by James Barton
“Someone is alive,” Amanda said. It was meant to sound excited, but somehow it came out fearful.
“She’s coming this way,” Walker said.
“Shit,” Solo muttered.
The woman hobbled through the weeds like an old drunkard. There was a sense of purpose to her movement though, and that purpose was to get past the fence.
As they watched the woman the radio blared something that pulled their attention away.
“Fortress, fortress, Tower 17. We have a group of civilians attempting to climb the fence. All attempts to reason with them have failed. They don’t look sick. Fortress they said they are running from…”
“17, you have exhausted all non-lethal options. Lethal force is authorized.”
“But, they are just …”
“Shoot goddammit! All posts, all posts. All foreign personnel that approach the fence must be met with lethal force, fortress out.”
The trio of soldiers looked at each other and then looked down at the approaching woman. Far in the distance, barely audible, was the sound of gunfire. Pop … pop … pop, popopopop, the sounds rung out faster and faster. The three soldiers in their perch flinched, not from the actual sound, but from what the sound meant.
The woman was finally within earshot and her appearance became clearer. Her arms were bloody, but her white sweater and jeans seemed almost clean, considering the circumstances.
“Say something to her,” Walker pleaded.
Amanda’s expression gave away her feelings of uncertainty before she even opened her mouth.
“Ma’am! I need you to turn back,” Amanda yelled.
The woman continued to stagger forward, but looked up and locked eyes with Amanda. Her face was red and splotchy like someone who had spent the last week crying. Her mouth moved to say something that no one understood. All the while, she pressed forward with a strong sense of determination. Behind her, in the van, something moved and caused it to shake slightly.
“Someone else is still in the van?” Solo asked.
“I don’t know, but what do we do about her. Fortress said …” Walker began.
“I heard what fortress said,” Amanda replied. “Ma’am, you need to turn around. No one is allowed to leave at the moment.”
“He got sick. They were at the football game and they didn’t look right. He caught it somehow,” the woman cried out loudly. Her voice was cracking like a pubescent boy. Her pace had slowed down as she got closer. Thirty feet or less and she would be up against the fence.
“Who got sick?” Amanda asked.
“Don’t get invested, shoot her,” Solo said.
Amanda made an offended look, both at what he said and at the realization that he might be right.
“I didn’t give up on him, I never did. They’re gone now, I see that now. You can see it in their eyes, they’re gone,” the woman rambled on.
“Who?”
“My son,” the woman responded with a face full of tears. At this distance, Amanda was able to make out the wounds on her arms. They were covered in dozens of small bloody bite marks. At that moment the van shook violently, and a small figure emerged. It was a young boy in a dusty football uniform. He fell into the grass and circled the van on all fours almost as though he was sniffing the area like a dog. While he searched, his head seemed to jerk and twitch sporadically.
“Please,” the woman pleaded. “Let me through.”
“I, I …” Amanda stuttered.
“She’s infected, look at her,” Walker said.
“Holy shit, look at that kid go,” Solo whispered.
“Please, he’s my son, but I can’t watch him get hurt. Let me through!” she screamed and placed her hands on the fence. Despite her wellspring of adrenaline, she struggled to make climbing progress before falling. The fence wobbled and swayed at her efforts. This barricade would hold for now, but too much force and it could easily fold.
In the distance, the little boy bolted toward the woman at an alarming speed. He took an almost Olympic runner’s stance and then seemed to fall onto all fours when he lost his footing, and yet never broke stride.
“That’s not normal,” Walker said under his breath.
“No shit,” Solo replied.
“Ma’am, please don’t make me.”
“Don’t let him get to me, I can’t,” the woman begged.
“What do we do?” Walker asked. The boy was covering ground even faster now.
“I don’t know,” Amanda said.
“Fuck it,” Solo said while pulling the charging handle on his rifle. He raised the rifle up to his shoulder and fired at the child. A small splash of dirt kicked up a few feet from the boy. He fired two more times, missing each one. The sound of gunshots sent chills down Amanda’s spine. She raised her weapon and took a deep nauseous breath before pulling the trigger. Her first shot missed, spitting up wet dirt in front of his path.
The woman below began wailing and shaking at the fence. There was a mixture of cries and obscenities that were mostly unidentifiable. Amanda pulled the trigger a second time and a small spurt of blood shot out of the back of the boy’s pelvis. Amanda flinched, and yet the boy did not. He dropped back onto all fours and moved at a ferocious pace.
“Fuck me,” Solo said.
“Walker, shoot!” Amanda shouted.
“I can’t, it’s just a, just a …” he stammered.
Solo fired a shot that finally connected. The little boy’s shoulder sprayed blood and for only a short second he seemed to stagger backward. The child paused briefly before hitting his stride once again. A few more seconds and he would be at the fence.
As he got closer, Solo and Amanda’s already poor aim became even shakier. The boy closed the gap and leapt into the air, barreling into his mother. The impact sent her flying, pinning her face into the fence. The boy latched onto her like a rabid spider-monkey. He took a meaty bite out of the side of her neck and shook his head back and forth tearing her skin asunder. He raised his blood-soaked mouth to the sky and swallowed a chunk of flesh. He then sank his teeth into her shoulder. Her legs gave out and she fell backward into the grass. After a small tussle he was positioned on top of her. The woman let out a pained gurgling as her own child bit at her chest.
Both soldiers looked on in horror, frozen by disbelief. Then there was a cracking sound and the small boy’s head shattered inwards. He fell to the ground limply. Walker stood with his weapon to his shoulder, his eyes red with tears. “He was just a boy.”
The mother convulsed on the ground as rivers of blood flowed from her wounds. There were little signs of consciousness, something Amanda took to be a blessing.
“That was no boy,” Solo said. “What now?”
Amanda looked at the two of them and back down at the mother. “We should give her first aid.”
“Oh, fuck that, you aren’t serious, are you?” Solo responded angrily.
“You know what, fuck you. I’m just, just trying to help.”
“You can help by staying the fuck away from that shit down there. You ain’t bringing that shit back up here to me.”
“Fast zombies, why couldn’t it be the slow kind?” Walker mumbled to himself.
“What are you talking about?” Amanda asked.
“You’ve seen the movies, there are two different kinds. Looks like we got the fast kind. Please don’t give her first aid, if this is anything like the movies I’ve seen. She will be getting up soon.”
“This isn’t a fucking movie,” Solo said.
“This is the classic conversation, I tell you the dead are walking, you say ‘bullshit that’s science fiction’, then I wait and … oh here it is,” he said as he brought the rifle up to his shoulder. Walker fired a shot at the woman who had recently stood up and began wandering toward their tower. Blood splattered out the back of her head and she fell in a heap on the ground. “Then there is impeccable timing that proves that I am right, and I say something witty like, you were saying?”
Am
anda couldn’t help but have a little grin at his deliverance.
“Fucking zombies,” muttered Solo, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Fortress, 41. Status report, we have encountered two infected individuals that attempted to break past the fence. One was ravenous, and attacked the other one, we had no choice but to … use lethal force. Please advise on further action.”
There was a long pause, something that seemed routine for their interactions lately. “41, Fortress, continue to maintain position, and … good work,” a new voice commanded over the radio.
On the horizon, there were small pillars of smoke. Something was terribly wrong in the city and it didn’t take much to put the pieces together. Walker, who had been mostly quiet up until now, was telling them every version of zombie fiction he knew, which unfortunately was hugely extensive.
“And then, lastly, there are necromantic zombies that have been raised from the grave by dark magic.”
“As much as I appreciate the lessons, I have to draw the line at dark magic,” Amanda said and cut him off.
“I agree, I didn’t see any glowing blue eyes,” he replied.
Solo rolled his eyes and turned over in the sleeping bag. As he attempted to rest, the sound of gunfire sporadically filled the air. It appeared that their tower wasn’t the only one that had seen action.
An hour went by and Amanda couldn’t help but stare down at the poor woman on the ground. She had apparently seat-belted or restrained her child in the vehicle and sought escape. How many people could be facing this back at the town?
Their second day was ending, and they hadn’t received meals since the first day. Inside their locker was a supply of ammunition and three packaged meals. Neither of them was hungry yet, but they wondered when or if, they would be relieved. As soon as the light of day faded into night, there was the gleam of headlights in the distance. Amanda kicked at Solo to wake him up. “We have company again.”
Through the binoculars she could make out a large truck and two minivans. They were moving toward the tower in a single file. As the three of them watched, they waited for the inevitable. Soon the first vehicle struck the road spikes and before anyone could react the other two followed suit. All three of them wobbled out of formation and the second one rolled onto its side, much like the mother did previously. The van behind slammed on its brakes, but still managed to slam into the overturned vehicle with a moderate amount of force. The truck tires seemed to dig into the mud and came to a halt. It idled in place for a moment without any exterior movement. After a short pause, two men got out of the truck and went back to check on the others.
As people began to pile out of the van, it seemed that everyone was okay. Amanda questioned the exact definition of okay, when these people could be infected with a virus that could turn them into flesh eating monsters.
“Fourteen people,” Walker said while staring through his scope. There were two audible clicks as he set the rifle from safe to three-round burst. Amanda looked at him with unease. Solo shook his head and flicked the safety off. Amanda couldn’t, at least not yet.
The group seemed to loosely follow behind a man who looked like a cartoon lumberjack. He was a strong, bearded man in flannel and he walked a few steps in front of the gaggle of civilians.
“What do we do?” Walker asked.
“I want to try and turn them around. God, please let them listen to me.”
“I can tell you right now they didn’t come all this way to turn around,” Solo said.
As they got within earshot, Amanda shouted out to them. “Please, turn around. No one is permitted to pass.”
“Have you seen the city?” the man shouted.
Amanda hesitated for a moment before responding. “Not since Thursday.”
“If you saw what it was, you wouldn’t ask us to turn around. Please, it’s a nightmare that we barely escaped from. People have gone mad and the ones that aren’t torn to shreds, turn into monsters themselves.”
“I understand that it must be horrible, we have seen two infected people so far. This has become bigger than ourselves. If this were to get outside of the city, it could spread.”
“I agree, keep the infected inside, but we aren’t sick. Have some decency and let us pass.”
As he spoke the others began to gather behind him. It was like something out of a news broadcast. There was a woman holding a swaddled infant, two children, an old man and some teenagers. This group looked rough and beaten, their journey here must have been a hard one. Despite the sadness and love that she felt for these people, Amanda’s military side was taking over. If one of them was sick and she let them through, it could kill millions of people.
“I understand your request, I really do, but I can’t let you through. You don’t have to return to the city, you could stay in your cars or maybe …” Amanda started.
“No! We aren’t going back and we aren’t sleeping in cars. They’ll be coming for us once the city is done. Now we are going to get through this fence with or without your permission.”
“Sir, back up, please don’t do this!” Amanda cried out.
The group ignored her words and made a dash for the fence. Amanda tried to fire a warning shot, but if anything, it just made them move faster. They reached the fence and began pushing, pulling, and climbing. One of the teenagers made it to the top, but the barbed wire was a painful obstruction. All three soldiers were in position, but no one had taken action yet.
Amanda’s hand was forced when she spotted a female teenager in a tight-fitting green top trying to use wire cutters. Amanda cringed and shook her head back and forth like she had just tasted a bite of rotten food. She squinted and pulled the trigger. It wasn’t a direct hit, but it struck the girl and she fell to the ground, dropping the wire cutters. The group was whipped into a frenzy of desperation and fear. Within the midst of their panic was someone in a white outfit standing calmly.
“God dammit,” Solo said and began firing into the group. Walker joined in and the three of them unleashed a hailstorm of bullets. Amanda’s military side pulled the trigger, it aimed down the sights and controlled her breathing. Amanda’s human side teared up and felt sick to her stomach as she murdered the young and old alike. Each trigger pull was a battle with herself, while with each motion of her finger, her heart screamed stop, but her mind screamed we must.
It took less time than one might imagine, but in a matter of seconds thirteen people were on the ground, dead or severely wounded. The fourteenth, a woman in a white lab coat stood perfectly still in the middle of the carnage, her hands resting at her side. A small square of fabric was ripped from her upper right pocket. Her shoulder length blonde hair blew in the wind and her pearly white teeth seemed to sparkle against the drab surroundings. Her white coat was spotted with bloody red circles … bullet holes, to be exact. Her smile faded and she fell to the ground dead.
There against the fence lay fourteen people, fourteen uninfected, innocent people. Amanda had succeeded in protecting the world … from nothing.
“What have we done?” Walker asked. Amanda could only look at him with a weight pulling at her heart. “What did we do!” he screamed and grabbed Amanda by the collar. He weakly shook her. Amanda barely noticed as she was mentally miles away.
“I’m going down there,” Solo said coldly as he began to descend the ladder.
“Wait, what, why?” Amanda asked. “Don’t go down there. Why would you?”
“I have to see what we did. It isn’t like it matters anymore, none of us are going home.”
“Are you stupid!” Amanda screamed. “Get your dumbass back up here!”
“He was the one that told you not to go down there initially,” Walker mumbled.
“Shut up” said Amanda shaking her head. “Why don’t you tell him what happens next if he goes down there, Mr. Movie Man, you’re the fucking zombie expert right?”
Solo ignored her and went down the ladder and stood a foot away from the collection of bodi
es. He didn’t say a word and yet everyone knew what he was feeling.
Walker still had his hands gripping her collar, but the understanding of what Amanda had said to him was slowly dawning on his face. Amanda shoved him back and stood at the edge of the tower, looking down at Solo. He just stood there silently staring at the murder scene. “Solo, get up here, they could be infected,” she yelled.
He turned his head only slightly and began to make exaggerated kicks into the corpse of the lumberjack leader. He spit forth a stream of obscenities that was only slightly worse than his normal dialogue. For someone so crude and rough, Amanda never thought he would be the most affected. Their own self-pity was put on pause as he threw his tantrum below. Before they could exactly identify what happened, Solo was pulled prone on the ground. He let out a scream of pain in the form of the word fuck.
“I can’t see it!” Walker cried out, scanning the scene for an attacker.
Solo broke free and fell backwards onto the fresh grass. As he pushed himself back, an old man with a bullet hole through his cheek crawled forward. Solo fumbled with his rifle as the man pulled himself up by tightly grasping onto his pants. Walker took one well-placed shot and the old man’s forehead spit gory red matter all over Solo’s uniform.
“I got you, now get out of there,” Walker said.
Solo looked up dazed and wiped the gore chunks from his pants. As he did, it revealed a tear in his pants. Solo began to climb the ladder and Amanda slammed the hatch shut. She threw the small padlock through the metal loop and stood with a sick look on her face.
“What are you doing?” Walker asked.
“Hey, what the fuck?” Solo yelled through the floor.
“You saw him, it tore his pants. Fingernail scratches and all that. I’m not the zombie expert, but I’m pretty sure that would spread the virus.”
“But, we aren’t completely sure. I mean, he’s one of us,” Walker whispered.
“Open the fucking hatch,” Solo said and banged on the hatch.
“Not anymore, he isn’t.