Tim Curran - Resurrection

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Harry was smoking a cigarette, watching the windshield wipers arc back and forth. “So you boys think you’ll find answers at that base.”

“Yes,” Mitch told him. “In fact, we’re sure of it.”

Harry nodded, looked thoughtful as he pulled off his coffin nail. “Place is high security, least that’s what they said at Slayhoke.”

“It is,” Mitch said.

“And you think you can just walk right in there?”

“We’re gonna try.”

Harry just sat there, smoking. His hair was dark and bristly, a mustache of the same color reaching down to his jawline. But neither of which were as dark as his eyes at that moment. “We been hearing stories about the base. Funny sorts of stories.”

Mitch looked at him.

“Sure, crazy shit. But after you told me that business about the yellow rains and all that, figure you might want to hear this…even though it’s probably bullshit.”

“Tell us,” Tommy said, the truck splashing through a dip. “We’re like toadstools: we thrive on bullshit.”

Harry shook his head. “The cons and some of the guards, they been saying how the Army is shipping back corpses from Iraq. Doing things with ‘em. Nobody knows what exactly. Just experiments or something. Crazy, eh?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said, his throat very dry suddenly. “Crazy.”

13

The road leading to Fort Providence Military Reservation, as it was known, was long and winding and set with lots of signs that did their best to warn you away from what it was. Things like: U.S. GOVERNMENT PROPERTY NO TRESPASSING and NO UNATHORIZED VEHICLES BEYOND THIS POINT. There were no less than three checkpoints with barriers to keep you out. But, interestingly enough, all those barriers were wide open and all those checkpoints unmanned. There was a good two feet of water, if not more, flooding the road, but Mitch was thinking that it would have taken a lot more than deep water to get those guards out of their shacks. Something had happened here. Something bad. Something possibly catastrophic and ugly. Maybe he did not know that to be fact, but he felt it in his guts and that was enough.

This is insane, he thought, us driving right into a high security joint like this. A week ago, two weeks ago, they’d have forced us off the road and put us in irons. But today we’re driving right in.

After they passed the third checkpoint, the road veered sharply to the left and the heavily wooded countryside suddenly opened up. There were red STOP signs and more guard shacks. Mitch was just betting there were tire traps on the road, metal spikes that would spring up with the touch of a button to snare an unwanted vehicle. Of course, you couldn’t tell under all the water. Tommy kept the truck moving very slowly, expecting just about anything.

“I don’t want to burst your bubble,” Harry said, “but this is a felony, you know. I knew a guy who broke into a Navy supply depot in Chicago. He didn’t even get a chance to steal anything. And now he’s doing fifteen years in Leavenworth. Just thought I’d mention that.”

“You know lots of good people,” Tommy said. “I suppose we could turn around, call it quits right now. What do you think, Mitch?”

“Drive.”

Tommy did.

Mitch knew he was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Maybe Mitch himself was prone to some funny feelings from time to time, but you didn’t need to be psychic to feel the vibes rolling off this place. The atmosphere was blighted and grim and forbidding. Back in Witcham it was bad, of course. Like an open grave or casket filled with seething, spoiled meat. That sense lessened the farther you got away from the city limits. But here, it was different. There was not just a feeling of death and degeneration, but something worse. Something violated and spiritually depraved scratching around inside your skull. You could almost smell the misery and horror and utter madness of this place.

Mitch put a cigarette between his lips and his fingers were shaking so badly he nearly dropped it.

A sign came into view. It was white with black lettering. FORT PROVIDENCE MILITARY RESERVATION, it said, and beneath that, UNITED STATES ARMY MEDICAL COMMAND. And, beneath that, ABSOLUTELY NO

ADMITTANCE! USE OF DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED!

“Shit,” Tommy said.

Shit, was right.

Mitch had the feeling had this been any ordinary day they would have been gunned down, bagged, and shipped out. And there was something very unpleasant about broaching a place where your government hid all its dirty secrets. Yeah, maybe your tax dollars funded places like this, but that didn’t mean Uncle Sam wouldn’t slice your nose off for sticking it where it did not belong.

One last sign warned them: THIS IS A HIGH SECURITY FEDERAL INSTALLATION. Beneath that it said, HAVE ID BADGE READY. YOU ARE UNDER

VIDEO SURVELLAINCE. U.S. DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE.

Fort Providence was right ahead of them now. The road topped a hill and in the distance, through the curtain of rain, you could see the base itself?some old brick buildings surrounded by metal Quonset huts and garages, everything connected by enclosed walkways. Lots of high antennas and radar dishes. A power station. Parking lots, a few far-flung hangars and runways, an air traffic control tower. And then atop a low series of hills that looked artificial, a sparkling white compound with wings fanning out from it. This is what caught the eye. Because the far left quadrant was utterly destroyed. It looked like God had gotten bored and picked it up, slammed it back down in a tumble of matchsticks and then set it afire. Just blackened ruins now.

“Must have been one hell of a fuel tank,” Tommy said.

“That’s what they were saying, eh?” Harry said to them. “That a fuel tank went up or something?”

“That’s what they said.”

“A lot of damage. Maybe…maybe it was blown on purpose.”

They came to the main gates and they were wide open. The base was surrounded by not one, but three high chainlink fences which were electrified, if the signs could be believed and Mitch figured they could. They were topped by barbwire, cameras and motion detectors set out everywhere. You would have had a hell of a time sneaking in here unannounced.

“Nobody around,” Harry said.

And that was true. Lots of cars with U.S. government plates, trucks and half-tons, a few Hummers…but no people. The place was like a cemetery, a ghost town. Whatever had taken this place, it had left nothing living behind. Unless there were people hiding in those buildings…but Mitch doubted it. Maybe the chain of command had broken down, but the sort of guys who guarded a place like this would have been extremely vigilant, extremely well-trained, and extremely ambitious when it came to dealing with intruders. No, there was no one left.

“You smell that?” Tommy said.

There was a sharp, acrid odor blowing in through his cracked window. A chemical smell.

“That yellow rain smelled like that,” Mitch said.

“Let’s just speculate here a minute,” Tommy said. “They’re working on some crazy shit here. Something goes wrong and there’s an explosion. That explosion throws God knows what up into the air and it comes down in the rain. Something that makes the dead wake up and something else that comes down as that yellow rain. You following me here?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said.

“Okay, we just got hit by a few patches of that yellow rain in Witcham…but what about here at ground zero?”

“It might have been real bad,” Harry said.

The rain started really pouring down again in gray sheets and they couldn’t see much. Mitch thought he saw a few figures moving off into the gloom, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of a lot of things. Maybe that rain was a good thing, maybe it helped to cover up things you just didn’t want to be looking at. Maybe. It kept coming down and the windshield wipers just couldn’t keep up with it. Tommy slowed the truck, visibility down to maybe fifteen or twenty feet at best.

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