The Z Directive: Extraction Point
The Z Directive, Volume 1
Chris Thompson
Published by Chris Thompson, 2019.
Copyright Information
Text Copyright © Chris Thompson 2019
Cover created by Chris Thompson and is © Chris Thompson 2019, and is an original image.
Disclaimer
The following is a work of fiction; no likenesses to persons, living or dead, or events is intended or inferred. The subject matter is suitable for mature audiences and features scenes of violence, adult language and horror. If you do not enjoy such content, or find it offensive, then do not read any further. Reader discretion is advised.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Disclaimer
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
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Chapter One
JACK RAMSAY HEARD THE helicopter coming even though it was still a long way off. The heavy, dull roar of the engine carried quite a way through the forest, and through previous experience, Jack knew this was a bigger vehicle than the private ones which occasionally passed over the rather scenic surroundings of Bell Valley. Jack slammed the axe into the tree stump and gathered the split logs, taking them back up the well-worn path to his cabin, created by his daily journey to chop wood. His home consisted of three rooms, the primary being one large, open space with the kitchen-diner on the right and the living area on the left. Directly across from the front door was the closed door to the larger of the two bedrooms and, after depositing the logs by the stove in the kitchen, that’s exactly where Jack went. The room was spartanly furnished, just a bed under the small window facing the door with a wardrobe on the left and the metal locker where his weapons were kept on the right. He deftly tapped in the four digit code on the locker, opened the doors and quickly retrieved his loaded pistol, slipping it in the back of his jeans before grabbing the assault rifle and slipping the strap over his head so it hung off his side. He didn’t feel the need to collect any other weapons at that moment as he didn’t know for sure that the occupants of the helicopter were seeking him, but in his former life he’d made enough enemies to make him cautious any time something sounding heavy enough to be military grade came in the direction of his home. And almost as bad as his enemies were his former friends.
Heading back outside, he started towards the place he knew would be the most logical for a landing zone. There was a clearing about five minutes walk north of where he’d built his home in the forest; that’s where they’d land, and that’s where he’d be waiting. He had set up a hide in a large tree that gave a perfect line of sight of the whole clearing, so he jogged to the rope ladder that allowed access to the platform he’d constructed, climbed up and pulled it up behind him. Now, all he needed to do was wait. He made a few quick checks to make certain he was concealed, such as ensuring the camouflage sheet he’d placed over the top of the construction was firmly in place, then he hunkered down, the assault rifle aiming out towards the open space below. Jack knew he wouldn’t have to wait long.
Ten minutes or so passed and then he saw the large, black helicopter settling down onto the dirt. It bore no markings - no indications to which branch of the military it might belong - and that let Jack know exactly who had come to pay him a visit. He clicked the safety off his weapon and took aim down the sight. The pilot disengaged the engine and the rotors started slowing down; as this happened, the left door of the transport opened up and a trio of armed men in forest fatigues hopped out. They were fully armed and armored, and immediately began sweeping the area to establish a perimeter. Once the three were settled one more passenger stepped out from the gloomy interior of the helicopter; he was an older man with white hair that had deserted the crown of his head, who wore standard army fatigues with a General’s insignia on the sleeve. He took a look around as he retrieved a cap from his belt, which he slowly put his head. Jack recognized him. He was Tobias Maxwell, and he was part of the reason Jack had chosen to live in exile.
Maxwell took a few steps away from the helicopter, looking disdainfully at the dirt which rose with each footfall, as though offended it was soiling his uniform and boots.
“Couldn’t have found a cleaner place to retire, Jack?” He called out loudly, lifting up his boot and examining the sole before stomping it down and looking around the clearing. The helicopters rotors were coming to a complete stop, whining as they powered down.
Jack didn’t respond. Maxwell wasn’t an idiot; if he’d sought Jack out then he had to expect the reception he’d receive, and yet he’d come anyway. Whatever was wrong, it had to be bad.
“Are you going to shoot me Jack?” Maxwell demanded; his voice more easily audible now that the rotors had ceased spinning. “Honestly, it might be easier for me if you did, given what’s going on out there.”
Jack examined Maxwell’s face through the scope on the weapon. There was something wrong; in all the years they’d worked together, all the crisis’ they’d dealt with, Maxwell had never once looked as haggard as he did now. Still, Jack said nothing.
“Do you even know what’s going on out there? I can’t imagine you get good reception out here.”
As tempting as it was just to shoot him then and there, Jack found a gnawing curiosity eating at him with regards to why Maxwell would risk catching a bullet to come and see him.
“What do you want?” Jack asked loudly. The soldiers twitched, looking around the space for the source of the voice.
“I guess that means you’re not just going to shoot me?” Maxwell questioned, his voice sounding a little hoarse from shouting.
“I haven’t decided!”
“Fair enough. I’ll come alone to your cabin, we can talk there.”
“Don’t move!”
“Jack, I didn’t come all this way to lose my voice shouting at trees!” Maxwell told him dismissively, starting forward. He made a simple hand gesture to indicate the soldiers should stay in position, and then continued on in the direction of Jack’s cabin.
Jack kept Maxwell in his sight for a little while longer, then with a reluctant sigh, he clicked the safety back on and, without being seen or heard by the three soldiers, left the hide, climbing down the ladder and taking a slightly different route back to his home. He moved quickly, to arrive there before Maxwell, going to the front door and leveling his weapon as soon as he saw his former boss.
“Jack! It’s good to see you.” Maxwell announced once he set eyes on him.
“I wish I could say the same.”
“Are you still sore about what happened?”
“It’s crossed my mind from time to time.”
“I can imagine.” Maxwell said with a chuckle. He reached into his jacket and retrieved a packet of cigarettes. He took one out then pulled a lighter from his pocket. After drawing heavily on it, he blew the smoke into the sky.
“I thought you quit?” Jack asked.
“I take it that means you haven’t seen the news?”
“I don’t have a television or a radio.”
“So what do you do out here?”
Jack shrugged.
“I read. I do a little woodwork.”
“Nice.” Maxwell told him, sounding oddly genuine. “Don’t suppose I can come inside?”
Jack kept his weapon o
n Maxwell, but retreated into his living space. Taking it as an invitation, Maxwell followed him, looking appreciatively around.
“This is great.” Maxwell said as he took a fleeting look out of the window before moving to the bookcase on the left of the room where he traced a finger along the spines of the books. “Some good reading here. Are you going to lower that weapon anytime soon?”
“I still haven’t decided if I’m going to shoot you or not.” Jack responded coolly.
Maxwell glanced back at him and smiled.
“Tell me why you’re here.”
Maxwell reached into his jacket and retrieved his phone. He offered it to Jack but, perhaps wary of doing anything that might be perceived as a threat, remained where he was. Jack approached, reached out and took the phone before stepping smartly back – but only after glancing towards the still open door to make sure he couldn’t see anyone advancing towards the cabin. With his back to the wall Jack turned on the phone and saw a confidential report had been left open, the glare of the screen reflecting in his blue eyes; he read it quickly, then scoffed.
“Bullshit. What is this?”
“This is what’s happening out there right now.”
“I was in town a couple of weeks ago and there wasn’t anything like this on the news.”
“That’s because it happened last week; all of what’s being described there happened in eight days.”
Jack shook his head and, keeping his weapon trained on Maxwell, returned his attention to the report, reading it in more detail this time. It was an internal memo, eyes only for high ranking, high security clearance personnel, and it detailed an outbreak of an unknown virus that had a number of truly insane sounding effects: cannibalism, loss of intelligence, slowed movement and a highly contagious bite. In short, it was summarized as a ‘zombie’ virus.
“I’m not sure what trick you’re trying to pull here—”
“Damn it, Jack!” Maxwell snapped. “I’m not pulling a trick! Do you think I’d come all the way out here with this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary?”
“Zombies?” Jack questioned, shaking his head.
“It’s real. We’ve already lost control of a few major east coast cities, now the virus is popping up everywhere. It’s going global, Jack.”
Jack scrolled further down the report and saw that there was an attachment with pictures. He tapped it with his thumb and what he saw revolted him.
“Those pictures you’re looking at were taken from a variety of sources: closed circuit cameras, internet videos and body cams from both law enforcement and military personnel.”
Jack saw pictures of groups of up to twenty people biting, eating and ripping apart their fellow citizens. The infected, as they were captioned, were of a vast variety in appearance; some looked relatively normal, others were missing limbs. It was almost impossible to accept that what he was seeing was real, but there the pictures were. The last few images were from street cameras showing groups numbering in the hundreds surging towards police and military barricades.
“This is...” Jack trailed off.
“Unbelievable? Yeah, it is that.” Maxwell finished. He was calmer now, moving over to Jack’s single armchair and taking a seat.
“How did this happen?” Jack questioned, tossing the phone back towards Maxwell - but keeping the gun exactly where it was.
“We’re not sure. Collating data from everywhere, from hospitals to the CDC, it seems there were reports of an abnormally high number of cases of summer flu in some of the major cities; not enough to make anyone nervous but enough to raise an eyebrow. It seemed to settle down after a while, but then we started receiving reports of violent attacks - cannibals roaming the streets in packs tearing apart anyone who got in their path. It didn’t take long for us to figure out they were already dead.”
“Really?”
“Really. Those images are of the reanimated dead attacking and eating the living. It was mostly on the east coast, but like I said, now it's everywhere. We’ve now got cases from Los Angeles to Salt Lake City all the way to New York City; the Brits have reported outbreaks in London and Manchester. Europe too: France, Germany, and Spain. It’s spreading faster than any disease model that’s ever been developed. The worst part is that those who get bitten turn into them; the only way to put them down is to blow their damn brains out. The doctors have determined that there is actually very limited brain activity; just enough to stimulate a few senses and a primal need. Unfortunately, that need is the need to feed.”
Jack rubbed his hand over his head, the dark stubble where he’d cut his hair short scratching at his fingers.
“So why come to see me?”
“Because we need you.”
“You didn’t need me when you left me out to dry in Faradanistan.” Jack told him coldly. Maxwell shrugged.
“It wasn’t personal, Jack. We had a security leak and there were only two candidates: you or Grier. The decision was above my pay grade. If it’s any consolation, I figured you’d get out alive and it was just a matter of time before they found evidence it was Grier.”
“And while he was as free as a bird, and probably still passing on information, I was held prisoner. By the time I broke out, months later, I was starved and dehydrated.”
“I didn’t say I thought you’d get out quickly.” Maxwell said, finishing his cigarette and tossing the butt into the fireplace. Jack relaxed a little and lowered the weapon. He hated Maxwell, but what he’d told him was just crazy enough to be true.
“I always figured you’d find me eventually. I didn’t think it would be for something like this though.”
“Didn’t need to find you, Jack. I always knew where you were. I just figured you’d need some time to cool off.”
Jack narrowed his eyes, wondering how Maxwell had known where he was. There were only a few possibilities and all of them were uncomfortable. Under the present circumstances however, Jack knew those were questions for later, so he went to the dining table, grabbed the singular chair and took it over so he could sit across from Maxwell.
“So why me? What can I do about a damned zombie apocalypse?”
“There’s a doctor - an absolute expert in her field - and she claims to have unique knowledge of the origin of the virus. Doctor Emma Reed.”
“What is her knowledge exactly?”
“She wouldn’t say. The good Doctor assures us she’ll tell us everything we need to know, but only if we can get her out of the place she’s currently located.”
“And that is?”
“In the middle of Dewbury, here in Illinois.”
“Never heard of it.” Jack responded shortly.
“It’s an average sized city; population of about a hundred thousand and the corporate home of a few different technology companies, not that they’re up and running anymore.”
“And?”
“Dewbury has been almost completely overrun. UAVs have done flybys and we’re seeing groups of thousands and tens of thousands of those infected by the virus on the street. UAV sweeps and estimates from our boots on the ground indicate maybe ten percent of the population is still alive, and they’re all trapped within evacuation zones we’re struggling to keep out of the hands of the undead.”
Jack shook his head. It was almost unimaginable that so many people were dead, let alone that so many of them were dead and walking about trying to eat those still alive.
“I’m still not seeing why you need me.” Jack stated.
“Because you were our extraction specialist; you’ve pulled assets out of war zones across the world and right now we need the best.”
Jack scoffed.
“Right.”
“It’s true.” Maxwell assured him, retrieving and lighting another cigarette. “When I said that leaving you out there wasn’t personal, I meant it. You were a damn fine soldier, but there was a leak and it had to be plugged. Would you rather I’d have had you and Grier shot? Then you’d be dead in a ditch out there rather t
han living a life of quaint luxury. Sounds to me like I made the right call.”
“You really are a self-righteous son of a bitch, Maxwell.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But right now, we need to put our differences aside and work together. If we can’t find a way to cure or contain this outbreak, we’re looking at an extinction level event within a month. Sure, people like you out in the middle of nowhere might get away with it for a while longer; you’ll get away with it right up until everyone in the cities and towns are eaten alive, then the hungry dead are going to be out of food and they’re going to go hunting elsewhere.”
“That’s not my problem.” Jack countered.
“See, I figured you’d say something like that. I figured you’d be reluctant and indignant, that you’d act like you don’t give a damn. But I know a secret, Jack. Would you like to know what it is?”
“Thrill me.”
“You actually care a lot more for people than you make out. You were the best because when someone needed you - when innocent lives were in the balance - you’d go to any lengths necessary to save them. Some people do this job for the paycheck, others do it because they like the violence and some do it for the thrill. You do it because you actually want to do good; that’s a rare thing in this trade, Jack, and it’s a trait we’re probably going to need in the coming days.”
“Appealing to my better nature?” Jack questioned with a sneer. “Shit must really be hitting the fan out there.”
“What you saw in those pictures is just the tip of the iceberg.” Maxwell told him, finishing his second cigarette and tossing it into the fireplace. “So, are you coming with me?”
“What’s the mission? Be specific.”
“Doctor Reed is trapped in the Dewbury Central Hospital near the middle of the city. We heard from her an hour ago; she’s got a few other survivors with her, but she’s the priority. They’ve been surrounded by the undead and, unless something changes soon, it's just a matter of time before the enemy finds a way in and that will be the end of her and possibly the rest of mankind.”
The Z Directive (Book 1): Extraction Point Page 1