Jim, Colonel Salas, and three Sergeants in the back of the Bradley make small talk and finish their coffee, saying their goodbyes and wishes of good luck. Colonel Salas calls out to Jim, “Hey, you wanna know what they’re calling this virus?” Jim stops with his left leg on the rear step of the MRAP, turns and answers, “Yeah, I guess. It’s not just called rabies?”
“No, Jim. The virologists call it the SCAR virus.” Before he can ask, the Colonel spells it. “S.C.A.R., it means Siberian Cannibalistic Aggressive Rabies. Somehow they know it was first discovered in Siberia. I’m not privy to how they know that.”
“Thanks, Colonel. You and your soldiers be safe.”
“And you and yours, Jim.” Jim steps up into the MRAP and then, after the Bradley backs out of the way, they continue on their journey with more knowledge about what’s happened. But the knowledge, unfortunately, brings no optimism.
Careful to choose his words so he doesn’t unduly stress Berk and Kayra, Jim explains his conversation with Colonel Salas and the Sergeants.
Berk and Kayra know things have changed and diseased people are everywhere, and are to be feared and avoided if possible. But Jim and Arzu also try to walk a fine line by trying to teach them this new reality to keep them safe and protect them while also trying to keep them from being overstressed.
They take turns. One person driving, one person manning the turret and keeping watch with the naked eye and binoculars. Others resting, napping, or occupying Berk and Kayra.
Once the gauge shows half a tank, they decide to look for a place to stop for fuel. Like before, they try to look out for other diesel-powered vehicles to siphon from. After a short time, they find a large Dodge pickup truck and decide to investigate.
Their routine is the same. They approach slowly and observe while they go over their plan. Everyone knows their job. Arzu and Jim will secure the area around them. Jeremy checks for fuel and, if any remains, will siphon it as quickly as possible.
Chris stops the MRAP beside the Dodge and Jim exits, followed by Arzu and then Jeremy. Chelsea is enlisted to close and stand by the doors. Jim and Arzu take up positions around the pickup. Jim notices a tarp in the bed of the truck as he passes around to the passenger side.
Arzu takes up a position near the front driver side. Jeremy approaches the fuel door on the driver side and opens it. He begins to unscrew the fuel cap. The tarp lifts up and catches Jeremy’s attention.
He’s met with the barrel of a sawed-off pump shotgun. “Stealin’ my fuckin’ gas, boy!” the man wielding the shotgun says as he rises. Jeremy freezes. Arzu turns and then lowers her AR-15 toward the ground.
“That’s right, woman. Now you drop that rifle before I blow this boy’s fuckin’ face off right here.” Arzu complies. She knows Jim is near and feels safe. Slowly she lowers the rifle to the ground and fights her urge to look over at Jim.
Having heard the exchange, Jim first crouches behind the truck bed and then carefully crab-walks toward the tailgate of the truck. He slowly takes a peek above the truck bed and sees the back of the man with the shotgun.
He sees Jeremy frozen near the fuel cap, and he sees Arzu lowering her AR-15 to the ground. The man with the shotgun then orders Jeremy to place his rifle on the ground, followed by his Glock.
Chris rises up through the turret and aims his AR-15 at the man’s head. Seeing this, the man lowers himself and yells for Chris to drop his weapon as well. Chris lowers it out of sight inside the turret but retains his grip.
The man, more sure of himself, rises again and has Jeremy back away. The man with the shotgun hops down from the bed of the truck. Still, his shotgun is aimed at Jeremy.
“Is that truck empty?” the man asks pointing with his head to the MRAP. Jeremy and Arzu remain silent. “It’s OK. I’ll check it myself. Them people inside will get out or I’ll shoot y'all right here,” he says, and then moves a little more to Jeremy’s right side so that he can better watch both Jeremy and Arzu.
Taking this opening, Jim slides his AR-15 to his left hand to steady it while hangs from its sling. He then unholsters his Glock.
Stalking silently toward the man, his suppressed Glock aimed at the base of his skull, Jim closes within three feet. Thump-thump. Two rounds to the back of the shotgun-wielding man’s head sever the connection of the brainstem to his spinal column. With the connection broken, the man falls in a vertical heap on the ground, then flops face down. Jim turns his attention to the bed of the truck, yanking the tarp up and looking for any other surprises.
Seeing no one else, Jim holsters his Glock and readies his AR-15. Scanning the area around them for threats, he glances at Arzu and Jeremy, who are gathering their weapons now.
“Come on. Let’s see if this thing's got diesel,” Jim says with no emotion as he semi-casually rolls the dead man under the truck with a few pushes from his boot.
Arzu turns and starts her security detail again. Jeremy finishes draining the Dodge’s tank and they siphon what else they need from a nearby municipal truck. They take to the road again.
They finish topping off the fuel tank for the MRAP and the additional spare tank that’s affixed to the side. They’re preparing to begin their road trip again when Arzu asks an important but overlooked question, “Do we have oil for this thing?”
“Well, shit”, Jim says, leans toward Arzu and gives her a kiss on the cheek with an exaggerated smack sound. “Honey, you may have saved us a lot of hurt.” They don’t have to look far for the oil; they’re parked in front of a small truck-stop restaurant. They can see partially into the building, and several infected are watching them from within. The SCAR virus victims move to the frame of the doorway, which is now just an empty frame because the glass that filled it lies shattered on the sidewalk. They charge out of the opening and then, shielding their eyes, retreat back inside. They wait and watch through the windows.
“Are we going in for oil, Dad?” Chris asks Jim.
“Yeah, son. We may as well do it now and then check the oil level on the beast,” Jim answers, as he returns the stare of the infected that look out at him with ill intent. “Zach wants to go inside with us,” Chris says, almost in the form of a question to his father.
Chelsea says, “I think Zach should go in too, if it’s OK. He needs to learn from you guys and is pretty much a gearhead.” Jim looks at Chelsea, then at Zach by her side, then back at the truck-stop and says, “I guess now is as good a time as any. Do exactly what you’re told and do it now.” Jim finishes his statement looking directly at Zach. Zach replies, “Yes, sir.”
Jim has Chris assist Zach in his preparation, from donning and loading out his MOLLE tactical vest to a crash course in hand signals. “You’ll be right behind or beside me the whole time,” Jim informs Zach.
Jim sees the fear on Zach’s face and in his darting, unfocused eyes. He knows the look and it’s normal, as long as it turns to a mixture of determination with the fear, instead of terror and indecisiveness. It has to be learned. It is not learned by everyone.
Final buddy checks are complete and Jim designates the order of the team’s entry. They go through their preparation while looking at the infected observing them with a combination of hate and hunger.
They leave the MRAP manned by Arzu at the wheel, Chelsea in the turret. Berk and Kayra finish out the compliment of those standing guard in the parking lot of the truck stop and are busily playing Angry Birds and Minecraft on iPhones that are now only good for games, pictures, video and audio media.
Jim, Zach, Chris, and Jeremy approach the truck stop, and Jim fires at targets of opportunity as he leads the way. The infected don’t have the mental capacity to try and elude the rounds being sent among them. They growl and salivate and run toward those approaching them. They have only a few thoughts in their now primitive minds: attack, eat, and infect.
The area in the front interior is cleared of infected by suppressed 5.56 mm rounds. The floor is littered with the dead. There are a large number of them inside and almos
t every third step is walking over the dead. No others are visible as the reach the entry. Jim, still in the lead, clears the area with eyes joined with his AR-15 muzzle. He enters the building and signals the rest to follow.
Their entry team consists of Jim, followed by Zach, and then Chris and Jeremy. They cautiously make their way inside and begin to do a pattern search of the building. They stay to the inside right-hand wall. Jim notices a staircase on the first left wall ascending up a floor and ending at a landing with a single open doorway.
Jim whispers in the comms for all to watch the stairwell for infected descending from the room at the top. They continue clearing, and secure the main floor. The search for oil, oil filters, and coolant begins with Zach pointing out what’s needed for the MRAP’s 6.7 liter diesel engine.
After stuffing the large duffel bag they brought in with the needed supplies, Jim directs the team out and they begin to make their way back to the exit.
Their search and scavenging has taken them in a right-handed pattern from the entrance, with some deviation into aisles in the center of the truck stop for supplies. They make their way out along the same right-handed pattern and approach the upstairs landing with the open door.
Just as they entered, Jim is leading, Zach behind him, then Chris and Jeremy. A growl is heard at almost the same time something strikes Jim on his upper back. He turns to face the attacker and sees a child of about ten years old lying prone, grasping Zach’s right ankle in both hands and sinking its teeth into his Achilles tendon.
Jim yells out, “Contact above us,” and Chris and Jeremy take aim at the landing. Jim places the muzzle of his AR-15 to the child’s head and fires two rounds into its brain. Grabbing hold of Zach, he orders, “Outside. Now!”
Jim drapes Zach’s arm around his shoulders and begins assisting him to the exit. Chris follows behind with the duffel bag full of supplies and Jeremy covers their escape.
Chapter 29
Present
Safely outside, they gather at the rear of the MRAP. Both Arzu and Chelsea see the men approaching and Zach being assisted. Arzu maintains her position at the wheel, but Chelsea abandons hers at the turret, exits the back of the armored vehicle and heads to her younger brother.
Zach is obviously injured, his right ankle is bleeding profusely and he’s all but hopping on his left leg. Once near the rear of the MRAP, Jim lays Zach down on his back and immediately focuses his attention on the injured ankle.
Chelsea is understandably tense and continues asking, “What happened?” Jim clicks open the Benchmade switchblade knife and quickly cuts up Zach’s pant leg to expose and examine the injury. The cursory exam reveals a deep penetrating wound from the teeth of the infected ten-year-old child. Normally, a dressing and some antibiotics would be the treatment. But things are not normal now.
Jim applies dressing and a bandage to stop the bleeding. Chelsea and all of them know what will likely come next for Zach. In all likelihood he’s now dead from a flesh wound.
They remove Zach’s tactical gear and help him into the MRAP. Jim asks Arzu to continue on their route, and carefully examines Zach. Jim signals Chris to the rear of the vehicle and asks him to tend to Chelsea. Jim then restrains Zach with zip ties to his hands and feet, and places a filterless gas mask on Zach’s face. Jim reasons that without the filters, Zach will be able to breathe normally, but he’ll also be unable to bite.
Jim notices Zach is becoming febrile, his speech is becoming slurred and his level of consciousness is decreasing rapidly. Everything points to a massive infection, but it’s too rapid.
Jim approaches Chelsea and tells her what he suspects, “He’s infected and will either die or become aggressive and try to attack us. I’ll wait and see but if he becomes like those that attack us, I’ll need to protect us and show mercy to him.”
Chelsea doesn’t look at Jim as he speaks; she stares at her brother, whose condition seems to be deteriorating before her eyes. Finally, Jim’s words register and she shifts her eyes away from Zach to Jim. Her eyes fill with tears and she gives one solemn nod of her head and then goes to her brother’s side.
Jim watches the infection spread through Zach with what some may describe as morbid curiosity. Jim has always treated the injured or ill as a machine. He’s always done his best to help preserve a patient’s dignity, but while treating a patient, he’s always treated the machine.
The body to him has been a machine. He’s treated many malfunctions of the machine, whether it be from injury causing lack of blood, or with the hard drive that is the brain, or with the pump that’s the heart.
Arzu drives the heavy armored vehicle on their route. Chelsea holds her brother’s hand and speaks to him in whispers. She says prayers for him. Jim watches the boy and wonders when he will need to act. He has no doubt that the infection will take hold.
Miles and minutes pass. Zach’s condition worsens, and he is no longer able to respond to questions. He is now inarticulate and babbles. Jim checks his tympanic temperature and the reading shows high, meaning Zach’s temperature is over one-hundred and five degrees Fahrenheit, well over the mark for causing brain damage. Nothing Jim has done to bring down his fever has helped.
About twenty-eight minutes after Zach was bitten, he lapses into unconsciousness. Jim asks Arzu to stop the MRAP. After the vehicle comes to a stop, Jim checks the area from the turret. He then asks Jeremy to take his place at the vantage point.
Jim fixes his eyes on Chelsea’s and says, “I’m leaving him here. I can’t do anything else for the boy.” Chelsea knows her brother’s fate. She’s seen it through the window of their father’s camping supply store. “Will you. . . make it quick for him? He wouldn’t want to be one of those things,” she finishes.
“His passing will be quick,” Jim says, and turns away. He lifts Zach in a fireman’s carry and walks out of the MRAP with him. Jeremy follows with a shovel. Jim carries the boy about forty yards away down a side street and gently lays him on the shoulder of the road in the grass.
Jeremy starts to dig. Jim kneels down beside Zach; his eyes are closed and he’s sweating profusely. It’s obvious his condition has worsened. Jim stands, un-holsters his Glock 17 and aims at the tip of Zach’s nose, and rapidly squeezes off three suppressed 9 mm hollow-point rounds into the young man’s face. Jeremy freezes at the sound of the report of the pistol and then continues.
With and audible sigh, Jim re-holsters the pistol and goes to the MRAP to retrieve Zach’s sleeping bag. Chelsea is sitting inside, rocking back and forth in the seat, with Chris beside her trying to console her. She notices Jim grab the sleeping bag and asks, “Will you let me know after you put him in the sleeping bag?” Jim nods and turns away and returns to the gravesite.
Jim places Zach inside the sleeping bag and zips it closed, then takes over digging from Jeremy and tells him to go let Chelsea know Zach’s been placed in the sleeping bag.
Jeremy returns with Chelsea and Chris. Chelsea kneels by Zach’s remains, whispers to him, and sobs while she gently strokes the form inside the sleeping bag.
When finished, the grave is not the standard six feet deep, but it should prevent carrion scavengers from digging up his remains. Chris and Jeremy lower Zach into the grave and they all stand in silence for a moment, each with their own thoughts. Chelsea takes the shovel from Jim and begins to place soil into the grave. Once finished, they return to the MRAP, exhausted physically and mentally.
No one speaks except for Berk and Kayra, who gleefully welcome their father back inside with, “Hi, Dad!” Jim cleans his dirt-stained hands with a Lysol wipe and kisses and hugs his youngest children. All but Berk and Kayra and Jim have tears in their eyes. Berk and Kayra don’t know what’s happened, so they have no grief to express. Jim, on the other hand, wishes he could express what he feels, but he cannot.
Arzu drives on.
Chapter 30
Present
Hours and days and miles tick by in mind-numbing slowness. The slow pace they have to
go to avoid obstacles, some caused by accidents, some caused by the need to avoid areas with larger populations. The trip that should take them thirteen or fourteen hours reaches four days. They see more and more infected victims of the SCAR virus. In the afternoon of their fourth day on the road, they reach a roadblock made by man.
They're forced to stop when a school bus pulls in front, blocking their path. Another blocks their egress. The sides are no good. To the left is a deep culvert and the right is a two-story building. They could probably drive the MRAP through it, but they have no room to turn the large vehicle in that direction, and the chance of the building collapsing and trapping them is too great. So they wait.
Everyone except Berk and Kayra crowds the windshield trying to look. Jim watches squatting in the turret hatch. A man wearing overalls and no shirt steps onto the road to their front. "We can see you got some ladies in there. The men can walk out the way you came. Leave the woman and guns and you all live."
"Give us a minute,” Jim yells back. "Chris, grenade launcher and keep it from view of the windshield. Everyone else get ready to put on your masks”.
Jim takes the launcher filled with OC gas grenades from Chris. "Everybody do what I say when I say it,” Jim says, with a look to everyone in the MRAP. Not waiting for a reply, he stands and fires two rounds toward the bus at the rear. Before the second grenade round impacts, he spins and fires three rounds to the front, walking them from left to right across the roadway.
He ducks back inside the turret and says, "Masks," and dons his, closing the turret and watching through the windshield as five figures stumble around the bus in front. Behind, and closer, he sees one trying to feel his way to the bus.
After about three minutes of watching what would under different circumstances have been a comical display by the men. The bumbling around blindly, noses running with huge excesses of mucous. Eyes swollen shut and flowing with tears. Coughing, gagging, and vomiting. Jim steps down from the turret platform and slings his AR-15. "Everybody stay right here,” he says as he walks to the rear doors. Arzu asks "Where are you going?"
Omega Pathogen: Mayhem Page 13