“Alright, we’re here to make contact. You guys cover me,” Melvin said and stood. After a moment of waiting and not getting shot at, he walked up the road to where the fence blocked it. Looking around, he spotted some crossbars between two fence posts, allowing a normal human to climb over the barbed wire. When he dropped to the ground on the other side, a coyote or stray dog that had been concealed under a shade tree jumped up and scurried off. Melvin waited to make sure the animal wasn’t going to attack him before maneuvering the three-point sling so that his M4 was down by his side before casually walking toward the building. He stopped near a tree about fifty feet away.
“Hello! Anybody home? I’m friendly enough if you are, especially if you have any coffee!” Melvin shouted. He always used his good old boy approach with a little bit of craziness thrown in. In past encounters, it seemed to work. After all, he’d not been shot. At least, not yet.
He tried a couple of variations, but there was no response to his hails. It looked abandoned to Melvin, but for all he knew, someone had crosshairs fixed on his chest. He walked closer. It was dark inside. Melvin rapped on it with his knuckles on the door and stepped back. Once, he’d done the same thing and a zed practically leapt on him as soon as he knocked.
This time, nothing happened.
“I’m going to come on in. I hope you’re friendly,” he said and took a deep breath.
Melvin pushed the door open and used a flashlight to peer inside. After a moment, he stepped out and motioned his team to come forward. Liam and Logan quickly went over the fence and jogged up. True stayed back until they were in position before doing the same.
“There’s a corpse lying inside,” Melvin informed them.
“A zed?” Logan asked.
“Nope. The guy’s been dead a while.”
They swept the immediate area, and after finding nothing but an overgrown garden and a generous stack of firewood, they went back inside the building. It wasn’t large, but someone had put a lot of work into it. A pot-bellied stove had been installed and the plumbing had been rerouted to a water tank that was on the roof outside. In one corner was a cot. Beside it was a closet. When they opened it, they saw an assortment of clothes and footwear. Various kinds of weapons and tools hung on the walls.
On the northern wall was the radio equipment. A dining table large enough for six people was cluttered with various bric-a-brac.
And finally, there was a single restroom at the eastern wall. It was small; a toilet, sink, and a shower spigot in one corner. There was a drain in the center of the tiled floor and the occupant had also reworked this plumbing. Insulated pipes leading to the ceiling which undoubtedly led to the water tank.
“I believe the dead dude made this place his bugout location,” Logan said. “I bet he worked here.”
“An astute observation, brother,” Liam said. “Let’s check him out.”
Liam crouched down beside the corpse, looking it over with a cop’s eye with the aid of a tac-light. He pried a revolver out of the man’s hand and handed it butt first to Logan.
“A Colt Python, 357,” he said and opened the cylinder. “Fully loaded, one expended cartridge. It’s clean and well-maintained.” He gazed at it in appreciation a moment before peering at Liam. “What else do you see, brother?”
Liam scrutinized everything for a full minute before speaking.
“Self-inflicted gunshot wound to the mouth. The projectile exited the back of his skull and embedded itself into the floor. This indicates he shot himself here.” He pointed a finger up and down the man’s body. “The manner of the decomposition indicates he hasn’t been moved, which confirms this is where he killed himself, and it’s also an indicator that he was all alone. Otherwise, at the minimum, they would’ve dumped him outside.” He glanced around. “I can’t explain the lack of animals coming along and eating him though.” He paused and gestured back toward the corpse.
“He’s well-groomed, his beard and hair are trimmed, but he’s dirty on the front side, like he’d been dragging himself. It looks like his left leg is injured, which explains why he was dragging himself. So, he somehow injured himself outside and confirming he had nobody to help him, he had to drag himself back to the cabin.
“He’s wearing a heavy jacket and a balaclava.” He pointed at some worn leather gloves lying beside him. “He was wearing those too, but I guess he took them off to shoot himself. The tissue on his face and hands mummified with no bug activity. Based on that, I’d say he died back when it was still cold. I’d guess back in February, three months ago. Give or take.”
“He was badly injured and didn’t want to turn into a zed,” Logan surmised. “That’s why he killed himself.”
“Yeah, I’d say so,” Liam agreed. He gestured at the man’s head. “Gray-headed. Maybe in his fifties but he’s in good shape so it’s hard to tell. Let’s see what he’s got on him.”
He searched and came up with a hand-forged camp knife holstered on his belt, a smaller lock-blade knife in his pocket, a pocket watch, a small notepad contained in a Ziploc bag, and a mechanical pencil.
Melvin crouched down beside Liam. “So, the old man lived alone, but he took the time to groom himself. Interesting.”
“Why do you say that, Sarge?” Logan asked.
“Speaking from experience, when a man is truly alone for a prolonged period, personal grooming standards take a nosedive,” Melvin answered and absently ran a hand through the fresh bur cut Savannah had given him before the mission. “Based on his cleanliness and the orderliness of the cabin, this man had a lot of self-discipline.” He then pointed at three dead rabbits in various stages of decomposition lying on the floor beside the corpse. “Care to venture a guess about those?”
Liam shrugged and stood. “Beats me.” Almost as an afterthought, he removed the notepad from the baggie and began thumbing through the pages.
“Various notes to himself about the area and the nearby town,” he said, but when he thumbed to the end of the notepad, he gave a low whistle.
“The old man wrote a suicide note. Listen to this,” he said and began reading aloud. “My name is Merlin LeBlanc, and as you can see, I’m dead. About two or three days ago, I’m not sure now, I was sitting in a tree stand, waiting on a twelve pointer. He would’ve provided enough meat to last me through the rest of the winter. I must have fallen asleep and took a tumble. I don’t know how long I was out, but when I came to, I was lying on the ground and all busted up and freezing. My left knee is torn up and I think my back is broke because I can’t walk and had to crawl back to my home.
“I worked at this place. My job was to keep the electronics working. That’s what I did when I was in the Navy. All the other employees are either dead or they’ve moved on. My wife and I divorced years ago. I have one son, named after me. He’s a career Navy man too and was deployed when all this plague stuff happened. I hope he’s alive and I hope he’s found himself a good woman. I hope I have grandchildren too and that I’ll get to see them one day.
“I’m not real sure how long I’ve been lying here, but I know there is no way I’m going to recover. I have a fever, my vision is going, and the pain is unbearable. You may be judging me harshly but put yourself in my shoes and ask yourself what you would’ve done. If you will be kind enough to give me a Christian burial, I’d be most appreciative. In return, I’ll tell you a little secret. There is a false wall behind the bed which hides a door going down into the basement. I’ve got a few supplies down there that you might be able to use.
“One more thing. I have a dog. I found him two years ago and we’ve become best buddies. I named him Boom-Boom because if he eats too much, he’ll drop a steamer the size of a midget’s arm. He’s the best dog a man can have, and he hasn’t left my side. If he’s dead, all I ask of you is to bury us together. If he’s still alive, please take care of him. You won’t regret it. May God protect you better than he protected my sorry ass. Signed, Merlin LeBlanc Senior, United States Navy, Retired.”
Liam lowe
red the notepad and shook his head slowly. “A hell of a way to go,” he said.
“Yeah,” Melvin agreed and made a head gesture toward the open door. “That must be Boom-Boom.”
The rest of them turned and saw a mostly black cur dog peeking in. He was emaciated and his thick fur was grimy. Liam gestured.
“Look at that collar,” he said. It appeared to be handmade with a bunch of roofing nails sticking out. “I bet that saved his ass a time or two. He’s got a few battle scars on him too.”
As the men stared, the dog stared back and gave a soft whimper.
“Wow,” Logan muttered.
“That explains the dead rabbits,” True said. “The dog was bringing food to his master.”
“By golly, I believe you’re right,” Logan said. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out some jerky. He squatted down and tore off a piece. “Here, Boom-Boom. Are you hungry, boy?”
The dog stuck his head slightly more into the doorway and whimpered again. It took some gentle coaxing, but after another minute the dog’s hunger and loneliness won out. Boom-Boom worked his way inside and warily took the jerky from Logan’s outstretched hand. Logan gently started petting him and he responded with a wagging tail.
“He’s full of fleas and ticks, and he stinks. Kind of reminds me of my brother,” Logan said.
“Funny, I was thinking he smells a lot like that one girl you dated in high school,” Liam retorted. “They look the same too.”
“Ah yes, what was her name? Molly, I think. Yeah, that’s it. Big Muff Molly, what a girl. She was part Jewish, part Indian. Very hirsute.”
“Hence the nickname,” Liam said. Logan nodded in agreement.
Melvin laughed. “Alright, enough about hairy women. I think we should dig a grave for Merlin, but first let’s have a look at this basement.”
They walked over to the cot and pulled it away from the wall, which consisted of layered planks and some shelving. Melvin saw a faint outline the shape of a door, but there was no handle. Playing with it, he discovered one had to push it in slightly where the doorknob would have normally been. The wood went in for a quarter of an inch which released a magnetic catch, and then it silently swung outward.
“Sneaky,” Liam said and used his tac-light to peer in. The doorway led directly to some stairs, which descended into darkness.
“That’s a big room, about eight feet down. There’s lots of shelves,” he said, and then motioned to his brother. “Let us SWAT guys show you two how to tactically go downstairs into a dark room.”
“Watch for trip wires,” Melvin warned.
The two brothers moved as a team and descended the stairs, each providing cover with their handguns. After thirty seconds, they gave the all-clear. Melvin started to go down the stairs but paused when he saw True was not following.
“Could be a trap,” True said. “I’ll be watching things from up here.”
Melvin nodded and trotted down the stairs. He used his flashlight to look around.
“Wow,” he said.
He wasn’t impressed often, but this was impressive. The basement was roughly twice the square footage of the ground floor. There were electrical panels and other equipment, presumably for the operation of the radio station, but there were also shelves and benches, all full of post-apocalyptic goodies. It was obvious Merlin put a lot of work into it and he thought of how it was a shame the man was all alone and died so tragically.
“Alright, we should do a complete inventory, but right now, let’s go bury the old man,” he said.
“Yeah, hold that thought for a minute,” Logan said and used his flashlight to quickly scan the shelves. After several seconds, he apparently found what he was looking for and grabbed a can.
“Dog food,” he told them as he trotted up the stairs.
“He’s always been a dog lover,” Liam said and followed him up.
The men found a pickaxe and shovels in a shed out back. After a couple of hours and a lot of sweat, they’d made a rectangular hole almost five feet deep. They’d wrapped up Merlin in an old blanket and lowered him down into the hole using ropes. Boom-Boom watched and whimpered softly as they shoveled the dirt on top. Melvin offered a few words, then the men sat under a nearby shade tree. Boom-Boom followed and sat beside Logan. He used an opener he found in the kitchen and opened a second can. Boom-Boom devoured it in two swallows.
“Don’t overfeed him,” Liam admonished.
Logan grinned and stroked the dog, eventually gaining enough trust to start pulling out the numerous ticks embedded in his ears.
“Did we bring along any shears?” Logan asked. “He’s got a lot of matted fur.”
Melvin shook his head. “Nope, no shears. There might be some down in the basement. We’ll look later. Alright, men, here’s what I’m thinking.” Melvin paused, making sure he had their undivided attention, which sometimes was a challenge with the O’Malley brothers.
“Well, spit it out, Sarge. True is all ears,” Logan said.
Melvin looked over at True, who was drinking water out of his camelback and did not bother looking up.
“We have a lot we can do here. We’ll bring the truck up here and see if we can get this radio online tonight. Tomorrow, we can recon the town, gather Intel, scavenge a little, and see if there are any survivors around here before heading to Lake City.”
“That sounds good, but why don’t we split up? A couple of us can stay here and work on the radio while Liam and I do some crappie fishing. It’d be nice to have some fresh meat for dinner,” Logan said.
“Excellent suggestion, brother,” Liam said. “You know, for a simpleton, you come up with good ideas on occasion.”
Melvin glanced over at True. “Did you see how they did that?”
“I don’t know why two white boys from Pittsburgh think they can fish. I better be the one doing the fishing,” he said.
They engaged in a friendly argument before Melvin ordered the three of them to go, with the admonishment to be back before dark. Once they left, Melvin moved the truck, sent a burst message on the SATCOM radio to Mount Weather, and then got busy on the radio.
The generator seemed to be in decent shape, and there was still fuel in the tank, but he didn’t trust it wasn’t bad. He drained it and filled it with five gallons of fresh diesel. Priming it, he attached jumper cables to the battery and cranked it. The generator belched a couple of times before coming to life.
Melvin smiled in satisfaction, but it didn’t stop him from looking around for any zeds who were close enough to be attracted to the noise. Seeing no threats, he went down to the basement and started working the radio.
The three men returned a couple of hours later with a dozen crappie. They found Melvin still in the basement. He was holding a headset up to one of his ears.
“What’re you listening to, Sarge?” Liam asked.
Melvin smiled. “Some gal from Colorado talking about life. She even played a song a few minutes ago.”
“Nice,” Liam said and then frowned. “Wait a minute. This is a radio broadcasting station. How were you able to listen to another station?”
Melvin pointed. “I don’t know if it was part of the radio station or Merlin came along later, but there is a separate, two-way radio unit.”
Chapter 34 – Fort Detrick
Bob and I spent the rest of the day at Fort Detrick. Mostly, we helped them finish the cleanup work and reinforcement of some of the defensive barriers. It was hard work. After dinner, we both turned in for a night of well-earned sleep. Bob was up early the next morning.
“You don’t have to go with me,” I said.
“I would very much like to,” he replied.
“Alright, let’s grab a bite and head out.”
Andre, an older, laid back man was at the main guard post. It had been constructed solidly back in the day and had weathered the storm of zed attacks. Back before, it consisted of a square frame of steel beams, brick walls that were three feet in height and bullet-proo
f glass. It had been modified over the years. Now, it had a second story, reinforced with bullet-proof glass salvaged from a bank in nearby Hagerstown. Andre walked down the stairs and greeted us.
“How’re you doing, old man?” I said.
“About the same,” he replied. “What’re you two up to this morning? Going back to Weather?”
“Going to have a look around first,” I said. “Recon the area, see if we’re missing something.”
Andre frowned and stared at us solemnly. “You go looking for trouble, you’ll most likely find it.”
I nodded at him. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but it needs to be done. You take care, Andre.”
We exited the Fort Detrick compound and soon headed east on the interstate. I-70, like most roadways in the northern part of the country, had not fared well from the harsh winters. It made for rough travel and I kept the vehicle under twenty mph to keep from busting a tire. Bob gazed out at the scenery while we rode.
“I’ve never been through this part of Maryland,” he remarked. “I’ve been to Baltimore a number of times though.” He glanced over at me. “You know, some people said you guys didn’t try hard enough back in January.”
I gave a short chuckle. “I’ve heard it too.”
In fact, I’d heard it several times. The DC area, including Baltimore, was swarming with zeds, making it all but impossible to access the inner-city areas. We tried it once in July during the third year and there was simply no way to kill them all with the limited ammunition we had.
We aborted and went home, but we weren’t done. We knew from past observations that zeds would freeze solid during extremely cold weather. So, we planned a twelve-man mission back in January to go in and reap all the resources that could not be touched due to the zeds. When we had a week straight of temps that did not exceed twenty degrees, we went Oscar Mike.
“I remember the after-action report. The zeds didn’t freeze like you were expecting,” Bob said.
“Not all of them, no,” I replied. “A few thousand were still active and they were hungry. If we had a full contingent of armored vehicles and an unlimited amount of ammunition, we could have killed them off with no problem.”
Zombie Rules (Book 7): The Fifteens Page 20