Free The Dying of the Light (Short Stories): The Walker Chronicles (Tales From The Dying of the Light) by Jason Kristopher Page B

could send out some scouting parties for weapons and ammo.”
    Reynolds shook his head. “Bad idea. Chances are, they’ve taken it as their main base. From the map you gave me, it looks like that’s the only big building in the area. No, we’re not going anywhere near Fort Crazy-Ass today, son.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Don’t ‘yessir’ me, boy.”
    “No, sir.”
    Reynolds eyed the young lieutenant, searching for signs of the miscreant nature he knew to be there, but went unrewarded and settled for another grunt. “Right. Let’s up and at ‘em.”
    “Yes, sir,” Masters replied, holding out a hand to help Reynolds to his feet.
    “I ain’t decrepit yet, Mr. Masters,” said Reynolds, standing under his own power and manfully ignoring the crick in his back from the cold concrete floor of the shoe store. He moved over to the counter, spreading the map down and calling for the soldiers who weren’t on guard. Masters directed a shaded flashlight onto the map.
    “Alright, men, here’s what we’ve got. Our destination is AEGIS Bunker One, located approximately here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the west face of Mount Rainier. “As you can see, the distance is about 500 klicks straight, but we’re looking at closer to 700 given terrain and delays.”
    Reynolds looked at the men around the table, who were silent and grim as death. He grinned. “Good. Just another hike for us, hooah?”
    “Hooah,” they agreed quietly.
    “Now, the good part about this is that it’s only about 7 miles to the outside of town. We’re going to head east-southeast from here, trying to stay off the roads and away from any concentrations of people. Full stealth mode, escape and evade, gentlemen. From there, it’s farms until we hit Eatonville. I’m betting we’ll be able to snag a vehicle of some sort out there to take us the rest of the way up the mountain. What’s our ammo situation?”
    “Three mags each for the rifles, sir,” said Masters. “More or less. An extra mag for pistols.”
    Reynolds nodded. “It’ll have to do. I want us stripped down as light as we can go. Keep your armor plates in, but drop everything else that isn’t absolutely necessary. We’ll eat before we move out, and take one MRE each. Fill your canteens; the water’s working, so let’s use it while we have it.
    “Strict rations from here to the bunker. We will destroy whatever we don’t take; I’m not leaving a thing for those bastards. And one last thing: keep an eye out for houses that look empty but have power. We may find a working phone. Questions?”
    He paused and looked them over.
    The same marine who’d been watching the back door the previous day spoke up. “Sir, all due respect, sir, but what’s the point of heading to the bunker now? We’ve heard on the radio that the doors have closed already.” Several of the other men nodded; he was speaking for all of them.
    “Yes, marine,” Reynolds said, “I believe they have, seeing as how we are a couple of weeks late for our appointment. But before we left, Major Barnes gave me her personal word that she would not leave her own men outside in this new Hell. We find a phone, we let her know we’re still human, she’ll let us in. Clear?”
    Relief and renewed determination showed on the men’s faces.
    “Excellent. We move out in 20.”

     
    In the growing light of dawn, the zealots watched the shoe store from a careful distance.
    “Thoughts, Mr. Driebach?”
    Arthur didn’t really expect an answer, and he wasn’t disappointed. Driebach merely spread his gloved hands and bowed his head, clearly indicating acquiescence to whatever Arthur had in mind.
    “Very well. Move in. Jackson, you go with him.”
    The young man’s mouth was swollen and a nasty shade of purple. His eyes narrowed at the command. Clearly, he had wanted the glory of this kill to himself.
    Too bad, thought Arthur. I’d rather make sure they’re dead.
    The zealots moved down from the barricade into the