time by the appearance of military assault teams, guided in by Infected civilians keeping watch. Occasional organized assaults fell back; the compound wall was too big, and too well defended, for them to hit without their heavy vehicles.
The stalemate went on into the night, but things slowed down. The company had enough night vision gear to equip every member of the security teams, and the Infected only had enough for the military. It looked like the Infected knew they wouldn’t get anywhere under cover of darkness.
At eleven p.m., watchtower two exploded. Flames belched out of its base as the jury-rigged construction tipped over, only for another explosion to strike the ground directly beside it, gouging open the compound wall, a third, a fourth—six blasts in all, artillery shells, fucking big ones.
Miller and Morland couldn’t leave their positions, bracing themselves against what felt like imminent attack, but they didn’t need to. Major General Stockman’s voice roared across the entire Astoria Peninsula, unnaturally warped by loudhailer systems that had to be only blocks away.
“ That was a warning! You have twenty-four hours to surrender your illegal fortifications to us or I swear to God I’ll tear it off the face of the earth with my artillery. Any civilians who choose to remain under your protection at that time will be killed with the rest of you fucking animals! ”
Morland cursed under his breath.
Miller shifted from his position and tried to conjure up his thoughts on Stockman’s threat, but he felt nothing.
He rubbed the smoothness on his chin and closed his eyes and tried to imagine an end to this stalemate that didn’t involve everyone inside the compound or outside the walls dead and faceless.
But no solutions came to mind.
3
“H E CAN’T BE serious,” Hsiung said, clutching at her hair. “There’s fifteen thousand civilians in here with us.”
“I don’t think Stockman cares.” Du Trieux’s face was smudged in grey, something between mourning ashes and urban camouflage. She hadn’t gotten any more sleep than Miller had—God alone knew when they’d get any, it was going on one a.m. and the day had no end in sight.
Cobalt’s new break room seemed empty, compared to a few days before. The half-and-half coffee brew was so bad Miller skipped it, leaving it to Doyle and Morland. He left and joined Lewis in the attached briefing room, along with Jennifer Barrett and Robert Harris.
“Good, you’re here,” Barrett said, looking up at Miller as he came in.
Harris sat literally twiddling his thumbs, staring at his interlinked hands and fumbling one thumb over the other. “Don’t see why I need to be here.”
Barrett glared at him. “We still have procedures to follow, Bob. Security’s still your purview.”
“I already signed off on this,” he muttered.
“Operation Wild Tarpan,” Barrett said to Miller. “Lewis tells me you’re the man to take it.”
Miller straightened up, as if his career mattered anymore. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re taking Hsiung, too,” Lewis interjected, hunching down over the table. “Mannon’s dead, Crewe’s in the hospital. I’m not pulling Cobalt-2 apart just so I have something to command.”
“Hsiung’s not going to like that.”
Lewis shook his head, grinding his teeth. “You need the manpower if you’re going to pull off this black ops shit.”
Miller raised his eyebrows by way of answering.
“Operation Wild Tarpan is a carefully thought through response to Stockman’s threats, not ‘black ops shit,’” Barrett replied, snippishly.
Lewis turned tired eyes on her, and shrugged. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”
“Stockman’s made threats against us,” she pressed. “With the correct reprisals we can prevent him from enacting them.”
“He’s going to blow us to shreds,” Miller said. “I don’t see a whole lot we can achieve with reprisals .”
“We think he’s playing for time as much as
The stalemate went on into the night, but things slowed down. The company had enough night vision gear to equip every member of the security teams, and the Infected only had enough for the military. It looked like the Infected knew they wouldn’t get anywhere under cover of darkness.
At eleven p.m., watchtower two exploded. Flames belched out of its base as the jury-rigged construction tipped over, only for another explosion to strike the ground directly beside it, gouging open the compound wall, a third, a fourth—six blasts in all, artillery shells, fucking big ones.
Miller and Morland couldn’t leave their positions, bracing themselves against what felt like imminent attack, but they didn’t need to. Major General Stockman’s voice roared across the entire Astoria Peninsula, unnaturally warped by loudhailer systems that had to be only blocks away.
“ That was a warning! You have twenty-four hours to surrender your illegal fortifications to us or I swear to God I’ll tear it off the face of the earth with my artillery. Any civilians who choose to remain under your protection at that time will be killed with the rest of you fucking animals! ”
Morland cursed under his breath.
Miller shifted from his position and tried to conjure up his thoughts on Stockman’s threat, but he felt nothing.
He rubbed the smoothness on his chin and closed his eyes and tried to imagine an end to this stalemate that didn’t involve everyone inside the compound or outside the walls dead and faceless.
But no solutions came to mind.
3
“H E CAN’T BE serious,” Hsiung said, clutching at her hair. “There’s fifteen thousand civilians in here with us.”
“I don’t think Stockman cares.” Du Trieux’s face was smudged in grey, something between mourning ashes and urban camouflage. She hadn’t gotten any more sleep than Miller had—God alone knew when they’d get any, it was going on one a.m. and the day had no end in sight.
Cobalt’s new break room seemed empty, compared to a few days before. The half-and-half coffee brew was so bad Miller skipped it, leaving it to Doyle and Morland. He left and joined Lewis in the attached briefing room, along with Jennifer Barrett and Robert Harris.
“Good, you’re here,” Barrett said, looking up at Miller as he came in.
Harris sat literally twiddling his thumbs, staring at his interlinked hands and fumbling one thumb over the other. “Don’t see why I need to be here.”
Barrett glared at him. “We still have procedures to follow, Bob. Security’s still your purview.”
“I already signed off on this,” he muttered.
“Operation Wild Tarpan,” Barrett said to Miller. “Lewis tells me you’re the man to take it.”
Miller straightened up, as if his career mattered anymore. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re taking Hsiung, too,” Lewis interjected, hunching down over the table. “Mannon’s dead, Crewe’s in the hospital. I’m not pulling Cobalt-2 apart just so I have something to command.”
“Hsiung’s not going to like that.”
Lewis shook his head, grinding his teeth. “You need the manpower if you’re going to pull off this black ops shit.”
Miller raised his eyebrows by way of answering.
“Operation Wild Tarpan is a carefully thought through response to Stockman’s threats, not ‘black ops shit,’” Barrett replied, snippishly.
Lewis turned tired eyes on her, and shrugged. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”
“Stockman’s made threats against us,” she pressed. “With the correct reprisals we can prevent him from enacting them.”
“He’s going to blow us to shreds,” Miller said. “I don’t see a whole lot we can achieve with reprisals .”
“We think he’s playing for time as much as
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