Carlie Simmons (Book 5): One Final Mission Read online

  It was nighttime above them so movement through the city would be to their advantage. With the goryo’s eyesight decaying, the creatures relied on triangulation for locating their prey, using sound and smell to pinpoint a human’s location. Shiro remembered the early weeks of June when the goryo milled around clumsily as if they were blindfolded. He thought maybe their end was near—that the mountain spirits had finally come to release the land from this evil. But, in observing them, he realized that they were slowly adapting to using their other senses. It slowed the creatures down temporarily but the fact that there were so many undead still made any daytime movement perilous. June was a particularly good month for laying in provisions and they got around easier, only losing one of their band.

  After several miles of weaving through the labyrinthine passages, they arrived at the tunnel’s end, near a set of concrete steps that led up to a steel door. Both men turned their motorcycles around and turned off the engines. Shiro slung two spear guns over his back, alongside his black-handled katana sword, while Yoshi gathered a spear gun and an arm-length hollow steel pipe. Yoshi pulled out a plastic vial of blended fish guts and dabbed a few drops around his jacket collar and pants cuffs then handed it to Shiro. The odor was similar to the rotting trash and remains lining the streets above and would cloak their scent.

  Shiro trotted up the stairs, his headlamp lighting the way. He listened for movement beyond the barrier and then slid the padlock and chain from the door. Peering through the opening, he saw the moonlit silhouettes of several creatures ambling along the sidewalk beyond the window in the lobby of the subway conductor’s office. He squatted low and scurried up to a ticket counter and then made his way along the stuccoed wall until he was at the rear exit.

  He slowly opened the door and slipped outside while holding it for Yoshi, who placed a small wooden wedge in the doorframe to keep it slightly ajar. They always had wedges with them for securing doorways and never entered a place unless they had at least three familiar escape routes available. The alleyway behind the subway administrative building was fenced off on both sides but the men still scanned the path to the distribution center two blocks ahead.

  They trotted down the long alley, stopping beside a dumpster near the terminus with the street. Shiro pulled an IPod and speaker from his pack and turned it on so the pre-recorded music of Taylor Swift was blaring. He grimaced at the grating sounds before he shoved the device into a white tube sock and then flung it over the fence into a clump of raggedy bushes beside a park. It landed next to a dozen other bulbous socks stuck in the brush but whose devices were long since spent.

  Shiro and Yoshi then sprinted in the opposite direction towards the distant fence while zombies began flowing around the outskirts of the buildings towards the grating music. They waited behind a pile of toppled pallets, watching the undead denizens of Osaka flood through the streets enroute to the noise. Shiro scanned the alley across from them, staring at the distribution center ahead, partly shrouded in the shadow of the immense hospital to the right.

  Chapter 14

  Shane looked down at his watch, specifically at the date of August 25, once more. The day the page turned on humanity’s future. Could it really have been only a year ago this fucking nightmare started? It seems like this is the only world I’ve known—like the other one was just a dream. He glanced over at Carlie, who was half-awake. She had hardly looked at him the entire trip. He wanted to move beside her and pull her into his arms. How he longed for the tension between them to slip away. Hell, pandemic or not, relationship problems between men and women haven’t changed. I should have talked with her before all of this—let her know what I was thinking. Shit, what was I thinking? He shook his head. Only about doing the right thing, once again. Take one for the team like always. He clenched his fists and then forced himself up and walked towards the cockpit. Just give me my rifle and show me the enemy and I will destroy him—time to get on with this fight already and stop lingering in the past.

  Compton the pilot and his navigator Hadley were discussing their approach vector when Shane entered the narrow confines. He could see downtown Osaka in the distance, the derelict forms of skyscrapers jutting up like extinguished candles, their forms backlit by an intense white light emanating from the north. The streets were pulsing with movement, darkened forms hobbling along the litter-strewn pavement. Shane had witnessed the carnage in other cities laid waste by the zombie hordes but his eyes widened at the sheer numbers of putrescent cannibals below. They resembled millions of pollywogs, each one wriggling alongside the others while searching for something to tear apart. My God, this country was hit hard. So many people living in already cramped cities—the fatality rate must have been out of control. No wonder this place has been silent. It’s a fucking tomb.

  As they drifted south past the central hub of downtown, the cityscape became obscured by dense fog that was roiling in from the bay to their right. Shane returned his attention to the white glow out the right window and coming from the distant city of Kyoto. “Looks like a nuclear reactor on the outskirts of the city that Duncan mentioned—Japan’s got a lot of those as I recall,” said Shane.

  “That’s the airfield up ahead,” the pilot said, raising an outstretched finger to a distant peninsula of land near the water. “Now, if they can only turn on the runway lights for us, this’ll be a smooth landing,” he nervously chuckled.

  “Set us down as close to the hangar as possible. Duncan informed me earlier that the runway had shown few creatures around it as of a few days ago,” said Shane, straining his eyes out to the horizon then glancing down at his watch. “The sun will be up within the hour and we need to be in the boats by then.” Shane knew that success depended on the golden rules of combat: speed, simplicity, and boldness. Soon they would be on the ground where every second would count and any victory would revolve around his well-honed team executing his orders.

  Shane returned to the main cabin and sat down across from Carlie while buckling into his seat.

  “I’ve got Commander Ellis on the radio. He’s still firm on his ETA here,” said Carlie, handing the comms device to Shane and then sinking back into her seat and closing her eyes.

  “Roger that.” He put the receiver up to his mouth. “Commander, this is Shane Colter again. What can you tell me about this nuclear reactor?”

  Chapter 15

  Osaka, Japan

  Friday, August 25, Twelve Months after the Pandemic Began

  Shiro was sitting cross-legged on a gym mat on the second floor of their improvised home in the Shinsekai Aquatics Center. He was finishing a bowl of Soba noodles, sun-dried fish, and canned green beans. Spread around the spacious floor, interspersed between weight machines that had privacy curtains suspended between them, were the other eight members of his band of survivors. He could hear the faint footsteps of their ninth member, Yoshi, pacing outside on the roof during his two-hour lookout shift.

  The sun would be rising soon and they would be consigned indoors once more. The two-story windowless structure that had been their home for the past seven months was located at the end of a small peninsula that jutted out across from downtown Osaka. With only one road coming in from the mainland, it made an ideal fortress. After they had arrived on the boat many months ago, they had sealed off the bridge with a barricade of school buses then went about fortifying the exterior of the building, welding the other entrances shut and setting up auditory alarms in the form of hanging cans and pots until the entire parking area resembled a giant’s chime collection. The lower level where the pools and hot springs were located were made into the kitchen and storage area while the upstairs gym was used for sleeping. Waste from the makeshift bucket-toilets downstairs was flung into the ocean along with trash and empty food cans. The warmth from the hot springs provided enough heat to cope with the chilly nights and a small array of solar panels on the roof afforded them enough electricity for indoor lighting and radio use.

  Shiro recognized early on tha
t he needed to maintain a rigid schedule to keep people disciplined and to help stave off depression which seemed as ever-present a threat as the rotting menace roaming the streets of the city. Daily fighting drills, weapons maintenance, cross-training in each other’s skill sets, and net-mending were the norm unless they were out on fishing trips or salvage missions in Osaka. There were two women in their late twenties or early thirties named Yamiko and Arisu, who were both as meek as the day he first rescued them. Despite their unassuming appearance both had proven themselves to be savage fighters. Arisu’s nursing skills and Yamiko’s ability as a seamstress had served their group well. They kept to themselves, mostly being courteous to Nora though Arisu often derided the American woman behind her back.

  The other three men, Daichi, Haru, and Naoki were in their thirties and forties. Haru was missing an arm at the elbow from an encounter with a goryo on the docks when they arrived at the aquaplex. Nora’s swift removal of the limb had saved him and he had since taken on the daily duty of camp cook to contribute in some way. Daichu had once been an Olympic gymnast and his considerable strength combined with Shiro’s technical prowess had swung many a battle in their favor. An old neck injury kept him from being on the supply runs and he spent most of his time maintaining the day-to-day operations of the aquaplex. Naoki was the quietest of the group. He had been preparing to renounce the world and become a full-time Buddhist monk when the pandemic struck. He was a shrewd fighter but had to be dragged along on supply runs and fishing trips, wanting rather to withdraw from the world into his own thoughts or his stacks of books.

  While their physical survival had been more assured at the aquaplex, Shiro knew that they were just holding on mentally. The monotonous routine, the lack of sunlight from their nocturnal lifestyle, and the bland group dynamics made him ever more certain that a trip abroad in search of an island—any island—was something they had to undertake. Otherwise, they were just living like post-apocalyptic cellmates in their urban purgatory. With the odd assemblage of personalities and the social stratification that still persisted, the social dynamics could be likened to a gathering of unfamiliar relatives that assemble every five years for a perfunctory reunion.

  With the coming of September, they planned to depart on a large sailing boat piloted by Nora. There was a string of islands in the Pacific that was just under a week’s voyage away and the trade winds would have shifted in their favor by the time they were finished gathering supplies.

  The aquatics building met their physical needs but had no sense of ambience, being strictly utilitarian. Yamiko had erected a handmade Shinto shrine in the corner of the gym, near a dance room. There was a hand-drawn sketch of Ameratsu, the Sun Goddess and another indicating a serpentine figure. The latter symbolized a kami, or spirit, associated with the hot spring that flowed into the pool in the floor below. The diminutive shrine provided a place for people to meditate, pray, or leave offerings as their beliefs dictated. Shiro had thought of using the shrine on more than one occasion but didn’t want to have anyone see him in supplication. Instead, he saved his spiritual reflections for his lookout duties on the roof. There he whispered prayers to his brother, seeking forgiveness but knowing it could never be paid through mere words. Though he tried to mask his feelings, Shiro felt a strange connection to Nora’s infant son, Tyler, and was determined to protect him and his overly gregarious mother at any cost. That the boy had arrived just after his brother’s passing had to be a portend of some kind. He felt that safeguarding the child was his last chance to atone for his past crimes and a way of making things right with both the world of the living and the other realm that all flesh eventually yielded to.

  “Can’t sleep, eh?” said Nora, who was peeking her head out from the blue curtain beside her sleeping area. “Me neither—too nervous about our upcoming departure for the islands, to leave this place once and for all and start over.” She turned to check on Tyler, who was swaddled in a fleece blanket, and then walked over to Shiro.

  He continued lifting the chopsticks full of noodles to his mouth and motioned for her to sit beside him.

  “You always get by on only five hours of sleep a night. You sleep like you eat—very modestly.”

  He arched his eyebrows, surprised that she was so keen on his habits. He glanced at her shoulders and arms that were etched from months of blade- and stick-fighting practice.

  “I guess with us all living under such tight confines, it’s no wonder we know each other’s routines so well,” he said, placing the empty green bowl on the floor by his knee.

  “I know yours, anyway,” she said, tilting her head and smiling.

  He had tried to ignore her interest in him these many months. The rigor of surviving had prevented any romantic inclinations from reaching beyond his ever-present tactical mindset. He wasn’t disinterested: her honey-blond hair was an anomaly amongst the women of his country and her expressive demeanor could, at times, be enjoyable when it wasn’t overwhelming. However, his only experience with women had been in fleeting sexual relationships with courtesans who worked in the employ of his Yakuza clan. Those women bore the same sad expression in their eyes that he frequently saw in the mirror when his steely façade wore thin. They always looked at him like he was a prison guard and not with the sweet warmth that Nora’s eyes revealed. When he was around her, the younger, carefree boy in him that he thought lost forever would awaken from its dormant slumber and the shackles of his adult life would slip away. Her honest gaze always disarmed him. She was so expressive and bore her feelings in the melodic words that flowed from her soft lips. There was never any pretense with Nora, no cultural formalities that restricted her. He found himself thinking about her during quiet moments. Shiro wondered how she could be interested in someone with his nefarious background which the others never let him forget despite their appreciation for him saving them time and again. Modern Japan had fallen but vestiges of the old caste system still threaded their way through their daily interactions.

  Shiro forced his attention back to the task at hand. As he stooped forward to stand, Nora placed her hand over his. “It’s so nice sitting together—won’t you stay with me a while longer?”

  He gazed upon her smooth neckline and up past her ears, visually imbibing the contours of her lovely face. He brushed a lock of hair aside from her cheek. Nora grasped his hand and pressed it against her lips, kissing his palm. A smile formed in the corner of his mouth and for a moment he forgot about his duties. As he slid closer to her, he heard someone rustling in the distance as they awoke. Shiro pulled back and withdrew his smile, his expression returning to the former chiseled surface it normally resembled. He stood up and leaned back on the half-wall, grabbing his sword and tanto blade.

  “It will be light soon and I have to relieve Yoshi of his overwatch.”

  Shiro tucked the blade into his belt and slung the sword across his back. While reaching down to grab his green rucksack, he saw Yoshi bolting down the rooftop stairs. The tireless man had become a trusted fighter and Shiro’s second-in-command.

  “You should come see this—something to the north—a white glow like we saw a few days ago, only growing in size.”

  He looked at Nora and then trotted off to the stairs. He followed Yoshi back to the roof, the warm ocean breeze sweeping through his thick black hair. Both men rambled past the small rooftop gardens and over to the edge, walking along the crunchy tiles of the cracked surface.

  “It was there a minute ago,” said Yoshi, pointing beyond the derelict skyscrapers of downtown Osaka.

  Shiro scanned the inky horizon and then looked down below by the nearby pier, twenty yards distant. Their fishing boat and two small jetboats were gently bobbing in the waters as they had left them. He surveyed the moonlit sidewalk for movement but only saw the usual flutter of trash and leaves dancing around the windswept pavement. Then his vision shot back abruptly to the cityscape as an immense arc of soft, white light rose from the northeast. It was like the crescent moon was surf
acing from an earthy grave, its effervescence illuminating the silent city across the bay. Shiro knew the light in the distance was coming from the vicinity of the nuclear reactor located near the city of Kyoto, a hundred-twenty miles northeast of their location. The glow pulsated upward, growing in intensity. For a brief second, he saw something else—an object flying across the sky, the metal wings of a plane reflecting off the light. He choked on his breath and strained his eyes.

  Was that…? Before he could finish his thought, he watched the plane move like a finger from heaven to the south, its silent form filling the surreal night sky.

  …A sign. The plane flew past downtown Osaka and veered to the right towards the Kansai airfield near the bay, eight miles from their location.

  Shiro clutched the handle of his tanto blade as if seeking reassurance, uncertain if what he was seeing was real or some trick the spirits were playing on him. As he watched the plane descend, penetrating through the fog surrounding the airfield, he gulped down a deep breath, his mind filling with confidence. Then the bright glow to the north faded, casting the world into familiar darkness again. Shiro pressed his body over the retaining wall, straining his eyes towards the airfield, but there was nothing. He only heard the lapping of waves against the pier below and felt the salt-laden breeze wafting along the roof.

  “That’s where we saw the light a few nights ago, only not that intense,” said Yoshi, who had turned to look at Shiro. “What do you think that was flying across the sky—one of our planes?”