Necro Page 3

  There was an answer, help, a solution, but Richard Weston was unsure how well their solution would work. He had put it in motion anyway. Teams were, even now, deploying the SS-V2765 compound. It was, like everything else, a stop gap measure, and probably too little too late. It was also flawed, but he pushed that knowledge away in his mind.

  While most of America had tracked the meteorite that was supposed to miss earth from their living rooms, and had been side tracked by all the trouble with the former Soviet Union, he had kept track of the real event that had even then been building beneath the Yellowstone caldera. And the end had come quickly. Satellites off line. Phone networks down. Power grids failed. Governments incommunicado or just gone. The Internet down. The Meteorite had not missed Earth by much after all. And the gravitational pull from the large mass had simply accelerated an already bad situation.

  Dams burst. River flows reversed. Waters rising or dropping in many places. Huge tidal waves. Fires out of control. Whole cities suddenly gone. A river of lava flowing from Yellowstone. Civilization was not dead; not wiped out, but her back was broken.

  In the small city of Watertown, that had rested above Bluechip, near the shore of the former lake Ontario, the river waters had begun to rise: Bluechip, several levels below the city in the limestone cave structures that honeycombed the entire area, had survived mostly intact, but unless sealed, it would surely succumb to the rising river waters. By the time the last military groups had splashed through the tunnels and into the underground facility, they had been walking through better than two feet of cold and muddy river-water. The pressure from the water had begun to collapse small sections of caves and tunnels below the city, and that damage had been helped along by after-shocks.

  When the last group of five men had reached the air shaft, carrying the inert form of a woman between them, they had immediately pitched in with a group Weston had sent to brick the passageway off. The remaining bricks and concrete blocks were stacked and cemented into place in the four foot thick wall they had started. The materials, along with sandbags initially used to hold back the rising waters, had been taken from huge stockpiles within the city, and from the stalled trucks within the wide tunnel that had once fed traffic into the base. There was no way in, and no way out of the city. With one small exception.

  The exception was that air ducting. The ducts led away from the city towards a small mountain-peak about a mile from the city. There the ducts merged together, inside a huge natural rock tunnel that had been part of the original network of caves and passage ways. That tunnel culminated deep within the mountain at an air treatment facility. There were also several access points where the ducting came close to the surface via tunnels and passageways that ran though the huge complex of caves. And it would be possible to walk through one of the many air shafts to the tunnel, break through the ducting, follow it to the treatment facility or outside to the surface and freedom. It would be difficult, but it would be possible. The end of the trip would bring them to the surface; from there they could go anywhere.

  Watertown New York

  Project Bluechip

  Julie

  She came awake with a start. In her dreaming she had been leaning, leaning, holding the window sill and staring down at the street below. The heat, the cold dishrag freezing her tiny fingers. She had leaned back, shifted hands, placed the rag against the base of her neck once more, leaned forward and braced herself against the window frame and her fingers, slicked and unfeeling from the ice had slipped. She had plunged suddenly forward, falling, faster, panicked, and she had awakened as she had slammed into the surface of the bed, a scream right on the edge of her tongue waiting to leap.

  “Here.” A woman's voice. A soft hand at the base of her neck, holding her, easing her back down to the bed. “It's okay now.” She held Julie's head up and bought a water glass to her lips. Cold, ice clinked together in the glass; she took the straw between her lips and drank deeply. She collapsed back against the bed.

  “Where?” She managed at last. “Where is this place?” The ceiling was florescent lights in a panel ceiling. Dropped ceiling, her mind supplied. An Americanism.

  “Blue,” the woman told her as Julie's eyes focused on her. She was short, slim, dressed in fatigues, a pistol in a holster at her side.

  “Blue?” Julie sounded as doubtful as she felt. She must have misheard. “Drum?” She asked. It was the closest military base.

  “Blue,” the young woman shook her head. “The new base... Blue.” She smiled, but it was a tired smile. “You remember anything at all?”

  Julie shook her head, but then spoke. “A car... A boy with a gun... An earthquake?”

  “English?” The woman asked.

  Julie nodded. “Was it then? An earthquake?”

  “More than one,” The young woman sighed. “It's bad up there. You're lucky they found you, Jeffers and the others. Lucky.”

  Julie nodded and then moved her legs and nearly fainted. She looked down, both were bandaged. She recalled the gun. “Shot?” She asked.

  “No... No, just scraped up, banged up maybe” The woman told her.

  “Badly scraped up?” Julie asked.

  “No... A few cuts, but they are swollen. A day or two and you'll be fine.”

  Julie didn't hear the rest as she sagged back against the bed and fell away back into the dream once more...

  Kate Mae

  1:30 AM

  “Last one,” Neil said.

  Neil was a detective for the sheriffs' department. It was closing in on 2:00 AM and he and his partner Don had just come back from six hours of sleep to get a jump on the day. Yesterday one of the checkout girls had disappeared between the Shop and Save a small mini mart on the western outskirts of the city, and home. Earlier this morning she had turned up dead in a ditch just a quarter mile from the front door. The techs were still processing the scene, but it was looking personal. Stabbed to death, multiple wounds, no defense wounds, at least none that he or Don had been able to see, and fully clothed. Her purse had been found nearby, wallet and cash inside. No ID, but her store ID had still been clipped to her shirt. They would know more in a few days once the coroner did her magic. It all pointed to someone she knew, and they had no known boyfriend. The trailer park where she lived had turned up nothing, they had questioned some people at the convenience store, but some had been off shift, so here they were back at the store questioning the other employees.

  They had commandeered the night manager's office which was barely larger than a broom closet, but at least it was a place to sit with enough space left over to call in the workers and ask their questions. Free coffee via the same night manager, who had still not gone home, was taking a little of the six hours of sleep sting off, but to Neil free coffee in a convenience store was like a whore offering a free shot of penicillin to the first twenty five customers.

  “Who's next?” Don asked.

  The last half hour they had been interviewing the people who worked the same shifts as Amber Kneeland.

  “Kate Mae,” Neil said.

  Don looked up and stopped writing in his little notebook. “How do you,” spell her name, he had meant to ask Neil, but she was right in front of him.

  “EM. A. E,” she said with a smile.

  “Vietnamese?” Don asked. She was obviously mixed race, African American and Asian, he questioned himself.

  “Japanese,” she told him.

  “Nice name,” Neil said, “Kate.”

  Beautiful girl, Don thought. “Did you know Amber Kneeland? Sometimes works this shift?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she answered. “I mean, I met her, but only in passing... I just started here myself.”

  She really is beautiful, Don thought. “You wouldn't know if she had a boyfriend... Other friends?” he asked.

  Kate shook her head. “Sorry,” she said... “What has she done?”

  “Nothing,” Neil supplied.

  “She went missing last night,” Don said. “Turned up dead this morning.”

  Kate shook her head. “Oh my God. That's horrible. She was such a nice girl... Quiet.”

  Neil nodded his head. “So maybe you did know her a little better than you thought?”

  “I just started here a few weeks back, and like I said, I don't really know her... But it might be a girlfriend not a boyfriend.”

  Don looked at her. "You wouldn't know who?"

  “No. It's just a rumor. Someone said it to me... I don't even remember who... But I've never seen her with a guy, and I have seen her with other girls... Maybe also the way she looked at me a few times...”

  “Go out with her?” Don asked.

  “No... Never... I...”

  “Don't swing that way?” Don added.

  Kate frowned slightly before she answered. “I work. I don't swing any way. But if I did she wasn't my type. She never asked me out, I never asked her out.”

  “Didn't mean to offend you,” Don said. He shrugged. “She's dead.”

  “She would probably do the same for you,” Neil said.

  Kate nodded. “That really is all I know. I hope you find who did it though. She seemed like a nice girl,” Kate said.

  “You don't seem the type for this... Bagging groceries at 2:00 am,” Don said, changing the subject. “You aren't local or I'd know you... This city really is small despite the base.”

  Kate smiled. “Came here a year back with a boyfriend, Army. He left, forgot all about me, I guess. I had this idea of modeling... Tough to get a foot in a door though.”

  “Wow, if he left you behind he must be a fucking idiot... Any good?” Neil asked.

  Kate laughed.

  “Excuse mister smooth there,” Don told her. Neil feigned a hurt look and Kate laughed again. “He meant have you done anything? I know somebody... Might be interested.”

  Kate arched her eyebrows. “I can model. I did a You Jeans ad back in Georgia a few years ago. I just need to prove it to the right person.”

  “Escorting? Maybe dancing. It's strictly escorting or dancing, no funny stuff. Dance clubs... Clothing modeling,” Neil said.

  “Probably start out escorting... Dance a little... Then if he likes you he'll put you into the modeling end of things. He owns a lot of shit... Several car dealerships across the state... Some of the biggest dance clubs, clothing outlets, those bargain places, but still, modeling is modeling, right? Not the big name stuff, but it is a foot in the door,” Don added.

  “I can do that,” she said slowly.

  Neil passed her a white business card with his own name scrawled across the back. “Tell him I sent you... That's my name on the back.”

  “Jimmy Vincioni,” Kate asked.

  “Just V... Jimmy V, good guy,” Neil said.

  Kate nodded and tucked the card into her front jean pocket. “I'll call him... Thanks. Look...” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I'm pretty sure she had a girlfriend here... I just don't know who,” Kate added quietly.

  Don finished writing in his notebook, nodded once he met her eyes and then shook the hand she offered. She walked away.

  “Beautiful,” Neil said.

  “Absolutely,” Don agreed. “You ain't getting none of that though.”

  “Yeah? But if Jimmy V hires her? It'll be the next best thing.”

  Don shook his head, but smiled. His eyes rose and watched as Kate walked away. “Guess I'll have to have a few drinks at the club if that happens.”

  Neil chuckled low. “You and me both,” he agreed.

  Watertown

  Franklin Street

  Roux

  The roadway was tilted crazily, the snow was gone. Cold persisted, but it didn't bother him in the slightest. A small, silver canister lay just a few feet away. Inhaler, his mind supplied. Maybe his other self agreed, but something inside him didn't seem to want to agree. He ignored the canister and the line of thought for the briefest of seconds and it was gone completely. Slipped away from him to where ever thought ended up.

  He had been lying half in, half out of the gutter for the last several hours that he knew of. He had no idea how long before that. Days? Weeks? Weeks seemed wrong. Days, he decided. He turned his attention back to the roadway before him. Was it a roadway? When he thought roadway, he thought highway, something like that. From what he could see this was more like a city street.

  It had never occurred to him in the passing hours to move his head, but the thought of it being a street in a city had caused him to move his head slightly so he could look around to be sure. Slightly, but enough to know he could move it. And he had moved it enough to know it was a city street. And if he could move it that much...

  His face came away from the asphalt with a wet sucking noise and he nearly stopped. Expecting pain to come. Expecting the sky to fall. Expecting something, but nothing happened. The sucking sound stopped when his face finally pulled free and he pushed off with his hands and found himself in a sitting position. He flexed his jaw, it worked, tended to click when he moved it quickly, but perhaps it was just residual of... Of?

  He didn't know what it might be residual of. There was something he had had in mind when the thought had popped into his head but he couldn't get it back now. His mind seemed slow. Not slow as in stupid though. He considered. It was slow like a computer he had once owned. The damn thing took forever to boot. That was what this felt like. A slow boot. He laughed at the thought, but all that came from his throat was a low buzzing sound that frightened him back into silence. He nearly laid back down on the cold road right then, but caught himself. Whatever this was it seemed real. Not a dream and if he could just get his mind to work right he could probably roll with it. Roll right with it. Whatever that might mean. He lost himself for a time again. Sitting at the side of the road, starring into the dim, gray afternoon sunlight.

  He heard the noise before he saw the little boy. The noise was more persistent: Crying, weeping, something like that. Something he understood, had known, did know... He wasn't sure. His head came around and he watched the little boy walking along the opposite side of the road, his face was dirty, tear streaked, one arm swollen, infection, he knew, he understood infection. He had seen it somewhere. Infection was... Bad, he decided.

  The hand was mangled. It looked chewed, a finger missing, maybe an accident with a dog, his mind supplied. Accidents with dogs happened. He watched the little boy stumble along. The arm a grotesque parody of a real arm, swinging freely from its shoulder socket. Their eyes met a moment later, but it was already too late for the little boy. Roux had used his hands to prop his knees so he could stand. A second of standing had told him he could walk, and a single limping step had told him he could walk well enough. It had probably been the standing, his mind supplied now. His feet scraping on the loose gravel at the side of the street. His one ruined leg dragging slightly

  He held the boys eyes with his own. Large, frightened, transfixed by the odd glow in his own eyes. He had closed the gap quickly, limp or no. Long before the boy had ever thought to call out. A second of standing and looking down into those, large, sad eyes and he had reached forward quickly and pulled the boy into the air with both hands wrapped around his neck, cutting off his startled squawk. A second later and he had dashed him onto the street surface and fallen once more to the asphalt himself. He pulled the still warm body to him.

  TWO

  We stayed until eight weeks ago. I wouldn't have been able to get out my own. That was early, before we knew they would come out into the sunlight. Andy, that was her fella’s name, came for her in the daylight when we were leaving the house. If not for the bad leg he would have got her. If not for the fact that we were close to the living room door he might have got her. He might even have got her because we both froze. And when I realized I had to move she was still frozen, just looking at his ruined, rotted face.

  I got the shot gun up and blew his head off. I thought she was going to kill me, and then I thought he was going to manage to get back to his feet even without his head and kill me. He finally stopped and I managed to drag her inside the house and shut the door.

  I had gone back out a short time later, after I got her laid down and sleeping off the shock in the back bedroom to take a closer look at the body. There were five of them eating him where he lay up beside her car, and two watching the door: When I got out the two guarding the door were on me nearly that fast. I shot them both as fast as I could pull the trigger. My shot gun only holds four shells. Those two were gone and that had slowed them, but they were not deterred. I made it back inside, locked the door and began to wonder if my heart was going to explode.

  Later, before dusk, I went back outside. Andy's body was gone along with the other zombies. I decided that we had to try to get out, drive out and find help. She was carrying a child after all, the zombie fella’s baby, I suppose. Maybe there was a place outside of New York where things were normal… Okay… A zombie free zone. The problem was that I was on the wrong side of the city; we would have to cut straight through the city to head east. There was no other way to do it…

  New York: Watertown

  John and Kate

  Morning

  John Morrison awoke to the sounds of birds whistling in the early morning pre-dawn. Birds, he thought, usually the sounds from the mills drowned them out.

  He remembered just that fast how much had changed and how quickly it had changed. There had still been power. Still been news. And a few reports of weird shit had been creeping in on the news and the internet although the Feds seemed to be trying to keep it out. Still, that night he had come home from work and although the world had been wrong it had still been working.