“What’s your name?” Mike asked.
“Kyle.”
“Okay, Kyle. If you don’t come out, we will eventually find a way to open the door or cut through it. Things could go badly for both of us if it comes to that. If you’re afraid we’re military or raiders, we’re not. We’re just people who need a place to stay. We’re simply trying to stay alive like you are.”
“Answer me one thing, Michael Stevenson: have the rats won?”
Mike looked at Benji and Darren, then turned back to the intercom. “Yes, the rats won. We haven’t seen any other survivors or heard any comm. traffic in a long time. I believe the human race is nearly extinct.”
Kyle’s laughter echoed through the intercom’s speakers. “That’s not what I meant. I meant did they win the war?”
Mike glanced at Darren for help, but Darren shrugged.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Mike asked Kyle. “The human race is almost wiped out. I’d call that a victory.”
“Okay,” Kyle said suddenly, struggling to control his amusement. “You’ve convinced me. Tell your people to stand down. I’m coming out.”
In the corridor outside of the lab, Warren, Brent, and Michelle watched as the heavy metal door parted from the wall and slid open. Behind it stood a man who appeared to be in his early thirties. He was thin, and unwashed brown hair topped his head. His features, accentuated by glasses, were narrow and bird–like, yet attractive in a geekish sort of way. He carried himself with an air of confidence that usually came from military training, but his clothes were civilian and dirty, as if they hadn’t been changed in a while.
The man held out his empty hands in front of him. “I come in peace,” he said, grinning. “Take me to your leader.”
Brent and Michelle couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement.
Warren, however, didn’t laugh. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me? My name is Kyle, by the way. Nice to meet you too, though I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Warren. Now I suggest you do as I say before you start to piss me off more than you already have.”
“It figures people like you would survive,” Kyle said, appraising Warren. “You’re a hardcore soldier and trained killer, aren’t you, sport? I know your type.”
Warren gritted his teeth. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
“No, I imagine not.” Kyle turned and placed his hands on the walls, legs spread.
Warren moved in and patted him down for concealed weapons. When he saw that Kyle was clean, he stepped back.
Kyle turned around, looking over Michelle’s body and drinking it in. He bowed to her. “My dear lady, perhaps after the guns are put away I might learn your name.”
Michelle noticed she was still pointing her gun at him and lowered it. “Michelle,” she said apologetically.
Kyle shot a parody of a salute at Warren and said, “If you would be so kind as to lead the way, I believe your boss is waiting on me.”
Warren led Kyle through the complex, leaving Brent and Michelle behind in an attempt to draw attention away from what was going on. So far only a few people knew about Kyle’s presence and Warren wanted to keep it that way until they knew for sure how things would play out. Luckily most people in the group kept to themselves or at least to certain cliques. Originally the convoy group had been so large and so hectically nomadic it was nearly impossible to get to know everyone. People were beginning to loosen up now inside the safety of the base, but still the odds were in Warren’s favor.
He and Kyle only passed a handful of people on their way to the control room, and no one seemed to notice anything out of place. Warren had left his rifle with Michelle, and his sidearm was nothing out of the ordinary; the group was used to him storming around the base with a gun.
Mike, Darren, and Benji were waiting on them as they entered. Mike stood up from his seat at one of the security consoles and extended his hand to Kyle. “I’m Doctor Michael Stevenson, but please call me Mike.”
Kyle took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Mike. And who might these gentlemen be?”
Mike introduced Benji as his aide and Darren as the group’s computer specialist, though the title was a bit of an exaggeration. “And you’ve already met Warren,” Mike concluded. “He’s our head of security.”
Kyle chuckled. “I gathered as much.”
Mike offered Kyle a seat and sat down near him. “We’ve got a lot of questions for you, Kyle. How about we start with why you’re here? As far as I know, this base was officially decommissioned when the plague hit, and the operating personnel relocated or were sent out into the field. A single person being left here just doesn’t make sense. A skeleton crew or the sort I could believe, but not one person. Were you stationed here, or did you come here after things went to hell like we did?”
“Or we could start by asking who the hell you are?” Warren butted in. “Your accent doesn’t sound like someone who’s spent a long time in the U.S.”
“Kyle Weathersby,” Kyle said to Warren. He sighed and turned back to Mike. “I imagine you want the long answer. Okay. I am, or rather was, a representative, shall we say, of the British government, dispatched by the United Nations in attempt to discover the fate of the United States. The U.S. was one of the first countries to ‘go silent’ as all hell broke loose around the globe. I set foot upon American soil for the first time twenty-four hours after my government lost contact. I, along with my similarly well-armed associates, quickly found ourselves on the run, fighting for survival, with no way home. Most of the members of my team died in New York. Those of us who made it out lost contact with home.
“We set out for your capital and reached it to join forces with the remains of your leadership, at least those who weren’t already dead or whisked away to a shelter somewhere. One of those survivors was a person of some importance in your C.I.A. He knew of this facility, and a small group of us decided to head for here since home was unreachable and your nation had crumpled. I was the only one to make it here still breathing. I’ve been here ever since, staying alive and using the comm. channels to listen to the fate of the world above.
“I honestly thought I would die down here alone before your group showed up. I had gotten so used to the idea, I hid rather than chance dying at your hands. I couldn’t bring myself to make a stand against you, knowing how rare human life is becoming in the world.” Kyle stopped. “Is that enough of an answer for you or do I need to elaborate?”
“So you’re military?” Warren asked.
Kyle shook his head. “No, I was a field operative. There’s a difference. I was an agent, not a soldier.”
Warren glowered at him.
“Does it really matter?” Mike asked them, taking control of the situation again. “Kyle, you said you had been listening to what was going on out there. Is the rest of the world as bad off as we are here?”
“Do you even know what’s happening?” Kyle asked.
“Are there people still broadcasting?” Darren interrupted.
“No.” Kyle’s voice became flat and cold. “I hadn’t heard anything for a few days before you arrived.”
“So the rats rule everything now?” Mike asked, praying he was wrong about the answer he expected to get.
“No. They’re at war with the other factions of Hell.”
The room fell silent. Kyle felt their eyes burning into him, and finally he continued. “The wolves are still trying to complete their hold of Canada. The squids rule the seas and most of the islands. The bats are facing pockets of human resistance in Russia. The snakes have pacified Asia and are already making strikes against the bats, which hasn’t gone well for them if the human accounts are to be believed. I haven’t heard anything about Australia, and South America has been silent since days after the U.S. fell apart. As to my home, it was holding out against the dead, but the last word I got were my orders to come here.