Chapter 1

"Done!" Melody stretched to ease her aching back, then wheeled the mop bucket out of the saloon and dumped the filthy water into a drainage ditch before carrying it back to the maintenance shed. It was one of the few buildings that had water, though her grandfather had had the rest of the ghost town wired for electricity years ago. She took a final tour through all the buildings, making sure she hadn't missed anything while getting ready for the season. The first tour group would arrive at the Sulfur Springs Mine and Museum in three days, a school field trip. She'd guided hundreds of groups through in the last ten years, she'd learnt the spiel by heart when she started working a a tour guide at fourteen, and had spent her summers here before that. Strange as it might seem, this was the only place she felt at home.

Inside her trailer, she headed straight for the shower, and washed the sweat and grit away. She reveled in the hot water until it ran out, then wrapped in a towel, headed to the kitchen. The flashing 'messages' light on the answering machine caught her attention. A press of a button started the playback while she rummaged in the fridge for something that looked good. The first two messages were confirmations from tour groups, but the third...

"Sergeant Corbett this is Lt. Stuart, We've been activated. Use the phone chain to alert your team, and report to the armory ASAP." The message had been time-stamped Nine-fourteen A.M. The robot voice of the answering machine announced the next message, left only a few minutes later. Her platoon sergeant, leaving the same message. There were three more messages, all left by the company clerk, telling her to call in immediately and report to the armory. The clock on the wall read six-thirty-three by the time she finished her fried egg sandwiches. She had nothing to lose by eating before she called, but once she acknowledged the message...

Following SOP, she called the three squad members she was responsible for, leaving messages. She called the armory. It rang for a long time before a breathless voice picked up. It was the company clerk. By habit, he identified himself and the unit. Melody identified herself, and asked for more information. "Those riots have spread, we have rioters here, right outside the fence." The armory was in an older part of the city, The once pristine subdivisions and immaculate townhouse apartments that had grown up around it years ago were now filled with immigrants of dubious legality. Last drill, they'd road-marched three miles to the fire department training site. As they went along the streets doors slammed shut and fearful inhabitants had peered at them from behind drawn shades. In the countries they were from, if the army was in the streets, it meant blood would be shed. Here, they'd only had blanks they'd used for urban training. "Get here as soon as you can." he went on. "I am not authorized to tell you to bring your own weapons." This was unofficial code for, 'if you don't have a weapon, you might not make it to the armory alive'. He cursed as a spate of gunfire sounded in the background. "Hurry, as soon as we stop 'em here, we're moving out." He hung up.

For a moment she just stood there. There had been riots over the last week in all the major cities, starting with New York. She hadn't seen much news, working alone up in the mountains, but she'd heard the new flu had something to do with it, making people crazy, but she'd also heard it was terrorists spraying the cities with psychoactive drugs. Melody shook her head to clear it, then hurried to her room, dialing as she went. The phone rang. "Pick-up. Pick-up." Her sister's voice answered the phone, but it was only the machine. "It's me, Mel. Melissa, it's me, pick-up. I got alerted for the riots, things are looking bad. Bring the kids up to the mine now, there probably won't be classes anyway. Hurry, you won't have much time if..." The machine cut her off with a beep. She made one more call, arranging for someone to be at the museum to meet the tour group in the morning, then got to work.

A few minutes later, she was in her truck, shotgun beside her, along with her LBE, the ammo pouches filled with shotgun shells in place of the thirty-round magazines they were designed for. Her ruck was on the floor of the passenger side, with everything she needed for a week in the field, she always kept it ready, just in case.

There was no traffic until she hit the freeway. There were no services at the offramp connecting the mine to the outside world, and anyone going to the towns on the other side of the mountains would take the freeway, that route was much faster. She turned on the radio to get some news, but reception was poor, and the only station she could get alternated between Emergency Alert System broadcasts to 'Stay in your homes', and the DJ's ranting about reports of cannibalism among the rioters as being racially motivated.

It was full dark when she hit the roadblock. Two Highway Patrol cars blocked most of the inbound interstate, and the officers signaled her to pull through to the outbound lanes and turn back. Instead she pulled up to the cars. They didn't say a word about her shotgun, just look one look at her uniform and MP brassard and waved her on. The trickle of outbound traffic grew into a steady stream, apparently she wasn't the only one who didn't trust FEMA's platitudes. Well, at least FEMA would let her keep a weapon. The most recent announcements gave locations for 'Evacuation Centers' but having worked with them before, she knew anyone showing up at a center would be disarmed and almost certainly relieved of any excess food.

The city streets were nearly deserted, except for the outbound arteries. Power was out in many of the neighborhoods she passed through on the way to the armory. She caught brief glances of people skulking in alleys, or pounding on doors. Some of them left off what they were doing to chase her, but she quickly outdistanced them. One set her heart pounding when she stopped at a flashing red light. A man in ragged bloodstained clothes smacked a bloody palm against her window, leaving a dull red smear. She pulled quickly though the intersection while he stumbled after her.

As she neared the armory, she heard firing. The unmistakable bark of M-16s mixed with the duller sound of pistols. Ahead in the glow of the emergency lighting high on the two story brick walls of the armory, she saw the half full parking lot and a crowd of people hammering on the side door.

She cut her lights and coasted to a stop. This wasn't some riot. Rioters screamed and threw things, all these people did was moan and pound on the metal doors. It was all eerily wrong. As she watched, a helmeted head stuck out from a second story window. Whoever it was looked around, then studied the mob below. When the solder looked up, she flashed her lights, twice.

Some of the mob must have noticed, because they started towards her idling pickup. The figure in the window lit a flare, waved it wildly in response, then yelled and threw the flare in front of the door. The mob turned their attention to the soldier in the window, moaning louder. Some even tried to climb the brick wall to reach the distant figure. More flares were thrown down, they bathed the area around the side doors in flickering red light. The mob below stayed away from them, but the commotion drew an even bigger crowd.

The firing had long since stopped, The soldier disappeared form the window and the mob quieted down. The seemed both attracted to the light, and repelled by the flames of the flares. A few people who had been walking towards the armory turned and headed for her instead. Without the gunshots urging them on, they seemed attracted by the sound of the idling engine.

Melody put the truck in gear, and let the truck ease closer to the armory. The people following her gradually fell behind, even though they should have been able to catch her easily. Were they sick? There was that nasty flu, but if they were well enough to walk around, why didn't they go to the hospital? She drove around one who staggered in a circle, was shirtless and had what looked like bitemarks all over his body.

A spate of gunfire caught her attention, A half dozen of her fellow MPs came out of the side door shooting. At least twenty of the mob went down in the first three seconds, but that didn't seem to bother the rest. The closed in on the little group as they ran for the parking lot. Another mob of people followed them out of the armory. She gunned the engine and pulled into the lot. They saw her and three of them ran towards her, dragging a fourth. Two more hopped into a Jeep, They cranked the engine, and careened out of the lot just before the last man reached them. Melody slowed just enough for the four to hop in, then made for the fallen soldier.

M-16s barked in the bed of her old pickup, and more of the mob fell. But it didn't do any good. He screamed as they bit chunks of flesh from his arms, then the screams died in a gurgle as one of them got to his throat. Someone pounded on the roof of the cab and yelled to her "Go! Go!" More of the mob poured out of the building, headed for her truck, but the ones who tried to block her path went under the wheels with a sickening crunch. In her rear-view, she saw Top bash one of the rioters in the head as he tried to climb over the tailgate. She recognized the others by sight, but they were in another platoon and she couldn't remember their names. Melody couldn't see the wounded man.