The Dead Don't Bleed: Part 2, The Aftermath

by S. Ganley

  Garrett asked Shellie to remain by Kyle's side while he returned to the rest of their group and led them the rest of the way to the station.

  Fifteen minutes later everyone traipsed into the Ranger Station and stacked the supplies they had carried up the trail along the back wall behind the reception desk. Shellie finally calmed down a little once everyone was inside and took them through an abbreviated version of what had happened while they had been gone. Doug agreed to look over Kyle's wounds but only after reminding everyone that he was not a trauma surgeon and that his specialty had been plastic surgery not dealing with the sick and injured.

  "You've just been promoted doc. You're all we have at the moment. Please do what you can for him." Garrett encouraged him.

  While Kyle was being tended to, Garrett and Miranda elected to return to the Range Rover and collect the remainder of their supplies. Everyone else was either injured, too winded or just not in any shape to be of much assistance out in the woods in the event they came across any more zombies stalking the station. Before leaving, Garrett took a moment to refill his empty magazines from their dwindling stock of ammunition. After filling four thirty round magazines he counted the rest of the ammunition he had for his AK and realized that he had just enough to fill three more with a few spare rounds left over. Considering the amount of ammunition they had gone through during their ordeal back in Doug and Cameron's neighborhood he knew that it was not nearly enough to get them very far. Miranda also topped off her pistol finding that ammunition situation to be even worse. There was enough 9mm rounds to refill the magazine already in her weapon and fill three other fifteen round magazines. After that there was just five shells remaining for that caliber handgun. Their firepower options were dwindling quickly after which they would be forced to rely on knives and other edged or blunt weapons. That was not a prospect that gave them much hope for a lengthy survival.

  Garrett and Miranda left the building and walked out to the trail while remaining alert for any possible surprises along the way. Halfway to the Range Rover Miranda tripped over a loose shoelace and nearly fell head over heels. She had been concentrating so intensely on the woods around them that she had not noticed it come untied. As she bent down to tie her laces the back of her shirt lifted a few inches and exposed the area of back just above the lace top of her panties. Garrett spotted a flash of color directly in-line with the center of her buttocks and couldn't help but turn his attention to the small tattoo adorning her skin. Garrett's eyes lingered for a moment at the point where he could see the tattoo and the exposed portion of Miranda's rear end that was visible as she bent over. He caught himself staring, the combination of the surprising tattoo, and the allure of her exposed underwear and rear end. Normally Garrett would never allow himself to stare at a woman in such a manner, he considered it demeaning. In this case he just couldn't help but allow himself a brief moment of lust.

  "I never took you for the tattoo type." Garrett said, surprising even himself that he just admitted that he had been staring at her backside.

  "Oh, just something from my college days. It was a crazy weekend splurge and I regretted it afterward. Not the tattoo, but the money I spent to get it." She replied with her back still turned towards him.

  Garrett couldn't help but notice that as soon as he mentioned the tattoo Miranda untied her shoe as if she had done it wrong and was now slowly retying it again. He thought that it was possible she was doing so just to allow him an extended view of the area in question. "It's Winnie the Pooh by the way, in case you were wondering. He is searching for his honey pot which is on the other side, just above something else."

  Garrett detected a little purr in her voice when she mentioned 'something else'. He was now sure that she was teasing him a little and waiting for him to take the bait she had just offered. He had a feeling that they were on the verge of a moment that could be a significant turning point between the two of them. There was also something about being out there in the open woods in a potentially dangerous environment that added a spice to the whole scene that he found alluring. He knew that it would be dangerous and reckless if he allowed himself to give into temptation just then. The thought that they could all be dead at any time made him push that to the side and realize that life was short and sometimes you just needed to take a chance when it came.

  "Now you have me curious. Something else?" Garrett decided that playing dumb was the best approach at the moment, he knew what she meant, her description left little to the imagination, but it was a dance and his part was to play ignorant and see where it took them.

  Miranda finished tying her laces and stood up facing him. She stepped towards him until they were only inches apart. Staring deep into his eyes she reached down to her pants, unbuttoned her snap and pulled her pants out in front of her several inches. "Yes. Something else." She cooed as she leaned forward a little to give him a view inside her pants.

  Garrett was taken aback by her boldness. Tilting his head a little he gazed down into the opening of her pants and spotted the small yellow tattoo in the shape of a honey pot dipped slightly to one side with a single drip of honey spilling from its spout. The tattoo was positioned just on the fringes of a tuft of soft brown curly hair above her most intimate of spots.

  He felt the warmth spreading across his face as a blush came over him. He also felt a stirring in his own pants as the sight of that soft patch of hair and its proximity to 'something else' took its toll on his manhood. He allowed himself to linger on the view for several seconds and then turned his attention back to Miranda's face. She had not taken her eyes off his and the twinkle he saw in those beautiful orbs let him know that he had the green light at that point. Garrett closed the gap between them and took her hungrily in his arms. Their lips found each other and she accepted his tongue in her mouth hungrily. Garrett pushed her back until she stopped against the face of a thick tree just to the side of the path. With her back firmly against the tree she pulled him tightly into her and extended her groin out until it met his and felt the hardness in his pants pressing up against the growing moistness in her own. Their hands were everywhere all at once, feeling, groping, exploring and the heat between them was reaching a boiling point. Miranda's pants were still undone and slid down her hips exposing her panties and bare legs. When Garrett's hand found the moistness between her legs she moaned loudly in approval and spread her legs slightly to allow him access. Miranda was struggling to release Garrett's belt when the crack of a breaking branch deeper into the woods snapped them both back to reality.

  Garrett pushed himself away from Miranda and scrambled to scoop up his rifle from the dirt trail where he had let it fall to the ground at the onset of their embrace. Miranda was struggling to hike up her pants and button them while at the same time searching the ground at the base of the tree to find her own pistol.

  Both of them froze as a white-tailed deer hoped onto the trail directly in front of them. The deer saw them at the same time they saw it and for several seconds they all shared in a staring contest until the deer finally decided they were not an immediate threat and simply walked off and continued on its way down the trail and out of sight.

  After the deer had moved on, Garrett turned in all directions and regained his situational awareness. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard that he was sure it could be heard far into the woods around them. He knew that part of the reason for heavily beating heart was his body responding to the sexual energy still coursing through his veins. But he also knew that another part of it was the realization at just how lucky the two of them had been. If that deer had been a zombie slinking through the woods after them, they would have literally been caught with their pants down and easily taken by surprise. He had allowed them to give into a moment of weakness and he while he didn't regret the passion that they had shared, he did recognize that it was not something he could allow to happen again.

  Miranda had fully recovered and was sweeping her pistol in an arc around the tree she had
been leaning against just moments earlier. The look on her face told Garrett that she was thinking the same thing. For the time being they were going to push any future urges aside and concentrate on ensuring they continued to simply survive. They both turned back to the trail and continued on without a word.

  Garrett had just spotted the end of the trail and a glint of sunshine reflecting off the windshield of the Range Rover when a distant sound caught his attention. He held up a hand signaling Miranda to stop while he strained to concentrate on the noise. It was not a natural sound and it was familiar, but Garrett couldn’t quite place it. It was Miranda who spotted it first.

  "Garrett, look." She softly called as she pointed skyward toward the east.

  Following her gaze he saw a silvery flash high in the sky behind a long stream of contrails just barely visible in the waning light of the approaching twilight.

  "Jets, two of them." He exclaimed as he pointed out the second fighter as it slipped out from besides its wingman for a moment. "Flying a tight formation. They look like F-16's or F-18's. Hard to tell from here."

  The planes disappeared behind the tops of nearby trees and Garrett jogged the rest of the way to the road trying to find them again. He could still hear the low hum of the fighter’s as they soared by several thousand feet overhead but with the daylight rapidly fading and the tall tress all around them he was unable to pick them out of the sky again. A minute later the sound faded completely as they moved on past them. Even with them no longer visible Garrett felt a rush of hope at seeing jet fighters overflying the area. This meant that some form of military authority was still intact. The jets were most likely a reconnaissance flight using their sensors and camera equipment to check the conditions of this area. Since they were not very far from the nation’s capital he had to assume that had been their ultimate target and they were seeing them on the outer leg of their overflight. Those fighters had to come from somewhere that possibly offered a safe haven for at least military units. There was also a possibility that same location could offer them salvation. For the first time since things started going to shit all around them Garrett felt a measure of hope. They would have to make it a priority to locate some type of radio gear capable of transmitting a distress call that could be picked up by any future flights.

  "What does it mean?" Miranda asked.

  "Hope. It means hope." Garrett replied as he turned back to the Range Rover and began unloading the rest of their supplies. "We need to have a meeting later, this changes everything and we need to adjust our priorities."

  Chapter 13

  The overflight of Washington, DC and the surrounding areas went without incident. Crusher had monitored the pilots and their transmissions on what ended up being a very routine if not somewhat nerve racking flight. The planes both stayed at a moderate cruising altitude over their patrol area gathering samples and collecting imagery. The final leg of their flight was conducted just below six hundred feet where they only remained for two minutes to allow their equipment to detect and store air samples at lower altitudes. This part of the mission was the one that Crusher was most concerned about. If there were any residual pockets of infection still lingering in the atmosphere it was likely this was where the flight would come in contact with them. Even with both planes and pilots fitted out with the most advance protective gear possible, there was still a concern it wouldn't be enough. They still knew very little about the underlying virus and how it worked that a remote possibility existed that it could circumvent their protective measures and reach the pilots. Crusher had his eyes glued to a small screen that was providing atmospheric readouts in both cockpits and monitoring outputs from the pilot’s flight suits. If even a microbe of foreign material was detected in the cockpit or inside one of the pilot’s suits a warning message would pop up on his screen. Contingency plans for just that possibility had been plugged into the mission planning. If there was any indication of infection inside the cockpit of either plane the pilots were under orders to divert to an airfield in the Washington, DC area and land there. They would remain on the mainland with their survival gear until a rescue effort could be mounted. Even though they had been reassured that every effort would be made to recover the pilots if that eventuality came to pass. None of them were under any allusion that a rescue would actually take place. Detection of the virus still lingering in an airborne state would negate any efforts to actually put boots on the ground. Both planes had also been fitted with a remote fuel release system. If an airborne virus violated the cockpits and one or both pilots refused to follow orders to set down at an airfield on the mainland their fuel supplies could be released remotely from the carrier, forcing them to either make an emergency landing or ditch at sea. Crusher had confidence in his pilots to do the right thing but he also understood the necessity of having such a backup plan. They were gambling with the lives of more than just a few pilots.

  Crusher watched the pair of jets come in on their final approach, both of them catching the wires stretched along the deck of the aircraft carrier in textbook landings. As soon as the planes were on the deck and stable, a pair of small fire trucks raced to the side of each. Crews laden in biological suits immediately began hosing off the planes with a mixture of cleaning solution and decontamination foam while even more crew members began scrubbing the planes with long handled brushes. Once the outside of the cockpit had been thoroughly scrubbed, the pilots were given the all clear to raise the glass bubbles and step free from the planes. The pilots were handed small portable oxygen containers that they plugged their flight helmets directly into so they would continue a steady flow of air until they were able to crack the seals of their helmets. From their planes both men were picked up by a deck hand driving a golf cart who drove them directly to the decontamination site at the opposite side of the super structure and as far away from any other deck activities as possible. Once they were inside the decon site Crusher packed up his gear and headed down to the pilot ready room to prepare for the coming mission debriefing. The imagery from the flights would be made available on the computer system in the room so he could go over all details of the mission with the pilots. While they were conducting their briefing the samples collected by the two planes would be carefully retrieved and prepared for immediate analysis. The preliminary results of those samples should be available to them by the time they were wrapping up their own briefing. They would then have to wait several hours for a more detailed analysis to come from Guantanamo after the cellular structures of all samples were computerized and beamed to the lab complexes there for further study. The results of the tests at the lab in Cuba would dictate their next move. If the samples came back negative for contaminants they would schedule additional overflights of Washington and Northern Virginia at different times of the day and night. No excursion by any ground units would be authorized until they had several passes all with negative readings for airborne virus. If all went well and they were able to get personnel on the ground, those teams would have the unpleasant task of locating and securing live specimens for transportation and study. While Crusher and his pilots had a rough enough time flying off into the unknown, he did not envy the job that those soldiers on the ground would be facing.

  #

  Doug had spent several hours during the night tending to the various injuries within their group. He had deemed Cameron's arm to be severally bruised but with no permanent damage. The Percocet that Miranda had provided him, staved off the worst of the pain and he had also added an anti-inflammatory to his regime of medication courtesy of their stock of salvaged supplies. The narcotic was putting Cameron to sleep and Doug advised him to get rest and avoid using the injured arm as much as possible. At Kyle's insistence Doug examined Shellie's shoulder where she had been scrapped by a zombies teeth, before he would allow his own wounds to be looked at. Carefully removing the bandages from her shoulder he looked over the spot where the teeth had grazed her skin and declared her to be in the clear. He explained how the skin served
as an effective barrier to help stave off bacteria and other contaminants, in Shellie's case all she needed was that thin transparent layer of skin between her bloodstream and any infected cells the zombie may have left behind. If the virus had been able to penetrate even that thin layer of protective skin then all of them would have fallen victim to the infection long ago. He advised her to continue applying antibacterial cream to the scratches and the area around them and to keep it covered in a thick layer of bandaging for the time being.

  Kyle's assessment came next and the news was not good. The thick dark blood that continued leaking from his wounds along with his pale skin color and growing fever was a sign that not only was there internal bleeding as they had suspected but he also had contracted an infection inside his wounds. Doug thought that antibiotics would help with the infection but the type of antibiotics needed were not those they had access to. He gave him what they had available and thought it would help to curve his fever a little and allow him to function a little better but it was not going to help for long. The second piece of bad news concerning his wounds was that it did indeed appear that his kidney had been punctured. The fluids released from the break in the kidney were adding to the infection and would continue to do so. In a normal situation with access to a trauma center the injury would not necessarily be life threatening if medical help was reached in time. The kidney was capable of healing itself over time and a surgeon would be able to repair the damage enough to allow it to do just that on its own. Without that level of medical attention Doug was afraid that Kyle would die within another day or two.