by Damon Hunter
While in terms of life experience they may have been miles apart, Trey was only twenty-two, having joined up right out of high school, and getting out as soon as it was legal to do so. He could relate to Dino, saw himself in the kid. Like Trey, Dino was an average to below-average guy who maybe was not completely connected to reality, but wanted to do something special.
Trey joined the military, thinking he was going to become some kind of heroic killing machine. While this seemed slightly more in touch with reality than Dino’s visions of dominating the zombie apocalypse in ways he never could in high school, in practice it was not too different. Trey may have thought Dino was nuts but he couldn’t help but like him.
When they all watched the videos coming from China of the rot, Dino’s dream was suddenly much more real than Trey’s. Trey was still not sure how seriously to take these kids until Lumpy pointed out how many hits the video had gotten.
“Imagine how many hits a vid of us taking these rotters down would generate,” Lumpy had said.
Ana piped in saying, “Ad revenue could be through the roof.”
“You really think anyone is making scratch off this?” Trey had asked, “I heard they don’t pay shit.”
“They don’t,” Lumpy said. “It’s like a cent or sometimes less a click, but this shit had what? A billion fucking clicks?”
“My friend Jo can already put together some sick video with bullshit we film around here, just think what she could do if we gave her some footage of me and Lumpy mowing down zombies,” Ana added.
“She the one with the band?” Dino asked.
“Yeah, they could do the soundtrack.”
The idea appealed to Trey; the experience the Marines gave had not translated yet into high-paying employment. He did not, however, see them getting over to China with a bunch of guns.
“Too bad there’s an ocean in the way,” he told them.
“Don’t worry about that. It will be here soon enough,” Dino said.
Trey wasn’t so sure; quarantines were already up. He figured if it did happen, though, they should be ready, saying, “Then playtime is over. We start training hard.”
The more intense training had a couple members drop out. Jo and her band joined but only Jo, who was the drummer, stuck with it. By the time most of the West Coast was under quarantine, they were down to six members.
The original three, Lumpy, Dino, and Ana, all stuck it out, along with Jo. They may have been geeky kids when this started, but they were killing machines now. Watching the way they developed made Trey almost wish he had stayed in the service and tried to become a drill instructor.
The sixth member was Deke, a guy Trey had served with. Trey brought him in when the first footage of the predator rotters hit the web. The kids weren’t quite there yet, and Trey was feeling the need to have someone who knew what he was doing to watch his back.
He told Deke about the billion hits at a penny a hit and Deke was in. Deke might have been in just for the chance to kill things again. Unlike Trey, he would have stayed, but an IED had left Deke with one-and-a-half legs and the Marines like their people to have two.
Deke moved pretty well on his prosthetic leg; when he was wearing long pants, no one could tell. He was six foot six of muscle and bad attitude and took to using firearms the way most take to breathing. Trey would rather have leg-free Deke pushing himself along in a wagon with his knuckles watching his back than just about anyone else he knew with two good legs.
They stayed training when the quarantine first hit, but after a month of hitting it hard they were ready.
Trey and Deke were scouting a place to enter the quarantine zone when the quarantine zone came to them.
They were listening to Slayer’s Reign in Blood, an album recorded before either were born, at Deke’s insistence as they drove along the QZ looking for a weak spot. Trey had figured getting in would not be too difficult, since the emphasis would be on keeping people out. He was disappointed to see this was not the case. Turned out the SWARC was not the first group to think about breaking into the quarantine zone.
With the music loud and the Suburban riding rough after the modifications, he didn’t hear the ring tone or feel the vibration as Lumpy and Dino sent multiple messages.
Because they had the old-school death metal cranked in the armored Chevy Suburban they had converted into the SWARC Urban Assault Wagon, they didn’t hear the sirens or radio announcements. They learned the QZ was growing when the check points began to be deserted.
“I guess we can just drive through there,” Deke said as tanks and troop carriers began to move out.
A humvee approached them and a soldier got out. He was part of the newly formed Tactical Medical Response Team, an elite group with members pulled from all branches.
He came to the window, said, “Follow us out,” and then turned and left before they could ask him why. He got in his vehicle and drove off.
Trey expected him to do something when he did not follow, but the Humvee kept going. They wanted to get out more than they wanted to deal with Trey and Deke. Trey rolled back up his window, saying, “I don’t know about you but I’m done taking orders from assholes.”
Deke nodded. “We can gear up and be in the QZ in less than two hours.”
They let the Humvee put some distance between them before turning and heading back toward the hotel. It wasn’t far. They had picked accommodations close to the QZ. Trey was thinking two hours was a high estimate.
Trey turned down the music and picked up the two-way radio. They figured cell service in the QZ could be poor if it existed at all and had gone with some old-school communication. He paused as he swerved to avoid three people running in the road, toward the forbidden zone.
Seemed odd; sure he wanted to get in there, but he did not figure others would be anxious to go.
He was going to ask Deke’s opinion but more people were running past. Up ahead, a lady using a walker was coming up the middle of the road. Trey was getting ready to go around her when a lady running on all fours jumped on the old woman’s back.
“Vamper,” Deke said. “Looks like the shit has come to us.”
Trey accelerated and crushed them both under the wheels.
Deke looked back at the two of them smooshed together where the tires had been. It was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.
“Too bad we couldn’t get that on video.”
Trey was about to reply when he turned a corner and had to slam on the brakes. Multiple car accidents blocked the road.
They were on Main Street with all kinds of offices and businesses on both sides. Trey hopped the curb and went around through the parking lot until it looked clear. He didn’t get far before he saw the road packed with cars, none of them moving. Both sides of the road had vehicles pointed the same direction but no one was moving.
Deke got out of his seat and moved to the back of the Suburban. They had cut a hatch in the top. He opened it and pulled himself up to get a look.
He dropped back in. “We ain’t going this way.”
“Hotel is only three blocks away.”
“Most of them look abandoned. I saw some people walking around but they were walking funny,” Deke said as he went into the hidden compartment they had made in the trunk. “You want to help me with this thing?”
Trey moved back and helped him pull out the fifty-caliber. While Deke checked the weapon, Trey went out the hatch and mounted the stand on the brackets they had welded on the roof.
He had it in place when he saw one of the vampers hopping from car to car, heading his way. He reached for the gun in his belt, but it wasn’t there. He had put it away thinking if any TMRT types manning the checkpoints saw he was armed, they might get an idea what they had in mind and ruin the whole thing before they started.
He was going back in for his weapon when the thing hit the roof. He was surprised it had closed the distance so quickly. He pulled the hatch closed but was too slow. The vamper grab
bed him as he slammed the steel door on its back. Having the heavy hatch hit the vampire rotter did not affect it as it pulled him forward and bit him in the neck.
Deke came up with his combat knife and stuck it through the top of the vamper’s head. It let go of Trey and slumped over as Deke twisted the blade before pulling it free.
Trey put his hand on his neck to slow the bleeding, saying, “I can’t believe how fast they are.”
“I always liked you, Trey,” Deke said, “Sorry.”
“What do you mean? I could be fine.”
Deke pointed at his hand; a bubble was growing by his knuckles.
“Wait. . .” Trey began, but Deke did not. Trey took a knife to the head just like the vamper.
Deke didn’t say anything more as he mounted the big gun on the roof. He fired until nothing in his field of vision was standing, and then got on the radio.
CHAPTER 4
TMRT Bunker, San Francisco, CA
Vance woke up late, alone. Ashley had gone back to her own quarters. The cots they were sleeping in were big enough to have sex in but not very comfortable for two to sleep in.
It took a minute to orient himself. The dream had been real enough it took him a few seconds to realize it was not ten years ago and he was not back in his old Oceanside home. In the dream, Donna was still his wife. The dream was not a nightmare. It was worse, since it reminded him his real life was the nightmare. Of his recurring dreams based in the past, he actually preferred seeing the vampire rotter sink its teeth into his forearm while another took a chunk out of his calf before he put a bullet in each of them to seeing Donna in his sleep.
In the dream, as in his life, they fought. She was angry with him for his distance, and his refusal to seek help for what she was sure was a severe case of PTSD.
In the dream, he agreed with her. After he promised to seek help, they went to Katelin’s room and watched their daughter sleep, watched her dream. They went to bed together talking about how Kate needed a little brother. While him seeking help for his sullen moodiness and increasingly heavy drinking had to wait until the morning, getting Kate a little brother was something they could start working on tonight.
If things had played out the way they did in his subconscious while he was in an REM sleep state, maybe he would not be staring at the ceiling in an ancient bunker overlooking San Francisco Bay.
In the waking world he did not agree he needed help. He knew what he needed. He needed to get back into the fight. Fact was he felt most comfortable, most like himself, when he was carrying a weapon in some part of the world where people wanted to kill him.
He told her to shut the fuck up.
She didn’t, instead telling him to get the fuck out.
He did.
He planned on coming back. He planned on making things right. Despite everything, he loved them both. He never did. Instead he found another place to go where a man with a gun like him was needed.
When the government put together the Tactical Medical Response Team he saw another need for a man with a gun and put his name in for consideration. With his considerable experience, proven skill, and apparent lack of concern over losing his own life, he was a perfect fit.
He rose and dressed. He checked on Holiday. He wasn’t any better, but on the plus side he wasn’t any worse. Vance ate a bland gray packaged paste for breakfast, which said it was supposed to have the taste and nutritional value of bacon and eggs. He wasn’t sure of the nutritional value, but it tasted more like bland gray paste than it did bacon and eggs. He washed it down with a lukewarm brown liquid which was called coffee by the TMRT.
He found Ashley on the upper deck of the bunker. She had the rifle, but was not aiming at anyone. He joined her. They did not discuss the night before, just as they did not discuss any of the previous nights before. They were soldiers now. If the evac didn’t come before tomorrow, they would be lovers again.
The two of them watched the bridge silently for a while and did a sweep of the area around the bunker. Nothing was happening in either place. They had cleared the area around the bunker of amblers a few days ago, and other than a few here and there they had stayed gone. Vance was thinking maybe they were territorial, but his job was killing things, not studying them.
As their name suggested, the vampire rotters were more active at night. Even if they wanted to pick a few more off, they weren’t around. Unlike mythical vampires they were very capable of operating in sunlight, but like most predators with good night vision, they preferred to hunt under the cover of darkness.
Both were glad when the time came to open up communication with the outside world. They hoped for good news on the rescue front, Ashley more than him since she had people to go back to.
Unfortunately, the only thing said was a team was on the way; no timeframe was given for the evacuation. They each typed in boring reports and went to checking their personal accounts.
Vance was a little surprised and kind of pleased Donna had returned his message. After reading the message, he was not pleased at all.
“We are trapped in a hotel surrounded by infected of all types. We were being evacuated when things went bad and we ended up being trapped. Quarantine takes effect in 24 hours. I’m not sure why I’m sending you this, since you’re in the middle of a mission. I guess I’m asking for advice. I suppose any pull you have with rescue teams would help. Mostly Katelin and I are scared as hell.”
She sent another message with the address of the hotel on the chance he could send someone to get them. He wished he could, but he was having issues having someone come to get him.
Vance got on every website he trusted looking for news about San Diego’s North County. The news was not good. The area his wife and kid were in had become infested with victims of the rot.
He wanted to tell Ashley, get her opinion, but she looked happy video chatting with her family. He left her alone and continued to gather information on the situation his ex-wife and daughter were in.
Reports on whether the area had been sealed off yet varied; they may not have been sealed in yet but twenty-four hours was wishful thinking. Once the area was declared sealed, no one would be going in or out. Standard procedure was to consider anyone still inside infected, unless proven otherwise. Chances were the justifiably nervous soldiers manning the perimeter would shoot first and ask questions later of anyone trying to leave the quarantine, making the chances of proving one was still healthy difficult at best.
Even getting to the gunners manning the quickly dug-out trenches and barbed wire was unlikely. Anyone escaping the infected would have to get past the drones patrolling the border from the sky. Unless one had a TMRT transponder or was in an TMRT vehicle they were automatically considered a target. The drones did not ask if anyone was infected before launching missiles.
He checked the time on the email. It was only twenty minutes old. They were not trapped yet.
His own failed mission into San Francisco showed the odds of them surviving in a quarantined area to be very long. The best advice he could give was to get out. He wondered how good advice it was, since she said she was trapped. He gave it anyway.
“If you have any chance at all, get out. I understand you may be trapped, but once the quarantine zone is sealed no one is coming to get you. SOP is anyone inside after the area is sealed to be considered infected. News reports have the timetable for sealing the zone moving up. Do not delay. I repeat, do not count on a rescue.”
He was about to hit send when he thought of something else.
The only people who could get them out were people already in the quarantine zone. People like Vance. It struck him that the best chance his kid and her mother had if they could not get out of the hotel was probably him.
“If you absolutely cannot get out let me know. I will try and come get you. Once the quarantine is official no one without a TMRT transponder is getting out.”
He hit send, feeling he had just made an empty promise.
Before the
outbreak, the drive to San Diego from San Francisco was at least eight hours. With the way the roads were it might take him two to three days to get there, assuming he made it at all. He had his doubts they could survive that long.
To get to them he would need to get across the Golden Gate Bridge. Even if it was not teeming with infected, the mass of wrecked and abandoned vehicles meant not even a motorcycle would get to the other side. Unless he found a boat, the only way he was getting across was on foot.
Vance left the internet on, figuring he should give her the whole hour to respond. While he waited, he began to formulate a plan to get them. He hoped he would not have to use it.
CHAPTER 5
Sea Shell Hotel, Oceanside, CA
“About time Trey, we’ve been calling and texting all day…”
“Shut up and listen Dino, this ain’t Trey.”
“Where’s Trey?” Dino asked. He really did not like talking to Deke. He was glad he was along. Trey trusted him and Dino trusted Trey but Deke still made him nervous.
“What part about shut up and listen did you miss?”
“Sorry, but—”
“Trey is K.I.A.”
“K—”
“Killed in action. No time to get all weepy. The infection has spread to this side of the QZ.”
“We know, Lumpy and Ana took out a bunch in the lobby but had to retreat. They have some great footage though. Jo is cutting it together as we speak. Where are you?”
“About three blocks from you. Road is blocked. You need to come to me.”
“I don’t know if we can do that. We’re surrounded. Can’t you come to us?”
“Not with the assault wagon.”
“Can you make it on foot?”
“Sure, but then we would all be stuck together without a vehicle. It would be better if you came to me.”