SHTF - The Battle for San Francisco: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Dan McMartin

  Stanley awoke hours later, alone but still alive. Was he one of those things? Did they perceive inside the mindless husk as he perceived now? Stanley wasn’t sure but he, at least, was still sentient. He climbed off the ground and to his feet. It was surprisingly easy considering his present state. The fires still burned in the distance yet he was numb to it, or rather, his sadness and despair were replaced with anger and the need to seek retribution. In fact, revenge seemed to be his sole purpose now.

  He assessed his condition. His body was still burned and blistered but strong and whole. The bite from the monster that attacked him was mostly healed. His memories were intact. He knew who he had been and what he was but it felt as if that was part of another life. He was Stanley, a father, a husband and a marketing manager at a company that made furniture. At least he used to be.

  Now Stanley was something different, something more. He didn’t understand that the radiation and the sickness had mingled to create something new, something unique. The why and how didn’t matter to Stanley. All that mattered was hurting those that had caused him so much pain. Those that had destroyed his life and taken his family.

  Hell, it didn’t matter who that was. It was everyone and anyone. Suddenly, as Stanley pondered his new existence, another monster shambled his way. Stanley steadied himself, finding he felt strong and vital again. But the monster did not attack. Instead, it stopped several yards away and waited as if for a command. Then another appeared, approaching and waiting as well. Stanley was perplexed and confused by the sudden change in the behavior of these monsters.

  He found the rock he had dispatched his last attacker with and then waived his hand at the two monsters. They didn’t react. But when Stanley spotted his lost pistol off to his left lying in the weeds, and moved to retrieve it, they followed. Now Stanley was curious. He tucked the gun into his belt and then walked towards the creatures.

  They didn’t react except to follow him with their dead eyes and then turn to face him as he walked between them. He didn’t know what they wanted, if they wanted anything at all. They seemed like empty vessels, devoid of any reason or thought. They acted, Stanley thought, purely on instinct and for some reason, those instincts were focused on him.

  Stanley shrugged and walked away and the two monsters followed. Stanley didn’t mind his new companions. He found he didn’t care about much of anything except satisfying his anger. He walked for many blocks through Santa Ana. Stanley headed north towards the fires. He knew somehow that they couldn’t hurt him anymore. His new friends followed dutifully.

  In fact, others joined them. By the time evening arrived, he led almost a dozen of the creatures. They didn’t attack, they didn’t do anything but follow. Even when Stanley ran across survivors, men that hadn’t been here when the blast destroyed Los Angeles, the monsters didn’t attack. The men were scavengers and opportunists and Stanley felt an overwhelming need to kill those men.

  They came towards Stanley, four of them, guns drawn. “Save your ammo boys. One shot, one kill,” the leader said. They approached and Stanley expected his followers to lumber forward for a free meal but they held their ground. The men were in range but they seemed as perplexed as Stanley at the behavior of the monsters.

  “What the hell?” one of them asked.

  “Full bellies, I guess. Just kill them,” another replied. The men raised their rifles but Stanley felt a sudden urge to intervene.

  “Wait!” he said. The men were shocked that one of the monsters spoke to them. Stanley knew that he looked like one of the monsters and he embraced that fact. Stanley should have died but he didn’t. He wasn’t a religious man when he was still a man. He was never caught up in great causes. He just lived his life, mostly without any higher purpose.

  But now, he felt as if he was spared for a reason. Stanley suddenly saw himself as a...savior of sorts. Spared in order to punish those that destroyed the world and no one was without guilt. Maybe it was the fact that he was never a strong man. Maybe it was the bullies of his boyhood or his domineering wife or his demanding boss but now Stanley knew he had been transformed for a purpose.

  He was the agent of death in this hell on earth.

  “Buddy? What the hell are those things doing?” the leader asked Stanley. He didn’t answer. He looked over his shoulder at his horde of undead and they all stared back at him expectantly. He wasn’t sure if they would heed his command but he gave it anyway. He signaled them to move forward, to attack. The monster’s eyes shifted towards the scavengers and they moved forward, at first shambling slowly but quickly gaining speed until they were all but running.

  Guns erupted but the humans never stood a chance. They were torn to shreds by Stanley’s horde. When they all lay dead, the horde fed and their leader joined them. He shared their need for human flesh and savored its taste but his anger wasn’t satiated. In fact, it only grew.

  Chapter 7

  “You going to Sac?” Chief Petty Officer Jim Anders asked as he approached.

  “Yeah, you got a new squid?” Gunnery Sergeant Chris Rodriquez replied.

  “Just one. Can we catch a ride and save Uncle Sam a few bucks? Besides, I hate making the drive by myself,” Anders explained.

  “Hustle up, we’re ready to go, Chief,” Rodriquez told him and then turned to the Staff Sergeant waiting patiently in the passenger seat of the white government van. “Looks like you’re off the hook Simmons,” he told his fellow recruiter. Anders dashed off to get his future squid.

  “Fuck yeah. See you suckers later. Have fun in boot camp, you fucking maggots,” Simmons exclaimed at the recruits and hopped out of the van. The rows of seats held the young men on their way to the processing center in Sacramento and then on to San Diego for thirteen weeks of boot camp.

  Gunny, as just about everyone called him including his soon to be ex-wife, shook his head and laughed to himself. He didn’t like making the drive down from Redding either but ever since his wife filed for divorce, he looked forward to a free night in a motel. Even if it meant babysitting poolees.

  “Get in the bus, Manley,” Anders ordered the young man as they returned to the van. The kid, less than a year out of high school, looked intimidated by the five young Marine poolees. “Don’t worry, they don’t bite...yet,” Anders told the young man who squeezed all the way into the back of the van where he could be alone.

  Anders threw his bag between the front seats and climbed in. Gunny joined him and soon they were on the freeway headed south to Sacramento. They would all spend the night and then the two recruiters would spend the day waiting to make sure none of the young men failed their final physicals. Driving the recruits down was bad enough. Making the drive back again to pick one of them up if they failed was even worse.

  “You hear about that virus?” Anders asked to make conversation.

  “Yeah. It’s bullshit,” Gunny replied.

  “Sounds serious,” Anders said.

  “They all do. It’s the media sensationalizing everything to make a profit. Remember Ebola? Swine flu? Bird flu? It’s all bullshit,” Gunny explained.

  “Probably,” Anders agreed.

  “Trust me,” Gunny assured his friend. It was at least a three-hour drive with bathroom stops and probably more in the rain. Soon, most of the young men were sleeping. All except the Navy recruit. The Navy allowed recruits to bring cell phones, the Marines didn’t. But he wasn’t playing with it. He was just sitting there in the back seat staring at it and looking sick.

  “Your squid looks car sick,” Gunny told Anders.

  “Huh?” Anders perked up. “You’re not going to puke, are you, Manley?” he asked.

  “No, Sir. I just feel sick. Probably nerves,” Manley replied.

  “You’d better not hurl. If you can’t ride in the back of a van, you can’t go aboard ship and then they’ll station you in Fallon, Nevada or somewhere even worse,” Anders warned the young man. He just nodded back as Gunny laughed.

  “Fallon? That’s paradise compared
to Twentynine Palms,” Gunny said.

  “So you tell me all the time,” Anders told his friend.

  “You’ve never been there. Afghanistan was better,” Gunny said. Anders rolled his eyes and Gunny laughed. The day was dark and the rain was coming down in buckets. The afternoon wore on and Gunny wished he was somewhere else. He was exaggerating about Twentynine Palms. It wasn’t so bad. But Afghanistan was better than being a recruiter.

  He much preferred his two deployments to pushing papers. But the money was good and he hoped that it might make his wife happy if he were home every night instead of on the other side of the world. It didn’t. She filed for divorce anyway. It seemed it was even harder to live with Gunny than it was to live without him.

  He longed for action again. His current desk job wasn’t why he joined the Marines. He joined to fight, to go on an adventure, to defend his nation. Now the wars were over...for the Marines anyway. Still, training to fight was better than babysitting these kids. Most recruiting station commanders didn’t drive their poolees to the processing center themselves but to Gunny, it was better than being cooped up in that office every day.

  He checked the rearview mirror and Manley was nowhere to be seen. Probably laying down, probably sleeping or maybe crying quietly. Fucking squids. His poolees were all asleep. He didn’t have much time with the young men but he made sure he made the best of it. Those monthly poolee functions were as brutal as he could make them. His recruits were ready for boot camp.

  “Hey, knock it the fuck off,” someone in the back of the van shouted. Gunny looked back to see what was happening.

  “Pipe down back there,” he yelled.

  “What’s going on? Where’s Manley?” Anders demanded.

  “He’s grabbing my ankles, Sir,” one of the poolees said.

  “What?” Anders asked but as he did, Manley appeared. He rose up behind the other young men, his skin gray and his eyes cloudy and before anyone could react, the boy sank his teeth into the shoulder of one of the poolees. “Jesus!” Anders exclaimed.

  Gunny checked the rearview mirror and saw the carnage. His poolee was shrieking as the other boy tore his flesh with his teeth. Blood was spurting everywhere as the boy’s jugular was severed. The rest of the young men panicked, scrambling over seats to get clear of the horror. One of the boys hit Gunny’s seat. It was pure chaos in the van.

  The vehicle swerved and pitched. Anders was trying to calm everyone down as Gunny tried to get off the freeway so he could stop. But the van left the pavement as its tires hydroplaned and ran through the right of way fence and out into a muddy field. Gunny stood on the brakes but the tires had no grip in the mud and wet grass. The van slid sideways and then he felt it tip. Suddenly, the van flipped, rolling over and over until it came to rest in a ditch on its side.

  Gunny heard the screams as the blood ran down his face. Then he blacked out.

  ~~~

  “Gunny!” someone shouted. He wasn’t ready to wake up. The blackness was warm and inviting. But then someone was shaking him. “Gunny, wake the fuck up!” Anders yelled and Gunny snapped awake. He was held aloft by his seat belt, the van laying on its right side. Anders was next to him, standing on his door.

  Suddenly, it all came back to him. He looked back and that thing that was Manley was tearing the intestines out of another young man. His instincts kicked in. He tried to open the door but it was jammed. He tried the window and it worked. He cranked it open and then held on to the door as he unbuckled his seat belt. A split second later, Gunny was climbing out.

  Once he was out and on top of the van, he pulled Anders free. He ignored the young men pounding on the windows, begging to be saved. He ignored their cries for help. He could only help one of them at a time. Panicking wasn’t going to make anything better. Anders climbed free and Gunny knelt and looked inside. One boy was dead from the accident. Two more were torn to shreds, already dead or dying. One was fighting off Manley as he struggled to get to the open window.

  “Hurry up,” Gunny yelled. He pulled his head out of the van, ignoring the dizziness, and looked for another way. How had none of the windows shattered? Maybe the roll over wasn’t as violent as it felt. He poked his head back into the open window. Manley was on top of his victim as the young man fought for his life but he couldn’t fend off the wild thing that was Manley. Gunny considered going in after him but a moment later, teeth met flesh and then gray hands ripped and tore a hole. Intestines spilled out as the young man screamed and died.

  Anders climbed onto the van, a stick in hand. He began beating on the unbroken window. The sliding door was partially open, its window shattered, but it lay against the side of the ditch. The window Anders attacked cracked and then shattered. Gunny reached in for the remaining boy but he wasn’t moving. He was in shock, too frightened to move.

  “Poolee! Get your ass in gear,” Gunny yelled. The young man looked up, away from the carnage, and reached towards Gunny. Anders held his friend so he could reach further into the van. “Come on, Goldman!” Gunny urged the poolee and the young man found the courage. He reached higher and grasped Gunny’s hand.

  But the disturbance caught the attention of the blood-covered thing that was Manley. Anders pulled on Gunny as he pulled Goldman up. He was almost free when Manley lunged and grabbed Goldman’s leg. He screamed as Gunny fought to win the desperate tug of war. But it was too late. The creature bit Goldman’s leg.

  Goldman let go as he arched in pain and shock. Gunny gave it everything he had but he couldn’t hold on without Goldman’s help. Anders flopped flat on the side of the van and tried to help but Goldman was gone. Manley tore him to shreds before their eyes, the young man screaming in terror until he passed out.

  “No!” Gunny yelled but there was nothing he could do. He had to turn away as Manley began to feed on Goldman, the young man still alive but just barely. It didn’t matter, his wounds were too severe to survive. Gunny would have shot Goldman and put him out of his misery but he wasn’t allowed to carry a sidearm. Fucking liberal bureaucrats!

  Anders tried to slide off the van but fell to the ground. He climbed to his hands and knees just before throwing up. Gunny joined him on the ground and when Anders had regained his composure, helped him to his feet. “What the fuck?” was all Anders could say.

  “I wish I knew,” Gunny replied. His training had kicked in. The violence wasn’t unfamiliar to Gunny. The blood, the guts, the screams of young men, all of it was a part of Gunny’s life, or at least it was when he was deployed. But this was different. Those young men weren’t at war. They weren’t even Marines yet.

  “Anders pulled out his phone and dialed 9-1-1. “It’s busy!” he told Gunny.

  “Busy?” he asked. Cars raced by on the freeway and everything seemed normal until three Highway Patrol cars went passed with their lights and sirens on. But even that wasn’t unusual. What was abnormal was the semi-truck skidding past in the northbound lanes, rolling onto its side and sweeping up several cars in its wake.

  “What the fuck?” Gunny said quietly. A moment later, a pickup ran off the road and came to a stop in the same field he was standing in. A woman climbed out but was dragged back inside as the driver attacked her. Blood splattered the inside of the windshield as Anders moved to go assist. Gunny grabbed his arm and shook his head.

  “She needs help!” Anders said. Screams came from the freeway as a gray figure climbed from the semi-truck and walked off the edge of the overturned cab. Despite falling nearly eight feet and landing face first on the pavement, the figure gained its feet and shambled towards the cars that were scattered about. It lunged as an SUV swerved around the figure and then continued towards one of the wrecked cars. People exited the cars, if they could, and ran, some limping and bloody.

  “We need to get the fuck out of here,” Gunny told his friend. Anders looked at him, not understanding. “I know when to cut and run, when to retreat to a fallback position and fight from there. It’s time to retreat,” Gunny told him. Ande
rs surveyed the worsening situation. Another car ran off the freeway and hit one of the trees on the far end. Another gray, shambling thing emerged from the door that had been thrown open in the crash.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he replied.

  “Follow me, Chief,” Gunny told him. The pair made double time away from the freeway and towards the seemingly endless farmland beyond. It started to rain even harder but they barely noticed. The rain was the least of their concerns.

  ~~~

  “Hey, up ahead,” Anders said. Gunny looked up and saw it too. They’d been slogging through the muddy field and hopping fences for over an hour. It was slow going. Finally, Anders spotted a large shed behind a wide irrigation ditch. They headed that direction.