Zombie Night in Canada (Book 1): First Period

by Friesen, Jamie

  Finally, to protect his family, they moved from his official residence at 24 Sussex Drive to CFB Petawawa, about an hour from Ottawa. The base had a full brigade group of mechanized troops, including tanks, artillery and helicopters. The daily commute to Parliament would be a bitch, but his family would likely be far safer deep within the confines of one of Canada’s largest military bases than they would smack dab in the heart of Ottawa.

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  Major General Nicholas Raine hadn’t bothered to watch the news conference because he was busy planning his response for the Edmonton region. He had already received orders via secure channels several hours before and was waiting patiently for his executive officer to arrive.

  Raine himself was a throwback to a much earlier era, when generals came from the artillery branch, instead of the infantry branch as was so common these days. In fact, as a brigade commander in charge of NATO forces in Afghanistan, he had earned the nickname ‘Steel Raine’ because he never hesitated to call in artillery or air support if his troops came under fire by Taliban insurgents.

  A few minutes after he poured his second cup of coffee this morning, his door opened and in walked his second in command, Lieutenant Colonel John Burkhart.

  “So what’s the word, General?”

  “Op Corona Virus is a go. This thing is spreading faster than anyone expected. According to the reports, it’s spread to more than five dozen countries worldwide. We need to finish mobilizing the Militia. They will provide immediate assistance to the Edmonton Police Service. Regular forces will mobilize and fortify Edmonton Garrison. That will provide us a secure base to operate from.”

  “Wouldn’t a huge show of force be better?” Burkhart questioned.

  “Well, the mayors of Edmonton and Calgary don’t want troops on their streets, while the premier does. To keep everyone happy, we’re going to use Militia units to help police forces around the province, but keep the rest of our troops here on the base – except for 15 Military Police Company, which can also assist local police in the securing the Capital Region. I’m also worried that deploying large numbers of troops into the city creates unnecessary risks for infection. The last thing we need is to have our force cut in size by infections, which given that we don’t have enough NBC suits for all of them, is a distinct possibility. My orders give me a lot of latitude, and to me, having a reserve and a safe haven to operate from far outweigh the risks of deploying all our troops outside the wire,” Raine replied. “So let’s get the rest of the team in here and begin serious planning.”

  Burkhart left and in short order, Raine could hear him outside barking orders both into a telephone and at Irene, his civilian secretary.

  In less than twenty minutes, all of Raine’s staff had arrived.

  “All right, let’s look at reality. We need a plan that will assist local authorities in maintaining the quarantines they have established. We also need to assure critical infrastructure, like power, utilities, and communications are kept running. Medical facilities also need to be able to operate unhindered. We also need to ensure food supplies don’t run out and that hoarding or black marketeering doesn’t get too entrenched.”

  The basic plan presented less than an hour later to Raine sent both the Edmonton Garrison Military Police Company and the Militia’s 15th Military Police Company into the city to support the Edmonton Police Service. That provided almost two hundred extra police officers to support the roughly two thousand Edmonton Police Service and RCMP officers already struggling to maintain quarantines around the city. The Militia’s Loyal Edmonton Regiment would provide extra firepower in the form of G-Wagons carrying heavy weapons – although they would be stored out of sight as a sop to the mayors of Alberta’s two major cities. Officially, it was only company-sized, but two dozen G-Wagons with light machine guns would do a lot to help out beleaguered police throughout the capital region. Reserve units in Calgary would do the same. Several platoons of his best infantry, the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry, would be deployed to protect workers at critical infrastructure, like the Genesee and Sundance power plants west of the city and Petro-Canada oil refinery east of it. Troops at Canadian Forces Base Wainwright, the Prairie region’s main training centre, would be recalled back to Edmonton Garrison.

  His main force of troops quickly got to work fortifying Edmonton Garrison, which was located on the northern edge of the city, at about 195th Avenue, stretching more than thirty blocks from 97th Street to about 66th Street. Engineers began stringing coils of razor wire along the perimeter, converting the drainage ditches that ran along the fence line into an anti-tank trench and building sandbagged bunkers behind the fence line. Concrete highway barriers, colloquially known as K-Rails, were requested from the city of Edmonton and then placed directly behind the chain link fence surrounding the base, to prevent them from being knocked down or bulldozed over. Heavy trucks were parked near gates, ready to move at a moment’s notice to block them and prevent them from being forced open. Spotlights and generators were placed near the fence, and troops with night vision goggles would watch the wire all night long for intruders. Armed troops and dogs already patrolled the base perimeter, while the engineers began construction of a series of observation towers. Snipers took up spots on rooftops, while their spotters searched for intruders.

  As a final touch, signs noting that most of the area south of the base was now a minefield had been placed every hundred metres or so. Even though Canada had destroyed its stocks of landmines more than a decade ago, most civilians probably wouldn’t know that, Raines had rationalized. To further the illusion, a platoon of troops went out into the field south of the base armed with shovels and randomly overturned soil, making it appear that landmines actually had been placed throughout the area. While those mounds of overturned dirt wouldn’t keep the infected from crossing the ‘no man’s land’ directly south of the base, it was thought that the signs should prevent most uninfected civilians from crossing it, making the task of sorting them from the infected somewhat easier.

  It took several trips by troops from Canadian Forces Base Wainwright to bring all the hardware gathered there, including twenty Leopard 2 tanks. When finished, the last vehicles raced up Highway 14 and into the already sealed base later the next day.

  Chapter 5

  September 19th

  Xander had gone into work early on Tuesday, only to find a pink slip taped to his locker. He was being laid off effective immediately due to a lack of business. He glanced around and saw almost every other locker had a pink slip too. The few that didn’t were already empty.

  “Well, that’s just fucking great,” he muttered to himself. There was no one else around to complain to, so he went to payroll, where they had his final paycheck waiting for him.

  “Its got four weeks’ severance, which is better than the two weeks they had to give you, Xander,” Elaine, the payroll clerk, said.

  Xander and Elaine had gone on a couple of dates, but nothing much had ever really happened, mostly because she’d wanted a bigger commitment than Xander was willing to give. By the second date, she was talking about moving in together, how many kids she wanted, and where she wanted to buy a home. He had read between the lines and let her down softly. Less than a year later, she was married to someone in the sales department and she was well on her way to her dream. At this point in his life, Xander just wanted to work, play hockey, and hang out with the guys. There was plenty of time to get married and have a family after he turned thirty.

  “Yeah, I suppose. But now I’ve got to go down to the Employment Insurance office, sit around for a few hours, and wait while they get it started,” Xander replied.

  Xander walked back down to the locker room and chatted with a few of the guys, telling them to stay in touch and so on, knowing that most of them wouldn’t, but not really caring one way or the other. A couple guys suggested hitting the titty bar for lunch and Xander agreed, saying he was going to the EI office first. They all laughed and told
him he’d be lucky to get to the bar in time for supper.

  He stuffed everything from his locker into a garbage bag and headed out to his truck. When he got to the EI office, it was practically empty, and he got in to see an employment counselor almost right away.

  “Your benefits will start up in four weeks, after your severance runs out, and you will receive the maximum payout…$894 bi-weekly, which after deductions works out to about $800,” the counselor told him cheerily.

  He felt like saying something caustic about the brutally low amount, but held his tongue and mentally wondered how he was going to make ends meet. His condo mortgage alone would eat up more than one of those bi-weekly payments and along with other expenses like car insurance, he felt things would be really tight until he could find a new job. Fortunately, his severance check was just over three grand, so he should be okay for at least a couple of months. At least his X-Terra was paid off, he mused.

  He stopped at the bank and cashed his check, taking out a couple hundred bucks, and then headed to the titty bar. He actually beat most of the guys there. They went in, paid for the lunch buffet, and proceeded to gorge themselves on the cheap grub, washing it down with draft beer. Xander only had two beers at lunch, but several of his former co-workers had many more, so he hoped that none of them would get pulled over on their way home. They tossed loonies and toonies at the dancers and several of them got posters or fridge magnets adorned with half-naked pictures of the dancers. Afterwards, the dancers, seeing a bunch of half drunk guys throwing money around like water, came over and offered them lap dances for $25. A couple guys went for it, but Xander just wasn’t in the mood for some big-titted bimbo to rub her body all over his. He was already frustrated, and a lap dance would just make a bad situation worse. However, had one of them offered to go home with him, well, now that would have been a different story altogether. Sadly, he went home alone and decided to relax, watching TV, drinking more beer, and ordering pizza for dinner. He fell asleep watching re-runs of Seinfeld.

  Even though Xander hadn’t set his alarm, he woke up bright and early Wednesday morning and couldn’t fall back asleep. He flipped on the TV to watch SportsNet and see the scores of last night’s games, but was surprised when he heard them talking about the situation in Toronto and of tonight’s Leafs game being cancelled. He started flipping channels, and that was when he learned of the riots and unrest in Toronto.

  As he watched the CBC 24 hour news channel, he saw that several downtown buildings were on fire, people were running around attacking each other, cars raced to and fro, and the place looked like a war zone. A helicopter flew over the city, dispassionately filming the chaos below. At one point, he thought he saw police officers behind a barricade of police cars shooting into a mass of civilians. Right then, it cut away to the Prime Minister’s press conference and he learned all the gory details behind what was going on.

  He was more than a little unnerved and sat shocked in silence for the better part of an hour. As ludicrous as it sounded, it appeared as if some new strain of rabies was turning people into zombies. Then a vision of his uncle Dan appeared in his head.

  “What the hell are you doing? Do you want to be one of those poor dead bastards? Get ready to protect yourself like I taught you,” his uncle Dave yelled at him.

  Xander shook his head and stood up. He walked to his closet, pulled out his AR-7, and he carefully oiled every single part before reassembling it. He loaded both his magazines with as many bullets as they would fit. Both of them were old and could hold twenty rounds, far more than the five legislated after the Marc Lepine massacre in Montreal in 1989. Unfortunately, he only had one box of bullets, so that left him desperately short if a problem arose.

  He left the rifle in his bedroom and went to take stock of his condo. His fridge and freezer had very little food in it, but his cupboards had about a dozen cans of prepared food, such as beef stew and chili. He had several large jugs, which he filled with water, and then filled up all of his pots and plastic Tupperware with water as well. After that, he filled both bathtubs with water.

  Xander walked to his front closet and looked at his camping supplies. He had two cans of propane for his Coleman stove, a ton of matches, a few lighters and a magnesium fire starter. There was even some freeze-dried food there, too. Not much, but a meal or two worth.

  He grabbed his jacket, his car keys, and a metal baseball bat out of the closet and headed down to his X-Terra. After he got in, he tossed the bat on the passenger seat and drove to a nearby gas station. There he bought several jerry cans, filling each of them up, as well as the X-Terra. He put the jerry cans in the back of his truck and covered them with a dark blanket to hide them from prying eyes. With his tinted rear windows, they were practically invisible. Inside the gas station, he went to the cash machine, which was one of those private ones that charged exorbitant fees, and withdrew as much as it would allow, $500, from his bank account. For that small pleasure, it charged him a service fee of five bucks! Normally, he would never, ever use one of them, but right now, the convenience was worth far more than the cost. He didn’t feel like standing in a bank line-up for half an hour.

  His first stop was Ed’s Pawn Shop, only a few blocks from his condo. He walked in and went right to the front counter. Behind the counter was a display case, with a variety of firearms in it. It was a fairly motley assortment, ranging from a few pistols to a shotgun to a couple of ancient looking rifles. There was a long line-up, almost a dozen people. After what seemed like an eternity, it was his turn. By this time, the case behind the owner was practically empty.

  “Because of low stock, I can only sell each individual 250 bullets and one firearm per transaction,” the owner droned to Xander.

  “Fine, do you have any pistols left?”

  “All I have left is the Smith & Wesson, .38 caliber revolver,” the owner replied.

  “Okay, I’ll take it, as well as 150 rounds for it, and 100 .22 long rifle rounds.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll need to see your gun permit.” He rang up the bill, which was an eye-popping $849.94.

  “Wow! That’s a lot more than I expected,” Xander said.

  “The .38 ammo is $49.99 per box, the .22 ammo is $24.99 per box, and the pistol is $600, 49.99 for the pistol bag, plus tax of course.”

  “But the tags in the case say that the ammo is half that price.” Xander protested.

  “Oops, I must have missed those.” He slapped tape over the existing price and wrote in the new, much higher price.

  “There, better?” The owner smirked.

  “Oh, come on! You’re just trying to profit from this!” Xander shot back.

  “Ever hear of the law of supply and demand, buddy? Do you still want it?” the owner asked.

  “Yes, here’s my VISA,” Xander said through gritted teeth.

  Xander watched the owner ring up the transaction, then stuffed everything into his coat and walked back to his X-Terra. He stuffed the pistol and ammo into a locking case and shoved it under the back seat, then tossed a blanket on the floor in front of it.

  Next, he drove to Walmart and saw that it was packed already. People were streaming out with overflowing shopping carts. He went straight to the sporting goods section and grabbed a couple three packs of propane canisters for his Coleman stove. After that, he made his way over to the hardware department and tossed two fifty foot lengths of rope, as well as a battery-powered electric drill, a drill bit set, and several boxes of wood screws into his cart.

  Then, he headed to the grocery section, which, while not entirely picked clean, was pretty barren. Instead of canned foods, which he knew would probably be gone already, he bought several large beef roasts, then headed to the produce section, and tossed a couple twenty pound bags of potatoes in his cart, as well as a ten pound bag of carrots. He also grabbed a five pound bag of apples and one of oranges. A couple heads of romaine for salads went into the cart, too. The beef could be made into beef jerky over the next day, and the vegetab
les and fruit would last for weeks at room temperature, unlike many other vegetables. While the lettuce wouldn’t last very long, he had the sinking suspicion that he would be eating canned food for a long time and just wanted something fresh. He also bought a dozen frozen TV dinners, thinking they would be better than nothing as long as he had power, and then went to the baking section and bought a couple bags of flour, as well as big jars of every spice he liked. In the condiment aisle, he bought a variety of sauces, including BBQ, teriyaki and salad dressing.

  In the snack aisle there was still a fair selection, so he grabbed a dozen boxes of Ritz crackers, packages of Cheese Whiz and crackers, as well as cookies and whatever chocolate he could find. Because of all the preservatives and fat in them, they would last a long time and provide a healthy dose of calories if he needed it. In the pasta aisle, there were still boxes of Kraft dinner left, so he grabbed a handful, as well as several large bags of pasta, and a couple jars of Ragu. Finally, he went to the canned goods section, and bought a selection of what little remained, mostly food most other people didn’t care for, like green and yellow beans.

  Then it was over to the checkout counter to pay for it all. Many of the tills were closed and the lines stretched through the clothing section almost to the back of the store. He waited in the line-up for almost an hour and when he got to the checkout, the cashier told him that the store was limiting quantities of everything, and he stood by as she removed a little of everything, including several cans of vegetables and a bag of flour. He was forced to pay highly inflated prices again for everything, but did so anyways.