Surviving the Dead 03: Warrior Within (48 page)

“It’s okay.” I continued in a gentle tone. “My name is Gabriel Garrett, United States Marines. These two men with me are Army Rangers. We’re here to get you out of these tunnels.”

The rest of the slaves got to their feet and slowly pressed forward, trying to get a look at us. Their stared at me with wide, bloodshot eyes lit up with a desperate, forgotten hope.

“What about the Legion?” one of them asked. “If they find you down here, they’ll kill us all.”

I held up a mollifying hand. “Don’t worry about the Legion; the Army is dealing with them as we speak. Now I need all of you to listen to me, okay? In order to get you out of here, I’m going to need your help. How much farther down does this tunnel go?”

“Not far,” another man said, stepping forward. He was older, nearly emaciated, and his only clothing was a pair of ragged pants that barely clung to his scrawny hips. He didn’t even have shoe
s. Pointing behind him, he said, “It ends about twenty yards that way. The only way back to the surface is through the warehouse.”

I smiled. “Actually, no. It isn’t. Which one of you installs the ventilation pipes?”

The same old man raised his hand. “I do.”

“How long do you have to cut them to get through to the surface?”

He shrugged. “Not long. About three feet.”

I pointed to the ceiling. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, then. We’re gonna dig our way out.”

The old fellow looked confused for a moment, and then realization dawned on him. “Son of a bitch. You’re right.” He turned around, motioning to the other slaves. “Come on fellas, get the tools. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Wait,” I said, reaching out. “Let’s get those chains off of you first.”

I dropped my pack and fished out a pair of bolt cutters. One by one, I snipped the chains binding the men. The manacles were still attached—I didn’t have a key to get those off—but that problem could be taken care of later. Without the chains keeping them hunched over and hobbled, the men straightened up and took to their work with gusto.

In a few short minutes, they had knocked a couple of support struts out of the ceiling and began hacking at the earth above their heads with mattocks and shovels. While they were doing that, the ground trembled beneath my feet, and I heard the far off
whump-whump-whump
of the Semtex charges being triggered. The air shifted a few seconds later, blowing by in a strong gale, and then went still. The workers stopped, peering fearfully back toward the warehouse.

“What the hell was that?” one of them asked.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “That was our people blowing the warehouse access to the tunnels. The Legion won’t be able to escape that way. Come on, let’s get this hole finished.”

As the men got back to work, I pulled Cestus and Spatha aside. “Just in case, fellas, why don’t you move back that way a bit and keep an eye out?”

They agreed, and went to it.

After fifteen minutes of frantic digging, with the workers occasionally passing their tools off to a fresh set of arms, the shovels broke through and fresh, cold air drifted down into the cavern. Working with renewed vigor, the men widened out the hole, and piled up the dirt to make it easier to climb out. I had them keep at it until it was big enough for me to fit through, and then called the Rangers back.

I put my back against the cavern wall and interlaced my fingers, boosting Cestus through the opening. He clambered out, and then reached down to help Spatha do the same. The two of them lay down over the lip of the exit and reached down their arms.

“All right, gentlemen,” I said, waving upward. “Who’s next?”

The closest man grabbed my shoulder and stepped into my hands. His feet were bare and felt like boot leather covered in sandpaper. Lifting him took no effort at all; he was so starved he barely had any meat left on his bones. Cestus and Spatha gripped his arms and pulled him to freedom. The next man stepped up, and we did the same for him. Over and over, we helped them out until only the old-timer with the tattered pants remained.

He paused for a moment, looking up through the hole at the sky above. On his face was a glimmer of childlike glee mixed with the relieved expression of a man waking from a nightmare. Tears streamed down his cheeks, carving muddy furrows through the caked-on dirt. His lips began moving, and I heard him whispering. Although I missed the first part of it, leaning in, I caught the end.

“…
through some small aperture, I saw the lovely things the skies above us bear. Now we came out, and once more we saw the stars
.”

I let him stare for
a moment longer, and then said, “Dante’s Inferno. Thirty-Fourth Canto.”

He shifted his rheumy gaze to me, surprised. When he spoke again, something had returned to his voice as though from a long absence. A steady, cultured tenor came from his depths, a bellows to the diminished fire behind his eyes. “That’s right. You’ve read it?”

“I read a lot of the classics. My mother insisted.”

He smiled, revealing missing front teeth and, to my surprise, he stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around my waist. He smelled like the south end of a northbound water buffalo, but I hugged him back anyway. A few moments passed, and he stepped back.

“I felt Dante was apt, you know? I can’t remember the last time I saw the sky, and I have most certainly been through hell.”

I smiled at him. “Well, it’s over with now. Come on, friend, let’s get you out of here. There’s a bath, a hot meal, and a warm bed waiting on you.”

“Never have more welcome words been spoken to a more grateful ear.” He stepped into my hands, and I lifted him up.

Out of the tunnel, he went. And out of slavery.

Grabovsky and his squad took point and led the way to the entrance. It stood slightly ajar, just as I had left it.

“Irish, get your ass up here,” he said.

I hustled to the front and stacked up next to him by the door. Blakeney and Toricelli followed.

“What are we looking at?”

“Just beyond the door there’s a big open area. On the far wall to our right is where the Legion troops are sleeping. I’ve drugged Lucian already, so as long as we don’t shoot the place up too badly, we should be able to take him alive. That has to be our number one priority. Without him, we’re back to the drawing board.”

“Understood.” He keyed his radio and, in five terse sentences, he explained the tactical situation, had Bravo Two cover the other exit, and ordered his men to stay weapons tight unless fired upon. After a round of acknowledgements came in, he hefted his rifle, flipped down his NVGs, and motioned for me to proceed ahead.

Slowly, I opened the door and peered beyond. Nothing moved. I raised my rifle and used the thermal scope to scan around.

“The way is clear. Moving in.”

“Copy, right behind you.”

I stepped through the door followed closely by the rest of Charlie Two and Grabovsky’s fire team. Once we were clear of the entrance, the other Rangers filed in and fanned out, rifles up and scanning for threats. Silently, we covered the vast distance of the warehouse.

The huddle of sleeping marauders stood out bright white against the cold background. The pallets where the female slaves had lain just a few minutes ago had already cooled, their color darkening to a grainy charcoal. I led the way past them to the living area and moved toward Lucian’s bed. He lay where I had left him, snoring loudly. Grabovsky and the Rangers covered the surrounding marauders as I approached the girl sleeping next to Lucian.

Not wanting to risk her alerting the other raiders, I took one of the two remaining syringes from my web belt and stuck her in the back of her shoulder. She snapped awake for just a moment and then went limp. I picked her up and handed her off to Blakeney. “Get her back to the militia.”

He took hold of her wordlessly and moved back toward the entrance. I backed off to the line of Rangers covering the sleeping Legion troops. The fact that our entrance had not awakened any of the marauders was a testament to the skill of the men around me. Either that, or the marauders
were just used to sleeping through anything. Considering how raucous the Legion could be, that seemed just as likely.

Grabovsky motioned to four of his men and pointed at Lucian. “Take this guy and get him out of here, too. He belongs to Alpha Leader. Be careful with him, we need him alive.”

The men lifted Lucian with strong hands and carried him out the door. Watching them go, I kept expecting a sense of victory to spring forth. Some elation, or relief, or glowing triumph. Instead, I just felt tired. Too many days with too little sleep weighed down on my shoulders, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down next to Allison and pass out.

“What do you want to do now?” Grabovsky said.

“Why are you asking me? This is your show.”

He turned his NVGs toward me. “Because you know these guys. You lived with them, and you know what they’ve done. If you don’t want to make the call, I will. But I think you’ve earned a say in the matter.”

I hesitated. These men had done terrible things, but not all of them had done so willingly. Many of them had been captured and had committed their crimes because it was either that or die at the hands of the Legion. When someone is given a choice between life and death, it’s really not a choice at all.

I thought back to Miranda, and having to sit quietly while she allowed herself to be violated to save my life. I thought about the self-loathing I had felt—that I still felt—over what I had done. I thought about Grayson Morrow, and the seething hatred in his voice when he spoke about the Legion, and what they had forced him to do. What acts he had committed to stay alive. There were men here who deserved to die, that was true. But there were also men here who deserved a shot at redemption. While justice demanded that they pay for their crimes, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that all of these men deserved death. And even if they did, who was I to mete it out? My hands weren’t exactly clean.

Too many times, I had pulled the trigger simply because survival demanded it. No thinking, no hesitation. If I found myself in that kind of situation again, I would do what I had to do to stay alive, but this wasn’t like that. Here, I had a choice. Here, there was another way.

“I think there’s been enough killing tonight, Ray. Let’s take them prisoner if we can.”

He kept staring at me, and it was a long instant before he spoke. “You sure?”

I nodded. “It’s the right thing to do. If we just slaughter them wholesale, without even trying to sort out which ones deserve it and which ones don’t, then we’re no better than they are. I don’t know about you, but that still means something to me.”

He shrugged. “All right then. Whatever you say.” He keyed his radio. “Bravo Two, Bravo Leader. I’m sending a team to open the back entrance. We’ll be on your left, about fifty meters from your location. Orders are still weapons tight. We’re going to try to take these men alive. If anyone goes for a weapon, put him down. If they surrender, cuff-and-stuff ’em, and turn them over to Alpha Leader. Alpha, you copy all that?”

“Copy loud and clear, Bravo One. Irish, I’m assuming Bravo Leader sought your council on this decision?”

“You’re a smart man, Alpha. I don’t care what people say about you.”

As usual, he ignored me. “Care to explain the sudden change of heart?”

I clicked the mike a few times before answering. “Let’s just say it’s a matter of perspective, and leave it at that.”

“Very well,” he replied. “Bravo Leader, proceed on mission.”

Grabovsky gave everyone the order to back away, take cover, and pick a target. Most of the Rangers had laser designators on their rifles, which Grabovsky ordered them to turn on to enhance our intimidation factor. It made sense; waking up to a host of laser sights bristling from the darkness would be enough to give any man pause. I just hoped the Legion recognized that they were in a no-win situation.

The Rangers had brought a bullhorn along as a form of backup communication, just in case something terrible happened and they couldn’t use their radios. Grabovsky held it in one hand as he waited for everyone to get in position. Once all fire teams had reported in, he raised the microphone to his mouth.

“This is the United States Army. We have you surrounded. There is no escape. Step forward with your hands in the air and surrender immediately. If you reach for a weapon, you will be fired upon. I repeat, this is the United States Army …”

He said the message several more times, and the Legion troops who weren’t passed out drunk woke up immediately, staring in shocked terror at the laser sights weaving at them from out of the darkness.

A few of them were dumb enough to reach for weapons, and shots rang out in response. The offending marauders went down in a hail of bullets, the Rangers putting them down with short, controlled bursts. My hands tightened on my rifle, expecting the other Legion troops to return fire. My heart sped up as I braced for the bloodbath that would ensue.

It didn’t happen.

The rest of the marauders quickly realized what was going on, and got their hands up. Some of the less drunken raiders slowly began coming to, urged by their compatriots to get up and get their hands in the air. Reluctantly, they began stepping away from their bunks and out onto the warehouse floor. Grabovsky gave them instructions to face away from his voice, get down on their knees, put their hands on their heads, and lace their feet together.