by Tim Moon
Anuhea and Ben looked up at her. She looked at them with a scowl and slid down out of the cab. 1LT Franco motioned for them to follow her.
“No chance at all?” Ben asked.
“It’s fucked,” she said, bluntly. “Get the people out of the back. We go on foot.”
Anuhea didn’t respond, she just ran towards the back and began yelling for everyone to get out quickly.
“What can I do to help?” Ben asked the short officer.
“You can help to round up the civilians,” 1LT Franco said. Then looking to her soldiers, she shouted, “Let’s move. The truck’s a no go.”
“Well ain’t that just perfect,” a soldier said sarcastically in a slow drawl.
Ben watched in horror as the two groups of infected continued to converge on their position. He had no clue how Franco intended to get them out on foot. It looked impossible.
“Stop gawking and start running, sir,” the machine gunner said, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder and giving him a light push.
“Okay,” Ben said.
Then he ran.
23
Washington, D.C.
Vanessa Koehler refreshed her group’s website, basking in the glow of her laptop’s screen. She couldn’t help the big grin plastered on her face.
She was a member of the watchdog group called Eyes of Truth, which she’d founded with a small group of friends during her university years. They were dedicated to uncovering government waste, fraud and lies. Black Tide was one of several contractors that the group had gone after and while it wasn’t the first major information leak they’d coordinated, it was the most significant to date.
With a deep breath of caffeine infused air, she looked around the small shop to see if anyone was overly interested in what she was doing. One older man sat on the far side of the shop with his legs crossed, reading a newspaper. At the counter, the barista was busy playing with her phone. No one here gave a damn about what she was doing.
Her chest roiled with excitement and a sense of justice. She had to bite her lip to keep from squealing.
Vanessa had just published an extensive article on the Eyes of Truth’s website along with supporting documents. In five years, since they founded Eyes of Truth, this was their largest data release. There were pages of documents, hundreds of images and PDFs, thousands of emails, and photos from live tests in North Africa; all evidence that Black Tide was the source of the deadly infection sweeping the globe.
Steve Edwardson, a former Black Tide employee from the bio-tech division, had provided the data, a fact for which she’d be eternally grateful. Her team, co-conspirators some might say, would normally sort through the gigabytes of data that Steve provided. Given the circumstances, they had collectively decided to say, “Fuck it” and had simply posted it all.
After the car chase she’d been in, it was their most prudent move. Steve had risked a lot to help them expose the crimes for which Black Tide was responsible. Releasing the information was for the good of the country; she truly believed that. Vanessa just wished that she could have obtained the documents sooner, so law enforcement could have stopped the company before the infection spread.
The virus they’d created, called Necrose-7A, was vile and deadly. Steve had been part of the team that “weaponized” the virus, turning it into a stable and effective aerosol spray. They had many conversations about it. The look of guilt and horror in Steve’s eyes had haunted her dreams. Just an hour ago, she’d looked through the documents and some of the digital files he’d provided.
One stood out in particular. Vanessa had read the clinical report a couple of times, which came with digital photos and video files. It detailed the effects of the virus. Video footage showed it in action on a subject locked in a prison-like cell. Unsettled, sickened and horrified were the best words to describe how she felt after examining the evidence.
Vanessa glanced around the room again, and then looked outside. There was nothing suspicious, no black SUVs, no police officers or strange men in suits or tactical gear.
The virus. A chill ran up her spine.
After contact with the aerosol form of Necrose-7A, subjects entered an incubation period lasting from 12-24 hours. During that period, patients would exhibit several major symptoms: coughing, vomiting, and extreme fever. Other symptoms included loss of bowel control, nose bleeds and sensitivity to light, migraine headaches and extreme lethargy. During the final stage of incubation, subjects would succumb to the illness and clinically die.
Once the virus had overtaken the host, fully infected subjects reanimated. Reanimated hosts exhibited abnormal behavior, such as extreme violence, loss of higher brain function, a desire to feed on uninfected subjects, an attraction to noise and light and to a lesser degree, smell. Physical signs included a pitch-black iris and sclera, abnormally dark blood and an awkward, drunken gait. Infected hosts were unable to communicate via speech although they would often “moan” or “groan” and they only retained basic motor function, including mobility in the limbs, walking and turning. The psychological evaluation noted that subjects did not appear to recognize people or items associated with their pre-infection life.
On the front page of her site, Vanessa shared an image of a classified email ordering an attack on China, called Operation Rainfall. Steve stated there were more operations targeting other “enemies of America,” but said that he felt confident that the Department of Defense or the CIA didn’t sanction this attack. Yet, the virus had been unleashed in China and quickly spread to other, unplanned locations. Hawaii was the first US state to issue reports of infected that matched the descriptions she’d read. Even in D.C., people were showing signs of being infected. They’d witnessed that first hand outside the cafe.
Vanessa shuddered at the still fresh memories, forever seared into her mind.
For years, she’d been angling for a way to bring down Black Tide. Now she had it and the hook was set. After nearly dying, Vanessa was determined to release as much information as possible as quickly as she could.
“Mission accomplished,” she muttered to herself.
The sight of the plane crash still haunted Vanessa. The plane had crushed cars and the bridge that held them, as it burst into a massive flaming inferno. Black Tide was responsible. Any way she cut it, the responsibility for any death or damage as a result of unleashing the virus rested with them. This time she’d make sure they paid for it.
Vanessa took a deep breath. Then she got on her burner phone, a disposable cell phone, and using encrypted Voice over Internet Protocol (VoIP) called a colleague from Eyes of Truth to order the publishing of press releases and social media posts.
“We’re live. Make sure it gets around,” she said. Keys tapped in the background and she heard a click.
“Done,” her friend said before hanging up.
Glancing around the coffee shop again, Vanessa shut down her laptop and slipped it into her bag. Her team would get the article out to their media contacts and blast the social networks to make sure everyone heard about it. At this point, worldwide media cover was only a matter of time. She just hoped they had enough time.
Vanessa took a large gulp of coffee before hunching over her phone to begin sending out tweets and text messages with a speed that would put any text-addicted teen to shame. While the internet and data networks were still up, they had to spread the information as far as possible. People needed to know.
Ever since the bastards had killed her brother, Mike, Vanessa was determined to see Black Tide suffer the consequences of their blatant and intentional disregard for the law. Mike had died while serving in Iraq, as a security guard, because the patrol vehicle he was in wasn’t armored the way the company’s government contract required. They’d also failed to provide adequate gear and ammunition to her brother and others. Profit-motivated neglect led to dozens of them dying in Iraq and Afghanistan. All while the company raked in billions of dollars in profit and the executives took home fat bonuses.
> Now it was inevitable. The government would be forced to launch an investigation into the company. No amount of lobbying could protect them this time. Regardless of their political leanings, people would be outraged about government funds filling the coffers of a company developing an illegal biological weapon. Vanessa knew that most Americans were apathetic when it came to politics, but considering the magnitude of the situation she believed they would bombard Congress with calls for action with enough vigor to get the legislators off their rich, lazy asses.
It sounded crazy, but Vanessa truly believed that Black Tide was attempting a global coup. To what end, Vanessa couldn’t say, but at least she could rest assured that she had taken action to oppose them.
This is going to blow the lid on those bastards, she thought.
Vanessa tried to smile to herself, but it died before her lips and facial muscles could coordinate the simple task. It was a bittersweet victory. She locked her phone and placed it in her purse. She paused, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, rubbing her hands together to relieve some of the stress. Vanessa’s eyes blurred as she thought of all the people on the plane that had crashed behind them on the bridge.
Vanessa didn’t have time for that now. Someone was after them and she’d have to keep moving to survive. She had to get Steve out of town and somewhere safe. There was more work for them to do and there was no telling if the people that had chased them earlier knew who she was or where she lived. Going home was out of the question.
It was time for step two of the action plan that her group formulated. Step two called for Vanessa to take Steve to a safe house in Altoona, Pennsylvania.
Vanessa opened her eyes. She was focused and ready to go. Grabbing her keys and bag, she headed outside to the car where Steve waited for her.
“Drive Steve to Altoona,” she muttered to herself. “Simple enough.”
She walked out of the coffee shop, scanning the crowd one more time for anyone suspicious. Glancing up and down the street, she let out a breath in relief. There was still no sign of any dark SUVs or infected people. Steve was right where she’d left him in her car. Everything looked normal, safe. People went about their business oblivious to what was happening.
Vanessa shook her head as she opened her door and eased down into the driver’s seat. She started the car. It sprung to life.
“We good?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, we’re good,” she said, pulling away from the curb.
24
Ben watched the airport burning from across the road. He stood atop a small hill of rough lava rock.
Escaping the airport had not been easy, or safe. Ben had killed at least three infected himself, including the one that managed to get a hold of 1LT Franco. He’d flung the infected man to the ground and stomped his head in. Crunching sounds played in his mind and the way it’d felt as the skull split under his foot made him shiver.
Ben squeezed the 9mm pistol in his hand and wished that he had it earlier. He could have helped more people, like the young lieutenant. Unfortunately, it was only after being bitten that 1LT Franco had shoved the gun into his hand.
She had looked at him and said, “I know I’m infected. Take this. You’re going to need it.”
Blood soaked the collar of her uniform where she’d been bitten on the side of the neck. And for what? The woman Franco had bent to help was already bitten and would have died anyway. He didn’t understand.
Very few people from the two dozen or so civilians, not to mention the half dozen soldiers had survived the onslaught after the truck failed to start. The infected had slowly surrounded them. Most of the frightened people scattered as soon as they got out of the truck. However, not everyone had chosen wisely.
Their frightened, dying screams still rang in his ears.
Last he’d seen, 1LT Franco was leading a pair of soldiers in an effort to slow the horde and cover their escape. Ammo ran low, leaving them to fight hand-to-hand with the infected, getting off their last few shots when they could. The last intelligible words he’d heard as they ran away were “Frag out!” followed by the loud booms of a couple hand grenades.
The converging masses of infected slowly beat down those brave men and women.
They were infected, yes, and more specifically, they were zombies.
Ben finally admitted it to himself. Given the evidence before his eyes, there was no point denying the fact that they were indeed zombies. Of course, it sounded absurd. Even when he floated the idea by Ty he hardly believed it himself. It sounded stupid. But it wasn’t. It was reality. How could horror film flesh eating monsters spring from the silver screen and the pages of fiction into real life?
He let out a big breath and wiped his sweaty palm on his shorts. No answers to that question. Just the new, harsh reality of it all and it made his heart race.
Anuhea appeared beside him. “You should sit down and rest.”
“Naw, I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. You’re quaking like a leaf. Rest for a while. For now, we’re safe,” she said.
He looked at her for a moment, and then nodded. She was right.
After running for their lives, they were exhausted and it was too dark to traverse the volcanic terrain safely. Ben turned slowly and looked at those who’d made it.
Behind him at the base of the small hill, his friends sat exhausted and at least a little dinged up from tripping on the ground. The black rock had been difficult to navigate in the darkness with only the glow of airport’s inferno to light their way. He had led them out there, because he didn’t want their group too close to the road just in case any of the infected followed them.
So far, it appeared that the soldiers had succeeded in distracting the zombies. The soldier’s sacrifice meant their survival. Ben vowed to make their sacrifice count. He would always remember them, even if he’d only known them for a short time.
“Is everyone okay?” Ben asked.
“We’re alive,” Charlotte said. She sat on the ground next to Oliver.
Ty was by himself, leaning against the slope of the hill. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since Ben yelled at him out on the runway.
A middle-aged couple sat near Charlotte. The man had seriously sprained his ankle in their mad dash through the parking lot and rock field, but he’d kept up. Now, his leg was elevated on a rock and he rested his head on his wife’s stomach. She slowly stroked his hair.
“Thanks for not leaving me behind,” the man said.
“Sure. Get some rest.” Ben hadn’t taken the time to introduce himself yet.
No rush, he thought.
Running a hand through his hair, Ben couldn’t help thinking back over everything that had happened. None of it had gone smoothly. From their first flight to their dinner with the girls, the triathlon, the trip to the quarantine center, the drive to the airport, and…the list went on.
How did it all go to shit so quickly?
At least they had survived so far.
Ben sat down and looked at the gun. 1LT Franco had told him to keep everyone safe. She’d made him promise as she handed him the gun, and he had promised. He’d tried his best, but several died after that, including a couple of children. It made him sick to his stomach.
If trained soldiers couldn’t survive, how could they? What hope did they have? He looked back at the airport.
Most of gunshots had died off a while ago. The army’s defenses had crumbled under the relentless pressure. Guns ran out of ammunition. The infected never stopped. Unlike a normal enemy, the infected had no fear of death, no sense of self-preservation to cause them to take cover or run away, or surrender.
Unable to hold their ground or destroy all the zombies, the soldiers had fallen back, retreating from the horde of infected. They had no choice. Ben understood that. Anuhea had pointed out a pair of Humvees escaping the airport while their small group scurried through the north parking lot. They’d flashed by in the distance before they could even think about trying to wave them
down. So, they stayed focused on scrambling like blind mice across the lava field. Only two Humvees escaped, which meant that only eight to ten soldiers had survived.
“Unbelievable,” Ben muttered.
His heart ached at their sacrifice, yet he was in awe of their bravery. He couldn’t imagine the position they were in or what they must have been feeling as they fired on Americans and foreigners alike in wholesale slaughter. It was necessary, no doubt about it, but heartbreaking at the same time. Yet the soldiers did their duty defending Ben and the other civilians from the enemy.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Ben leaned back and stretched his legs out. He clicked the safety on and set the gun in his lap. Both of his thighs were sore, so he massaged them to loosen up the muscles. Tomorrow they would probably have a lot of walking or running to do. His legs were still a little bit sore from the hike up Mauna Kea almost a week ago. Running away from the airport and scrambling over the rocks hadn’t helped any.
It was past time to take a rest.
Ben pushed and kicked the biggest chunks of rock out from under him, seeking out a relatively smooth place to stretch out. He chose carefully. Ben sat down and leaned back against a small hill behind him, so he could keep an eye out for any approaching infected. From his position, they would be backlit by the flames still devouring the airport.
Satisfied with his spot, Ben gripped the pistol again, leaned his head back against a warm rock and watched the flames flicker in the distance. Without realizing it, he slowly drifted off to sleep.
25
Ben bolted upright.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, gripping the pistol tightly as he scrambled to stand up.
Anuhea stood over him, like his mother used to do when he was in high school and didn’t wake up to his alarm.
“Nothing, we’re fine.” She placed her hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “I was thinking we should come up with a plan. I don’t think anyone is coming back here.”