Zombie Airman

by David Guenther

  “I know you’re awake. How are you feeling today? Did you sleep well?” In a blink of the eye, the infected guardsman had crossed the short space and lunged at the doctor. The entire cage shook with the hit; he looked confused, then shrieked his displeasure at his confinement. Then he turned around as if to go back to the bed, turned again and charged at him, leaving a design of diamonds on his face where he hit the cage. Abrams stepped back and sat in his chair. The infected went back to his bed and knocked it away from the wall, then pulled the thin mattress into the corner before lying down. Damn, that boy is hostile, seems in good health, lots of energy. He has the Z eye too, full dilation. I bet now he can see in the dark too. I’ll have to test that later.

  MSgt Conrad sat at his desk, contemplating how to hook himself up to a drip for his caffeine while trying to ignore the shrieking of the Z in the next room with the doc. He didn’t remember the last time he slept. Every time a new group came to the gate during the night, he took charge of the security detail, ensuring they were safe, a daunting task when many formations, including Strykers, waited to enter the compound and he only had his armored cars to contest entry. It almost got ugly a few times, when he had to get them out of their vehicles and into a formation, including many officers, to receive an infection inspection, before allowing them to go any further. The body of the guardsman still lay where it had fallen to show their seriousness. Now that we have an abundance of new bodies, I wonder what happens to me? I’m too senior in rank to sit in the armory, yet too many new folks to stay in my current position as senior defender. He didn’t hear the General enter.

  “Good morning, Captain Conrad. I hear you had a busy night. I myself slept like a baby, thanks to a dirty trick by Major Arnot. He posted a guard at my door so I wouldn’t be disturbed. There’s a staff meeting at 1200, be sure to bring your own MRE and drink. You should also have these on your uniforms,” Peters held out a handful of cloth captain bars. “I just wanted you to know I didn’t forget, and I need you to plan a new mission into the city of Douglas to try and reduce the number of Zs there, preferably with the minimum use of ammunition. Draw up a plan including any of our new assets that would make things easier to accomplish the job. Soon we’re going to have to clear out the town so we can move in ourselves. After the new chain of command is in place, your responsibility will be as commander of the Security Forces. You stay in your seat; I want to visit with our Z.

  Why the hell didn’t I stand when a frickin General enters my office? What the hell? I’m a frickin captain, now!

  The bed was on its side and the Z was in the corner, peeking at him as he entered. His eyes looked huge. “Well Doctor, is the transition complete or do we still have a little of the Corporal in there?”

  “I think we have full on Z here. A few minutes ago he fouled himself so he tore open his pants, I’m guessing to avoid any future messes. It had to take quite a bit of strength to do that. These uniforms are made of tough material and well sewn to boot. If they are all doing that it will provide another easy way to distinguish them from a distance.”

  “Even from this distance he stinks. Any way we can hose him off? Have you learned anything else about them that’s of use to us, or as a possible cure?”

  “I’d recommend against spraying him down for the moment, I don’t want to antagonize him. Besides his eyes, I believe he has increased senses such as hearing and smelling. When I talked very softly, below a whisper, he could hear me. I’ve also seen him sniffing the air, usually just before someone comes into the room. I think he even smelled you coming.”

  “Have you tried to expose him to sunlight to see if it affects him or is that just a hopeful rumor?”

  “I’m going to observe him a bit longer, then expose him to different types of lights and see if it has any effect on him. With his eyes dilated like that, I’m pretty sure any bright light must be a pain. I did notice all his small injuries and bruises have healed, so I think we can scratch off the movies where zombies are rotting corpses. I’d bet he’s the healthiest he’s ever been. I might try to give him a light injury to see if it does in fact heal faster.”

  “Keep me informed Doctor, no experiments that could be perceived as cruel or inhumane. He’s one of us somewhere under all that.”

  SrA Wetzel was near exhaustion, but he volunteered to lead the detail back to the National Guard Armory to recover vital supplies, especially when one of the vital items announced turned out to be a containerized kitchen with the prospect of hot food other than MREs. The mission plan didn’t include that the two M1117 Armored Cars would also transport the drivers and loaders. This was the first time he’d ever had five passengers and he was glad the day was nice enough to run with the hatches open. The mix of soldiers and guardsmen didn’t seem the least bit put off with the cramped conditions. The extra passengers reminded him how much he wanted there to be a containerized shower unit and, better yet, a mobile laundry facility. As they neared the town, there started to be an occasional body or two. Nearing the turn off from the highway, the number of bodies steadily grew. Even in the fast moving armored car, the stench began to fill saturate the interior. “Okay, let’s button up. This can’t be healthy for us.” Wetzel turned the air to full blast to try to clear out the smell.

  Turning off the highway, the rows of fast food joints on both sides of the road only encouraged Wetzel to make the mission a success. The thoughts of a real breakfast distracted him from the increasing number of bodies as they neared the armory. Wetzel fought the urge to order the gunner to fire on the front of the armory; the area was covered in birds and dogs feasting on the dead. “When we open up, try to get the assets and supplies as quickly as possible. It’s anyone’s guess what kind of crap we’ll be breathing in from all those dead bodies.” Note to self, don’t leave home without gas mask ever fricking again.

  As they pulled up to the gate, the five in the back came alive, a last weapons check was performed as the soldier closest to the hatch prepared to open it. The hatch opened and all five were out immediately. One ran for the gate with the keys as the other four covered the area around them for any hostiles. Wetzel had the gunner do a continuous scan with his weapons though he felt it was more like an exercise than anything else. After all, there was no danger during the day.

  “Troop 22, Troop 21, establish your position at entrance road. Cover any approach from east or west along the road there.

  “Troop 21, Troop 22 copies.” Wetzel felt a little better by covering the bases. “Driver take us twenty feet into the compound. Gunner, keep an eye out.” What the hell’s wrong? Everything is the way we left it last night. Except the building doors are open and they look like they were blasted open!

  “Driver, prepare to dismount. Gunner, cover us while we investigate the exterior of the building. Someone wanted to get in pretty damn bad. Keep an eye on the Army, too.” Wetzel glanced over as a container was lowered down onto a truck, ordinarily something that would have held his attention. Climbing out of the vehicle, he debated closing the hatch, but decided to have it open in case they had to return in a hurry. “I’ll lead, you keep to my six.”

  The guardsmen and soldiers didn’t pay them any attention as they approached the armory building. Not only had the doors been blasted open, the heavy glass on the windows were gone. Wetzel walked up to the side of the building, looked in through the broken window frame, only an empty office with a broken interior door was visible. He proceeded to the next window, it appeared to be a large open area, dozens of empty bunks, and medical supplies littered the floor. No bodies were in sight. Why would someone blast their way into a house of Zs, then not kill any? Continuing to the first door, the scorch marks made it readily apparent that explosives had been used to blast open the heavy metal door. No telltale bullet holes were apparent as he decided to step in and investigate further. Using the flashlight on his M4, he swept the room, surprised no Zs were hiding in the darkened corners. I’ve pushed my luck far enough, time to get out of here.r />
  “Okay, Sean, let’s get outta here. We’ll keep looking until we get to the end of the building, then get back in the Guardian.” Campbell looked uncomfortable but still had his usual half smile; Wetzel could see through the façade and wanted to get back just as badly. The rest of the doors and windows held nothing of interest until he made it to the garage door.

  “Shit, this is a game changer!” Broken cases of all types of ammunition littered the floor. The interior vault doors that had opened to the small arms room and the ammunition room had each been blown open. “Control, Troop 21” Why did I leave the Guardian? I’m such a...

  “Troop 21, Control, Go ahead.”

  “Control, small arms and ammunition lockers have both been breached. Area is not securable. What are your orders?” Don’t say it, don’t say it.

  “Troop 21, Leave one Guardian to act as security. What is your estimate for number of trucks required to transport entire load?

  “Control, I estimate seven, I say again, seven trucks to haul out all of it.” Now, how in the hell does a guard unit have so much frickin ammo? It should all be at the nearest real active duty base.

  “Troop 21, Assembling a convoy. ETA four hours.”

  “Control, suggest one truck be sent. There are still a sufficient number of trucks here to transport assets.” Okay, this is where they tell me to sit down and color. I had to fricking look around.

  “Troop 21, recommendation has been accepted, revised ETA of two hours. Expect one Guardian and one heavy truck.”

  “Control, understood, Troop 22 will escort current convoy back to base. Troop 21, out.” Two hours for a ten minute drive. Well, at least it’s not four hours.

  The truckers really were in a hurry to get moving. Wetzel had figured they’d have milked the job to avoid other details. He approached a lone Private First Class (PFC), sitting to the side, smoking. “Your detail has some damn good workers. I was afraid they’d try to spend all day on the job and be here till almost nightfall.” The private looked at him warily, until he realized the Air Force guy was only an E4, same as an Army Corporal.

  “No way in hell do we want to be out here after dark. Most of us don’t want to be out here in the daytime, either. This ‘Zombie Apocalypse’ has all the nuts coming out of the woodwork. You have the survivalists that are having a nut, especially since they can justify shooting those things. Then there’s groups trying to protect those things because their rights are being infringed. The last ones the best, there’s even religions popping up to worship those things, oh, and the ones that think they can be cured, so leave them the hell alone. I really hope that the last one is true because I was visiting my family when we all survived the first night of the zombies. The next night those things got into the house, I barely got into the attic, I’m the only one left. If my family was still alive I’d be hiding out with them instead of this shit, but at least we’re alive.” The private stood and tore apart his cigarette and scattered the parts on the ground, “Nice talking with you Air Force, stay safe,” then walked back to the trucks.

  Wetzel looked at Campbell, “Glad I stopped to talk with that guy. That really cheered me up. How about you?”

  “I think I want to get back into the Guardian.”

  “Okay, let’s get back inside where it’s safe.” Wetzel realized he had a death grip on the M4 as he walked back to the armored car and tried to relax his grip.

  “You all have a nice walk while I was in here worried about you shits. What took so damn long?” Wyatt asked as Wetzel closed the hatch behind him, feeling a hundred percent better.

  “Sean, you bring Wyatt up to date. I’m going to get a drink.” Wetzel opened the ice chest and pulled out three cans of cola while listening to Campbell embellish the exploits from their mini patrol and the information they received from the Army truck driver.

  Wetzel pulled out an MRE, tearing it open in the hope there might be something edible, when he received the call.

  “Troop 21, Troop 22.”

  “Troop 22, Go ahead.”

  “Troop 21, Heading back for the ranch with ten sheep. Stay Cool. 22 out.” Wetzel watched as the heavy trucks pulled out of the compound, each one with a containerized load, none of them that looked familiar to him.

  Peters was impressed that someone took the effort to make long tables out of ladders and scrap wood. The meeting was in the maintenance side of a hangar and fit everyone. Many of them looked at him in shock as he attached the air-activated MRE heater to his entrée instead of having an ‘aide’ do it for him. They surprised him when cases of canned soda made it to the table; the prospect of even more caffeine only improved his mood.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I want to keep this as brief and as informal as possible. Our lunch here is to announce initial leadership positions. I say that because, at any time, we can have a more senior officer come in and reshuffle the deck or just other officers that may better rate a leadership position. My Deputy Commander will be Brigadier General Jim Davis. Manpower will be Colonel Sylvester Woods. Communications, Command, and Control (C3) Maj Arnot. Operations will be Colonel Lee. Logistics will be Colonel Nguyen. Medical shall be Lt Col Lee. The two of you aren’t related, are you?” Everybody smiled or laughed, especially Colonel Lee who was tall and blonde haired, Lt Col Lee’s almond shaped eyes twinkled as she laughed softly. “Okay, I guess we can rule out blood relatives. Our Civilian Affairs will be Colonel Miller. For the interim, Capt Conrad will be responsible for base security. Each of you will receive an email soon with the breakdown of your commands. With so few personnel, we will need to keep our organizational structure to reflect that. One thing I believe we really need to do is get along with the surviving civilians the best we can. The locals have skills and materials we definitely will need. It will be easier to get along with a friend than someone trying to be a dick.

  The only other thing I have at this time is that Capt Conrad will be sending out teams tonight to try to reduce the local Z population. I’d like to get everyone into the town with some semblance of normalcy and comfort. We have a long road ahead of us to recover and restore America. If we find anyone on the line of succession of President, we will put ourselves under that civilian leadership. Our duty is still to support and defend the Constitution of the United States of American, even if it’s only one or two states. Please enjoy your lunch and once you all get your new assignments, you can address any questions to your new supervision.

  Because of our numbers, when the assignments were made up, service branch was not considered. Good thing the Army and Air Force wear the same uniform.” Peters lifted his soda to his lips, ending the briefing. I don’t even want to think of how ugly things can get if there’s prima donnas. Just sit back and enjoy the calm before the storm.

  “Looks like a nice little town. Just has one hell of a penalty for breaking curfew.” Sgt Ako announced to everyone in the Stryker. She’d elected to enter the town through 4th St to familiarize herself for future operations. It didn’t take long before they were at the bridge. The National Guard armory was just across the river. She had the Stryker stop for a moment to take in the carnage of the night before. Each body had been torn apart by either heavy machine gun fire or grenades. Now every type of bird imaginable, along with hundreds of dogs, were further tearing the bodies apart as they dined on the bodies, making it that much more surreal. Midway on the bridge a pair of trucks still stood silent guard behind a flattened string of razor wire, a pair of dead guardsmen behind the machineguns mounted above the truck cabs. Ako said a silent prayer for the two guardsmen and then the infected that had been stopped on the bridge.

  “Driver forward, you can see where someone already drove through.” They neared the bodies when there was an explosion of birds and feathers as they all seemed to fly at or above the Stryker. Ako unconsciously crossed herself as the birds flew then the bouncing sensation as they drove over the bodies. Another explosion, this time much more violent, lifted the Stryker slightly of
f the bridge. When it came back down, it kept going through the new hole. The brown water seemed to slowly rise up towards her as the Stryker slowly fell nose first towards the brown water. The back of the Stryker reverberated with the cries of fear and confusion mixed with shouted curses, until the Stryker slammed into the brown water and flipped onto its back and everything went black, with the only noises being rushing water and hot metal sizzling as it was cooled by the water.

  “What the hell was that?” Wetzel shouted as Wyatt did a 360 in the turret.

  “Black smoke, looks like it’s over the bridge. Maybe someone blew up one of the trucks on the bridge.”

  “Control, Troop 21.”

  “Troop 21, Go ahead.”

  “We just had a major explosion in the vicinity of the bridge near our location. Can you detect anything?” Wetzel’s hands began to sweat and he wasn’t sure what he should do.

  “Stand by.”

  Maj Arnot walked over to the terminal as the operator sat with his hand waving; others were already looking over his shoulder trying to guess at what they were viewing. “As you were ladies and gentlemen.” He looked at the display; a black hole was in the center of the bridge. Slightly downstream there was a minor blockage in the fast-moving brown water. “Zoom in on the object in the water.” Arnot wasn’t happy with what he saw. “Zoom to the hole in the bridge,” the gray concrete surrounding the hole was all blackened. Great, who the hell do I notify under the new chain of command structure?

  Arnot picked up the sat phone and dialed BG Davis.

  “General Davis.”

  “Sir, Maj Arnot. We have an incident, it appears the bridge in town was blown and we lost what looks like a Stryker. I’ll have the video to you in five minutes.”