The New Haven Incident - Part Twenty

“This is Agent Sebastian Connors. I’m reaching out to any survivors. Please respond.”

Hello? The voice was quiet, feminine and fearful. H-h-hello?

Sebastian immediately straightened. “Hello. This is Agent Sebastian Connors. To whom am I speaking?”

Officer Patricia Fernly.

“Officer? NHPD?”

Yes. Sort of. There was a pause. When Officer Fernly next spoke, there was a quiver in her voice. It was my first day.

Sebastian’s face fell. He closed his eyes briefly, clenching and unclenching his jaw rapidly. Mendez noticed the violent shaking in his left hand as he brought up the microphone to speak again.

“A rough start.” How he managed to keep the tremble from his voice enough to sound wry was anyone’s guess. He had gone quite pale.

Patricia scoffed. Yeah.

“Are you with others, Officer Fernly?”

I have five children and a fellow officer with me. Officer Thewlis is wounded. Our sergeant, Fraser, left to check the subway for a way out.

Mendez didn’t need to see Sebastian’s expression to know what the agent was thinking. Sergeant Fraser was dead.

“What is your location, Officer Fernly?”

We’re in the orphanage. In the basement.

“St. Lucia’s? Granada and St. David’s?”

That’s it.

Sebastian nodded. “Stand by,” he said. He rose from the chair, went to a cupboard and pulled out a neatly folded map. He spread it out on the desk and, grabbing a marker from the drawer, scanned the map briefly. He circled the location of St. Lucia’s Orphanage.

“Okay, listen to me carefully. We have an extraction point at the field at Whently Stadium. You have to get as close to there as possible.”

I can’t, Patricia whispered over the radio. There’s no way out of the basement. They’re everywhere upstairs.

Sebastian frowned, staring at the map. “They usually patrol. Are you certain they're still there?”

Yes. They have… Some of the children… They’re in pods… I…

“It’s okay, Patricia,” Sebastian said softly. “Must be a nest,” he muttered to himself. “Just like fucking ants.” He shook his head.

“There is an emergency tunnel that runs beneath the orphanage along Granada,” he said into the microphone. “I cannot guarantee that it’ll be clear of the infected, but it might be your best bet. It is accessible via an opening in the northeastern wall.”

Silence answered him a moment. That’s… not possible.

Sebastian smiled slightly. “You’re going to have to trust me on this. They’re service tunnels; built when the orphanage was built, but long out of use, so it’s likely been covered over or hidden behind something. They may be blocked by a cabinet or bookshelf, perhaps.”

That entire wall is storage shelves.

“Behind there, then. You’re looking for a simple door.”

Hang on.

Sebastian waited, one leg bouncing up and down rapidly in agitation.

Oh my God, Patricia breathed over the radio. You’re right.

“Okay. You’re going to have to take those children and head in. You want to turn left and continue on until you see the first opening. It should be on the left. That will bring you out into one of the change rooms of Biggin’s Tailors on Boabab Street. The back rooms don’t have windows, so you should be safe from detection there. When you’re there, radio in on frequency 98.7 and await further instruction.”

What about Sergeant Fraser?

“You’ll have to move without him. We don’t have time to wait. Anyone not at the extraction point in time will not be getting out of the city. You have to move now.”

But…

“Write him a note, if you must, so he can follow you if he returns. But you have to get moving.”

Another pause, then Officer Fernly whispered, I don’t think I can do this.

Sebastian took a deep breath. “I’ve been exactly where you are,” he said. “I know you can do this.”

You’re a cop?

“Used to be. Cedarwood City.”

Fuuuuuck.

Sebastian smiled. Even tinged with sadness as it was, it still transformed his face. “Yeah. I suppose I had one up on you, though. It was my second week.”

Patricia took a shaky breath, audible over the radio, then said, Alright. Alright.

“Repeat my instructions.”

Through the door into the secret tunnel. Turn left. First opening on the left into the tailors. Stop. Radio in at 98.7 and await further instruction.

“Good. I’ll see you soon, Patricia. Out.”

“The sergeant’s dead,” Mendez said as Sebastian sat back, picking up the pager-sized black box and keying something in.

The agent nodded. “Yeah.” He leant forward, played with the dials on the radio, then lifted the mic to his lips. “This is Agent Sebastian Connors. I’m reaching out to any survivors. Please respond.” After a pause, he repeated himself. He switched frequencies and tried again.

Hello? The voice was young.

“Hi,” Sebastian answered. “Who is this?”

Mikey.

“Christ,” Mendez muttered under his breath. “It’s a kid.”

“Hello Mikey. My name’s Sebastain.”

Hey, another, deeper but still young voice said, getting louder. Mikey, what…?

I’m talking to a man, Mikey said. You said to listen in case someone talked. Someone talked.

Hello? Hello? The older boy had the microphone now.

“Hello. I’m Sebastian. Who are you?”

Sebastian who?

Sebastian’s mouth quirked slightly. “Agent Sebastian Connors. I’ve been sent to help you.”

Sent by who?

“By the government,” Sebastian said. He grimaced when he next spoke. “They want to save as many people as they can.” From his expression, Mendez was certain that he barely stomached that lie.

The government, huh? You meant the bastards that caused all this shit? From somewhere in the room, Mikey piped up. Don’t swear, Sam!

“For once, that wasn’t us,” Sebastian said.

No, but it was the folks working for you, right? From the university. My dad was right about you all.

Closing his eyes briefly, Sebastian replied, “It’s possible. But we don’t know anything yet. The government just wants to get as many people as possible to safety. I heard your brother say your name is Sam?”

Yeah.

“How old are you, Sam?”

Fourteen.

“Are you home?”

Yeah.

“Are your parents around, Sam?”

There was a long pause. Then Sam spoke, his voice small and shaky. No. No, uh… they… I… they died.

For a moment, Sebastian said nothing. He stared at the map, his blue eyes boring a hole through it. “You got your brother to safety.”

Yeah.

“You did the right thing. I need you to help me keep your brother safe. We are arranging an extraction, but everyone needs to be where the choppers are, or we won’t be able to get you out. Can you tell me your location?”

Uh, I’m at home. 2130 Regia Ave.

Sebastian stood, pouring over the map. “Which side of the city is that, Sam?”

It’s in the Grotto.

Sebastian shifted his attention to the Grotto; a densely packed poor neighbourhood that centred around a church that once had an expansive cemetery attached. “Found it,” Sebastian murmured. Into the mic he said. “Found you. You’re pretty close to centre town.”

Yeah.

“Okay. Are there many Infected outside?”

The monsters? Naw. They all turned and left.

“Good. There is an officer who is leading some survivors from the orphanage to Briggin’s Tailors. It’s a men’s clothing store on Boabab in the city centre. You know it?”

Yeah. It’s fancy as hell.

“Yeah. Never liked the place. Okay. I need you to take your brother and meet her there. Her name is Officer Patricia Fernly. The door will be locked. You’ll need the key code to get in. You have a pen and paper handy?”

Uh… just a sec. The sounds of frantic rummaging were cut off as Sam let go of his radio to find what he needed. Okay. Go ahead.

“4, 4, 9, 8, 7, 1, 4, 2. Repeat that back to me.”

Sam did.

“Good. Now Sam, it’s dangerous out there. Do you have a weapon?”

Uh… Dad’s gun.

“Good. Get a knife as well. A sharp kitchen knife will work. Listen closely. The two of you should be able to sneak around without being seen, but in case you get into trouble, I need you to remember something important: Shooting them might stop them, but it will not kill them. They’ll get back up. You have to sever their spinal cord. That’s what the knife is for, okay? Drop them with the gun. Kill them with the knife. Do you understand?”

Uh… Yeah. Yeah, I understand.

“Good.  Your radio handheld?”

Yeah?

“Good. Take it with you. If you find yourself stuck and unable to get to Officer Fernly, use frequency 105.6 and let me know. I’ll come and find you, if I can.”

Really?

“If I can.” Sebastian paused. “I’m not going to leave you behind, Sam.”

Okay. Okay.

“Good. You better get going. Those choppers aren’t going to wait.”

Okay.

“Good luck, Sam. Out.”

Sebastian placed the mic on the table, once again picking up his strange little black device. He trembled violently as he keyed in the information. Mendez watched a moment.

“I’ll help,” he said.

“Hm?”

“If those kids get into trouble, I’ll help.”

“What about Harding?”

Mendez shrugged. “Once we meet our objectives and the Cedarwood scientists are at the extraction point, I’m not really needed. I can hitch a ride back with your rescues after. I’ll help.”

Sebastian regarded Mendez a moment, his eyes a little less icy. “Thanks.”

Mendez offered a shrug and Sebastian turned back to the radio. He played with the knobs for a bit.

Hello? Hey. Hello? The voice crackling over the airwaves had an accent.

“Hello. This is Agent Sebastian Connors. Who is this?”

Away from the mic, someone yelled, Hey! I got him! The radio crackled. My name is Geoff. Geoff Onami. You’re the one looking for survivors?

“You are correct.”

Thank fuck! Sorry.

“No need for an apology. Where are you now, Geoff?”

In the university gymnasium. Uh… we had our club meeting and… well… we’ve been here since.

“How many of you are there?”

Eighty.

Sebastian’s eyebrows rose. “That’s quite the club.”

Oh, not all of them are club members.  Just twelve of us.

“Okay. Eighty survivors. Cedarwood has a number of extraction teams headed to their facilities beneath the university as we speak. I’ll try to raise them to let them know where you are. I will be making my way over soon. In the meantime, you sit tight, stay quiet. We’ll have you escorted to the extraction point as soon as we can.”

Okay. No problem.

“Alright. If anything happens, raise me on frequency 112.3. I’ll get there as soon as I’m able.”

Uh… roger that?

“You don’t sound sure.”

No… I mean yes… I’m just not sure if I’m using the right lingo.

There was no stopping Sebastian’s smile. “You did good. Hang tight. Out.” Sebastian keyed something into his little black device.

“What even is that?” Mendez demanded.

“Hm? Oh, a coded receiver.”

“A what now?”

“I programme the frequencies I need, and it will receive them all. I don’t have to keep manually switching. Unless I want to.”

“We have that tech?”

Sebastian stared blankly at him. “It’s quite old.”

Mendez grunted. “Maybe for The Department. Man, I’m putting in a requisition for that when we get out of here.” Sebastian scoffed. He closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his temple before reaching over and switching the dial on the radio. He started his search again.

“This is Agent Sebastian Connors. I’m searching for survivors. Please respond.”

Agent Connors? The voice over the radio was velvety and feminine.

“Yes? Who’s this?”

I’m Belinda. Christ. I’m so glad to hear someone else’s voice.

“Are you alone, Belinda?”

No. No. I’m here with the other nurses at the Village Heart Retirement home. We have eight nurses and fifteen residents who need extraction.

Grunting, Sebastian paused a moment. “How mobile are your residents, Belinda?”

Um… we have several in wheelchairs.

“Shit,” Sebastian hissed to himself. “Standby,” he said into the mic. He looked over the map, circled the location of the retirement residence, then leant heavily on his hands, staring down at the map a moment. He picked up the mic again.

“That makes extraction difficult.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

“Do you have access to transportation? A bus or troop carrier?”

Silence greeted his question.

“Hello?”

More silence answered Sebastian. He was about to speak into the microphone again when the radio cackled to life. Yeah. There’s a short bus we sometimes use to bring our residents to events in town.

“Okay. Good. You’re roughly a ten-minute drive from the extraction point - Whently Stadium.”

Okay.

“Driving will make noise and attract the wrong kind of attention, but if you can get to the stadium, there will be armed personnel to help with that.”

Uh… That’s it? Get in a bus and get chased to the stadium. Is there another thing we can try?

“The only other option is to abandon the immobile, Belinda.”

Oh. Belinda fell silent. After a moment, the radio crackled. No. We’re not going to do that. We’re not leaving them behind.

Nodding, Sebastian said, “That’s good. You’re going to have to use the buses, then. Switch to frequency 127.6. I’ll be contacting you when it’s time to go.”

Okay.

“Good. Stay safe, Belinda. Out.”

“You alright, man?” Mendez asked.

Sebastian barely looked up. “Fine.”

Mendez narrowed his eyes. Though it seemed to him that the agent was ordinarily of a sullen disposition, there was something now in his expression that pulled at the edges. There was something he was hiding.

“Headache,” Sebastian muttered.

Grunting, Mendez straightened. He headed to the small desk refrigerator he had noticed in the glass-enclosed office and opened it up. Bright white light poured over the skeleton as Mendez inspected the contents. He pulled out three water bottles and walked back to the assistant’s desk where Sebastian remained, playing with the radio.

“Drink,” he said, placing a bottle on the counter.

Sebastian glanced at it and returned his attention to the radio. Mendez put a hand on his companion’s shoulder. He frowned. Sebastian was hot to the touch, his shirt damp with sweat. Sebastian stopped and looked up at the mercenary.

“Drink, Agent Connors,” Mendez said. “You’ll be no good to anyone half-dead. You can take a small break.”

Sighing, Sebastian rose and grabbed the water bottle. He cracked it open and drank, draining half of it. “Thanks,” he muttered to Mendez. Mendez offered him a shrug and a quick grin. He opened his bottle and brought it up to his lips.

Hello, Reaper.

Mendez froze, turning towards the radio at the sound of a light, but masculine, voice. Sebastian straightened. He moved slowly back to the table and picked up the microphone. “Who is this?”

I’ve been looking at your file. You have a remarkable list of achievements. Not bad at all for a drug-addicted wretch. There was the slightest hint of an accent. Dutch, Sebastian guessed.

“Who is this?” Sebastian repeated, his words firm.

I’m not surprised you went that route, though. Bad breeding. Your mother died of an overdose, no?

“Jesus,” Mendez breathed. He watched Sebastian. The only sign of distress the agent showed was arms folded across his chest and the rapid clenching and unclenching of his jaw.

It’s no wonder you’ve such a weak character, Reaper.

Sebastian did not answer. His eyes burned cold, boring an unseen hole in the fabric of time and space through the floor at his feet.

Reaper. What a name to have been bestowed. It does suit, though. After all, did you not obliterate an entire Romanian village in order to rescue one person? Your body count is astronomical. Of course they would name you after Death.

“How did you get my file?” Sebastian demanded.

There was an ominous cackle over the radio. Then the voice spoke. You’ve put quite a dent in my plans, you know. I must tell you, I was pissed off to begin with. But now, well, now I’m excited. I cannot wait to meet you.

Scowling, Sebastian lifted his gaze. “You’ll be waiting a while.”

The ominous laugh echoed slightly this time. Not as long as you think. Come find me, pet.

The squeal of feedback filled the room, making Mendez and Connors wince, then the radio fell silent.

“What the fuck was that?” Mendez demanded after a prolonged silence.

Sebastian turned to him, still frowning. He shook his head, then switched the radio dial and spoke into the microphone. “Warner? Warner!”

The voice that answered Sebastian was feminine. Hello, Agent Connors.

Sebastian relaxed immediately. His shoulders dropped and the slightest uplift at the corners of his mouth gave hint to some warmth between himself and the owner of the voice.

“Mel,” he greeted. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You too. You gave us all a scare. Are you okay?

“Define okay.”

The woman named Mel scoffed, but she didn’t press the issue.

“I’m in the process of locating survivors,” Sebastian said, moving past the slightly uncomfortable silence that followed the exchange. “So far I have one hundred and eleven.”

That’s… quite the number.

“Barely a fraction of the population.”

But not nothing. I will notify the extraction coordinator.

“Thank you. There’s something else.”

Oh?

“Someone has my file.”

A fair few people do, Seb… Agent Connors.

Mendez’s lips quirked as Mel quickly corrected herself from sounding overly familiar.

“Unredacted,” Sebastian said. “He knew about Romania… my mother…” Though he tried, he could not control the slight quiver in his voice when he mentioned his mother. He paused, closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.

That’s… not possible.

“Can confirm,” Mendez said as Sebastian prepared to speak. Sebastian shot him a dark look, which he answered with a grin.

Who’s that? Mel demanded.

“Warrant Officer Oliver Mendez,” Sebastian replied.

Ah, of Sigma Team Two.

Mendez raised an eyebrow at Sebastian. He should not have been surprised that someone from this mysterious Department would have easy access to that kind of information, and yet he found himself a little unnerved.

Are you confirming that someone has access to documents that even the president does not, Warrant Officer? Mel asked.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and held out the microphone. Mendez pressed the button, though Sebastian refused to release the mic. “Roger that. Creepy fucker came over the radio with some pretty sensitive knowledge, if you ask me.”

Mel’s smile was clearly heard in her voice. Okay. I’ll see if I can’t get to the bottom of that. In the meantime, Connors, what’s the plan?

“The largest group is at the university. Mendez and I were separated from Sigma Team Two in a surprise attack. It appeared coordinated. I figured I would escort Mendez back to his team, rendezvous with the survivors there and negotiate their escort to the extraction point with the rest of the Cedarwood scientists. There will be eighty people in that group, not including Cedarwood’s people. There are two smaller groups — so far — that will require help getting to the stadium. Mendez and I will be escorting them.”

Mendez too? Isn’t he going back to his team?

“Yeah,” Mendez interjected. Sebastian rolled his eyes again, and once again held out the mic. Mendez grinned as he pressed the speak button again. “But once Cedarwood’s people are secured, I won’t be of any more use. I promised Sebastian I’d help him at that point.”

On a first name basis? Mel asked, clearly amused.

“Well, he’s alright.” Mendez’ grin broadened as he watched Sebastian’s expression flatten. He let go of the mic and stepped back, both his hands up in mock supplication.

I like him, Mel’s voice said in Sebastian’s ear on his private communications unit. Sebastian smirked, but declined to comment.

Very well, Warrant Officer Mendez. Mel had switched back to the radio on the desk. I will have Sebastian kit you out with The Department’s communications. We’ll be able to keep in touch with you both.

“Sweet.”

You will have to return it afterwards, Mel said, her voice thick with laughter.

“Sure thing, boss.”

Good. Connors?

“Yeah, yeah,” Sebastian said. “I’ll get him the gear.”

Good. Check in when you can, okay?

Sebastian didn’t answer, and Mel’s voice grew serious. You’re not just a good agent, Connors. You’re a good man. There aren’t enough of those. The Department needs more of you. Look after yourself, okay?

The annoyance that Sebastian exuded faded and his usual melancholy returned. “Yeah.”

Promise, Sebastian.

There was a long pause before Sebastian spoke again. “Promise.”

Good. Out.

Sighing, Sebastian put down the mic. He returned to the armoury and opened another locker, pulling out the communications equipment he had promised to give Mendez.

“She sounds cute,” Mendez noted.

Sebastian grunted. “You should ask her to dinner.”

“I just might.”

“Catch.” Sebastian tossed Mendez a small black device, not unlike his coded receiver. Not expecting it, it took several moments of juggling before Mendez finally got a proper hold of the device.

“Slippery little bastard.”

Despite himself, Sebastian smiled. It was lopsided and sad, but still a smile. Mendez took it as a victory. “Come here,” Sebastian said. “Let me programme it and I’ll show you how to use it.”

The lesson was short. The device was simple to use. It received multiple frequencies, but each had to be assigned a number, and that number had to be selected if Mendez wanted to respond on the same frequency. He could elect to reply on the universal frequency, which would broadcast to all of the programmed frequencies, plus it would be picked up by anyone wearing this tech.

There were only two frequencies Mendez wanted or needed - his team’s, and Sebastian’s. Sebastian programmed them in and then connected the device to Mendez’ tactical vest.

“Welcome to The Department,” Sebastian said.

Mendez scoffed. “No thanks. Keeping secrets makes me itchy.”

“You’re in for a rough time, then.”

Mendez scoffed. “Okay. All set.”

Sebastian nodded. He turned to retrieve his rifle.

“Hey,” Mendez said. “Drink your water.”

“What are you, my mother?”

“Today I am. Drink.”

Sighing, Sebastian walked back to the desk, picked up the water bottle he had put down, and drained it. “Satisfied?” he demanded.

“Yeah. Let’s get going.”

Sebastian nodded. He picked up his newly acquired rifle and made his way out of the room that served as The Department’s little corner of the New Haven Police Precinct. Despite the number of weapons and amount of ammunition on his person, Sebastian still moved in near silence. Shaking his head, Mendez followed, feeling like a clod with every step that echoed in the eerie silence of the precinct.

They paused at the door, Sebastian leaning heavier against the frame than he should be. Mendez placed his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, once again struck by the astonishing heat radiating from him.

“Are you okay?” Mendez whispered.

“Fine,” Sebastian grunted, straightening. “Let’s go.”

“Lead the way.”

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