Chapter 12
Marcus walked over to the bridge and he saw how it was defended. Multiple gun turrets sat across a line and cement road blocks were used to funnel the undead into a smaller area. The turrets were automated, and they would probably kill anything that moved. Despite his size, Marcus was able to stay unseen by the turrets or the operators on the other side of the bridge. When the undead were all killed, the operator would shut down the turrets and a plow truck on one side of the road would clear the bodies, where they were burned. Marcus snuck back and waited for the man to finish plowing. When he exited the truck and started to head back, Mitch called out to him.
The man walked over and luckily stayed on one side of the corner. Had he continued, Marcus would remain a secret no more. Mitch asked the man if he could be let in and showed that he was not infected. The man let him pass, and Marcus turned around to leave. He walked to the shore of the bay and dropped into the water. He swam to the bridge, where Mitch was standing. He said “I’ll make sure Liz doesn’t leave as soon as you arrive. Go ahead and talk to the gate guards. I’ll stay here and take care of myself until you get back.”
Marcus did not speak. He dropped below the water’s surface and made his way to the island. He swam around Yerba Buena and came to the area where the two islands connected. Before him was a solid steel gate that was probably bullet proof. Around the gate was a concrete wall three feet thick and twenty five feet tall. The gatehouse rose another three feet with two turrets pressing outward at either side of the gate. Every few hundred feet, another overlook stood with another gun emplacement atop it. The fact that they were able to construct such a large complex puzzled Marcus. What puzzled him more was how they powered the machinery required to open and close the gate; the power plants were out of commission after the start of Armageddon.
Marcus pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on the five men in front of him. They had not noticed him yet, but it would not stay like that for long. The gate opened to reveal three men walking to their patrol. One of the soldiers standing by the gate said, “You boys have night shift out in the city?”
“Yup! If we don’t come back, drink a beer for us.”
“Sure, I’ll honor your half-assed noble sacrifice. Have fun in hell. Tell your mom I said hi!”
They said the usual slur of insults Marcus remembered from his childhood as the opposite of what they were supposed to mean. He kept nothing else on the subject, of course.
The men walked to the Yerba Buena tunnel where the stable half of the bridge connected to the mainland. When Marcus was sure that the gun turrets were vacant and the patrols were far enough away, he made his approach. He climbed up the shoreline and made sure all of his fangs were in plain sight. He said in as menacing a voice as he could muster, “Three individuals passed this way around noon today. The group comprised of two elderly men and a young copper-haired woman named Elizabeth. If she is not here in twenty minutes, I will let myself in. Be assured, you do not want that to happen.”
One of the men walked to the gate and pressed a few keys on a pad to the left of the gate. It slid open, and all of the men ran inside. They were not about to argue with him. Marcus set himself down in an area just to the left of the gate. He curled into a ball and his heart filled with worry as he pondered his child’s fate. The men walked out eighteen minute later with three girls and five more men, making ten total soldiers. Marcus lifted his head and looked the girls over. He said, “None of these are my child. I know she is in there somewhere; I can smell her. If there is a reason you play tricks on me, then let me remind you that I can and will kill you if the reason is less than virtuous.”
One of the men in the rear, who Marcus listened to intently but never made eye contact with, whispered to his fellow man, “Is he talking about the chick the general took to the red light?”
Marcus moved faster than he ever moved before to grab the man with his forked tongue and spun him around to pin him to the wall. Marcus roared, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHERE IS SHE?”
The man walked over and luckily stayed on one side of the corner. Had he continued, Marcus would remain a secret no more. Mitch asked the man if he could be let in and showed that he was not infected. The man let him pass, and Marcus turned around to leave. He walked to the shore of the bay and dropped into the water. He swam to the bridge, where Mitch was standing. He said “I’ll make sure Liz doesn’t leave as soon as you arrive. Go ahead and talk to the gate guards. I’ll stay here and take care of myself until you get back.”
Marcus did not speak. He dropped below the water’s surface and made his way to the island. He swam around Yerba Buena and came to the area where the two islands connected. Before him was a solid steel gate that was probably bullet proof. Around the gate was a concrete wall three feet thick and twenty five feet tall. The gatehouse rose another three feet with two turrets pressing outward at either side of the gate. Every few hundred feet, another overlook stood with another gun emplacement atop it. The fact that they were able to construct such a large complex puzzled Marcus. What puzzled him more was how they powered the machinery required to open and close the gate; the power plants were out of commission after the start of Armageddon.
Marcus pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind and focused on the five men in front of him. They had not noticed him yet, but it would not stay like that for long. The gate opened to reveal three men walking to their patrol. One of the soldiers standing by the gate said, “You boys have night shift out in the city?”
“Yup! If we don’t come back, drink a beer for us.”
“Sure, I’ll honor your half-assed noble sacrifice. Have fun in hell. Tell your mom I said hi!”
They said the usual slur of insults Marcus remembered from his childhood as the opposite of what they were supposed to mean. He kept nothing else on the subject, of course.
The men walked to the Yerba Buena tunnel where the stable half of the bridge connected to the mainland. When Marcus was sure that the gun turrets were vacant and the patrols were far enough away, he made his approach. He climbed up the shoreline and made sure all of his fangs were in plain sight. He said in as menacing a voice as he could muster, “Three individuals passed this way around noon today. The group comprised of two elderly men and a young copper-haired woman named Elizabeth. If she is not here in twenty minutes, I will let myself in. Be assured, you do not want that to happen.”
One of the men walked to the gate and pressed a few keys on a pad to the left of the gate. It slid open, and all of the men ran inside. They were not about to argue with him. Marcus set himself down in an area just to the left of the gate. He curled into a ball and his heart filled with worry as he pondered his child’s fate. The men walked out eighteen minute later with three girls and five more men, making ten total soldiers. Marcus lifted his head and looked the girls over. He said, “None of these are my child. I know she is in there somewhere; I can smell her. If there is a reason you play tricks on me, then let me remind you that I can and will kill you if the reason is less than virtuous.”
One of the men in the rear, who Marcus listened to intently but never made eye contact with, whispered to his fellow man, “Is he talking about the chick the general took to the red light?”
Marcus moved faster than he ever moved before to grab the man with his forked tongue and spun him around to pin him to the wall. Marcus roared, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHERE IS SHE?”