True Night
Title: True Night, Conclusion
Author name: frostian
Artist name: thruterryseyes
Genre: rps
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language and violence
Word count: ~49k
Warnings: Artistic license taken and abused.
Summary: Jared and Jensen take a road trip to Seattle only to witness what looks like the Apocalypse overwhelm the city. They manage to escape to an island only to discover the situation on Santos to be worse than Seattle. But they cannot leave, as the infected roam freely and the military has set up blockades around the island. Faced with immeasurable horror and growing desperation Jared and Jensen plan an escape, not only to save themselves but the sick who are quickly turning into homicidal psychopaths.
Disclaimer: So much fiction, it could be spotted from an orbiting satellite!
Federal Way, Washington
“Sir?” Private Linton stood ramrod straight in front of his Sergeant; to an untrained eye looking like the perfect example of a soldier at attention.
But Sergeant Reid knew Linton since basic training and still a virgin. And the boy was next to a nervous breakdown. “What is it?”
“We … Thompson … sir, Thompson got a message from Spera.”
Reid didn’t bother to mask his shock. “What? How?”
“The radio, sir.”
“Wait a minute - how did Spera get hold of a radio station?”
“Sir, the ham radio. Thompson’s been playin…”
“I thought there were strict orders not to fuck around with any outside communication!” Reid roared, even though privately he was glad his favorite grease monkey managed to survive from falling out of a fucking helicopter while on assignment.
“Thompson was just listening, sir,” Linton explained lamely, realizing only too late that he’d gotten a buddy into a bed of hot water with the Sarge.
“And what did he hear?” Reid asked.
“Sir, Spera thinks he found the person responsible for the outbreak.”
Reid had been in many tough situations: situations which would have crippled a normal human being mentally and physically for life. But even he was unprepared for this particular revelation.
“What?” he asked, slowly getting up from his chair. “He found what?”
“He thinks he stumbled over the person or persons responsible for the terrorist attack.”
“Where?”
“Santos Island, sir,” Linton answered eagerly. “He’s transmitting shit ton of data over the waves.”
“Please tell me Thompson recorded them.”
“Yes, sir, he did,” Linton answered and pulled out a memory stick from his pocket.
Reid snatched the stick from the private and plugged it into his laptop. Soon enough a familiar voice flooded the makeshift office.
“This is Corporal David Marcus Spera. 1-2-3-5-7-11-13-17-19-23-29...”
“Why is he doing that?” Linton asked.
“Proving he’s not gone loco, son,” Reid answered. “Those are prime numbers which means his brain is still on schedule.”
Linton looked suitably impressed.
“41. I am currently on Santos Island, southwest of Bainbridge. We have…”
The transmission was no less than three minutes total but Reid thought it was great deal longer because of the information crammed into the brief message.
“Sir, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see a man who knows a man,” Reid answered breathlessly. “Good work, and tell Thompson he’s not in the shit with me, at least, for listening in.”
“Yes sir, thank you, sir.”
Reid managed just enough patience to wait until Linton was out of earshot. Then he began making calls, not to his superior, but to the Pentagon. He knew it was a calculated risk to go over Lieutenant Jackson but the man had the imagination of a paperclip and that was on a good day.
He also knew something even worse: the civilian death count was nearing one hundred the last time he checked, and the number of desertion amongst the army was even higher.
As the pressure mounted and the news got darker, soldiers were reported either missing or MIA. It didn’t take much for Reid to conclude the army would continue to hemorrhage men left and right.
Can’t say that I blame the fuckers, Reid admitted. If I knew Armageddon was just around the corner, I’d want to go home and take care of my family too.
Reid had a family once, but Iraq 1.0 took care of that. He was engaged almost ten years later, but Iraq 2.0 put a swift end to that fragile relationship.
So, he spent all his free time not looking for another wife in fear that Iraq 3.0 would be waiting just around the corner, salivating with its claws unsheathed.
“Sir?” Reid said as soon as the familiar voice answered his call. “I got something from one of my men. I think you’ll be very interested…”
Brandeis University
Waltham, Massachusetts
Dr. Rose stood up from her stool only to collapse back into it. “Shit!” she swore loudly, rubbing her face. “Fuck, damn, shit!”
She stood up but this time with great deal more care. The wooziness returned but the stubborn doctor grabbed the edge of the table and waited out the fit. Realizing her condition was due to lack of food and not anything more serious, the researcher made her way to her desk where she’d stashed a box of power bars for occasions such as this one.
While munching on her impromptu lunch, she checked her e-mail. As she feared, there was a litany of worried messages from family, friends, and acquaintances she hadn’t seen in years, all asking if she knew anything about what was happening in Seattle.
Rose was tempted to reply to few but knew better. The doctor was well aware she was being monitored though had little idea by who, and the last thing she needed was to give someone an excuse to lock her away in Gitmo.
Rose looked around the lab and blew out a frustrated sigh. All her assistants volunteered to stay and help, but two didn’t clear the security check and one turned out to be a flake. On the first day, the forty-two-year-old Ph.D. had a nervous breakdown and nearly destroyed her lab. It took three security guards and a sedation to get the man out of the room without having to lose any more valuable equipment.
“Complete clusterfuck,” was the security guard’s estimation after he’s surveyed the damage and she had to agree. It took her almost two days to get back into swing of things. But since she was the only one manning the entire place, the pace was slower than frozen molasses.
The exhausted researcher was making her ninth cup of coffee when she heard footsteps rushing down the hall. Rose was familiar enough with everyone on the floor to know that the men were probably from either the military or the government. Those who worked in the building knew the linoleum floors were uneven due to years of neglect and moisture, and would more often than not trip anyone going faster than a stroll.
The four men who entered the lab were as incongruous as could be. One looked like Anthony Bourdain - a middle-aged hipster desperately trying to hold onto his uniqueness; the second looked like a retired elementary school teacher; the last two - diehard marines.
“Can I help you?” Rose asked hesitantly.
“Read this,” the ex-principal ordered, sounding like a marine.
Rose mentally named the jackass ‘Principal Rooney’ and took the file. She scanned the few pages and summarized her thoughts as, “What the fuck?”
“Is that possible?’ Anthony Bourdain-wannabe barked out, also sounding like a marine.
“I don’t know,” Rose answered truthfully.
“Can you find out?” he asked, looking pissed that she couldn’t give a conclusive answer.
“Yes, it shouldn’t be too hard actually,” Rose answered. “Did you contact others about this?”
“We’re not at liberty to reveal that information,” Principal Rooney answered curtly.
Rose eyed him. “Look, if my colleagues are going ahead and doing their analysis of this, then it would be best if we were networked. That way we can parse out everything and not waste time.”
The four men seemed to share an unspoken agreement after listening to her argument. Rose knew right then all her colleagues had said the same thing. And knowing how bossy few of them were, she guessed her request would not be denied.
The upgrades that were installed in her lab in the following hours told her she’d guessed right.
Santos Island
David ran out of the bedroom. “I’ve got Thompson!”
Everyone bolted to the room including Syd who was only recently released.
“What is he saying?” Emily asked breathlessly.
“Listen!” David exclaimed. “Thompson, I’ve got everyone here. Can you confirm what you said to me?”
“I do, and I repeat: we are very interested in the package. All we have to do is put together an incentive to purchase the rights. Do you copy?”
“I do, over. When will we be getting the call?”
“Before Bourbon Street closes.”
“Sounds good. We will gather everything you requested so the transaction will run smoothly.”
“Understood. It’s good to hear from you, kid. By the way, Jenkins says you owe him twenty.”
“Tell Jenkins he could come and get it when I sign the dotted line.”
Thompson’s pleasant low laugh rolled over the waves before everything went silent.
“I have no idea what that was but it sounded good,” Emily whispered hopefully.
“Is it?” Andrea asked. “Is it good?”
David stroked her head. “It’s the best. We’d established code talk as soon the team came together. It’s an old habit with copter pilots. They tended to get shot down a lot in the old days so they decided to establish their own language as soon they got a crew.”
“Bourbon Street?” Jared asked.
“Thursday, at dawn,” David answered promptly, revealing how much trust they’d earned since he joined them.
“Oh thank God, that’s tomorrow!” Emily said.
Jared looked hopefully at the soldier. “And they’re bringing the cavalry?”
“Sounds like,” David answered. “We need to put together whatever we think it necessary, but we have to be careful because they might not be able to drop by twice.”
“Because once we attract the attention of the infected people, odds are they’ll come swarming in,” Jensen reasoned.
“So, unless we want a complete bloodbath in our hands,” David looked gravely at them, “it’s up to us to gather the information. The right information.”
“But how do we do that?” Emily asked. “None of us are trained to sort out what’s valuable and what’s not.”
“We can get the hard drives,” David said. “That’s a start.”
Syd frowned. “Password protected?”
“That’s pretty much a myth,” David explained. “You can strip a hard drive of its information no matter how difficult the encryption. And trust me, we’ve got people who can do that.”
“We’ll sort through the paperwork,” Jensen volunteered. “See if we can find anything useful.”
The group somehow crammed themselves into the small lab and began methodically sifting through what looked like years of work. It took David an hour to remove the hard drives, which he wrapped in towels before packing into a messenger bag.
Even Andrea gamily tried to read the printouts but it didn’t take long for the child to lose interest. Catching her nodding off, Emily brought her back to the bedroom and stayed with her since the child refused to fall asleep without company.
After nearly six hours the final haul included three hard drives, two binders, and a dozen vials neatly stacked in a stainless steel case. Jared’s hands shook when he discovered them nestled in a desk drawer, under a false bottom.
They have to be valuable. Wouldn’t have hidden them if they weren’t.
After that discovery, the others did a more thorough search of the furniture but found nothing else.
Jensen found a stash of notebooks, the classical kind with the black and white cover. As he flipped through them, his face became grimmer.
“What’s wrong?” Jared asked.
“Population study,” Jensen said. “Or, more to the point, lack of population. The motherfucker was calculating how to maximize the number of deaths.
“He thought about bringing this shit to the airport but there were too many security cameras, and he didn’t want to get caught. He studied malls, museums, even University of Washington.”
“Sounds like he bought himself an express ticket to hell,” David said. “What does the last one say?”
Jensen took out the notebook from the bottom and opened it. He flipped through it quickly. “Looks like open surroundings was the best option for what he wanted. Wind factored in quite a bit.”
“Find which notebooks showed that and toss them in,” David ordered. “Dispersal is incredibly important in situations like Seattle.”
“Why do you say that?” Jared eyed the soldier nervously.
“Because Seattle might not be the only city he’d targeted,” was the terse answer. “He could have planted time-sensitive devices elsewhere.”
“A dirty bomb,” Jensen concluded. “Oh fuck.”
Jared was the first to wake. He looked around the bedroom and noticed nothing out of ordinary. Wondering what had woken him from dead sleep, he stepped into the hallway and quietly made his way to the kitchen.
When he saw David on the floor, unconscious, Jared immediately realized what was wrong: Syd.
He ran back to the bedroom and quietly woke Jensen.
“The fucker’s gone,” he hissed.
Jensen didn’t need to be told who the ‘fucker’ was. They rushed back to the kitchen and woke David by splashing a cup of cold water on his face.
“What happened?” Jensen asked. “Do you remember?”
David gave a groggy nod. “Syd, I think. My last memory was having conversation with him.”
“Where the hell did he go? And why…” Jared paused as dread flooded him. “Shit. Wait here.”
He went to the lab to discover what he already suspected: the messenger bag was missing.
“The son of a bitch stole the bag!” Jared informed Jensen and David.
“What? Why?” Jensen asked.
“Because he knew he’d get strung up the moment we were rescued,” David answered. “Attempted murder is still attempted murder, even during times like these.
“He took the bag to barter his way out. To get a clean record no matter what we say.”
“We have to wake Emily and go after him.” Jensen collected flashlights and a coil of rope. “He won’t go far, and in the condition he’s in - he could fuck it all up and end up destroying everything.”
Jared understood what Jensen meant, but for a moment he wondered if he could actually kill Syd if the need arose.
“You have to find him,” Emily said.
The three men jumped as if goosed: none of them heard her enter the kitchen.
“He’s one of those men who think he’s God’s gift,” Emily explained, “but he’s a coward. And if he comes across someone who’s sick … he’ll toss the bag aside in order to run faster.”
With that she handed the revolver over to David who accepted it without reservation.
“I’ll look after Andrea,” Emily said calmly. “Just stop him and bring back that bag.”
David took point as they left in pursuit of the runaway. The soldier immediately picked up on Syd’s trail and as Jensen stated, Syd wasn’t traveling quickly.
The bag has to feel like a thirty-pounder for him, Jared thought as he followed David into the woods surrounding the property. They wordlessly scoured through the scrub brushes and trees heavy with scent, something Jared would’ve appreciated had he not been so scared to take another step.
The grunts were what attracted their attention. At first Jared thought it was someone infected, but the noise wasn’t so bestial as panicky. They approached the sound and found Syd in a clearing, struggling.
The weak moonlight revealed the frantic escapee fighting to free himself from a deadfall. Instead of trying to go around the stack of dead trees he tried to climb over them and had gotten trapped amidst the rotting branches.
Jared heard David’s quiet huff of laughter and found Jensen shaking his head in annoyance and amusement. But in spite of the levity, they still approached the struggling man with great caution.
Without warning David slapped Syd on the back of the head, immediately stopping the man’s struggles.
Syd’s eyes widened in shock and recognition. Jensen slapped a hand over Syd’s mouth to stop him from screaming while David raised a cautionary finger and waggled it back and forth as a warning.
Jared spotted the bag in the tangled branches and deftly pulled it out. David gave Syd the middle finger before reaching down to free the man’s left leg.
The snarls sounded so loud Jared expected the infected to be almost on top of them. But when he took a quick look he didn’t see anyone.
David, on the other hand, did. He began running, half dragging Jared behind him. Jensen continued struggling to free Syd until the infected crested over a gentle hill. Even in the leaden moonlight it was obvious there were at least a dozen in the pack.
Jensen ran.
Jared didn’t look back as he kept pace with David, but he couldn’t stop hearing.
“Don’t leave me here!” Syd screamed. “Oh God don’t leave me here! Help me! Jesus, help me! Please!”
Jared ran faster in order not to hear Syd’s cries or the triumphant howls that drowned the pathetic begging.
The three men entered the cottage, speaking not a word. And when Emily saw their wan, defeated faces she didn’t speak either. Instead she took the messenger bag and went down to the lab where they’d stashed it earlier.
Still silent, David sat on the kitchen chair, indicating his desire to finish his shift. Jared followed Jensen back to the bedroom, and when Jensen took him into his arms and held him tight, Jared didn’t struggle.
And in the agreed-upon silence, Jared wept without a sound.
They arrived on Santos without attracting any attention from either the media or the sick. They even managed to get to the town center with no casualties. It looked to Sergeant Horn that they might just succeed in carrying out their orders when things went south. And James Horn knew exactly when it all went to hell: the moment the first shot was fired.
He’d seen plenty of action so when a single infected came charging down the road, he wasn’t at least alarmed. What he didn’t realize was the stupidity of some of the men under him. And when Anderson emptied an entire magazine on the single target, Horn knew shit had really hit the fan.
What he also wasn’t prepare for was the airstrike called in by his superior, who was witnessing this in the comforts of a Humvee on the outskirts of town. So, when the Black Hawks came roaring in, Horn had just enough time to order his men to take cover.
How in hell is there anything left to burn? the sergeant wondered as fire came roaring to life. He’d seen the satellite photos of Santos and believed the previous fire had done a fine job of turning most of the small island into a barbeque pit.
But, as he watched helplessly, the wind picked up speed and quickly spread the flames east and north, where the objective lay.
Where the fucking cure is, he thought dismally as the fire gathered strength and speed.
That was all he could afford as he had to join his men in strafing down the infected who swarmed into town, drawn by the loud noises and the smell of fresh, unspoilt meat.
“Holy shit, did you hear that?” Jensen asked as roars came overhead.
“Sounds like the cavalry,” David chimed in, relief evident in his face. “Oh thank God.”
“Maybe we should go to the lab,” Jared suggested nervously. “Wouldn’t it be safer?”
“You guys go,” David said. “I’ll stay here, make sure they know where we are.”
“They know where we are,” Jensen said. “What I don’t get is why they didn’t just chopper in over us.”
“You’re thinking about movies,” David rebuked him gently. “The winds are ferocious, there’s no way they’re going to do a drop in that. Too dangerous.”
“Okay then,” Jensen looked out the window. “Wait a minute … is that smoke?”
They ran outside and stared in horror at the smoke billowing from the south.
“Jesus Christ…” David said, “what the fuck is going on?”
“They’re burning us out,” Jensen stated flatly.
“Why would they do that?” Jared argued weakly. “They know we got the antidote.”
“Something must have happened then,” David snapped. “I think the blaze is heading this way.”
“What do we do?” Emily asked from the doorway, clutching Andrea.
“We’re taking you guys to a cave at the beach,” Jensen answered. “You’ll be safe there at least for a while.”
“And us?” David asked grimly.
“We’re going to try to deliver the information to the military,” Jensen answered.
“Why?” David looked confused by Jensen’s answer.
“In case the fire reaches us before they do,” Jared said. “We can’t waste any time.”
“Okay.” David ran back down to the basement to retrieve the bag while Emily hustled Andrea into a thin jacket and grabbed bottles of water.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she whispered. “The good guys are coming. All we have to do is wait for them to rescue us.”
“But we have to leave,” Andrea countered tearfully. “I don’t want to go outside.”
“I don’t want to either,” Emily confided, “but the fire’s coming and it’s coming fast. So we have to get out of here.”
Jared picked up Andrea into his arms and said, “Don’t look up, okay? I’ll carry you.”
Andrea wordlessly nodded before burying her face in his jacket. David came back with the bulging messenger bag.
“Okay, let’s go.” Jensen took a peek outside before leading them down the steep path to the beach.
Jared noted that some of the bodies that had washed up remained in spite of the tide. Emily made a gagging noise which attracted Andrea’s attention. But Jared palmed the back of her head and firmly planted her face into his chest in order for her not to witness the impromptu graveyard.
He reluctantly released her to Emily’s care when they reached the cave. “Don’t go too far in,” Jared warned Emily. “There’s something back there you don’t want to see.”
Emily took a glance at the bodies littering the beach and gave a firm nod before leading Andrea deeper into the cave.
“What do we do now?” Jared asked.
“We find someone who can deliver this to the right people,” David said. “Sounds like a plan?”
“Sure does,” Jared agreed readily.
“Anything else?” David asked.
Jensen shook his head. For a moment he looked so much like his alter ego, Jared half expected Jensen to pull out Dean’s gun and give a cocky grin. Instead, his friend marched out of the cave.
They were climbing up the cutaway when a familiar noise attracted their attention. They looked towards the ocean and spotted boats speeding towards the beach.
“Halle-fucking-lujah,” David trumpeted. “It’s the SEALs, and they’ve come to party!”
Jared counted at least sixty men in nine different Zodiacs and all of them looked more than capable of handling the situation.
“Do we want to approach them?” Jensen asked. “Will they shoot us?”
“They might,” David said grinning widely, “but it also means they really believed us when we said we’ve got the cure.”
“That has to be enough, Jensen,” Jared said softly as he watched hostility and fear war on his friend’s face.
“Okay,” Jensen said. “Sorry, I … I just can’t believe it’s over.”
“That makes all of us,” David replied, “and apology is not necessary.”
The three turned around to make their way back down the path when rocks began falling from above. They looked up just in time to see a deluge of people appear over the edge.
“Oh my God,” David said and that was all he could manage.
The three bolted down the cutaway, chased by the infected.
The fucking noise, Jared thought as panic overwhelmed him. They followed the fucking noise. Why couldn’t the assholes arrive more quietly?!
They hit the beach but instead of feeling relief, Jared’s panic spiraled into something even more primal.
The sand was eating their speed and though their chasers were also hindered, it was obvious they were going to catch up in few yards.
The gunfire that tore through the beach was nothing short of deafening. It was one continuous stream of fire from men trained to eat their panic and fear and regurgitate it through the trigger.
Jared saw David fall from the corner of his eye and whirled around to grab him. Without a word the injured soldier smoothly tossed the bag to Jared. The moment Jared caught it, the infected fell upon David like starving crocodiles.
Jared ran even faster towards soldiers who seemed determined to kill everyone, including himself. One of them broke rank and ran forwards to tackle Jensen who was only few feet ahead of Jared. With one smooth move Jensen whirled to his right and clocked the over-eager soldier in the solar plexus with his knee.
The operator dropped to the ground as if he’d been shot. Jensen grabbed his machine gun and with the same easy grace turned around and began firing into the infected.
“Run!” he screamed towards Jared. “The bag!”
Jared wanted to slow down but did not. Instead, he sprinted even faster. When he thought he was within hearing range, he began screaming:
“The antidote! I got the antidote!”
He heard Jensen holler in shock and turned just in time to see him crumple to the sand as his machine gun slid out of his hands. Jared forgot about the briefcase, and in spite of the gunfire, the soldiers too. He turned to help Jensen when the first bullet sliced through his chest.
It wasn’t the pain that stopped him but the sensation of all air leaving his body.
The second took out his thigh and Jared, like David and Jensen, crashed to the ground: the bag still in his clutches.
He felt shadows dance across his vision and blinked. The soldiers were slowly taking the beach by opening fire and in some cases, using explosives. One actually had an RPG and was using it to cut a deadly swath through the swarming mass. They walked by him as he lay dying, not sparing even a glance.
I wonder if they’ll leave anyone behind, Jared thought aimlessly as the white-hot burning sensation was replaced by dull pain.
His vision was blocked by two soldiers who looked down at him. And even though they were fully masked his could see curiosity and concern in their eyes.
“This one’s sober,” one said.
“Yeah, I figured that when I saw him screaming in fear and running away,” the other, an older man, replied sarcastically before addressing Jared. “You’ve been shot but it’s not serious…”
“Holy shit!” someone shouted from further up the beach. “I think this is Dean Winchester!”
Jared smiled, tasting the tang of blood in his mouth. Finally, some good luck. It’s about time!
The younger soldier studied him more thoroughly. “Holy shit’s right: I got Sam!”
The one talking to Jared kneeled down. “Son, hang on. The medics are on their way. Just take it easy.”
“Jensen?” Jared managed to croak out.
“Who?”
“Dean?”
“It was a clean shot,” the soldier replied. “We figured you guys were sane, since you were running for your lives. Your friend’s hurt but unless my men got stupid and sloppy in the last five minutes, he’s alive.
“And if you got what I think you’ve got, then you folks are going to stay in the land of the living.”
Jared didn’t know if he believed the soldier. He wanted to say something but found words too heavy to speak. And for the first time since this hell started, he saw the sun peek out. So, Jared decided to enjoy it instead and closed his eyes.
Bear Island, Washington
Major Nicholas ‘Boom Boom’ Landry watched through the glass barrier as the nurses wheeled the two civilians out of the operating theater.
“I still can’t believe it,” he said to his friend, Dr. Joseph Ana.
“You and a shitload of people,” Joe replied.
“So they’re going to live?”
“Your men were good, as usual,” Joe complimented his friend. “Clean shot, no messy trauma to the heart or the liver. Lungs are another matter but we could work with that.”
“I nearly pissed in my pants when I saw Sam Winchester lying at my feet,” the major confessed.
Joe quirked an eyebrow. “You know they’re actors, right? Just playing a part on the idiot’s box.”
“Fuck you,” Nick said easily. “Supernatural’s my men’s favorite show. And for a moment I thought I was completely fucked for killing Sam and Dean.”
“If what I remember is right: they don’t stay dead for long.”
“I still can’t believe they were with Spera, and that it was them who found the goddamn lab.”
Joe nudged his friend. “What they had - is it any good? Is it a cure?”
“I don’t know,” Nick said, “but the Pentagon boys grabbed that bag mighty fast. From what I heard they’ve basically taken apart the fucker’s lab in under an hour. And the contents in the briefcase are already at Atlanta.”
“So the CDC’s got it now.” Joe sighed and wiped his glasses with the sleeve of his shirt. “I hope to God they find something and fast.
“How’s Seattle holding?”
“It’s not,” Nick confessed. “They’re bleeding soldiers by the minute. The rate of desertion’s climbing and I’m sure people have slipped by the quarantine lines pretty much everywhere.”
Joe shook his head and rubbed his face. “I like to find the person who thought Seattle would be easy to control and give them a first-person tour of Santos.”
“It’s one thing to practice drills,” Nick said. “Something else altogether when it’s clawing at you, trying to rip off your dick.
“You know what some of the brass are saying?”
Joe shook his head. “No, not really, but you’re going to tell me anyway, right?”
“They’re saying the lack of sun had something to do with it.”
Joe looked at Nick, disbelief radiating from his face. “What?”
“They’re saying that lack of direct sunlight had something to do with what’d happened here.”
Joe pinched the bridge of his nose as his glasses slid down. “Oh my God, how in fuck did they come to that conclusion?”
“Who in hell knows, but it’s something that’s gathering traction in DC,” Nick explained. “Maybe they’re right.”
“Maybe they should stop drinking bourbon before eight in the goddamn morning,” Joe shot back. “Jesus Christ.”
“I have to go to another debriefing,” Nick said, his nose crunched in distaste.
“Want to meet up for dinner afterwards?”
“No, we’re being shipped back to Santos. Help clean up the mess there.”
“How many casualties?” Joe asked softly.
“Practically the entire population,” Nick paused for a moment, “but there’s an old lady who managed to survive somehow; gal’s name is Eddy something. She ended up living in an abandoned boat when her neighbor decided to use fire to chase away the nutcases and burned down everything in the process. And we found two on the beach. The Winchesters and Spera managed to keep a woman and a little girl alive and stashed them in a cave before heading out to meet us.”
“That’s three more than I expected,” Joe admitted. “Maybe you’ll be lucky and find more by tonight.”
“Found one actually, right before we left.”
“What’s wrong?” Joe asked when he saw the look of pure revulsion on his friend’s face.
“The son of a bitch was a survivor from the ferry.”
“Lucky son of a bitch.”
“You could say that again, but not for long if I can help it.”
“Why? What happened?”
“From what I’ve heard the survivors split up right after swimming out of that hellhole,” Nick explained, “and went their separate ways. The bastard stumbled upon two that night; a couple who managed to scrounge up some food and camping gear.
“He killed them for it.”
Joe’s eyes widened considerably. “What?”
“Slit their throats while they slept,” Nick said. “He’d dump their bodies in a ravine nearby. They were young: the man was probably a college kid. The woman still had her driver’s license on her - name was Jenna Bennett. The boy will probably be identified by tonight.”
“And the fucker’s name?”
“Peter Manns; CFO to some big tech company in Bellevue. Sometimes I wonder if those kinds of jobs attract psychopaths like him.”’
“You wouldn’t be the first.” Joe’s phone politely buzzed, putting an end to their talk. “Give me a call before you go. I’ve got the medical supplies you’ve been asking for.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Before he left the complex Nick went to the makeshift morgue in the back. Spera’s body was quarantined but the major felt it was his duty to say goodbye to the soldier who might just be responsible for stopping a world-ending plague.
He found another officer already presiding over the airtight coffin. “Sergeant?”
The man turned around. “Sir.”
“You’re Sergeant Reid?”
The soldier gave a smart salute. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“Your man did his uniform justice today. So, if his family asks - tell them he was a hero and will be honored as one.”
“Thank you, sir.” He turned to stare at Spera’s coffin. “I guess he won’t be going home.”
“Not like that,” Nick revealed. “Disposal orders already came through.”
“Will the family be getting the ashes?”
“No, but they will be flown to Arlington for the ceremony courtesy of Uncle Sam.”
“That’s an honor.”
“But it’ll never be good enough,” Nick voiced the sergeant’s unspoken thoughts, “no honor can replace their son.”
“No, nothing can replace a child.”
Both men stood in silence and studied the airtight metal casket in which the twenty-year-old mechanic from Boise, Idaho, finally found safety and peace.
Part V * Epilogue
Author name: frostian
Artist name: thruterryseyes
Genre: rps
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language and violence
Word count: ~49k
Warnings: Artistic license taken and abused.
Summary: Jared and Jensen take a road trip to Seattle only to witness what looks like the Apocalypse overwhelm the city. They manage to escape to an island only to discover the situation on Santos to be worse than Seattle. But they cannot leave, as the infected roam freely and the military has set up blockades around the island. Faced with immeasurable horror and growing desperation Jared and Jensen plan an escape, not only to save themselves but the sick who are quickly turning into homicidal psychopaths.
Disclaimer: So much fiction, it could be spotted from an orbiting satellite!
Federal Way, Washington
“Sir?” Private Linton stood ramrod straight in front of his Sergeant; to an untrained eye looking like the perfect example of a soldier at attention.
But Sergeant Reid knew Linton since basic training and still a virgin. And the boy was next to a nervous breakdown. “What is it?”
“We … Thompson … sir, Thompson got a message from Spera.”
Reid didn’t bother to mask his shock. “What? How?”
“The radio, sir.”
“Wait a minute - how did Spera get hold of a radio station?”
“Sir, the ham radio. Thompson’s been playin…”
“I thought there were strict orders not to fuck around with any outside communication!” Reid roared, even though privately he was glad his favorite grease monkey managed to survive from falling out of a fucking helicopter while on assignment.
“Thompson was just listening, sir,” Linton explained lamely, realizing only too late that he’d gotten a buddy into a bed of hot water with the Sarge.
“And what did he hear?” Reid asked.
“Sir, Spera thinks he found the person responsible for the outbreak.”
Reid had been in many tough situations: situations which would have crippled a normal human being mentally and physically for life. But even he was unprepared for this particular revelation.
“What?” he asked, slowly getting up from his chair. “He found what?”
“He thinks he stumbled over the person or persons responsible for the terrorist attack.”
“Where?”
“Santos Island, sir,” Linton answered eagerly. “He’s transmitting shit ton of data over the waves.”
“Please tell me Thompson recorded them.”
“Yes, sir, he did,” Linton answered and pulled out a memory stick from his pocket.
Reid snatched the stick from the private and plugged it into his laptop. Soon enough a familiar voice flooded the makeshift office.
“This is Corporal David Marcus Spera. 1-2-3-5-7-11-13-17-19-23-29...”
“Why is he doing that?” Linton asked.
“Proving he’s not gone loco, son,” Reid answered. “Those are prime numbers which means his brain is still on schedule.”
Linton looked suitably impressed.
“41. I am currently on Santos Island, southwest of Bainbridge. We have…”
The transmission was no less than three minutes total but Reid thought it was great deal longer because of the information crammed into the brief message.
“Sir, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see a man who knows a man,” Reid answered breathlessly. “Good work, and tell Thompson he’s not in the shit with me, at least, for listening in.”
“Yes sir, thank you, sir.”
Reid managed just enough patience to wait until Linton was out of earshot. Then he began making calls, not to his superior, but to the Pentagon. He knew it was a calculated risk to go over Lieutenant Jackson but the man had the imagination of a paperclip and that was on a good day.
He also knew something even worse: the civilian death count was nearing one hundred the last time he checked, and the number of desertion amongst the army was even higher.
As the pressure mounted and the news got darker, soldiers were reported either missing or MIA. It didn’t take much for Reid to conclude the army would continue to hemorrhage men left and right.
Can’t say that I blame the fuckers, Reid admitted. If I knew Armageddon was just around the corner, I’d want to go home and take care of my family too.
Reid had a family once, but Iraq 1.0 took care of that. He was engaged almost ten years later, but Iraq 2.0 put a swift end to that fragile relationship.
So, he spent all his free time not looking for another wife in fear that Iraq 3.0 would be waiting just around the corner, salivating with its claws unsheathed.
“Sir?” Reid said as soon as the familiar voice answered his call. “I got something from one of my men. I think you’ll be very interested…”
Brandeis University
Waltham, Massachusetts
Dr. Rose stood up from her stool only to collapse back into it. “Shit!” she swore loudly, rubbing her face. “Fuck, damn, shit!”
She stood up but this time with great deal more care. The wooziness returned but the stubborn doctor grabbed the edge of the table and waited out the fit. Realizing her condition was due to lack of food and not anything more serious, the researcher made her way to her desk where she’d stashed a box of power bars for occasions such as this one.
While munching on her impromptu lunch, she checked her e-mail. As she feared, there was a litany of worried messages from family, friends, and acquaintances she hadn’t seen in years, all asking if she knew anything about what was happening in Seattle.
Rose was tempted to reply to few but knew better. The doctor was well aware she was being monitored though had little idea by who, and the last thing she needed was to give someone an excuse to lock her away in Gitmo.
Rose looked around the lab and blew out a frustrated sigh. All her assistants volunteered to stay and help, but two didn’t clear the security check and one turned out to be a flake. On the first day, the forty-two-year-old Ph.D. had a nervous breakdown and nearly destroyed her lab. It took three security guards and a sedation to get the man out of the room without having to lose any more valuable equipment.
“Complete clusterfuck,” was the security guard’s estimation after he’s surveyed the damage and she had to agree. It took her almost two days to get back into swing of things. But since she was the only one manning the entire place, the pace was slower than frozen molasses.
The exhausted researcher was making her ninth cup of coffee when she heard footsteps rushing down the hall. Rose was familiar enough with everyone on the floor to know that the men were probably from either the military or the government. Those who worked in the building knew the linoleum floors were uneven due to years of neglect and moisture, and would more often than not trip anyone going faster than a stroll.
The four men who entered the lab were as incongruous as could be. One looked like Anthony Bourdain - a middle-aged hipster desperately trying to hold onto his uniqueness; the second looked like a retired elementary school teacher; the last two - diehard marines.
“Can I help you?” Rose asked hesitantly.
“Read this,” the ex-principal ordered, sounding like a marine.
Rose mentally named the jackass ‘Principal Rooney’ and took the file. She scanned the few pages and summarized her thoughts as, “What the fuck?”
“Is that possible?’ Anthony Bourdain-wannabe barked out, also sounding like a marine.
“I don’t know,” Rose answered truthfully.
“Can you find out?” he asked, looking pissed that she couldn’t give a conclusive answer.
“Yes, it shouldn’t be too hard actually,” Rose answered. “Did you contact others about this?”
“We’re not at liberty to reveal that information,” Principal Rooney answered curtly.
Rose eyed him. “Look, if my colleagues are going ahead and doing their analysis of this, then it would be best if we were networked. That way we can parse out everything and not waste time.”
The four men seemed to share an unspoken agreement after listening to her argument. Rose knew right then all her colleagues had said the same thing. And knowing how bossy few of them were, she guessed her request would not be denied.
The upgrades that were installed in her lab in the following hours told her she’d guessed right.
Santos Island
David ran out of the bedroom. “I’ve got Thompson!”
Everyone bolted to the room including Syd who was only recently released.
“What is he saying?” Emily asked breathlessly.
“Listen!” David exclaimed. “Thompson, I’ve got everyone here. Can you confirm what you said to me?”
“I do, and I repeat: we are very interested in the package. All we have to do is put together an incentive to purchase the rights. Do you copy?”
“I do, over. When will we be getting the call?”
“Before Bourbon Street closes.”
“Sounds good. We will gather everything you requested so the transaction will run smoothly.”
“Understood. It’s good to hear from you, kid. By the way, Jenkins says you owe him twenty.”
“Tell Jenkins he could come and get it when I sign the dotted line.”
Thompson’s pleasant low laugh rolled over the waves before everything went silent.
“I have no idea what that was but it sounded good,” Emily whispered hopefully.
“Is it?” Andrea asked. “Is it good?”
David stroked her head. “It’s the best. We’d established code talk as soon the team came together. It’s an old habit with copter pilots. They tended to get shot down a lot in the old days so they decided to establish their own language as soon they got a crew.”
“Bourbon Street?” Jared asked.
“Thursday, at dawn,” David answered promptly, revealing how much trust they’d earned since he joined them.
“Oh thank God, that’s tomorrow!” Emily said.
Jared looked hopefully at the soldier. “And they’re bringing the cavalry?”
“Sounds like,” David answered. “We need to put together whatever we think it necessary, but we have to be careful because they might not be able to drop by twice.”
“Because once we attract the attention of the infected people, odds are they’ll come swarming in,” Jensen reasoned.
“So, unless we want a complete bloodbath in our hands,” David looked gravely at them, “it’s up to us to gather the information. The right information.”
“But how do we do that?” Emily asked. “None of us are trained to sort out what’s valuable and what’s not.”
“We can get the hard drives,” David said. “That’s a start.”
Syd frowned. “Password protected?”
“That’s pretty much a myth,” David explained. “You can strip a hard drive of its information no matter how difficult the encryption. And trust me, we’ve got people who can do that.”
“We’ll sort through the paperwork,” Jensen volunteered. “See if we can find anything useful.”
The group somehow crammed themselves into the small lab and began methodically sifting through what looked like years of work. It took David an hour to remove the hard drives, which he wrapped in towels before packing into a messenger bag.
Even Andrea gamily tried to read the printouts but it didn’t take long for the child to lose interest. Catching her nodding off, Emily brought her back to the bedroom and stayed with her since the child refused to fall asleep without company.
After nearly six hours the final haul included three hard drives, two binders, and a dozen vials neatly stacked in a stainless steel case. Jared’s hands shook when he discovered them nestled in a desk drawer, under a false bottom.
They have to be valuable. Wouldn’t have hidden them if they weren’t.
After that discovery, the others did a more thorough search of the furniture but found nothing else.
Jensen found a stash of notebooks, the classical kind with the black and white cover. As he flipped through them, his face became grimmer.
“What’s wrong?” Jared asked.
“Population study,” Jensen said. “Or, more to the point, lack of population. The motherfucker was calculating how to maximize the number of deaths.
“He thought about bringing this shit to the airport but there were too many security cameras, and he didn’t want to get caught. He studied malls, museums, even University of Washington.”
“Sounds like he bought himself an express ticket to hell,” David said. “What does the last one say?”
Jensen took out the notebook from the bottom and opened it. He flipped through it quickly. “Looks like open surroundings was the best option for what he wanted. Wind factored in quite a bit.”
“Find which notebooks showed that and toss them in,” David ordered. “Dispersal is incredibly important in situations like Seattle.”
“Why do you say that?” Jared eyed the soldier nervously.
“Because Seattle might not be the only city he’d targeted,” was the terse answer. “He could have planted time-sensitive devices elsewhere.”
“A dirty bomb,” Jensen concluded. “Oh fuck.”
Jared was the first to wake. He looked around the bedroom and noticed nothing out of ordinary. Wondering what had woken him from dead sleep, he stepped into the hallway and quietly made his way to the kitchen.
When he saw David on the floor, unconscious, Jared immediately realized what was wrong: Syd.
He ran back to the bedroom and quietly woke Jensen.
“The fucker’s gone,” he hissed.
Jensen didn’t need to be told who the ‘fucker’ was. They rushed back to the kitchen and woke David by splashing a cup of cold water on his face.
“What happened?” Jensen asked. “Do you remember?”
David gave a groggy nod. “Syd, I think. My last memory was having conversation with him.”
“Where the hell did he go? And why…” Jared paused as dread flooded him. “Shit. Wait here.”
He went to the lab to discover what he already suspected: the messenger bag was missing.
“The son of a bitch stole the bag!” Jared informed Jensen and David.
“What? Why?” Jensen asked.
“Because he knew he’d get strung up the moment we were rescued,” David answered. “Attempted murder is still attempted murder, even during times like these.
“He took the bag to barter his way out. To get a clean record no matter what we say.”
“We have to wake Emily and go after him.” Jensen collected flashlights and a coil of rope. “He won’t go far, and in the condition he’s in - he could fuck it all up and end up destroying everything.”
Jared understood what Jensen meant, but for a moment he wondered if he could actually kill Syd if the need arose.
“You have to find him,” Emily said.
The three men jumped as if goosed: none of them heard her enter the kitchen.
“He’s one of those men who think he’s God’s gift,” Emily explained, “but he’s a coward. And if he comes across someone who’s sick … he’ll toss the bag aside in order to run faster.”
With that she handed the revolver over to David who accepted it without reservation.
“I’ll look after Andrea,” Emily said calmly. “Just stop him and bring back that bag.”
David took point as they left in pursuit of the runaway. The soldier immediately picked up on Syd’s trail and as Jensen stated, Syd wasn’t traveling quickly.
The bag has to feel like a thirty-pounder for him, Jared thought as he followed David into the woods surrounding the property. They wordlessly scoured through the scrub brushes and trees heavy with scent, something Jared would’ve appreciated had he not been so scared to take another step.
The grunts were what attracted their attention. At first Jared thought it was someone infected, but the noise wasn’t so bestial as panicky. They approached the sound and found Syd in a clearing, struggling.
The weak moonlight revealed the frantic escapee fighting to free himself from a deadfall. Instead of trying to go around the stack of dead trees he tried to climb over them and had gotten trapped amidst the rotting branches.
Jared heard David’s quiet huff of laughter and found Jensen shaking his head in annoyance and amusement. But in spite of the levity, they still approached the struggling man with great caution.
Without warning David slapped Syd on the back of the head, immediately stopping the man’s struggles.
Syd’s eyes widened in shock and recognition. Jensen slapped a hand over Syd’s mouth to stop him from screaming while David raised a cautionary finger and waggled it back and forth as a warning.
Jared spotted the bag in the tangled branches and deftly pulled it out. David gave Syd the middle finger before reaching down to free the man’s left leg.
The snarls sounded so loud Jared expected the infected to be almost on top of them. But when he took a quick look he didn’t see anyone.
David, on the other hand, did. He began running, half dragging Jared behind him. Jensen continued struggling to free Syd until the infected crested over a gentle hill. Even in the leaden moonlight it was obvious there were at least a dozen in the pack.
Jensen ran.
Jared didn’t look back as he kept pace with David, but he couldn’t stop hearing.
“Don’t leave me here!” Syd screamed. “Oh God don’t leave me here! Help me! Jesus, help me! Please!”
Jared ran faster in order not to hear Syd’s cries or the triumphant howls that drowned the pathetic begging.
The three men entered the cottage, speaking not a word. And when Emily saw their wan, defeated faces she didn’t speak either. Instead she took the messenger bag and went down to the lab where they’d stashed it earlier.
Still silent, David sat on the kitchen chair, indicating his desire to finish his shift. Jared followed Jensen back to the bedroom, and when Jensen took him into his arms and held him tight, Jared didn’t struggle.
And in the agreed-upon silence, Jared wept without a sound.
They arrived on Santos without attracting any attention from either the media or the sick. They even managed to get to the town center with no casualties. It looked to Sergeant Horn that they might just succeed in carrying out their orders when things went south. And James Horn knew exactly when it all went to hell: the moment the first shot was fired.
He’d seen plenty of action so when a single infected came charging down the road, he wasn’t at least alarmed. What he didn’t realize was the stupidity of some of the men under him. And when Anderson emptied an entire magazine on the single target, Horn knew shit had really hit the fan.
What he also wasn’t prepare for was the airstrike called in by his superior, who was witnessing this in the comforts of a Humvee on the outskirts of town. So, when the Black Hawks came roaring in, Horn had just enough time to order his men to take cover.
How in hell is there anything left to burn? the sergeant wondered as fire came roaring to life. He’d seen the satellite photos of Santos and believed the previous fire had done a fine job of turning most of the small island into a barbeque pit.
But, as he watched helplessly, the wind picked up speed and quickly spread the flames east and north, where the objective lay.
Where the fucking cure is, he thought dismally as the fire gathered strength and speed.
That was all he could afford as he had to join his men in strafing down the infected who swarmed into town, drawn by the loud noises and the smell of fresh, unspoilt meat.
“Holy shit, did you hear that?” Jensen asked as roars came overhead.
“Sounds like the cavalry,” David chimed in, relief evident in his face. “Oh thank God.”
“Maybe we should go to the lab,” Jared suggested nervously. “Wouldn’t it be safer?”
“You guys go,” David said. “I’ll stay here, make sure they know where we are.”
“They know where we are,” Jensen said. “What I don’t get is why they didn’t just chopper in over us.”
“You’re thinking about movies,” David rebuked him gently. “The winds are ferocious, there’s no way they’re going to do a drop in that. Too dangerous.”
“Okay then,” Jensen looked out the window. “Wait a minute … is that smoke?”
They ran outside and stared in horror at the smoke billowing from the south.
“Jesus Christ…” David said, “what the fuck is going on?”
“They’re burning us out,” Jensen stated flatly.
“Why would they do that?” Jared argued weakly. “They know we got the antidote.”
“Something must have happened then,” David snapped. “I think the blaze is heading this way.”
“What do we do?” Emily asked from the doorway, clutching Andrea.
“We’re taking you guys to a cave at the beach,” Jensen answered. “You’ll be safe there at least for a while.”
“And us?” David asked grimly.
“We’re going to try to deliver the information to the military,” Jensen answered.
“Why?” David looked confused by Jensen’s answer.
“In case the fire reaches us before they do,” Jared said. “We can’t waste any time.”
“Okay.” David ran back down to the basement to retrieve the bag while Emily hustled Andrea into a thin jacket and grabbed bottles of water.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she whispered. “The good guys are coming. All we have to do is wait for them to rescue us.”
“But we have to leave,” Andrea countered tearfully. “I don’t want to go outside.”
“I don’t want to either,” Emily confided, “but the fire’s coming and it’s coming fast. So we have to get out of here.”
Jared picked up Andrea into his arms and said, “Don’t look up, okay? I’ll carry you.”
Andrea wordlessly nodded before burying her face in his jacket. David came back with the bulging messenger bag.
“Okay, let’s go.” Jensen took a peek outside before leading them down the steep path to the beach.
Jared noted that some of the bodies that had washed up remained in spite of the tide. Emily made a gagging noise which attracted Andrea’s attention. But Jared palmed the back of her head and firmly planted her face into his chest in order for her not to witness the impromptu graveyard.
He reluctantly released her to Emily’s care when they reached the cave. “Don’t go too far in,” Jared warned Emily. “There’s something back there you don’t want to see.”
Emily took a glance at the bodies littering the beach and gave a firm nod before leading Andrea deeper into the cave.
“What do we do now?” Jared asked.
“We find someone who can deliver this to the right people,” David said. “Sounds like a plan?”
“Sure does,” Jared agreed readily.
“Anything else?” David asked.
Jensen shook his head. For a moment he looked so much like his alter ego, Jared half expected Jensen to pull out Dean’s gun and give a cocky grin. Instead, his friend marched out of the cave.
They were climbing up the cutaway when a familiar noise attracted their attention. They looked towards the ocean and spotted boats speeding towards the beach.
“Halle-fucking-lujah,” David trumpeted. “It’s the SEALs, and they’ve come to party!”
Jared counted at least sixty men in nine different Zodiacs and all of them looked more than capable of handling the situation.
“Do we want to approach them?” Jensen asked. “Will they shoot us?”
“They might,” David said grinning widely, “but it also means they really believed us when we said we’ve got the cure.”
“That has to be enough, Jensen,” Jared said softly as he watched hostility and fear war on his friend’s face.
“Okay,” Jensen said. “Sorry, I … I just can’t believe it’s over.”
“That makes all of us,” David replied, “and apology is not necessary.”
The three turned around to make their way back down the path when rocks began falling from above. They looked up just in time to see a deluge of people appear over the edge.
“Oh my God,” David said and that was all he could manage.
The three bolted down the cutaway, chased by the infected.
The fucking noise, Jared thought as panic overwhelmed him. They followed the fucking noise. Why couldn’t the assholes arrive more quietly?!
They hit the beach but instead of feeling relief, Jared’s panic spiraled into something even more primal.
The sand was eating their speed and though their chasers were also hindered, it was obvious they were going to catch up in few yards.
The gunfire that tore through the beach was nothing short of deafening. It was one continuous stream of fire from men trained to eat their panic and fear and regurgitate it through the trigger.
Jared saw David fall from the corner of his eye and whirled around to grab him. Without a word the injured soldier smoothly tossed the bag to Jared. The moment Jared caught it, the infected fell upon David like starving crocodiles.
Jared ran even faster towards soldiers who seemed determined to kill everyone, including himself. One of them broke rank and ran forwards to tackle Jensen who was only few feet ahead of Jared. With one smooth move Jensen whirled to his right and clocked the over-eager soldier in the solar plexus with his knee.
The operator dropped to the ground as if he’d been shot. Jensen grabbed his machine gun and with the same easy grace turned around and began firing into the infected.
“Run!” he screamed towards Jared. “The bag!”
Jared wanted to slow down but did not. Instead, he sprinted even faster. When he thought he was within hearing range, he began screaming:
“The antidote! I got the antidote!”
He heard Jensen holler in shock and turned just in time to see him crumple to the sand as his machine gun slid out of his hands. Jared forgot about the briefcase, and in spite of the gunfire, the soldiers too. He turned to help Jensen when the first bullet sliced through his chest.
It wasn’t the pain that stopped him but the sensation of all air leaving his body.
The second took out his thigh and Jared, like David and Jensen, crashed to the ground: the bag still in his clutches.
He felt shadows dance across his vision and blinked. The soldiers were slowly taking the beach by opening fire and in some cases, using explosives. One actually had an RPG and was using it to cut a deadly swath through the swarming mass. They walked by him as he lay dying, not sparing even a glance.
I wonder if they’ll leave anyone behind, Jared thought aimlessly as the white-hot burning sensation was replaced by dull pain.
His vision was blocked by two soldiers who looked down at him. And even though they were fully masked his could see curiosity and concern in their eyes.
“This one’s sober,” one said.
“Yeah, I figured that when I saw him screaming in fear and running away,” the other, an older man, replied sarcastically before addressing Jared. “You’ve been shot but it’s not serious…”
“Holy shit!” someone shouted from further up the beach. “I think this is Dean Winchester!”
Jared smiled, tasting the tang of blood in his mouth. Finally, some good luck. It’s about time!
The younger soldier studied him more thoroughly. “Holy shit’s right: I got Sam!”
The one talking to Jared kneeled down. “Son, hang on. The medics are on their way. Just take it easy.”
“Jensen?” Jared managed to croak out.
“Who?”
“Dean?”
“It was a clean shot,” the soldier replied. “We figured you guys were sane, since you were running for your lives. Your friend’s hurt but unless my men got stupid and sloppy in the last five minutes, he’s alive.
“And if you got what I think you’ve got, then you folks are going to stay in the land of the living.”
Jared didn’t know if he believed the soldier. He wanted to say something but found words too heavy to speak. And for the first time since this hell started, he saw the sun peek out. So, Jared decided to enjoy it instead and closed his eyes.
Bear Island, Washington
Major Nicholas ‘Boom Boom’ Landry watched through the glass barrier as the nurses wheeled the two civilians out of the operating theater.
“I still can’t believe it,” he said to his friend, Dr. Joseph Ana.
“You and a shitload of people,” Joe replied.
“So they’re going to live?”
“Your men were good, as usual,” Joe complimented his friend. “Clean shot, no messy trauma to the heart or the liver. Lungs are another matter but we could work with that.”
“I nearly pissed in my pants when I saw Sam Winchester lying at my feet,” the major confessed.
Joe quirked an eyebrow. “You know they’re actors, right? Just playing a part on the idiot’s box.”
“Fuck you,” Nick said easily. “Supernatural’s my men’s favorite show. And for a moment I thought I was completely fucked for killing Sam and Dean.”
“If what I remember is right: they don’t stay dead for long.”
“I still can’t believe they were with Spera, and that it was them who found the goddamn lab.”
Joe nudged his friend. “What they had - is it any good? Is it a cure?”
“I don’t know,” Nick said, “but the Pentagon boys grabbed that bag mighty fast. From what I heard they’ve basically taken apart the fucker’s lab in under an hour. And the contents in the briefcase are already at Atlanta.”
“So the CDC’s got it now.” Joe sighed and wiped his glasses with the sleeve of his shirt. “I hope to God they find something and fast.
“How’s Seattle holding?”
“It’s not,” Nick confessed. “They’re bleeding soldiers by the minute. The rate of desertion’s climbing and I’m sure people have slipped by the quarantine lines pretty much everywhere.”
Joe shook his head and rubbed his face. “I like to find the person who thought Seattle would be easy to control and give them a first-person tour of Santos.”
“It’s one thing to practice drills,” Nick said. “Something else altogether when it’s clawing at you, trying to rip off your dick.
“You know what some of the brass are saying?”
Joe shook his head. “No, not really, but you’re going to tell me anyway, right?”
“They’re saying the lack of sun had something to do with it.”
Joe looked at Nick, disbelief radiating from his face. “What?”
“They’re saying that lack of direct sunlight had something to do with what’d happened here.”
Joe pinched the bridge of his nose as his glasses slid down. “Oh my God, how in fuck did they come to that conclusion?”
“Who in hell knows, but it’s something that’s gathering traction in DC,” Nick explained. “Maybe they’re right.”
“Maybe they should stop drinking bourbon before eight in the goddamn morning,” Joe shot back. “Jesus Christ.”
“I have to go to another debriefing,” Nick said, his nose crunched in distaste.
“Want to meet up for dinner afterwards?”
“No, we’re being shipped back to Santos. Help clean up the mess there.”
“How many casualties?” Joe asked softly.
“Practically the entire population,” Nick paused for a moment, “but there’s an old lady who managed to survive somehow; gal’s name is Eddy something. She ended up living in an abandoned boat when her neighbor decided to use fire to chase away the nutcases and burned down everything in the process. And we found two on the beach. The Winchesters and Spera managed to keep a woman and a little girl alive and stashed them in a cave before heading out to meet us.”
“That’s three more than I expected,” Joe admitted. “Maybe you’ll be lucky and find more by tonight.”
“Found one actually, right before we left.”
“What’s wrong?” Joe asked when he saw the look of pure revulsion on his friend’s face.
“The son of a bitch was a survivor from the ferry.”
“Lucky son of a bitch.”
“You could say that again, but not for long if I can help it.”
“Why? What happened?”
“From what I’ve heard the survivors split up right after swimming out of that hellhole,” Nick explained, “and went their separate ways. The bastard stumbled upon two that night; a couple who managed to scrounge up some food and camping gear.
“He killed them for it.”
Joe’s eyes widened considerably. “What?”
“Slit their throats while they slept,” Nick said. “He’d dump their bodies in a ravine nearby. They were young: the man was probably a college kid. The woman still had her driver’s license on her - name was Jenna Bennett. The boy will probably be identified by tonight.”
“And the fucker’s name?”
“Peter Manns; CFO to some big tech company in Bellevue. Sometimes I wonder if those kinds of jobs attract psychopaths like him.”’
“You wouldn’t be the first.” Joe’s phone politely buzzed, putting an end to their talk. “Give me a call before you go. I’ve got the medical supplies you’ve been asking for.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Before he left the complex Nick went to the makeshift morgue in the back. Spera’s body was quarantined but the major felt it was his duty to say goodbye to the soldier who might just be responsible for stopping a world-ending plague.
He found another officer already presiding over the airtight coffin. “Sergeant?”
The man turned around. “Sir.”
“You’re Sergeant Reid?”
The soldier gave a smart salute. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“Your man did his uniform justice today. So, if his family asks - tell them he was a hero and will be honored as one.”
“Thank you, sir.” He turned to stare at Spera’s coffin. “I guess he won’t be going home.”
“Not like that,” Nick revealed. “Disposal orders already came through.”
“Will the family be getting the ashes?”
“No, but they will be flown to Arlington for the ceremony courtesy of Uncle Sam.”
“That’s an honor.”
“But it’ll never be good enough,” Nick voiced the sergeant’s unspoken thoughts, “no honor can replace their son.”
“No, nothing can replace a child.”
Both men stood in silence and studied the airtight metal casket in which the twenty-year-old mechanic from Boise, Idaho, finally found safety and peace.
Part V * Epilogue