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  The Citadel

  Book Three in the Zombie Uprising series

  M.A. Robbins

  Copyright © 2018 by M.A. Robbins

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To F. Gary Newton, Simon of Simon’s Sanctorum. He made late night horror movies fun for a teenager in the early 70’s.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Continue the Journey

  Author’s Notes

  Acknowledgments

  Also by M.A. Robbins

  1

  The Cessna flew smoothly beneath the blue Washington sky. Jen looked around at her fellow bedraggled passengers. Finding out Seattle was a dead city had taken the wind out of all of them. That and almost getting wasted at Klawock. Took two damn weeks to get out of there.

  Grant moved in the back, sending a breeze of body odor in her direction.

  "Damn," she said. "Want to keep your funk back there? You'd knock out a zombie at a hundred yards."

  Grant scowled. "You don't exactly smell like sugar and spice."

  Jen ignored him. They'd been stuck in close quarters for so long, it was no wonder they were snapping at each other.

  She watched out the window. Haven't seen a moving vehicle in the past hour. Lots of ant people, but they all stumbled around.

  "Fifteen miles out," Mark said. "Time to try and raise someone." He reached for the mic and keyed it. "Fairchild Control, this is N400204. Do you read?"

  The radio remained quiet.

  "They're probably all dead, too," Grant said.

  "Tell us what you really think, Eeyore." Jen caught Mark's eye. "Took less than two weeks for that crud to get down here and take out Seattle. Wonder how far it's gone?"

  "For all we know, it's everywhere." Mark raised the mic. "Fairchild Tower, do you read? This is N400204. Come in."

  Zeke sat in the back, reading a manga he'd somehow stashed in his ninja costume. He looked up. "What do we do if they don't answer?"

  Mark sighed. "Guess we'll fly by and see what's going on. If it looks clear, we can land and forage. They're bound to have fuel, just hoping it isn't all jet fuel."

  "N400204, this is Fairchild Control. Can barely hear you through the static. What's your location?"

  Mark straightened in his seat. "About fifteen miles due west of your position."

  "N400204. Repeat."

  "Piece of shit radio." Jen hit it with her open fist.

  "Fairchild Control," Mark said, "our location is approximately fifteen miles due west of your position."

  "Roger, N400204. You are ordered to change course. There is a ten-mile no-fly zone around our location."

  "Negative, Control," Mark said. "Your location is our destination."

  The radio remained quiet.

  "Fairchild Control," Mark said. "Your location is our destination. Do you read?"

  "You are ordered to change course, N400204. There is a ten-mile no-fly zone around my location."

  Mark looked at the others. "Can you believe this shit?"

  Jen put out her hand. "Let me try."

  Grant put a hand over his face. "This never turns out good."

  Mark handed her the mic and she made a face at Grant. She keyed the mic. "Fairchild Control. This is N400204. We've flown all the way from Anchorage. We're running out of fuel and need to land at your location. Do you read?"

  "N400204. Did you say Anchorage? Confirm."

  "Yes. Roger. Affirmative. Whatever the right word is."

  "Change your heading, N400204, or you'll be shot down."

  Zeke looked up from his manga, a hoop earring swinging from his ear. "He sounds serious. Do you think he'll do it?"

  The plane shook as a jet roared past them from behind. Jen jumped, Grant swore, and Mark held on to the wheel as the plane bucked in the back draft. Zeke leaned forward, peering out the front window. "Now that was some awesome sauce. Where'd it go?"

  "N400204. You are nearing the no-fly zone. Turn back immediately or you will be downed."

  Jen clicked the mic. "Shoot us down and Dr. Cartwright won't get the data we brought from Dr. Wilson."

  Silence.

  "Did you hear me, Fairchild? We have the shit to save the world."

  "N400204, stand by."

  Jen wriggled her eyebrows. "You've just got to know what makes them tick."

  Mark grinned and shook his head. "The shit to save the world, huh?"

  Two jets maneuvered into position off each of the Cessna's wings.

  "N400204, proceed to my location and land from the southwest. Our fighters will escort you."

  Jen handed the mic back to Mark. "See, that's the way it's done."

  The jets moved farther to the side, the sun glinting off their canopies.

  "I don't get it," Grant said. "What do they think we're gonna do with a little plane like this?"

  "They want to make sure we're not zombies," Zeke said, his eyes still on his manga.

  Mark banked the plane. "Everyone buckle in. We'll be on the ground in a minute." He picked up the mic. "N400204 to Control. Preparing for landing."

  "Roger, N400204. You may proceed. Park at the northeast end of the runway and turn off your engines."

  "Roger."

  Grant coughed. "Guess there'll be a welcoming committee."

  The plane slowed and its nose dipped. The base came into view, its runway lined with hangars and other buildings. A concrete wall encircled the entire base except a couple hundred yards of the southwest corner.

  "Holy shit," Jen said. "I've never heard of an Air Force base with a wall before."

  "That's because there's never been one," Mark said. "They got that damn thing up in record time."

  Grant leaned forward. "That wall's got to be at least twenty feet tall." He pointed. "And look. Guard towers."

  "And that open part's got all that construction equipment," Jen said. "Looks like they plan to finish it, but I don't see anyone there."

  Zeke sat up and yawned. "Maybe they're all at breakfast."

  The Cessna descended toward the runway. A fire truck with its lights flashing was parked at the northeast end of the runway. Several Humvees sped toward the same spot.

  The plane settled on the tarmac and Mark hit the brakes, guiding the aircraft to stop near the fire truck. He turned off the engine. "Leave the weapons. We don't need them on base, and I don't want to give anyone an excuse to get nervous and shoot."

  Zeke gently put his scabbard on the seat. "I don't like leaving Betty unsecured."

  "Betty?" Jen asked. "You've named your sword?"

  "Of course," Zeke said. "All great men have named their s
words. Haven't you heard of Stormbringer, Oathkeeper, and Excalibur?"

  "And now Betty," Jen said. "Sure rolls off the tongue."

  Mark opened the door. "Let's get out there before they come in and get us."

  They exited the plane. Mark put his hands up and the others followed suit.

  Two Humvees flanked the fire truck. Gunners with machine guns aimed their weapons at them from atop the Humvees, the vehicles' throaty engines idling.

  Jen waved at them. "Hey. You want to come out and play?"

  The fire engine rumbled off, revealing two squads lined up in hazmat suits and carrying M4s. One soldier stood to the side, pistol holstered on his hip.

  Jen cupped her hands to the sides of her mouth and yelled over the roar of the receding fire truck, which had black smoke belching from its exhaust. "Are those rifles in your hands or are you just happy to see us?"

  The pistol soldier barked an unintelligible order, and seventeen rifles snapped to and pointed at the newcomers.

  2

  Mark raised his hands in the air, a gesture copied by Jen and the others.

  The soldier with the pistol stepped forward. "I'm Sergeant Howell. Are you armed?"

  "No," Mark said. "We left our weapons on board the plane."

  Howell nodded. "Is the data for Dr. Cartwright on the plane, too?"

  Jen stepped forward, and half the rifles pointed at her. She froze. "I have it. In my pants pocket."

  "Your name?" Howell asked.

  "Jen. Jen Reed."

  "Jen Reed," Howell said. "Slowly remove the items from your pocket."

  She eased her right hand into the pocket, grasped the thumb drive and vial, and removed her hand. She held her hand out and opened it. Howell strode to her side, his hazmat suit crinkling with each step. He pointed his pistol at her chest, then nodded at the vial. "What's that?"

  "The original spores carrying the virus."

  Howell stepped back, holstered his pistol, and removed a plastic bag from a pouch in his suit. He took the thumb drive and vial and placed them in the bag before sealing it.

  He turned and Jen said, "Wait."

  Howell paused, then continued back to his position beside his men. "What is it, Jen Reed?"

  "Can I see Dr. Cartwright?"

  "She's not here. She's in CDC Headquarters in Atlanta. We'll transfer the digital data and send the vial on a military transport."

  Jen frowned. She needed to talk to Cartwright. "Then I guess we'll just be moving on. You wouldn't be able to spare some fuel, would you?"

  "I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere just yet," Howell said. "You'll be put in quarantine for twenty-four hours, just to be safe."

  "Why?" Grant said. "If you're worried about us turning, you'd be better off letting us go."

  Howell put a hand out, palm down, and lowered it. The soldiers shouldered their weapons. He gestured to Mark. "You can all put your hands down."

  Zeke made an exaggerated showing of wringing his arms out. "My arms were getting sore."

  "You can't leave yet," Howell said. "Dr. Cartwright may have some questions for you once she gets the data. Besides, it's Colonel Butler's orders."

  "Butler?" Jen said. "You mean the same dickhead that abandoned us in Anchorage and flew off with his tail between his legs?"

  A few of the soldiers looked at each other and scuffled their feet. Howell remained still. "Colonel Butler is the commander of this installation and he answers directly to Dr. Cartwright. Orders are you all stay in quarantine for twenty-four hours."

  He pointed to a one-story, nondescript building twenty yards behind him. "That's the quarantine facility. You'll have showers, beds, and food." When no one moved, he said, "I assure you it's only for a day."

  Jen frowned. "Not giving us much of a choice." She shuffled toward the building, her friends following.

  The front door opened into a long hallway down the side of the building. On the right was a door and a long window. Howell opened the door. "In here, please."

  Five sets of bunk beds lined the walls, while a long table and chairs sat in the middle of the room. A door marked "Bathroom/Showers" stood on the back wall. An acrid odor stung Jen's nostrils, causing her to sneeze. The place smelled like it had just been scrubbed down with every cleaning chemical known to man.

  "Cozy," Jen said. "I'd like to take a shower and not have to get back into these nasty clothes."

  "We'll find you some fresh clothes," Howell said.

  Zeke raised his hand. "I have extra clothes on the plane."

  Howell appraised him for a moment, then nodded and closed the door. The lock tumblers clinked.

  Howell appeared at the window, and his voice came from the speaker above it. "I'll inform Colonel Butler that you're here."

  Jen waited until he left to speak. "I don't like living in a damn fishbowl."

  Grant went into the bathroom and came out a minute later. "Facilities look good."

  Mark stretched out on a bottom bunk. "Might as well get some rest. We'll be back in the air in twenty-four hours."

  Zeke stood in front of a case of MREs. He opened it, lifted one out, and examined the package. "Veggie omelet. Wonder how this tastes?"

  Grant made a retching sound. "I got one of those on deployment. I'd rather eat sand. There's a reason everyone called it a 'Vomelet.'"

  "I could use something to eat, too," Jen said. She picked out an MRE and plopped onto a bed. "I hope they get those clothes here soon. I can't stand my own smell."

  Grant rummaged through the MREs. "It's all shit."

  Mark had lain back on the bed with his hands behind his head. "Pretty much the definition of MREs."

  Zeke opened his package and shoveled food into his mouth like there was no tomorrow. Grant watched him, disgust and disbelief alternating on his face.

  A click came over the speaker. Howell stood to one side of the window in BDUs and with his hazmat suit removed. Beside him stood a barrel-chested man with close-cropped red hair that thinned in the front. He had a neutral look on his face and eagles on his collar. Butler.

  "I trust you're comfortable," he said.

  Jen scowled. "Trust isn't a word you should be using with us."

  Mark gave her an imperceptible headshake.

  Butler acted as if he hadn't heard her. "You're the scientist." He pointed at Grant. "And the guardsman."

  Grant stood at attention. "Yes, sir."

  Kiss ass.

  "Once you pass quarantine, you'll join one of my units."

  "Sir?"

  "The president has nationalized the guard and reserves."

  Grant's face dropped. Poor guy will never get back to Kodiak now.

  Butler pointed at Mark, whose jaw tightened. "Who are you?"

  "Mark Colton. I was security for Doc."

  Butler's eyebrows rose. "Bang-up job you did."

  Mark's face grew dark. I wouldn't want to be Butler if Mark gets pissed at him.

  Butler put his hands on his hips. "We have the scientist of the group, the guardsman, and the security man." He nodded at Zeke, who still sat at the table stuffing his face and getting half of it on his ninja costume. "Who the hell is he?"

  Jen shrugged. "He's our ninja."

  "Colonel," Mark said, "we delivered the data to you for Dr. Cartwright. We'd like to move on. How about we just get our plane fueled and fly out of here?"

  Jen tilted her head to the side. Mark's jaw muscles were still tight and his was voice clipped.

  The door's deadbolt clunked and it opened. Two soldiers stood there, one holding a gun aimed at Jen and the others, the other walking in with a pile of clothes. He dropped them on the floor. The two soldiers backed out and closed the door.

  Howell pointed to the clothes pile. "BDUs in various sizes. One is bound to fit each of you."

  Zeke stood. "What about my—"

  "We got one of your extra costumes from the plane," Howell said. "It's at the bottom of the pile."

  Zeke pulled his shirt over his head, re
vealing a thin, but muscled body covered in tattoos. "Awesome. I'm ready for a change."

  Jen put a hand to her eyes. "Don't ever do that again, Nerd Boy. And go take a shower first. You smell like a fresh turd in the middle of summer."

  There was a click. Butler spoke to Howell, but it didn't come over the speaker. Howell saluted and strode off.

  Another click and Butler said, "If there's nothing else, then I have plenty of other issues to tend to."

  He turned.

  "Wait," Mark said.

  Butler turned back, his eyebrows raised.

  "What about the plane and the fuel? We'd be out of your hair in no time."

  The colonel leaned forward and the speaker clicked. "The plane is ours. Specialist Grant there is ours. The rest of you will leave once your quarantine is up, but you'll leave on foot."

  3

  Jen walked out of the bathroom with her hair wet and her new BDUs snug, but comfortable.

  The door clicked, then opened. Sergeant Howell stood there.

  "Been a change of plans," he said. "Cartwright wants to speak to you."

  Finally get to speak to someone with some sense.

  Howell had his pistol holstered. No other soldiers were in sight.

  "I'm up for it." Jen nodded at her friends. "But they come with me."

  Howell held the door open. "Absolutely."

  He led them down a plain-looking hallway, their footsteps on the tiles loud and echoing. Outside the building, Jen took a deep breath of the breezy air. She'd been locked up for less than a day and it felt like a month.

  Howell led them to an awaiting Humvee and paused as a helicopter rose from a nearby helipad. When its sound receded, Howell said, "You'll find an M4 and M9 Beretta with holster and ammo inside the Humvee for each of you. No one goes unarmed, even on base."