he began firing down the corridor at the first creatures that had just rounded the corner.

The men used bounding moves until they were nearly back at the stairwell leading to the roof, but the tidal wave of creatures kept coming. “There must be hundreds of ’em,” shouted Shane in between bursts of gunfire.

“We’re not gonna make it to the top with these things on our tail,” said Rory.

Shane stopped beside the blue poly-barrels by the stairwell and steadied his rifle scope on the gas line. “Get up on the landing. I’m gonna blow the sidewall ahead.”

He pulled the trigger and the dark corridor lit up with a hissing sound as the .223 round penetrated the gas line, sending a stream of flame and exploding concrete into the distant tunnel. It impacted the subterranean wall by the corner, ripping apart a massive slab of cement, earth, and overhead beams. With the passageway collapsed, there were only a dozen creatures still running towards them, seemingly unaffected by the blast.

Rory dispatched four of them while Shane continued shooting the remaining stragglers, the last one of which collapsed a few feet from his dusty boots. With the passageway secure, they did tactical reloads on their weapons and continued trotting up the stairs. After they reached the landing of the first floor, Shane leaned over the handrail and scanned the stairwell above for signs of Matias. He could see they were nearly to the top.

Shane paused on the steps and glanced down at the first-floor door.

“What is it?” said Rory. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Hell, yeah, you know we can’t leave that other group here like that.”

“What about Carlie and the others?”

“If there’s a break in the storm, then they’ll be on their way in mere minutes.” He ran up the stairs, taking double steps. “Let’s go check on them first and get some additional mags out of the helo. Then, if the coast is clear, we’ll head back down for the others. I don’t know that we can get everyone on the helo but we can’t just leave ’em there.”

Chapter 28

Carlie was right behind Matias as they stepped out through the rooftop doorway into the howling wind. She could feel the sting of whipping sand on her cheeks and squinted to keep out the debris. The group ran in single file to the helo, each person keeping their head tucked down to keep out the flying grit.

Carlie could make out the helicopter and the edge of the building but the lack of visibility had reduced the world to a curtain of brown sand, obliterating the rest of the campus. She opened the rear door on the right side and pushed Eliza inside, followed by Nadine. David and the professor climbed in next, followed by Phillip. She hopped into the cabin last and forcefully yanked the door closed.

The sound of debris skated across the window as she sat back in the tan bench seat. Matias was up front, glancing over the dashboard.

“Are we gonna be able to lift off in this mess?” said Phillip, who was rubbing his eyes.

“Not a chance, but if we get even a five-minute break, then hell, yeah. Our tac-ops center is only a few miles from here so even a narrow window of relative calm will do.”

The door swung open as Shane and Rory climbed inside. “You boys have a good shooting session down below?” said Carlie.

“We barbecued a bunch of those things with a round into the gas line so I think we stemmed the tide from that direction,” said Shane. “Those creatures were in the hundreds and moving like a bunch of greyhounds after a rabbit. Never seen anything like it.”

“Your man says we’ll be at your HQ as soon as this storm lets up for a few. I want to thank you gentlemen for what you’ve done,” said Phillip.

“You guys will be there soon enough anyway,” said Shane, reaching between Carlie’s legs for a duffle bag. She raised her eyebrows. “Forgive me for being so forward, Ms. Simmons,” he said with a grin. “Me and Rory have to give a presentation on DEA firepower to a group of wayward college kids.”

“You’re not going back down there?” said Phillip. “With all those animals running around, you’ll be cut to pieces.”

“And so will those students—they’re not going to last another hour.”

“Shane, I understand the need to rescue them but those are slim odds with only the two of you,” Carlie said. “Why not wait until after we’ve dropped everyone off at the DEA building and can get back here with some additional firepower?”

Shane and Rory stuffed a dozen magazines into their vests and side pockets and then took out the remaining tear gas canisters.

“I’ve been following this whole nightmare on my laptop and those kids don’t have much time left. We have to do this now.”

Carlie looked at Shane. “We’ll fly back for you as soon as we drop the others off.”

“Is that a promise or are you just flirting with me?” Shane said, looking out the window at the wind, which had calmed down.

Matias leaned back and patted Shane on the shoulder. “This is it, Boss. We may not have a flight window like this for long,” he said, firing up the engine. “Rory, you make sure this caballero and you get back in one piece.”

“I’ll hopefully be in touch in a little while and let you know how many we have inbound back up to this roof,” said Shane.

“Copy that, but I’m running on vapors right now,” said Matias, who was throttling the engine at full speed as the rotors began drowning out their voices. “We may have to look into another exfil alternative.”

Rory flung open the door and jumped out, followed by Shane. As he was closing the door, Carlie leaned forward and grabbed the handle. “Hey, you still owe me a steak dinner, amigo,” she said, shouting into the wind.

He raised two fingers and saluted, then turned and ran towards the stairwell. Carlie watched him disappear below, holding the door open longer than she should have until a blast of wind forced her to slam it shut. She clenched her fist and took a deep breath, looking back at Eliza, then back out to the stairwell. She heard Matias increase the engine speed just as a ferocious gust swept across the roof.

Chapter 29

Shane and Rory retraced their steps until they were at the door for the first floor. They flanked the small window, peering down each side of the room.

“I only see three creatures staggerin’ about in the lobby,” said Rory.

“Yeah, I like these odds a whole lot better,” he said, lowering his hand on the doorknob.

“Alright, you enter first and then we drop those pus-buckets and make our way straight to the nursing building and to the morgue down below.”

Rory held up three fingers and when he folded the last one down, Shane yanked the steel door open. They did a dynamic entry, peeling to either side and dispatching the three creatures that were all clad in nursing uniforms. Then they trotted side by side down the white hallway, glancing at the rooms on either side as they passed.

Chapter 30

As the rotors reached full capacity and the wind subsided, Carlie leaned back and whispered into Matias’ ear. Then she unbuckled and reached under the seat, pulling out the duffle bag Shane had resupplied from earlier.

“What are you doing?” said Nadine.

“I don’t like flying so I’m gonna take a taxi instead.”

“What are you talking about, Carlie?” said Phillip.

She slapped a fresh magazine into Matias’ M4 and racked the slide, ignoring Phillip. Carlie got up and slung the weapons bag over her shoulder and then put her hand on Eliza’s knee. “Stick with Matias and you’ll be in good hands,” she said, looking into Eliza’s eyes and then into the faces of the others. “That goes for all of you. You’re all brave and have made it through this far, so hang tough.”

“What the hell are you doing, Carlie? You can’t leave. You’re assigned to the president’s daughter.”

“Eliza is going to be fine. Shane, Rory, and those other students on the other hand can use some help.”

“Your mission priority is in this helicopter, not down below. If you leave now, you’re finished as an agent.”

“I was done the minute I shook your hand and saw the new face of the agency,” she said, opening the door and hopping onto the gritty asphalt roof. She motioned upward with her thumb to Matias and slammed the door. As she crouched and ran, the helo lifted off and swung to the right, disappearing into the brown-and-blue skyline.

Carlie quickly descended the stairs to the first floor. She emerged in the lobby of the building and saw the floor littered with the bodies of three creatures that had gunshot wounds to the head. Shane’s not a hard guy to follow—he leaves dead bodies everywhere he goes.

She made a left turn, running down another hallway, and then swung to the right and entered a large room with a glass-and-stone walkway at the end. Glancing down, she saw two pairs of red boot tracks soiling the floor and knew she was headed the right way.

Sweat was running along her face and she gulped in a deep breath as she continued moving. As she ran, Carlie stopped suddenly after a hundred feet and glanced back. She could feel the floor rumbling and saw the leaves on a nearby ornamental tree fluttering. A second later, the entire wall of glass lining the front lobby behind her shattered, spraying shards into a silver cloud as hundreds of creatures slammed through the jagged entrance.

Carlie clutched her weapon and bounded along as a flood of biped monsters snapped and shrieked at her, pushing each other to get ahead. She ran down the corridor, making a sharp right turn until she came to a cobblestone-and-glass passage that connected the nursing and pharmacy buildings. She ran through the cylindrical corridor, coming to the stairs leading to mortuary sciences. Carlie paused and removed the sweaty dress jacket that was tied around her waist. She flung it inside an open office. If these things key in on human scent, then this might buy me some time. Only one way to find out.

She locked the office door and headed into the stairwell as a cacophony of piercing shrieks filled the halls behind her.

Chapter 31

Jared poured the last of his water over his head, the droplets running over his blue button-down shirt. Despite the thick walls of the basement structure, the temperature was slowly rising and he knew they would only have a few hours left before people started succumbing to heat exhaustion.

He looked over at Amy, who was curled up asleep on the cold cement floor, and wondered what his life might have been like if he had gone to school instead of spending his years hawking stolen goods, hustling others, and getting shuffled around juvenile detention centers.

His mind was jolted back to the present when he heard thumping against the metal doors. He ran up to the entrance, holding his pistol before his face. The rest of the group was awake and muffled cries of terror could be heard. He raised his hand for the rest of the group to be quiet as he pressed his ear to the warm stainless-steel door.

Barely audible through the thick metal was the voice of a man yelling to open up. “DEA agents…we’re here to get you out.”

Chapter 32

Damn…why does it have to be federal agents again? Jared thought. He turned and looked back at the red-faced group of students, their eyes rollercoaster wild.

His hand hesitated, hovering over the door lock.

“Why don’t you let them in?” said Amy, who was standing behind him.

“Yeah, right. I was just making sure it sounded safe out there,” he said, flipping the latch on the handle and yanking it back. As the door swung inward, Jared saw two heavily armed, scruffy officers enter. The rest of the students rushed forward, encircling the men.

“Are we ever glad to see you,” said Amy.

Jared tucked his pistol into his waist and half-smiled at the two men.

“You the one in charge here?” said Shane, glancing down at the weapon and back up at Jared. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” he replied, seeing Amy roll her eyes.

“Look, we don’t have much time. The creatures outside are massing and you are the only morsels left on campus. We need to get out of here ASAP. How many people you got?”

“There are ten of us,” said Amy while pushing past Jared, stepping on his Nikes.

“Where to? Those things are all over. That’s why we’ve been holed up in here,” said Jared.

“The creatures were spread around earlier in search of victims but you are the last group left on campus so they will be descending on this building as soon as they can locate you.”

“Well, what’s the plan, Sheriff?” said Jared.

“There’s a series of storm drains at the end of the hallway, beneath this sub-level. We’ll head there and make our way underneath the campus, back north towards our facility. We should be able to get within about a quarter of a mile of our tactical operations center. From there, we’re gonna practice our sprinting skills.”

“That’s your plan—crawl through sewage and then play zombie tag on the streets?” said Jared.

“Unless you’d rather join the cadaver museum in here, grab your shit and follow us.”

The rest of the students were crowding around the doorway. Jared turned and grabbed his daypack and then joined the others. Shane was in the hallway as the others pushed their way out of the room.

“From my laptop images, it’s about two hundred yards to the storm drains,” whispered Shane. “Once we’re inside, we’ve got a few twists and turns, which should take a few hours, and then we’ll go over the plan for hitting the streets above. Keep the formation tight and we’ll get through this. Rory will come up the rear,” he said, nodding back to his friend, who was keeping watch on the corridor that they had just come from.

“Boss,” Rory shouted. “I hear movement headed this way. We gotta roll.”

Chapter 33

As Shane stepped into the hallway, he saw Carlie leaping down the last flight of stairs towards them. She was heavily laden with weapons and wore a pale look.

“Run…run…all of you…there are hundreds of them headed this way,” she said.

Shane turned and bolted in the other direction with the others following him as Carlie caught up. “No offense, Carlie, but what the hell are you doing here?”

“You know me—always needing to be in charge. I thought I’d give you some pointers on how to run a proper extraction,” she said in between breaths as they sprinted into the darkness with the light from Shane’s headlamp bouncing off the walls. “I think I lost those things in the tangle of hallways above but probably not for long.”

As they approached a corridor intersection, Shane raised his fist, motioning for the others to stop, then realizing they probably didn’t understand military hand signals. He turned around and lifted his hand. As everyone came to a halt, he shined his headlamp down the corridor at the t-section.

“Here, hold this,” he said, handing his backpack to Amy, who was standing behind him. He removed the laptop and scanned the real-time imagery of their surroundings, noting that the passage to the right led to the storm drains. He panned out, taking in the larger picture of the building and adjoining structures while people pushed in around him to see.

“What is that throbbing red mass by the nursing building?” said Amy, pointing to the screen.

“That’s the flesh-eating mob waiting to get their paws on us. Must be a thousand or more creatures now compared to the size of that glob an hour ago when I checked.”

 “What are they all doing, just waiting there like that?” said Amy.

“Not sure, but a few hours ago there were eleven other groups of survivors on campus and each time the size of the cluster would increase before those things attacked. They must be massing, waiting for another chance to locate us.”

“How will they even find us down here?” said a voice from the back.

“I think they’ve got a heightened sense of smell. I’ve seen them locate others from inside closed buildings,” he said, shutting the computer. “Let’s push on. Then we can get the hell out of here before another feeding frenzy begins.”

Carlie moved up alongside Shane. “Looks like there’s no chance Matias could’ve gotten back to airlift this many people out of here after all.”

“Yep, the storm drains are our only option now,” said Shane.

Chapter 34

As they neared the terminus of the corridor, Shane saw two gray steel doors ahead. They were marked with the words, Water Treatment. The doors were locked so he smashed the knob with the butt of his rifle and swung them open.

He entered and surveyed the wall to the right, which held a row of switches alongside a circuit-breaker box. He flipped up a red handle for the emergency generators and saw the overhead lights flicker on in the room.

“Excelente,” he said, turning off his headlamp and walking into the cavernous chamber. Carlie grabbed a clipboard off the wall and studied the floor plan.

“Rory, slide a metal pipe through the two door handles and then I want everyone to grab tables, chairs, tool cabinets and place them against the door,” said Shane.

As Shane and Carlie were surveying the layout, Jared came over. Shane looked at the two Glocks in Jared’s belt. “So, where did you get the pieces?”

“Off a U.S. Marshal who was dead on Drachman Street, a few blocks from here.”

“How do you know he was a marshal? Those guys mostly use plain clothes and unmarked cars,” said Carlie, analyzing the man’s features.

“Because he had a Tommy-Lee swagger about him, more so than most cops,” Jared said, looking over Shane’s rough beard and tan face. “Not you, though—you look more like a deer hunter out of Deliverance.”

“I thought you said the marshal was dead.”

“Yeah, yeah—he was already dead. A bunch of those things had jumped him and his partner while I was nearby. There was nothing I could do to help.”

Shane just frowned and returned his gaze to the floor plans. “Alright, looks like the tunnel we need is just up ahead. Everybody follow me and we can be on our way.”

Carlie, Jared, and Shane walked beside each other down the room.

“You from Georgia originally?” said Carlie, trying to decipher the man’s accent.

“Louisiana—honest-to-God born-in-the bayou—but not from one of those cousins-marrying-cousins kinda families. No, ma’am, my kin were royalty before the war, but then, that’s probably what you were noticing when I saw you checking me out back there.”

“Oh, please.” Carlie laughed—a sound she hadn’t heard in a long time. “You need some water. The mind gets squirrely when a person gets dehydrated.”

Before Jared could reply, the sound of thumping on the metal doors behind them echoed off the cement walls of the water treatment facility.

“Seems like we’re always just barely one step ahead of those things,” said Shane.

Chapter 35

When they reached the storm drain, Shane and four others twisted off the rusty manhole cover. It was three feet in diameter and weighed two-hundred pounds. They slid it to the side and let it slam on the ground. The sound of fast-moving water emanated from the tunnel below.

Shane peered inside and saw a torrent of knee-deep water racing through the cylindrical passage. He leaned back and scratched his head while shooting a glance at Carlie, who was raising her eyebrows.

“Was this part of your plan, skipper?” said Jared.

“The thunderstorm up top must have been more severe than I thought to have moved all this water through here,” Shane said.

Shane stood with his arms folded while Amy pushed her way forward to look inside the entrance. “Where does this lead again?” she said.

“South,” said Shane.

“To an actual place away from these onion-eyed freaks or into the open desert with cougars and snakes?” said Jared.

“Kill the sarcasm before you spook the others.”

“I kept the others alive this long, Wyatt Earp.”

“Like hell—you’d still be out on the streets if I hadn’t let you in a few hours ago,” said Amy.

“And you’ve both done a bang-up job, so let’s cowboy on and get the fuck out of here already,” said Shane, motioning to Bird Beak and Floor Mop at the front. “Let’s go. The water ain’t getting any lower. This is our only way out.”

The two students peered inside while the rest of the students huddled around the opening, whispering their concerns to each other.

“Those things will be through those doors any time, boss,” shouted Rory, who was running back from the main chamber.

“Look, if you guys hop in there, you’ll at least have a fighting chance. This drain heads away from the city so you should end up in the undeveloped regions a mile or two from campus. If you stay here there’s no chance—it’s over.”

The metal doors in the distance gave way, crashing to the ground as the first wave of creatures began pouring through the water treatment room, their piercing shrieks echoing off the cement walls. 

Chapter 36

Carlie and Rory stood side by side with their weapons raised while Shane began getting the others into the drain. First to go were Tex-Mex and Chatty Cathy, followed by Bird Beak, whom Shane had to push in.

As Carlie and Rory began shooting, the creatures flooded in through the room. The staccato of gunfire echoed off the narrow confines of the chamber. Within minutes, a pile of spent brass began accumulating on the dusty floor beside both shooters and a hazy ribbon of gun smoke wafted along the ceiling. As the body count rose, the frenzied beasts climbed over the growing mound of fallen carcasses choking the path. Replacing the magazine in her M4, Carlie shot a one-armed maintenance worker whose head looked like a moldy scarecrow. She leaned back towards Shane, shouting above the gunfire. “We’re almost out of space in here—they’re closing in fast.”

“Copy that. Only a few more people left to go,” said Shane, who had just finished helping Floor Mop into the storm drain.

Jared looked back with a crooked smile at Shane. “Maybe all the firepower has got those things demoralized.”

“OK, Jared, get on the ready line—you’re next,” Shane said, glancing down at Jared’s wrist, and at the exposed handcuff.

“What if I get E coli or something—I haven’t had a tetanus shot in years,” Jared said coyly.

“This is a river trip straight to hell—the rapids alone will probably kill you,” said Shane. “Move it or I’ll kick your ass in myself.”

“You gotta work on your persuasion skills a little more,” Jared said, and then plunged into the frothy mess below.

As Shane unslung his rifle and turned to fix his sights on an approaching creature, he heard the sound of the ceiling vent above being smashed. Before he could react, the mesh screen broke free and a brutish figure clad in a soiled baseball jersey crashed down on Rory. It mauled him on the neck and then lunged at his face. Carlie turned and kicked it in the throat, sending it backwards, and then shot it twice in the head.

Shane rushed forward, pulling a bandanna out of his vest pocket and swabbing the seeping wound. Part of Rory’s muscle was torn out and two deep lacerations ran down his right cheek.  Carlie continued holding the perimeter while slapping in her last magazine.

Rory was bleeding heavily from the gash and Shane could see his friend’s eyes darting around as rivulets of arterial blood ran down onto his pants. “You and Carlie better go. I got this,” muttered Rory, holding the soiled bandanna against his neck and motioning for Shane to head into the storm drain.

“No, we’re going together or not at all,” said Shane.

“That ain’t how this poker game is gonna play out, amigo, and you know it. I’m done for but you two can still get out. Now go,” he said, shoving Shane back and removing a grenade from his vest. Shane stood up and staggered back to the storm drain, looking into the determined eyes of his friend.

Carlie finished her last round and tossed the M4 on the ground, removing her pistol. She was retreating in a half-squat as more creatures slithered over the carcasses before them. She reluctantly headed to the drain, crouching opposite Shane, both of them peering into the foamy river below and then glancing back up at the oncoming horde.

Shane looked at Rory, who let out a contorted grin. “Go, my friend. I’ll hold the line,” he said, pulling the pin on the grenade and tossing it into the crowd that was nearly upon him.

Shane grabbed Carlie’s hand, pushing her, then jumped in behind as the room ignited in a barrage of cement and flying limbs.

Chapter 37

The silty water rushed over Carlie as they were swept through the frigid torrent. Only the intermittent light from Shane’s headlamp illuminated the cement passage ahead as he struggled to keep his head above the waves.

They both bobbed along in the swift current, slamming against the narrow sides and along the rough bottom. Carlie felt like she was reliving her swift-water rescue training in Florida, except that this water reeked of city streets and the cement underneath kept painfully smacking her tailbone. She focused on the flickering images of Shane’s headlamp until she saw the circular disk of white light ahead where the storm drain ended in the desert. She braced for the impact, futilely attempting to use her shoes as brakes on the slick surface. Carlie felt Shane’s boots colliding with her back as the force of the water spewed them out of the tunnel. She shot forward eight feet into an algae-filled pond of silt and debris, thrusting her forearms across her face like a boxer and slamming forward into the quagmire.

She went under for a second and then quickly forced herself up from the putrescent pool. Carlie stood up, immediately sinking into the silty mess until the sand was at knee level. In the early morning light, she could make out the rest of the group scattered around, helping each other out of the quagmire. Carlie could feel the sand impacted in her ears and shook her head violently, sending debris showering down upon Shane.

“Woman, you look just like I feel,” he said, wiping the grime off his face and removing a line of silt from below his right eye.

Carlie shrugged and then studied the landscape around them. To her rear was the large aqueduct they had emerged from below a cement embankment by a two-lane road. To the right and left was an immense drainage basin whose bottom was lined with pea gravel, with the occasional cattail rearing its columnar form.

In the distance before her was a row of jagged mountains of sandstone that rose like an earthen backbone along the southern horizon. Saguaro cacti peppered the low desert leading up to the mountain range, standing like green sentinels. The only movement in the region was from the crusty bunch of students around her. The thunderstorm behind them was pushing away, miles to the north, over the Santa Catalina Mountains.

“You know where we are, don’t you?” said Shane, still smacking the sand off his vest.

“Yeah, I used to drive by this place on the way to our old shooting range.”

“This is also where Rory and I apprehended that bandido, El Gato Blanco, who was running dope through southern Tucson a few years back. That bastard moved like a fucking cheetah, and it was only this quicksand that slowed him down long enough for us to catch him.”

“That’s right, I remember now—’cause I had just met you then on my way back from the range. You were walking up the road with that guy still in cuffs. You really smelled bad—that was not a good first impression.”

“I thought you liked dirty guys,” Shane said. Carlie knew him enough to know that his humor was an attempt at trying not to let his anguish over his friend’s death show.

“Shane, I’m sorry about Rory. I know you two were good friends.”

“Yeah, me too…me too. He was a helluva guy to have watching your six.”

Carlie’s face softened and she realized how tense she had been. She felt a tiny thread of calm slip over her as the sunlight washed over her face. Then she saw Jared stagger over.

“I’m feeling a little like Tom Hanks in Castaway, only there ain’t no beach with coconuts,” he said, flicking a clump of silt off his soggy leather daypack. “Now what? You gonna lead us through the desert to the Promised Land?” he said, looking at Shane and then over to Carlie.

Carlie ignored him and pulled out her pistol to inspect it. She moved forward a few feet, out of the muck. “Everyone regroup over here by the embankment so we can do a headcount and go over a plan.”

As she walked, she deftly removed the slide of the Sig pistol and began blowing the crud out of the interior. She reached inside her vest and pulled out a piece of gauze from her trauma kit and tore open the package. Then Carlie began slowly flicking out the grit and field cleaning the rest of the pistol. Shane was performing the same task as they walked along.

When Carlie arrived at the cement incline that comprised the embankment, she lay the pistol down and finished the rest of the field expedient cleaning. As the others gathered around, she quickly emptied her remaining magazines of bullets and dried them, then restored everything assembly-line fashion and with the finesse of a skilled pit-crew worker tackling a race car.

She looked up into a crowd of scared faces veneered with grime. “These twenty-four hours probably aren’t what you all had planned out when you woke up yesterday but you’ve made it this far because you’ve been resourceful. We need to find a defensible spot where we can hole up for a while until a helicopter can get in to rescue us.”

“Nice speech, Sarah Connor, but in case you haven’t noticed we’re stuck out in the open with no weapons except our little pistolas,” said Jared. “I say we head up to the road, shanghai some vehicles, and get the hell out of here.”

Bird Beak and Floor Mop chimed in support of Jared and he arched his shoulders back.

“Look, we appreciate what you did for us back there but we ain’t in your posse,” Jared said, turning to the others behind him. “If you want to come with me and snag a truck, we’ll be on our way. If not then I bid you farewell,” he said, tilting his chin up.

“Hold up, tough guy,” said Shane, who had just slapped a clean magazine back into his pistol. “You wanna go, then go, but before the others head off with you, maybe you should tell them what they’re in for, taking a road trip with a felon.” He glanced down at Jared’s wrist. “Go on—show ’em that stainless-steel bracelet you got from when you escaped from the U.S. Marshals—I mean, that’s your story, isn’t it?”

Jared narrowed his eyes at Shane and then looked around at the others staring at him as he tried to retract his wrist into his soggy shirt sleeve. Then his face grew taut as the color flushed in his cheeks. “Time for your interrogation later, Hoss—we got company,” he said, pointing behind Shane and the others.

“Yeah, I’m not buying the look-over-the-shoulder-at-the-approaching-zombie routine, Jared.”

“No—he’s right,” shouted Tex-Mex. “Those things are coming.”

“Aw, shit—didn’t we just leave this party?” said Shane, turning to see a group of straggling creatures moving through the open desert in the distance.

Chapter 38

“Are you sure you’re alright?” said President Huntington into the radio receiver.

“Yes, just a few scrapes but I’ll be fine,” said Eliza, who was sitting under the shade of the staircase at the DEA’s tactical-ops center in downtown Tucson.

“Two army helicopters will be arriving at your location shortly and then you’ll be flown to a facility in New Mexico.”

“What about the others? Carlie—the Secret Service agent who was with me—and her DEA friends? They are still stuck at the university.”

“Phillip informed me of what happened and of Agent Simmons’ conduct in leaving you. There’s nothing I can do at this point. She made her decision.”

“She left after I was safely on board the helicopter. If it wasn’t for her, I would have died last night. She only went back for her friends after my safety was assured.”

“I know you feel a sense of gratitude for what she did but your safe return is my main concern right now. If we had assets to spare then I would have more options, but she is on her own. Now please put Agent Matias back on the line so we can discuss your departure.”

Eliza was about to speak when she was interrupted by Phillip, who grabbed the radio from her. Phillip handed it over to Matias, who reluctantly accepted it. Matias walked away while speaking with the president’s advisor about the extraction plan.

“What the hell are you doing, Phillip?” said Eliza, standing up beside the metal desk. “You’re not in charge here.”

“Actually I am, since Carlie decided to forego her sworn duties. Plus I hold a higher federal post than Matias.”

“If you had any balls, you would have stayed behind to help her instead of coming back here. I didn’t see you even lift a finger when she decided to stay and fight.”

“That’s because I know what my duties are, Ms. Huntington. As for Agent Simmons, she’s finished in the Secret Service.”

Eliza folded her arms. “Hello—the world is screwed, in case you hadn’t noticed. Do you think that matters anymore?”

“It will to men like your father, trust me.”

Matias came back and placed the radio on the desk. “The army helos will be here in ninety minutes and then you can be on your way, Ms. Huntington.”

“It’s Eliza—can we skip all these absurd formalities? I’m just like anyone else. I always have been,” she said, leaning back against the wall. “And what about you, Matias, aren’t you coming with us?”

“I’ll let you know when the time comes,” he said, grabbing a pair of binoculars off a shelf. “Right now, I’m going back up top to see if I can spot any of the others on the streets. I lost radio contact with Shane, so who knows where they are right now.”

Chapter 39

As more saggy-faced creatures began emerging from the surrounding desert, Carlie motioned to the others to climb out of the drainage to the two-lane highway.

“Looks like you get your wish after all,” said Carlie to Jared, who was scrambling up the cement incline next to her.

“If I had my wish, I’d like to see you out of that guy suit and in a nice red floral-print dress. You would look mighty fine.”

“Pff,” Carlie sputtered out, not sure if she had just been complimented or objectified.

The college students along with Jared, Carlie, and Shane sprinted up the concrete and over the guardrail. “Everybody fan out and look for a few vehicles that look functional and have keys inside,” said Carlie.

Each person peered into the scattered assemblage of abandoned vehicles that peppered the half-mile of highway. Most of the cars and trucks were mangled from collisions while others had their windows smashed out while serpentine streaks of blood colored the nearby pavement. Carlie kept looking over her shoulder at the incoming group of creatures beelining for their location. What had started out as a dozen stragglers was now a group of over forty disheveled individuals struggling through the soupy mess of sand and water below.

Carlie turned and saw Jared trotting down the road towards a large pastry truck and watched him cautiously slide his head inside the open door.

Shane shouted from behind her. “We’ve got movement now on the other side of the highway,” he said, pointing to the right, where a mass of fifty or so creatures were bounding towards them.

“We’re out of time,” Carlie whispered to herself as she glanced inside a red Subaru. She found the keys still intact and jumped into the driver’s seat. She began cranking on the ignition but it only sputtered. She kept furiously slamming the key forward while grinding her teeth. Then she heard the exhilarating roar of an engine and turned to see the pastry truck a hundred yards away beginning to move. Jared was inside and pulling forward, away from the others.

“Damn that filthy snake,” she said, hopping out of the Subaru and running down the blacktop. Creatures were scrambling up the embankments in greater numbers. As one crested the guardrail to her left, Carlie slowed momentarily to strike it in the head with the butt of her pistol, sending it careening backwards into the muck below.

“Let’s go. Everyone run this way,” said Shane, who had fallen in behind Carlie. The rest of the students began their circuitous route through the tangle of vehicles as the highway began filling with creatures pouring in from the south.

They were sprinting towards the pastry truck, which was smashing vehicles out of its way along the bridge ahead when they saw it stop and the reverse lights go on. The truck sped backwards, quickly coming to a halt before an overturned gold Jeep. The rear double doors flung open as Jared stood with a nervous grin, waving people to him.

“Hurry…hurry,” he said, grabbing arms and yanking people onto the heaps of smashed donuts and lemon pies littering the floor.

Carlie stopped by the rear bumper as she yelled at the last stragglers moving along the blacktop. She and Shane began selectively taking headshots at the creatures who were gaining ground. “I’ve only got the rounds in this one magazine and then I’m dry,” she shouted.

“Yeah, me too, and I’d rather not stick around to practice my Thai kickboxing skills.”

As Floor Mop was running frantically to catch up he stepped on a piece of jagged metal with his bare foot and tottered over. He was quickly overtaken from all sides by six creatures, which pulled his limbs off and began fighting over the appendages.

As Amy leapt onto the rear of the truck, Carlie tapped Shane on the shoulder. “Let’s go,” she said as they bolted for the slowly moving truck which Jared had begun driving forward, stopping for a moment to flick a piece of apple pie from his Nikes.

They reached up into the waiting hands of students and climbed on board the slippery mess of pulverized fruit pies, then slammed the doors. Carlie gulped down several breaths and peered out the rear window. She grabbed onto the side of a metal shelf as the truck increased its speed. The bobbing heads of their pursuers on the road behind them faded into the tawny backdrop of sand dunes.

Carlie holstered her pistol and did a quick headcount. “Looks like everybody else made it, amazingly enough.”

Shane was busy wiping the sticky conglomeration of apple and cherry pie off his fingers while the two college guys began tearing into boxes of doughnuts. Carlie made her way forward, stepping over the clump of weary students who were covered in a medley of sweat and pie crust until she made her way to the passenger’s seat.

Jared glanced over at her. “Not too shabby a rescue, eh? Now, it’s me saving your ass.”

Carlie smirked. “For a second there, I thought you were gonna leave us back there.”

“Then who would help me eat all these goodies in back,” he said, weaving past an overturned hay truck with its bales spread like dominoes along the road.

“So, you have a conscience after all.”

“Look, I don’t give a packrat’s ass what you or Sheriff Billy Bob think of me. I just want to get out of this godforsaken state of cactus-eaters and get back home.”

“For right now, just keep driving east. We’ve got enough fuel to make it to the town of Benson and hopefully that ranching community hasn’t been hit too hard by all this.”

“Aye, aye, el Capitan.”

“And nice job on locating a vehicle with the keys still intact,” she said, looking down at the empty ignition switch, where two red and blue wires were coiled together.

Jared scratched his scruffy chin. “Yeah, well, we all have our hidden talents.”

Chapter 40

“The helos from New Mexico will be here in a few minutes,” said Matias, whose face looked strained. He grabbed his rifle off the table and walked to the stairs. “We need to get up to the roof now.”

Nadine and David were stuffing water bottles into their packs while the professor had just finished an MRE packet.

“And what about Carlie and your friends? Aren’t you going to go back for them?” said Eliza as she and the others followed.

“Their heat signatures disappeared off my computer so either they went further underground or they…” He paused, rubbing the whiskers on his chin as he continued walking up the steps. “My helo is nearly out of fuel and any trip on the streets below would be suicide. I don’t plan on letting my friends’ sacrifice to save you, if that’s what it becomes, be in vain.”

“They all knew the price for their actions,” Phillip quickly interjected. “That fellow Shane and his subordinate seemed more than capable of handling whatever was thrown at them. From what I know of Carlie, her training is exemplary—it’s only her professional conduct that is questionable. We can only wish them the best.”

“I didn’t see you itching to hop off the helicopter and rush to save the others,” said Nadine.

“You know, as far as I recall, you and your friend only have a ticket out of here because you both happened to be in the right place at the right time,” said Phillip.

“No, we are here because of Carlie and the others, you pompous ass,” she said, swinging her hands down by her sides. “What role you play other than being a walking ad for a men’s fashion magazine is beyond me.”

“There’s little point in arguing,” said Matias, who kept peering up the stairs to make sure the route was clear. “The way I see it, the human world just got a whole lot smaller and we’re going to have to work together like never before.”

As they crested the last floor, Matias scanned the rooftop through the small window on the exit door. “There they are, one minute out,” he said, opening the door as the two army helicopters came into view.

They stepped out into the blast furnace of heat and searing sunlight. Matias donned the sunglasses dangling off his neck and kept his M4 in a low-ready position, scanning to the right and left. A CH-47 Chinook landed while the AH-6 Little Bird attack helicopter remained in the air for cover support.

The massive Chinook set down twenty yards from the stairwell. Two armed soldiers jumped out from either side of the lead helo and shuffled forward in a low crouch, waving to the group to move up.

Phillip grabbed Eliza’s arm and pulled on her sleeve but she pushed his hand way, glaring at him. As they entered the helo, Eliza, the professor and Phillip sat at the rear and Matias, Nadine, and David climbed aboard near the front.

Matias gave the thumbs-up to the pilot then leaned forward to introduce himself. “That’s it. There are only six of us, though I’d like it if you could swing to the southeast a mile from here over the university. Some of my fellow operators remained behind there trying to rescue a group of students.”

The stocky pilot leaned back, yelling above the rotor wash. “Sorry, but my orders are clear—get the girl and go.”

“It’s a twenty-second detour, Chief. You can arc that way momentarily and then sweep north without violating your mission parameters.”

Phillip leaned forward, pushing his way past Matias. “Chief, I’m the ranking agent here, associated with the Secret Service. You said you have your orders. I would advise you to follow them and get Ms. Huntington to safety.”

The pilot glanced at the other helo and gave the hand signal to depart, then he swung back to Matias with a frown. “You know how this works, Agent Matias,” the chief said with a nod, then looked back at Phillip with a glare.

The helos lifted off and headed north. Matias sank into his seat and felt the blood rush out of his face. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his dusty pants and interlacing his fingers while slightly lowering his head. He looked up at Eliza, who was staring out the window. Matias thought of how he and his entire team had been enjoying cold beers together twenty-four hours earlier. He raised his head and looked out at the jagged expanse of mountains north towards Phoenix, wondering if his wife and kids were safe. If they had only been closer he may have had a chance at making it back to them.  

As these images ran through his head, the faint discussion between the co-pilot and the chief entered his consciousness. Matias tilted his head back slightly to hear the conversation.

“Sir, I’ve got a faint GPS tracking beacon coming in on the radar about eight miles to the southeast,” said the thin man.

“What could that be?” said the chief. “We don’t have any ground elements in place down there.”

“It looks like one signal. The pace indicates it’s in a moving vehicle.”

The chief leaned back. “Agent Matias, could that be one of your guys down below?”

“Negative, none of us had personal location beacons on us…” He paused, squinting at the blip on the radar screen and out to the barren desert to the right. He shot a glance back at Phillip, who quickly averted his eyes and folded his arms in front of his chest.

“But Carlie must,” Matias said, with his jaw clenched. “I remember her saying that some Secret Service agents have sub-dermal tracking devices,” he said again, studying Phillip’s rigid facial features and dawdling eyes.

Matias got out of his seat and grabbed Phillip by the shirt collar. “You knew all along that she could be tracked and we could locate them, you chingada!”

Phillip raised his hands, looking at the two other soldiers sitting across from him for help. “It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Phillip muttered. “Eliza is the mission objective. Carlie, whatever I thought of her relative skills, knew she was expendable from the moment she signed the dotted line on her application. Besides, do you think the president would have welcomed her with open arms after she abandoned his daughter back there?”

“Shut up, Phillip,” said Eliza, who was gripping her knees. “I’ve had it with everybody putting me ahead of the others. If Carlie’s down there, then we need to get her out.”

Matias shoved Phillip back against his seat and turned to the front, inserting himself between the pilot and the second-in-command. “Chief, those are my people down there, one DEA and the other Secret Service, whose signal you’re picking up. They’ve probably got a dozen college kids with ’em too.”

Phillip shouted from the rear. “Chief, you have your orders and this grunt—” He paused, looking at the other soldiers. “No offense to you fellows. Matias here can’t make command decisions. He’s just a DEA officer.”

“Chief, as someone who has been in the shit before, I know you’d never leave your people behind to die. As one operator to another, I’m asking you to disregard orders and veer to the southeast to extract my fellow teammates. Any fallout from this will be on my shoulders. You can even say I had a gun to your head.”

Chapter 41

As Jared drove the pastry truck along the abandoned highway, Carlie scanned the road ahead while watching the creatures behind them fade in the distance. “It seems odd that in the past mile since we left the storm drain back there we haven’t come across any abandoned vehicles going this way east,” she said.

“Maybe they all got out in time and are safely tucked away in the rancherias to the south,” said Shane, who was standing between the two front seats.

“Yeah, or maybe they all got munched on by those broccoli-faced freaks back there,” said Jared. “Maybe we’re it—all that’s left in the world. The new masters of our planet,” he said, smiling at Carlie, who sneered and shook her head.

“You don’t strike me as a master—more like a court jester,” said Shane.

Jared clamped his hands tighter on the steering wheel until they were white. “You know, Deputy Dawg, the town of Tombstone is just a few miles to the south if you’re in need of a street where you can strut your bow-legged walk.”

“Yeah, maybe you should go there and apply for the job of town drunk. I hear they’re looking for disheveled two-bit losers for their cowboy shootouts. Maybe you can even find a blacksmith there to remove that bracelet of yours.”

“Alright, enough, you two,” said Carlie, who was squinting into the distance straight ahead. The van moved up a hill and then descended, which revealed a stretch of road ahead. “Hmm, I think I just figured out why this route has had so little traffic.”

Shane hunched forward over Carlie’s shoulder. “Damn, are you kidding me?”

The three of them gazed in shock at the sight ahead as the rest of the group in the back of the van pushed forward to see. Jared slowed the vehicle until they were nearly at the edge of a massive canyon whose bridge was choked with a tipped-over eighteen wheeler that had evidently caught on fire. Its smoldering bulk blocked the entire width of the two-lane bridge.

Jared stopped the van as everyone climbed out to look at the burnt wreckage. Chrome and metal fragments were spread out along the small bridge. One half of a charred corpse was splayed out on the yellow centerline a few feet from the driver’s door.

Carlie walked over and stared down into the sheer two-hundred-foot walls of the redrock canyon then back out along the direction they had just come from. Miles of open sand dunes interspersed with the occasional Saguaro cactus rolled out on either side of the highway. Only a distant mountain peak to the northeast provided any visual relief from the monotonous terrain.

“Well, as I see it we have two options. We go back the way we came and find another way around the city or we locate a foot trail down into this canyon and trek up the other side. Then we can push on to a ranch and hope we find one that’s still intact.”

She wiped the sweat from her brow with a shirt sleeve. The humidity from the recent storm had turned their surroundings into a tropical furnace.  “I’m going to look in the van and see if there’s any water. That’ll be a major factor in what we do from here.”

“We need to get on the move fast,” said Shane. “Those things weren’t very far behind us and if they pick up our scent, this is going to be our Alamo.”

“Why don’t you take a few people with you to the top of the hill we just descended and keep an eye out for movement while I gather up any supplies in the van,” said Carlie.

Shane went back over to the group. “Jared and Amy, come with me up the hill and bring any weapons you can find.”

“Why, the good sheriff wants us to accompany him on a nature walk,” said Jared.

“Shut up already,” replied Amy, who was rolling down her shirt sleeves to provide protection from the sun.

As the three of them walked up the road, Carlie gathered the others around her. “I want each of you to go through all the compartments inside the van and pull out any food, water, tools—anything that we can use, should we have to leave here in a hurry.”

The students got busy and formed a fire line to pass items out of the rig. Carlie walked back to the edge of the canyon and began studying the sandstone walls for any sign of a faint animal trail that led down. She paused along the gravel edge, and then she tilted her head up to the north, listening to a faint droning sound that resembled a helicopter. “Can’t be,” she whispered while placing one hand above her eyes to cut the sunlight.

The noise grew louder and she could see two black shapes along the horizon, flying low over the sand dunes. “It is—they’re coming for us, finally!”

She yelled towards the van. “Our search team has arrived. Grab any belongings and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Carlie started yelling up the road to Shane but he was too far away to hear. As she started walking towards the three of them, they abruptly turned from their squatting position on the highway and began bounding downhill, with Shane waving his hands frantically.

“Ugh…that can’t be good,” she muttered. “There are no breaks in today’s schedule.”

Chapter 42

“I’ve got a white van on the road ahead just before that bridge,” said the chief.

“I see it,” Matias said. “Looks like there’s a cluster of people gathered around the canyon.”

“And there’s an army of tangos headed along the highway to the west, about five hundred meters out,” said the second-in-command.

Matias peered to his right and could see what resembled a swarm of fire ants moving along the blacktop in the direction of the van.

“How long until we’re there?” he said.

“Barely in time to stow and go,” replied the chief. “This is gonna be down to the wire,” he called over to the AH-6 attack helicopter flying parallel to them. “I need you to lay down cover fire over that mob of creatures pouring in from the west, do you copy?”

The attack helo beside them began veering off to the right. “Roger that, sir. We’re on it,” replied a voice over the speaker.

As the Chinook began descending, the lean soldier sitting next to Matias slid open the side door and stood with his rifle at low-ready. They were about three hundred yards away from the van when Matias spotted Shane running down the road with two other people following him.

When the helo set down amidst a swirl of beige sand, Carlie ran up to the entrance and began helping people inside. “I thought you might be tired of the scenery out here,” said Matias.

She looked up at him, her mouth widening as she tore off her sunglasses. “Que bueno verte, amigo. Now that’s a face I never thought I’d see again,” she yelled out above the rotor wash.

Matias smiled and then shot his gaze over Carlie’s shoulder. He nodded towards Shane, who was now in a full sprint with Jared behind him and Amy trailing last. The attack helicopter flew to the rear of the fleeing trio and began unleashing rounds from its two mini-guns.

Most of the lead creatures were cut in half by the firepower but some managed to get through the hail of bullets and continued their pursuit. Shane was at the lead when his right ankle hit a small depression in the road and he crumpled, rolling forward along the pavement and scraping his head. He continued to somersault until he came to a halt before a clump of cacti. Jared was directly behind him and ran past him but then stopped and turned around. Jared yanked both of his dormant Glocks from his belt and began shooting wildly at the oncoming attackers. Out of twenty-four rounds, only two hit their intended target—the head of a limping cowboy with a bent ankle that was nearly upon Shane. Jared threw down the smoking Glocks and grabbed Shane’s vest, yanking him up. Amy came up alongside them and threw her arm around Shane’s waist as the three of them hobbled forward. Nine creatures were quickly closing in behind them.

The two soldiers back at the helo began firing. Carlie grabbed an M4 from the cabin and kneeled down beside the landing bar while Matias hopped out alongside her. They both commenced sniping the crazed assailants who were within inches of reaching Jared. Carlie shot the last one, causing a mist of blood to spray over Jared’s neck.

The swirling sand from the helo rotors created a mini dust storm that encapsulated the area, making it difficult to discern if there were more creatures coming. As the exhausted trio approached, Carlie lowered her rifle and ran forward to help Shane. His right temple had a patch of road rash that was bleeding heavily and both his palms were lacerated. She reached out and helped him get on board the helo while Matias and the two soldiers kneeled beside each other with their weapons fixed on the veil of brown before them.

After Shane was inside, Amy climbed on board and collapsed on the bench next to Nadine. As Jared climbed into the cabin, Carlie extended her hand. “There just might be a decent guy inside of you after all,” she said, helping him on board.

“Sorry, but I can’t hear you over the sound of how awesome I am,” Jared said, smiling like a jack-o-lantern.

“Ah, yeah, never mind,” she replied.

Jared sat down, dropping his leather daypack between his legs. He was sitting across from Amy and gave her a crooked smile, which caused his large dimple to show. Jared grabbed a bottle of water and poured it over his head while gleefully shaking himself, spraying Phillip in the process.

With Matias and the two soldiers inside, the helo lifted off and veered to the north. Carlie peered out the window and saw close to a thousand mangled bodies littering the highway below, with more creatures still pouring in from the west. How could there be that many of them?

As they continued north, Carlie tore open the first-aid kit mounted on the cabin wall behind her and leaned forward to clean up Shane, who was leaning his head back onto the bench. She grasped his hand while rubbing an alcohol pad over his head abrasion. In between grimaces, he managed a half-smile and stuttered out, “Is this what it takes to get a beautiful Secret Service agent to go soft on me?”

She shook her head while dabbing the wound. “Just be quiet.”

Carlie leaned back to reach for the gauze and felt someone place it in her hand. She looked up and saw Eliza beside her. “Carlie…I’m sorry for the way I’ve always acted towards you and the other agents—you are a total badass.”

Before she could respond, Carlie heard Jared’s shrill voice cut in. “Hey, you two ladies, can one of you sisters patch up my boo-boos as well?”

Carlie and Eliza both turned and glared at Jared, who began withdrawing his toothy grin. “Just funning, y’all. No worries here. I can manage on my own.”

“You’ll get used to him after a while…” said Amy, who sat with her arms folded while scowling at Jared. “…like a dog gets used to a tick in its ear.”

As the helos continued across the rocky expanse of desert, the chief leaned back. “We’ll be at the White Sands Missile Range in two hours, so settle in and get some rest.”

“We are in your debt, Chief,” said Shane.

“You can thank Agent Matias. He nearly put a gun to my head,” the chief said, nodding to Matias, who tried to contain a chuckle.

Carlie looked at the tired faces around her and thought of how the morning before she had just finished the shooting match with all her colleagues and had been so intent on plotting her next career move. She settled into the seat beside Shane and pressed her head back into the wall, letting out a constricted breath that was searing her chest.

 She didn’t know what disciplinary action, if any, would be waiting for her upon arrival at White Sands. Frankly, she didn’t care. Everything she had built her life upon in the last seven years felt like it had been swept away with the coming of dawn. Carlie just wanted to curl up alone in a quiet room. She didn’t want to waste any more of her life’s precious energy watching over one single person because they were deemed bureaucratically important, or in maintaining the façade of another unsavory politician’s media image for posterity.

Now all that mattered were the handful of friends in her midst and the hope of reuniting with her family along the difficult road ahead. She felt directionless and stared at the empty desert. Her tense shoulder muscles unfurled and she found herself being drawn into the monotonous hum of the rotors. Her eyes grew heavy. She exhaled and drifted off into a deep rest as the helicopter flew over the serrated contours of the landscape below.

Volume Two in the Carlie Simmons Post-Apocalyptic Series is Now Available on Kindle.

In Too Deep is the nailbiting sequel to Until Morning Comes and picks up immediately after the first novel. Approximately 198 pages.

Thank you for reading this book. You can get updates on future releases and my free, non-fiction survival eBooks by signing up at the JTSawyer website.

About the Author

JT Sawyer is the pen name for Tony Nester. Tony is a fulltime survival instructor and the author of numerous non-fiction books and DVDs on survival. His training school is the primary provider for the Military Special Operations community and he has served as a consultant for the NTSB, FAA, Travel Channel, New York Times, Outside Magazine, and the film Into the Wild. For more information, visit apathways.com.

Post-Apocalyptic Fiction by JT Sawyer

First Wave

The Longest Day

No Place to Hide

Hell Week

Non-Fiction Survival Books by Tony Nester

Survival Gear You Can Live With

A Vehicle Survival Kit You Can Live With

Bug-Out Gear for Travelers

When the Grid Goes Down: Disaster Gear and Survival Preparations for Making Your Home Self-Reliant

The Modern Hunter-Gatherer: A Practical Guide to Living Off the Land

Bushcraft Tips & Tools