What he did recognize was the browser icon. It seemed farfetched that he could simply look through web pages online, but he had to start somewhere. He double clicked the icon for the World Wide Web, but instead of seeing a standard search screen he was given a login prompt.

  He shook his head in frustration. Maybe he should have just asked Callum to be able to use the computer, or at least be told more about what was happening across the country, but he had stayed mute, wanting to give the impression that he didn’t care.

  A folder on the desktop caught his attention. It was simply named ’Committee 28.’ Confirming Callum was still sleeping, he opened it. An array of files were displayed. Some images, but mostly text. He clicked the view option and reorganized them in date order and clicked on the newest. His eyes caught the username of a sender before his brain did, but the result was the same. His mouth fell open on seeing that the email came from someone called ‘FrogMaster007.’

  He kneeled, shaking his head. It had to be a coincidence. He kept on reading. The receiver was someone called ‘UnicornBlood787’

  ‘Date: December 18th

  Subject: It’s happening.

  The decision has been made to run the experiment on a global scale. Two birds, one stone kind of deal. Most will be infected. A tiny percentage, immune. It’s those they want. They are the way forward. The rest are to be sacrificed to find the few. This is the last time I can contact you. They will find out if we don’t stop talking. Then they will kill us. It doesn’t matter what you do with the information. Nothing can stop my—’

  A hand pushed Karl’s hand from the mouse. “Hey! What you doing!” Callum clicked off the text box, returning to the desktop.

  Karl jumped a few steps back. “I... I… was trying to find news of what happened!”

  “Don’t ever touch my shit! Man, if I told the others what you just did, we’ll both be dead! There’s shit you can’t see! You get that, man?”

  Karl, nodded. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry.”

  Callum shook his head, while looking back at his monitor, switching the view to the programming screen it was originally on. “Just get out. Go hang with your family or something.”

  Karl walked to the door, his mind still ringing with the words he had just read.

  *****

  A volume of dust wafted across Cole’s goggles. The scarf tied around the lower half of his face, did a good job of restricting his breathing but a bad job of stopping the heavy grime that floated in the air, from making it into his throat. He had told Noah that he knew where to get breathing apparatus, but the giant of a man just smiled, telling him there was something more important they needed to get first.

  More important than breathing?

  And there it was, across what used to be a street in downtown Chicago. The thing that was more important. A three story high mound of smoldering rubble. What was left of the Chicago bank building. Built in 1872. A structure which always looked to Cole that it could withstand a nuclear explosion. Turned out, it couldn’t withstand a fire. But beneath the mortar, glass and steel would be the vaults, and they were probably very much still intact.

  He shook his head and looked at Noah, standing by his side. “You think I can get under all that? You’re joking, right?”

  Noah looked at him. “You’re a firefighter or something. You know how to deal with this shit.”

  Cole frowned, looking back to the broken remains of a once proud institution. “Right. But… there’s nothing stable in all of that. It’s probably going to collapse the moment I find a way in.”

  “Yeah well. No pain. No gain. And I mean to gain. Get going. Find me a good path, one that won’t fall down on my head. Find me the way to the vaults down there.”

  Cole resisted shaking his head, but started slowly walking across the road, which consisted of crushed cars, smashed almost flat by the masonry that had fallen from high above.

  “And if you think about running?”

  Cole stopped but didn’t turn around.

  “We gonna kill your friends. You know? The woman and her kid.”

  Now he did turn around. “I thought you didn’t like it when people threatened women and kids?”

  Noah waved his Glock at the remains of the building. “Just get in there. You got an hour. If you don’t find anything, don’t bother coming back to the bunker.”

  Cole moved forward, around pieces of stonework, a few feet across, then scrambled over smaller pieces of brick, trying to avoid the exposed cables. There was every chance they were still live. As he clambered over and between jagged, slanted stones and steel beams, he thought about veering to the left, to where the building’s parking lot used to be. He turned around, trying to spot Noah on the other side of the street, but there was too much debris blocking the view, and even without, the air was thick with drifting particulate, as if he was under the surface of the ocean. A deep sea diver, exploring a new—

  Something crackled to his right, making him jump away and whip his head in that direction at the same time. Some kind of electrical cable was sending blue sparks into the air, but at least it gave him some light to see with. He had a flashlight, but its beam was whole inadequate for what he needed, pushing the shadows only a few feet away.

  He was beneath part of the structure. A section that had remained upright. A chair lay crushed beneath a block of stone. Within a mixture of splintered wood of what looked like a desk, was a backpack and the mangled, warped shape of a bicycle wheel.

  He swung his light around, trying to spot an indication of a door, but some of the floors above had collapsed into this one, making the task almost impossible. He pushed on, regardless, his gloved hands moving over the rough surface of shattered concrete, crouching lower and lower. While he moved, he tried to obtain a mental image of the building’s layout from the few times he visited, when suddenly his boot fell away and he tumbled into the darkness.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The SUV bumped as Todd and the others moved over train tracks. Above, the sun beat down on what would have been a bright morning, but the color of the sky was wrong. Rather than a deep blue it was a dirty beige. To Todd it looked as if it contained the ash of the dead, but knew it had probably more to do with a combination of nuclear detonations and the smog from the cities reaching high altitudes.

  The result was an orange filter was applied to the landscape, giving the hedgerows, fields and trees a slightly yellow tinge.

  As they drove, he thought about Evelyn and the kid being tied up in the old man’s basement. How dark their eyes had become and how the sounds that erupted from their throats had made Cash whimper. Unlike those in the streets, they hadn’t killed. They weren’t murderers… yet. Or was that an unfair judgement on those that had rushed him and Cole the night before? Would you call a rabid dog a murderer?

  Is that what people had become? At least at night? Could these ‘vamps’ be made fully human again? Or they were now permanently different?

  He let out a sigh. He wanted out of this ‘gang’ that he had been pulled into and out of the truck. It had been a long while since he had traveled any distance in a vehicle and he was beginning to feel nauseous.

  August looked up from the map he was holding. He nodded to somewhere ahead of them. “The old base should be just up ahead.”

  Todd wasn’t the only person in the cabin that was glad. Although he was probably the least scared. He noticed Jesse’s hand grip the edge of the seat. The kid was going to end up killing someone before the day was out. He just needed to make sure it wasn’t him.

  A chain linked fence appeared at the right side of the two-lane road with the occasional rusting sign mentioning beyond was the domain of the defense department. Just visible through the overgrown weeds and branches were gray-white roofs. Strange, angular constructions. Todd knew what they were or rather used to be. Silos or bunkers belonging to one of the bomber wings.

  “There should be a gate up here, on the right,” said August.

  They slowed to a stop at a crossroads and sure enough, there was an overgrown track to the old gate.

  “It’s open,” said Daryl.

  “It is,” said August.

  “Would have thought a highly secretive pot grower would have this place, locked down…”

  “Drive in, slow.”

  As they passed the trees which lined both sides, the hair on Todd’s neck, stood erect. “We’re being watched.”

  “Scope or camera,” said August.

  Todd studied the trunk and foliage. There were no glints but some of the leaf groupings were off, no doubt covering cables, which you wouldn’t need for simple battery powered cams. “Both. Remote sentries. Both sides of the—”

  “It would seem we are not the first here,” said August.

  The SUV stopped at the entrance to a forecourt. At the far end were three humvees, which sat outside a large white, pyramid shaped concrete building, with an absence of windows, but a small almost missable door.

  Jesse bounced a little on his seat. “Shit, it’s the army!”

  Todd immediately spotted the license plate and lack of insignia. “Not army.”

  The younger man looked at him. “Who then?”

  August waved a hand towards the vehicles. “Someone who is our competitor. Pull up about twenty-yards behind them.”

  Daryl rolled the SUV forward, easing to a stop then grabbed his gun from beneath the seat. August looked at him and then turned to the others. “Keep your weapons hidden. We are here to convince this man to work for us. That has to happen because he wants to, not because he feels he has to. Leave that to others.”

  He got out and the others followed. They all stood, shifting their gazes from tree to tree then moved onto the path which led to the entrance and the man with a rifle standing outside. He touched his earpiece, which Todd knew meant he was receiving instructions.

  August approached him with his hands raised. “We are here for an audience with the one that goes by the name of the Goblin.”

  “And you are?” said the man.

  “Tell your boss that I am, August.”

  The man touched his ear again, nodding, then knocked on the metal sheet door which immediately opened.

  Todd took one last look at the Mars like sky above then followed the others into the dark tunnel.

  A scattering of florescent lights flickered as if they were fighting some unseen annoyance and the group of four walked along the narrow corridor, and then descended once more, where they were met with another armed guard.

  “No guns beyond this point,” he said.

  The visitors frowned, but then offered them up. The unshaven man opened a crate and dropped them in. Todd wasn’t the only one to notice the gold plated pistol resting on a few AK-47s.

  The man pulled back a rattling metal door to an elevator, and ushered them inside. The interior lacked any obvious means to choose a destination but that didn’t stop the door from being closed and the metal box from descending, its gears and cables screeching as it sunk lower into the ground.

  It stopped with a jolt and before anyone could react the door was dragged open scraping across the floor.

  “Out,” said another man, this one older and slimmer than the first, but packing a gun in a shoulder holster like the other.

  They walked into a narrow corridor, this one filled with the odor of earth and the sound of generators humming in the distance. Stenciled room titles and directions had been worn by time and some replaced with newer less serious names, such as ‘The shitter’ and ‘Weed World.’

  Jesse let out a giggle, while the others remained glum, inspecting the secure looking doors as they made they way towards the largest of the entrances, marked ‘Silo 4.’

  The door swung open. Another of the guards was on the other side. It wasn’t lost on Todd that most of these individuals were wearing the same uniform, while their hair was long and tied at the back.

  “Come in!” said a male voice from inside.

  August walked in first, Todd being last. The silo was a huge circular, open plan room, looking more like a luxury apartment than what it was intended to be used for. The ceiling was only fifteen feet above.

  On a white three piece sofa sat three men, while another two stood nearby, but in the center of the room, stood in front of a circular log fire was an older individual. He threw his arms wide as the new group walked inside.

  “I have heard much about you. Do I call you Mr. August? Or is it just August?” The Goblin was dressed in a shiny gray two-piece suit, with a frilly orange shirt beneath and some kind of animal hide for shoes. August started to talk but the man continued, turning to the tall gray boxes full of dials and buttons. “This used to be the launch room for a Titan two nuclear missile. Those boxes over there could have ended the world, and now look at them. Just cool looking retro storage boxes for my pants.” He turned back to August. “Would you like a drink?”

  August smiled, while shaking his head.

  Todd had been keeping an eye on the seated men, and the two bodyguards near them. It was going to be a problem if things turned sour.

  The Goblin smiled as well, but it was the expression of a car salesman. “So what brings you to my little nuclear bunker out here in the sticks?”

  August’s eyes shifted between the other men, one in particular. Bald, smartly dressed, and the Goblin himself. “I came to see if you needed anything. In times like this, those that prepared for the worst should be wiling to help each other.”

  The Goblin shook his head. “Yes!” He turned towards the other men, as if to make a point. “Yes! You see Tye? We should all work together.” He whipped back to August. “Why don’t you gentlemen take a seat.”

  Todd didn’t want to sit. The back of his neck was already wet with sweat. He hated being underground. Too many memories from his tours. If August didn’t get this party over soon he was going to have to leave. He followed the others to the other sofa which was placed opposite the already occupied one, while the spindly older man in the casino outfit, sat in the center piece, between both sides.

  He looked left then right. “So I have the two most powerful gang leaders on the east coast, in my little abode.” He looked to his right. “Mr. Goodman, wants to use my expertise to create explosives.” He looked to his left, examining the three men in turn, including the one still standing, Todd, but settled his gaze on August. “And what do you require of me?”

  “Food.”

  The Goblin raised his eyebrows. “Hmm, never took you as the humanitarian.”

  “Soon, all crops and most stored food will be contaminated. And the air we are breathing now will kill us all in twenty years, so the production of food will need to take place…” He looked around. “Under the ground. Who better to do that, than you?”

  The Goblin snorted, while the bald man opposite frowned, the two seated next to him, shifting a little.

  The Goblin looked right. “The Rive gang make an intriguing proposition. Use my services to create life giving sustenance or blow shit up.” He looked back to August. “I’m afraid, I do like to blow shit up.”

  The bald man and his compatriots laughed.

  He hunched his shoulders. “I don’t get out much.”

  “I know why the bombs dropped…”

  The laughing stopped, but it wasn’t the Goblin that replied first. “What do you think you know?” Tyrus said in a New York accent.

  August looked at the Goblin. “You offered us a drink? I am feeling somewhat parched.”

  The Goblin frowned but looked at one of the men nearby, who walked to a glass drinks cabinet. He looked back at August. “So why the bombs drop?”

  “All I can say at this point is that everything that has happened, happened for a reason. The virus, people burning, what they become at night and the bombs. It’s all connected and—” He looked at Tyrus. “If we don’t work together we will all be wiped out.”

  Tyrus snorted. “You got a little tin foil hat stashed away somewhere?” He briefly turned to those sitting alongside him. An older, gray-haired man, and a younger woman. “We got ourselves a regular conspiracy theorist. Next you’re gonna tell me it’s little green men that did all of this.”

  “You have seen what those infected with the virus become? How fast they move? How strong they are?”

  Tyrus sat back. “People see what they want to see. The sun went down and people went crazy because now they ain’t burning. And anyway who cares why or how it happened. We live in a different world now. You see any government people in the city? They’re all hiding in their bunkers. So the cities belong to us now. We’re the government. I control New York, but… I’m not sure you control Chicago…”

  August sat back, thanking the guard who handed him and then the others a clear but strong smelling alcoholic drink. He took a sip before responding. “The why and the how, very much matter if you are going to survive what comes next.”

  The Goblin sat up more, while the head of the big apple crime syndicate frowned again. “What comes next?”

  August put his glass down, then promptly stood. “I can see you are a busy man. And I don’t want to waste anymore of your time.”

  “No really, what comes next?” said the Goblin with a little more tension.

  “If you wish to talk business. You know where to reach me.” And with that August, Todd and the others left.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Weight.

  Cole couldn’t think of anything else. As he awoke in the complete darkness, his chest felt as if it was being crushed.

  Too tight… can’t breathe…

  He knew instinctively the issue wasn’t an actual physical object weighing on him, but rather a lack of oxygen. He had fallen into a place where the air had been sucked out. Replaced with dust and fumes so thick that he felt as if he was trying to breath under water. Luckily he knew the solution.

  He threw his hands out in front of him and pushed himself to his knees then higher and stumbled into the darkness, desperate for any hint of fresher air and suddenly he found it. As if a path had been cut through the smog, he gulped in cleaner air. The tension around his ribs eased as relief increased. And with both came the realization that a part of the scene ahead was lighter. He probed the darkness again, his fingers quickly finding masonry. Cracked walls that had collapsed. He crawled beneath one large section, big enough to smash him flat if it fell any lower, and grabbed at his flashlight which was lodged in a crevice. Reversing back out, he swung the light around. He was in a stairwell, at the bottom of it. Directly in front of him was what remained of a heavy door to the bank’s lower levels. Sliding the light a little further to the left revealed a floor plan. The vaults were clearly marked. But was he really going there? What did he care of what was left of people’s savings. What good would any of that stuff do people now? A stashed painting or a set of diamonds stored in the catacomb of rooms, three floors below, might seem important to a young man, but he knew better.