"What? When did this happen?"

"I don't know the when or why but the results, according to John, were that it was pretty d.a.m.n mean. Only fire stopped it. Small arms had no effect."

They both sat there and chewed on that for a moment, until Kil said, "Now we just established that both of us think that this is some crazy tinfoil-hat bulls.h.i.t and probably not true. All that aside, even though we don't believe any of it, it might be a good idea to get ahold of a Molotov c.o.c.ktail or two for the team. I think you should make friends down in engineering and see what you can come up with. If asked, tell them I requested it."

"Sounds good."

"As soon as the team gets back, I'll focus on telling Rex what we know. I don't want to get John in any trouble. I don't think Rex and his folks will be a problem, but the stress of all this . . ."

"Yes, the stress in all this can turn friends to enemies and enemies to friends. I know this firsthand."

"Yes, I'll bet you do. Don't think I've forgotten our travels. You're pretty d.a.m.n good with the long gun, something that most civilians are not. I've taken notice of the rug and of your fire kindling. We've never talked about it before, but then again, I was pretty sick of war even before all this went down. I think this, whatever you call it, ended a few longtime feuds, and abated some hatred. Don't worry, Saien, I think Homeland Security is gone for good. I don't know what I despised more, their airport naked-body scanners and grope-downs or the dead walking. I doubt any database is left powered up with your name on it."

Taking a long breath, Saien sat back uncomfortably with arms drawn in close to his body. "Kil, I was to meet up with a member of my cell in San Antonio. We were to . . ."

"Don't bother, Saien. I don't need to hear it. Don't forget I'm a commissioned military officer and wouldn't have hesitated before," Kil replied, emotion showing through.

"I need to get this off my back. I have no one left. That's the only reason."

"Saien, remember what they told us before we learned about what we're going after? 'What was told could not be untold.' Before you keep talking, make sure it's something you won't regret. We survived some pretty close calls, but I wouldn't expect you to be asking for my autograph if I told you what I did back before all this. I chose to keep my mouth shut about it for a reason. We've gotta survive, that's all-nothing more."

Both men sat in their chairs across from each other in the small stateroom. Kil imagined that he could hear his wrist.w.a.tch tick-but it was digital. Saien began to speak again-his eyes focused far behind Kil through the bulkheads, through the ocean, beyond Oahu.

"We were to meet in San Antonio. I only knew the codename and email drop of one member of my cell, by design. We communicated via online dead drop box, but used off-the-shelf encryption. Your military uses much inferior communications encryption to what is available off the shelf. I used two-hundred-fifty-six-bit AES. That's not important, I'm sorry. I'm rambling."

"Don't worry about it. Go on, I guess," Kil said rea.s.suringly, more curious than anything else.

Saien took a drink from an old disposable water bottle he'd been using since they left Panama and continued. "It was a week before the dead walked when I received my activation orders. The target was a shopping mall, peak shopping season. I was to be part of a five-man kill squad. We were only one team, but I believe there were more, maybe twenty more teams. All ordered to attack simultaneously in different cities. The goal was to drive the death nail into the American economy and solidify the ongoing economic collapse. Your economy was seventy percent consumer based. If people were too afraid to spend money, it would be the end of the American system. Your money supply would be hyper-inflated, and with that, your wars overseas would end. We also knew that the sheepdog could not guard all the sheep and could not lessen their fears. When the dead walked and the infrastructure collapsed, I suppose we got what we wanted. Seeing a man who had been shot through the chest with a sniper round get up and come after you will change your ideology. This is why I do not pray any longer. I resent what I was before, and what I was planning to do. Though you do not ask, I will tell you. Most every American is dead now, as you know. If you were in a cave in Pakistan a year ago having a conversation with leaders of the base and you were to ask him, 'Would the ma.s.s death of Americans be good in the eyes of Allah?' he would have no doubt responded as you would imagine. Now look what we have today. America is dead and so is everyone else, Allah is nowhere to be found. G.o.d is dead upon the Earth, who could argue this?"

"So you were going to go Mumbai crazy and shoot up a shopping mall?" Kil asked, almost rhetorically.

"That was the plan. I have woken up and I am ashamed," Saien declared sincerely.

"Well, can't say I like you more after hearing that . . . but I ain't perfect either, I'm a military deserter. I disobeyed orders after my boss told me to return to base. I never reported. I stayed behind in my home. John was my neighbor across the street. Look at it this way: At least you didn't carry out the plan. It's only thought crime at this point."

"Yes, for this, I'm thankful. I would be a tortured soul otherwise."

"Yeah, you'd be pretty messed up right about now, no doubt. And as far as G.o.d goes, there's a lot of what you have going around. You ain't the only one questioning their faith. I'm sure all that alien bulls.h.i.t isn't helping anything."

A knock on the door made Kil jump; he reached for his pistol instinctively.

"Come," Kil said.

The door slowly opened, revealing the petty officer of the watch's pimply young face. "Sir, sun is down and we're getting radio chatter from Hourgla.s.s. They are asking for you. Scan Eagles are already en route."

"Roger that. I'm on my way," Kil said.

44.

Oahu Interior The sun was down; a purple glow from the west glimmered and danced on the Pacific waters. Task Force Hourgla.s.s had been at Kunia cave for twenty-four hours. The Hawaii mission had so far been a.s.sessed as a failure. Unable to gain control of the satellites to support the Hourgla.s.s incursion, the submarine would be alone, the crew afraid and vulnerable to any remnants of Chinese military that lurked in the Chinese waters. Commie's pack was full of papers and disks. Papers with lots of secrets-information that had never been transmitted from this facility, long ago abandoned by the cryptologic group that worked here.

Rex was the last up the ladder to the top and last to close the lid on this place forever. Years from now, someone will find a nest of mutant squirrels living in there, he thought as he slammed the access hatch down. Rex, Huck, Rico, and Commie stood atop the mesalike formation; it was too difficult to tell if it had been built around the tunnel or if the tunnel had been built through it. To the south was a large group of undead creatures; to the north, a sheer cliff face that dropped about seventy-five feet to the jungle below.

Huck found the anchor point for the ropes. They joined the ropes together via a double sheet bend knot. He secured the rope to the anchor near the knot and yelled over to Rico, "Throw it over, Mexican."

Grumbling in Spanish, Rico tossed both ends of the doubled rope over.

"Commie, get over here, this is important," Huck said over his shoulder, careful not to speak loudly toward the south, where the creatures might be frenzied by his drifting voice. Huck stood near Commie, about six feet from the north-facing edge, as he explained. "Now we're about to go rappelling down this here face. What you're going to do is put this double rope through your legs from the front, then you're gonna go around your right leg and pa.s.s it across your chest and over your left shoulder like this. Then it's gonna go across your back and under your right arm and you're gonna hold the top with your left and pay out the rope with your right. You sit here and practice a bit while I make sure the Mexican secured it right."

"Oh, f.u.c.k you, redneck," Rico retorted, slapping the back of Huck's head.

"Easy there, wouldn't want to slip down there and break a leg, would you? Those things would make short work once they found you, and they always find you," Huck teased.

Huck yanked on the rope and put all his body weight into it to make sure it wouldn't slip anchor. They wouldn't have the luxury of a top-rope belay tonight. "Okay, this b.a.s.t.a.r.d is secure, Gibraltar solid," he announced, propping his leg on the anchor point.

Rex made the required radio calls to the USS Virginia while Huck and Rico set up the descent. He could barely be heard over the ocean breeze coming in, seemingly from all directions.

"Virginia, we are Oscar Mike, over," Rex transmitted.

Commie looked like a cat trapped in a bowl of spaghetti-the rope was twisted every which way across his body. "Why didn't you guys bring a harness?" Commie complained to Huck.

"Because, dips.h.i.t, take a look around. Where do you think the nearest open REI might be?"

"Good point. Will you show me again? I think I twisted it the wrong way."

After a little more instruction, Commie seemed ready to make the descent.

The doubled-up rope pulled against Rex's leg, back, and arm. Commie was right-a harness would have been nice, he thought to himself, releasing the slack, the friction warming his hand through his gloves as he descended. As Rex neared the jungle floor, the temperature changed and he could smell the rot, not unlike descending into a bas.e.m.e.nt and being hit with the musty odor of old canned fruit and decaying wood. The south face blocked the breeze. Just over six feet off the ground Rex felt the sc.r.a.pe of a branch on the bottom of his leg.

He almost loosened the slack of the rope the rest of the way, which would have dropped him through the branches and onto the ground, but instead he hesitated . . .

The wind was slowed by the cliff and blew lightly at the bottom of the rock face. Risking disorientation, he twisted his torso and looked down, seeing them. The sensation on Rex's leg was not a branch in the breeze, it was the silent clutch of death reaching upward for him. The creatures appeared to be in advanced stages of decomposition. They displayed visible rib cages, no lips, and complete loss of vocal ability-silent apparitions of a dead island, paradise lost to nuclear airburst detonation.

Hanging awkwardly on the ropes, Rex couldn't reach his carbine, and even if he could, it would be too difficult to maneuver it without falling on the creatures below. He grasped for his unsuppressed pistol, making sure it was still secured in the holster. The fingertips of a creature brushed his leg again while he radioed his situation to the top.

"We have company down here, I think about four! Don't bother shooting; you'll just hit me. I'm pulling my sidearm. Be ready to come down quickly behind me. I don't know how many more are in the bushes and the noise from my gun will draw them."

At the top of the face, Huck readied Commie to go next. "Okay, kid, you're gonna have to move. Rico might be on the rope before you get to the bottom. Good to go?"

"Good to go," Commie parroted.

Rex pulled his sidearm, careful not to drop it. With his right hand enc.u.mbered by the slack line of the rope, he had to make the shots with his off hand. Pulling the trigger on the undead a.s.s grabber, Rex put its lights out forever. The sound made the remaining two or three go into a frenzy. They were rotted to the point that their voice boxes had long ago disintegrated. Rex hoped their unpreserved status meant that they hadn't been radiated-or at least weren't capable of spreading the radiation's deadly effects.

An unearthly noise like hissing snakes gave away the fourth creature's position to Rex's right. With three shots, he snubbed out the two corpses to his left before combining the slack end of the rope with the main end, freeing his other hand to shoot. A tug on the main line caused his shot to go wide. They were trying to put Commie on the rope before Rex was on the ground, a tough prospect considering Rex's one hundred and ninety pounds-not including gear. The rope jerked again, sliding Rex farther down, well within the last creature's grasp. The creature reached blindly, gripping Rex's exposure suit.

He had no choice-he had to take the shot at close range. He felt a sharp, painful pinch on his forearm the moment before he awkwardly positioned the barrel on the creature's head and squeezed. Brains sprayed across Rex's mask, obscuring his vision. He dropped to the ground, wiping his mask with his sleeve. Rex cleaned his NODs with his gloved fingers to get a better look at his arm. Luckily, his suit wasn't breached. It would leave a nasty bruise though.

"I'm on the ground, four tangos down," Rex said.

"Roger that. Commie's on the way down, Rico will follow," Huck responded.

Rico watched their back while Huck babysat Commie on the rope. Rex might kill Huck if Commie fell. A metal clanging sound emanated from the maintenance shack. Both Huck and Rico could hear it clearly.

Commie was on his way down and stopped. "What's that?" he asked Huck, who stood at the top.

"Don't worry about it, keep moving!" After making sure that Commie was making safe progress, he joined Rico near the shed. "Man, those f.u.c.king things can climb ladders? Not good," Rico whispered.

"Yeah, not good except that I closed the f.u.c.king hatch. One or two of them might be able to climb but that don't mean they can do algebra or open up hatches while standing on a ladder. It's your turn, get on the rope."

"My pleasure, b.u.mpkin. Good luck, Hick."

"Right back at you, Mexican."

Huck remained at the top, watching Rico and Commie disappear over the cliff. The sound coming from the shack was louder now.

"Huck, get on the rope, we're all down. The jungle is moving all around us! Hurry up!"

Huck sped down the rope.

"Should I try to bring the rope?" Huck asked Rex.

"Leave it, no time."

Rope was one of those things that you didn't need when you had it and needed badly when you didn't. Especially now.

With boots on the ground, they trekked north. They were all too young to have ever fought in Vietnam, but now were experiencing the same terrors of jungle warfare against a silent enemy.

The creatures on the jungle floor were largely silent except for the terrifying hissing sounds-an audible warning meaning you were close enough for hand-to-hand combat.

Commie stepped on a piece of debris, probably thrown from the blast event. It snapped like a firecracker in the darkness, inviting the hiss of pit ghouls from all sides. Rex reluctantly gave the order to engage. Camera flashes of their suppressed M-4 muzzles lit their surroundings, revealing the details of demons to the operators' artificial vision.

Most heads exploded or fell apart, and corpses thumped to the ground for some time. Faint steam issued from their scorched suppressors and M-4 upper a.s.semblies.

They reloaded and pressed on through the dense jungles, eventually punching out of the tree line and onto a road, where Rex stopped the group.

"Okay, I'm gonna make radio contact and revector the UAV to our posit for support. Huck, you and Rico set up a perimeter. Commie, stay close and alive."

"Virginia, Hourgla.s.s, we are out of the jungle and on a road. Disoriented but we know we are somewhere north of the cave, two miles maybe. I'm going to turn on IR-please snap to me and advise, over."

Kil was on watch and on headset when the transmission came in. "We heard you, Hourgla.s.s. We're flying in a circle north of the cave. Lost you under the foliage, leak IR at your discretion."

"Good to hear you, Kil, IR on."

Kil studied the Scan Eagle control screen. One of the operators panned and tilted the camera. Kil could see the IR flashes, near a highway about a mile from the UAV's track.

"Adjust orbit and get on top," Kil ordered.

"Yes, sir."

"Hourgla.s.s, we have you marked and are heading for your posit. We'll be there in one minute. We have you alongside Trimble Road. Set your compa.s.s heading due north two miles, until rendezvous State Highway 803, repeat three six zero heading, two miles. Our maps say the terrain is relatively flat."

"Okay, Virginia, we're Oscar Mike due north to Highway 803. Hourgla.s.s is standing by for any tippers. We're lookin' for undead locs, bearings, and strength along our way."

"We're on it, Hourgla.s.s," Kil confirmed, sipping some warm instant coffee from an old MRE, feeling some guilt about not being on the ground.

He was careful not to show it.

The team moved relatively slowly but steadily across the tropical fields through the darkness, careful with noise discipline, weapons at low ready. The Virginia supplied regular radio updates and course adjustments to put them at the highway as planned. A gentle Pacific winter breeze rolled over the field, making the gra.s.s dance, reflecting the moonlight brightly into their optics. Nothing moved inside the gra.s.s, no legless creature dragging its own corpse, no ankle-snapping animal burrows.

They were at Highway 803 in a short amount of time.

Rex looked over to Huck. "Make the call."

"Roger. Virginia, this is Hourgla.s.s. We're here, what's our next best vector, over?"

After a full minute of silence the radio keyed and Kil replied. "Okay, we've sent the UAV north a ways to scout ahead. So far it's looking okay, so follow the road to the north. In four miles, you'll get to a fork: from there, we'll talk you onto the RHIB. Fair warning, the beach is pretty busy right now. Captain La.r.s.en just came from topside and says that you're all in for a fight."

"Copy all, Virginia," Huck acknowledged gravely.

"Chin up, Huck. We'll make it," Rex a.s.sured the men. "If we have to, we'll hit the beach half a mile from the boats and swim to them. The North Sh.o.r.e sharks probably keep the water pretty clean with all that smelly s.h.i.t seeping from those rotting meat bags. Shark jerky."

They slogged north to the intersection. Cresting a hill, the team observed a gaggle of creatures surrounding a dead tree full of exotic birds that had somehow escaped nuclear annihilation. The moon was bright and the team was upwind. Undead attention shifted away from the tree toward them. The creatures approached in the darkness, noses high as if tracking the team's scent. They stalked like a pack of wolves, moving quickly. The team engaged the creatures early, dropping three instantly; the remaining twenty undead homed in on the commotion and sprinted to the thumps and flashes of the team's M-4 carbines.

In a catch-22, the team intensified their shots, killing more creatures, but also quickening the undead pace in their direction. The creatures were fast and focused. The last corpse came so close to Huck, he was forced to pull his leather handled Arkansas Toothpick knife to stab it through the eye socket. Congealed blood and eye jelly splattered his blade before the creature hit the radiated ground. Eventually the team arrived at the fork.

The beeping sync of the radio indicated another transmission was inbound from Virginia: "We have you at the fork, move three two five degrees and I'll fine-tune you as you get closer to the RHIB. Less than two miles to go."

"Roger that, Kil. How's it looking?" Rex inquired.

"Not good, undead strength . . . heavy."

"How many?"

"Hundreds or more along your path."

Just as Kil had said in his briefing before the mission, the undead had spread to the outer belt of the island a long time before the team's arrival. They would encounter the highest concentration from this point forward. Rex once more called a quick field meeting.