Zombie Crusade Snapshots: Volume I

by J. W. Vohs

  “Anyway, four of the gangsters were killed too, and the entire group stole everything they could carry and headed out right after the battle. I’m pretty sure they expected your people to come into the camps and round up the survivors. We have a lot of children over here, and every day our guards have to shoot down infected people who’ve turned.”

  She fixed a pleading glare on Colonel Longstreet, “There’re only about three-thousand of us over here. I can’t guarantee that nobody is nursing a bite-wound right now, but every one of us would submit to an inspection to cross this bridge. We could pitch camp in the national park; we wouldn’t bother anyone on the island, we just want the security of being out there.”

  Chien considered the situation for all of about two seconds before declaring, “Begin lining your vehicles up in single file where we’re standing right now. We’ll bring them through one at a time, and after we’ve inspected the people for bites they can move into the park. I’ll send a squad fully locked and loaded to cover the rear of your column, so make sure your people know they’re safe and don’t panic or anything. We’ll get everyone across by nightfall.”

  The lady fought back a sob as she grabbed Chien’s hand and stammered, “Thank you’ sir, thank you so much.”

  The tough, veteran soldier couldn’t contain a small smile as he responded, “We’re all on the same team, ma’am.”

  * * *

  The rest of the day passed quickly, and true to his word, Colonel Longstreet had all of the refugees across the bridge as the sun began to set. His men had found only one person with a bite wound, and the squad he’d sent to guard the column had experienced little trouble in putting down the infected who happened to stumble along during the evacuation. As darkness settled in, Chien ordered a medical team to head to the refugee camp, taking a truckload of MRE’s along as a peace-offering to the weary travelers.

  The expected summons to DeHaven’s office came at nine-o-clock, and when Colonel Longstreet saw the old mercenary’s face he knew it had been a rough day in town.

  “Sit down, Chien. You ruffled some feathers among the islanders today.”

  “I suppose so, sir. I’m also supposing that you approve of the ruffling.”

  DeHaven gave a snort as he pulled a bottle of Maker’s Mark from his desk and poured them both a healthy double-shot of the potent bourbon. He then tipped his glass in salute and declared, “Glad to know I can still recognize a good man when I meet one.”

  Chien saluted back before taking a sip of the strong whiskey, allowing himself the pleasure of feeling the warmth of the drink spread through his chest before asking, “Where’s our USAMRIID officer?”

  “I sent him back to Dietrick along with Maxwell and two others after disarming the crew chief and pilots. Those punks at USAMRIID won’t stand up to our men; we’ll get more of the vaccine. Once they get back we’ll inventory the dosages and discuss our next move. But for right now, let’s enjoy an adult beverage after a good day’s work.”

  Chien finished his drink and set the glass down before asking, “Aren’t you worried that the refugees will slip out of the park and into the town?”

  DeHaven shook his head, “I fully expect some of them to do just that, and I couldn’t care less. I don’t like the leaders of this damn island, and if they won’t share with the new folks, we’ll just have to give them an incentive to do so.”

  Chien cocked his head in surprise, “Where’s the fearsome, old mercenary I heard so many frightening stories about?”

  “He’s getting too old for this crap,” DeHaven shrugged. “I accidentally made a few babies over the years, and even have three or four grandkids now.”

  “Three or four?” Chien playfully asked. “You must know them well.”

  The tired old soldier poured them both another drink as he retorted, “How do I know how many are out there? My seed is strong.”

  While Chien laughed the boss continued, “The point is that I’ve actually held two of them, and had the chance to look into their little eyes and feel them breathe. They just snuggled right into my arms; neither of them seemed at all concerned that I was a legendary mercenary with dozens of bloody notches on the stock of my favorite weapon. How can I hope that somebody is helping them right now if we won’t help out here? Seems like the whole world’s being simplified before my eyes into humans and flesh-eaters. I hate all of the suffering and death this virus has brought to the planet, but I like the fact that I can now be certain that I’m on the right side, fighting a just battle.”

  Chien nodded his agreement, “I know what you’re saying. I don’t have any kids that I know of, but I do have an ex-wife and a step-sister out there. I hope somebody’s helping them survive too.”

  DeHaven handed his new best friend another drink, but before they could continue sipping the golden liquid a Red Eagle employee burst into the office and shouted, “Sir, we’ve got an outbreak in town!”

  * * *

  Chien and DeHaven received the details of the messenger’s report as they strapped on their gear and exited the building. The most important piece of information was that the outbreak wasn’t small or isolated. Scores of infected were roaming the streets of the small town, and similar calls were coming in from other locales on the island.

  “How the hell did this happen?” DeHaven shouted at the man who’d brought them the news as they all piled into the company Hummer waiting at the curb. The driver didn’t wait for any orders and headed toward the sound of a firefight in the village.

  “I have no idea, sir, but zombies are attacking people all over town. We’ve killed at least a dozen of the flesh-eaters, and a few residents seem to be armed and fighting back. The real problem will come tomorrow morning, when all of the people who get infected tonight die and come back hungry.”

  DeHaven pulled out a satellite phone and called his company HQ in North Carolina. Following three rings the secretary’s voice mail answered, and after two more tries yielded the same result, he left a message detailing what was happening on the island. He then tried to call several of Red Eagle’s top executives, but received nothing except busy signals and messages telling him that the networks were unavailable at this time. Chien used the time available during the short drive to check news sites on the internet, and what he saw there basically convinced him that America was dying tonight.

  As the minutes passed with no success, the two veteran soldiers reluctantly put their phones away and looked at one another with grim stares. Finally DeHaven quietly asked, “I assume Mount Desert is going the way of the rest of the country?”

  Chien simply nodded, and DeHaven pulled his radio out and told all units to defend in place until further orders were issued, and then he told the driver to turn around and take him to the home of Jay McAfee, the man who’d contracted and paid for Red Eagle’s services. Minutes later they pulled up to what must have been small and simple for the billionaire compared with his other estates around the world, which meant that it was still a sprawling home on several acres overlooking the sea.

  The gate was open, and there were several zombies walking around the front yard when the Hummer rolled to a stop and the four Red Eagle men hit the ground with weapons ready. In spite of everything they had learned about the infected, their years of training led them to initially aim for the chests of the eight flesh-eaters now heading their way. The monsters stumbled when the bullets hit, and one stayed on the ground and started crawling after the first fusillade, but the simple truth was that the creatures kept moving toward the men. After several bursts of fire failed to kill any of the infected, Chien shouted, “Aim for the head!” After that, the zombies began to fall one by one until the last monster fell literally at DeHaven’s feet.

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” the old soldier declared as he reloaded his weapon. “I think I might have pissed myself.”

  “Everybody all right?” Chien yelled.

  The driver and the messenger were watching the area opposite the fight, but shouted back that
they were unharmed and could see nothing creeping up on them. Just then a high-pitched, female voice cried out from an upstairs window, “Please help us! My daughter’s hurt; she needs an ambulance right away.”

  Chien led the way by immediately kicking in the front door of the home, the remaining Red Eagle operatives following him inside and quickly clearing the rooms leading to the stairway. As they reached the landing they saw a blood-trail leading to the room at the end of the hall. Chien held up a hand for the men to stop before quietly calling out, “Ma’am, we’re in the hall. Come on out.”

  He was shocked when one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen burst from the room and begged them to follow her back. Her hair was tangled, blood stained her clothes, and her eyes were frantic, but even under these circumstances Chien couldn’t help but notice that she was stunning. He followed her into the room with little hesitation; DeHaven following more warily while the other two gunmen kept watch in the hall.

  The woman had run over to the huge bed where a teenage-girl lay pale and shaking as blood continued to seep from beneath poorly-bandaged wounds on her forearms and right shoulder. “They attacked my daughter,” she explained in a shaky voice. “The gardener and his son were biting her, just like those monsters on the news.”

  Chien immediately shrugged off his pack and pulled out a first-aid kit. He’d treated many injuries while commanding Rangers in combat, and the first thing he did was pour clotting agent on the shoulder wound and slap a bandage over what was just a ragged hole gushing blood. He couldn’t help but notice that the missing chunk of flesh was about the size of a human mouth. He then grabbed the panicked mother. “Put the palm of your right hand on that bandage and push down hard on it with your left. We have to keep pressure on that wound. Can you do that?”

  She nodded and did as she was told while the experienced officer treated the other wounds on the girl’s arms. He decided to put a tourniquet just below the victim’s right elbow, deciding that the teen didn’t need to worry about losing the arm. He was simply trying to slow the bleeding so mother and daughter had time for a meaningful good-bye. The girl was already in shock, and without immediate treatment in a trauma center she would soon be dead. More realistically, Chien knew what the bite-wounds would lead to, regardless of any medical attention the injured teen received. DeHaven just stood by stoically, knowing exactly what Chien knew but unwilling to tell the desperate mother that her child was dying.

  Finally the bleeding was as slowed as Chien was going to get it, and he gently told the girl’s mother, “You need to say what you want to say; you don’t have much time.”

  “Oh my God!” the blood-spattered woman wailed. “Oh my God! No! Do something! We need to take her to a hospital!”

  Chien took her firmly by the shoulders, “What’s your name, ma’am? Tell me your name.”

  She took a quavering breath and released it before sputtering, “Marie. I’m Marie McAfee.”

  DeHaven stepped closer, “You’re related to Jay McAfee?”

  “Yes,” she answered, “he’s my husband, but he left us here when he left for the airport.”

  Now Chien seemed shocked as he asked, “He left his wife and child behind?”

  Marie McAfee shook her head as she explained, “We’ve only been married a few years. Missy is his step-daughter.”

  “But he left both of you behind?” Chien was having a hard time believing that anyone would leave his family in this situation.

  “Yeah,” she muttered between clenched teeth, “people always told me I was just a trophy wife; guess this proves it, huh?”

  Chien dropped his gaze to the floor until the awkward moment was dispelled when the dying girl whispered, “Mom?”

  Marie gently grasped her daughter’s hand, “I’m here, baby.”

  A tear slipped down the teen’s face as she gasped, “Am I going to die?”

  “No, baby,” Marie lied, “these soldiers have stopped the bleeding and we’re figuring out how to get you to a hospital.”

  The girl stared at her mother with huge brown eyes framed by an increasingly pale face. Chien had to strain to hear her whisper, “I’m infected. I was bitten by one of those flesh-eaters we’ve seen the web.”

  Marie somehow found the strength to smile through her tears and declare, “I love you, Missy. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too, Mom,” the blood-soaked girl almost silently mouthed as her eyelids drooped, and a long shuddering gasp left her still and quiet.

  DeHaven and Chien both stepped outside of the room to allow the grieving mother a minute of privacy. Marie quietly sobbed as she held her dead daughter’s hand to her cheek. Nobody wanted to interrupt the good-bye, but they also didn’t want to see the girl awaken and take a bite out of her mother. After a few tense minutes, Chien went in and placed a gentle hand on the devastated woman’s shoulder, “We have to get you out of here, ma’am. I’m sorry to rush you, but none of us are safe in this house right now.”

  Marie may have been considered a beautiful trophy wife by some who knew her, but she showed amazing strength now, when it counted most. She sniffed back tears while rising to her feet and lovingly laying Missy’s hand next to her body. “Please, make sure she doesn’t come back as one of those creatures.”

  Chien nodded, “Just go downstairs with my men for a moment, and I’ll wrap your daughter in the blanket and carry her down to the vehicle. We’ll help you bury her as soon as possible.”

  Despite the devastating grief engulfing her, Marie patted the obviously distraught soldier on the arm as she stepped to the doorway. “Thank you for trying to save her.”

  Colonel Chien had completed plenty of difficult missions in his career, but making sure that a teenager he had just watched die in her mother’s arms didn’t resurrect into a zombie was the most gut-wrenching action he’d ever taken. Figuring that Marie would want to see Missy once more before burying her, Chien had to destroy the kid’s brain without making a big mess. After a moment spent feeling sorry for himself, he flipped the corpse over and buried the four-inch blade of his folding knife into the back of her skull. Then, without looking at the girl’s face again he wrapped her tightly into the comforter from the king-sized bed and gently placed her light body over his shoulder before carrying her out to the vehicle.

  DeHaven had spent the time waiting for Chien asking for reports from his squad leaders posted on the island. The men on the bridge informed their commander that numerous vehicles had crossed over to the mainland airport in the previous several hours, an exodus now being followed by hundreds of panicked islanders trying to escape the Mount Desert outbreak on foot. The fleeing islanders had been forced out of their vehicles when an accident blocked the bridge, a situation compounded by frantic drivers slamming into the pile-up in ill-fated attempts to push the wreckage out of the way. The Red Eagle operatives hadn’t tried to stop anyone from leaving the island, and absolutely no one had tried to cross over from the mainland since sunset. Nearly twenty zombies had been put down, and one Red Eagle man was infected with nobody quite sure what to do with him after treating the wound. DeHaven finally told the squad leader to leave the wounded man a pistol with explicit instructions to end things before he lost consciousness. Once that was accomplished they were to all meet near the encamped refugees in Arcadia National Park.

  * * *

  Similar orders quickly went out to the rest of the Red Eagle fighters stationed on Mount Desert, DeHaven deciding that since their employers had abandoned them they were no longer under orders to follow any directions other than what they thought was best for themselves. Since most of the men had been shaken by the events on the bridge the previous day, DeHaven decided that Red Eagle would now do their best to protect the refugees they’d been forced to fire on while following the orders of the wealthy elite who’d hired them to isolate their little playground.

  By the time all the squad leaders had managed to reach the rendezvous point, twelve Red Eagle personnel had been
lost to attacks by mobs of infected, and the island towns were overrun and burning. The most powerful enemy on Mount Desert had been panic; most people tried to run rather than fight. Men returning from the chaos reported that initially there weren’t that many zombies on the loose, only a few hundred, but with nearly ten thousand people trying to escape the island at the same time, tragedy was unavoidable. Traffic accidents, drownings, and outright murder had killed dozens of people, while many more had been torn apart by the flesh eaters who’d found themselves in a target-rich environment. More ominously, many Red Eagle operatives claimed to have witnessed many more injuries than deaths due to attacks by the infected. Nobody knew how the fires had started, but now people who had quietly taken refuge in their homes were systematically being forced out into the deadly streets by the spreading flames.

  Chien didn’t worry about any of these developments, feeling that he had a definite mission before him that required his full attention. Marie McAfee carried the colonel’s flashlight and two shovels as she led him into the forest while he solemnly carried Missy’s body. They finally found a place several hundred yards away from the main camp where they felt they could dig without too much trouble from roots, and the next two hours were passed doggedly preparing a grave for the dead girl. As they worked, Chien found the silence increasingly awkward and decided to engage the beautiful but distraught mother in in some type of conversation.

  He finally asked, “Any idea what your husband and his buddies were trying to do by isolating themselves out here if they planned to leave at the first sign of trouble?”