Shaun Harbinger: Wildfire: Destruction of the Dead

“Each camp has a database that contains the name and location of every survivor in every camp,” Hart said. “It’s called the Survivor Board. When the camps started taking in survivors, they put their names and pictures on a board at the gates. I think it was to encourage other survivors to enter the camp, especially if their families or loved ones were inside.

“The information from the boards eventually became collated into a database and networked to each camp. Your brother’s whereabouts will be on that database. The same goes for the rest of you; if your loved ones have survived and made it to a camp, you’ll find out where they are from the Survivor Board.”

We’d heard of the database before but our chances of getting into a camp to consult it had been non-existent. Now, we would be authorized to go into a camp, deliver the antivirus, check the Survivor Board, and leave without being shot.

I was sure that I was going to find Joe and my parents. Since the outbreak began, I had never been closer to finding them than I was now.

MacDonald turned off the screen. “We have maps, weapons, and supplies in the hangar. When you’re ready, we can go down there and begin the operation.”

There was no point hanging around here any longer. We got up from our seats and left the lecture hall, led by MacDonald and Hart.

We were ready to begin Operation Wildfire.

The hangar housed the three chinooks that Hart had said were out of fuel. There was also a truck loaded with cardboard boxes, its loading doors open. The place smelled of oil, gasoline, and rubber. There were mechanics tinkering with the engines of a couple of Jeeps and a crew doing something inside one of the choppers. The hangar was a busy place.

“Each box,” MacDonald said, indicating the boxes in the rear of the truck, “contains a thousand pre-loaded syringes. Each syringe is in a white plastic tube printed with instructions for self-administering the intramuscular injection. The tubes protect the syringes, so they can take rough handling if the situation calls for it.”

“How many boxes do we need to take to Camp Apollo?” I asked.

“Just one box. There are less than a thousand military personnel there.”

“How many survivors?” Lucy asked.

“Around four thousand.”

“So if we deliver five boxes,” Lucy said, “that will vaccinate everyone in the camp.”

“You will deliver one box to Camp Apollo,” MacDonald said. “The others go to Prometheus for distribution among the armed forces. Once they are delivered, you will return here for more batches of vaccine. Those will also be delivered to Prometheus. Are we clear on that?”

“It’s clear what you want us to do,” Lucy said.

MacDonald looked at each of us, obviously gauging whether or not we would follow her instructions. She knew that once we were away from the island, we were on our own. We could do whatever we wished with the vaccine.

But what choice did she have? She wasn’t willing to send her own people into danger, so we were her only hope of getting the vaccine to the mainland. If some of it went to the civilians and not the army, that was the price she was going to have to pay for our services.

She said, “Hart will give you the maps and supplies, as well as the identity cards that will ensure your safe passage in and out of the camps. Good luck.” She turned on her heels and left the hangar.

“I think we pissed her off, man,” Sam said, grinning.

Tanya gave Sam a high-five.

Hart sighed. “You really should consider running this operation the way Marilyn wants it to be run. Her reasons are sound.”

“Well, it’s not her going out there and risking her neck,” Tanya said.

Hart nodded, resigned to the fact that there was nothing he could do to control us once we were out of here. Injecting us with the pure virus wasn’t going to work again; we were all vaccinated. And we still remembered what had happened to Jax. We weren’t going to let that happen again. This time, it was our way or the highway.

He led us to a long table that held weapons, maps, MRE packs and equipment. An Asian man in a white lab tech’s coat sat at a laptop, waiting for us. Attached to the top of the laptop was a camera.

“You’ll need to have your photos taken for your ID cards,” Hart said. “If you have any trouble with military personnel, just show them the cards. Officially, you’ll be working for us, which means you’ll be working for the government.”

We lined up in front of the laptop to have our photos taken. After that was done, the tech took the laptop and left the hangar, presumably to have our cards made.

“Speaking of the government,” I said to Hart, “where are they? I assume they’re still running the country, or what’s left of it?”

He nodded. “They are. MacDonald is taking her orders directly from them.”

“So they’re here?” I asked.

“No, they aren’t here. They’re giving orders via video link. Their location is classified, of course.”

“Of course,” I said. They were probably safe in a bunker somewhere while the country they were supposed to be running went to hell.

“We have maps, weapons, and equipment over here,” Hart said, changing the subject and walking along the table to the supplies. “There’s also army clothing for you if you want it. You might find it more useful than your T-shirts and jeans.”

He was right about that. The army trousers had more pockets than our jeans, and would dry quicker after getting wet. The combat jackets would be warm. There was even a selection of black army boots of varying sizes for us to choose from.

The maps had been marked with the locations of Camp Apollo and Camp Prometheus. They had also been weatherproofed with some kind of laminate spray. I picked one up and studied it. Apollo wasn’t far from Apocalypse Island and it looked close enough to the coast that we shouldn’t have too much trouble getting there. Although by now, I should know that nothing was simple. Not when there were zombies everywhere.

Camp Prometheus was located at a place called Killington Lake, about fifty miles south of the city of Carlisle. I could see a route that we could drive from the coast to the camp, avoiding the city. That place was probably crawling with nasties.

“Do we know what state the roads are in?” I asked Hart.

He shrugged. “The army is keeping some of the main roads and motorways open but the smaller roads could be dangerous.”

I nodded and folded the map before stuffing it into my pocket. I wasn’t expecting this mission to be easy, but there were a lot of variables that were unknown. I didn’t like the unknown; it usually meant trouble.

I moved along the table to the weapons. As well as the handguns, which I ignored because I still had my Desert Eagle on the boat, there were half a dozen M16 machine guns and a stack of magazines.

“We don’t know how many zombies or hybrids there will be in the area,” Hart said. “It will be best if you take plenty of firepower.”

“Cool,” Sam said, picking up one of the M16s and examining it.

I followed Hart along the table to a supply of flashlights, binoculars, Leatherman multi-purpose tools, hatchets, knives, lengths of paracord, stacks of MRE food packets, and protein bars.

“There’s a lot of food here,” I said. “This operation shouldn’t take all that long.”

Hart looked at me with a serious look in his eyes. “We all know what it’s like out there, Alex. It’s best to be prepared.”

The tech guy came back into the hangar and handed us our ID cards. I looked at mine. It was laminated and had a photo of my face next to the words, “Harley, Alex”. Beneath that was a string of numbers and a bar code. Beneath the bar code was the crest of the Ministry of Defense, a crowned wreath encircling crossed swords, a bird, and an anchor.