“The time grows near when we will leave this place. Winter storms will make travel to a safe locale difficult.” Reverend Littleton explained.
“When we leave, we can go by the Cal Trans yard and commandeer a couple of their snow plows and head for the mountains.” A man said from the back of the crowd.
All the heads turned back to Reverend Littleton as if watching a tennis match. Suddenly another voice broke in.
“What if Gates doesn’t let us leave?”
“We are not prisoners.” Reverend Littleton explained. “We came here of our own free will and we will leave of our own free will and follow the path we choose. I understand the concept of safety in numbers and I know some of you will choose to remain here. That is your choice. What I offer is a chance to start anew in a land free of these abominations. I heard a man earlier call the Center a tomb. I feel that’s an accurate description of this place and I for one will not wait here to die. I choose to seek safe haven in God’s grace and anybody wishing the same need only follow me.”
Reverend Littleton gave three speeches over the past week and each time the crowd grew. Growing paranoia and fear of starvation, disease, and worse yet, zombies getting in, drove the survivors to a new hope nourished by Littelton’s words. Some in the crowd had never been to church or professed a belief to a higher power. They now stood before this older gentleman with graying hair and a light beard believing in his words, accepting him as their leader and their savior.
“Can we really wait for the supply detail to bring us food? I think we should leave now.” A woman called out from the crowd.
“Patience. We are safe for the time being granted if we continue to act civilized and remember we are all in the same quandary here. I feel Gates is a man of his word and a supply detail as he calls it, will be sent out and we will have the opportunity to fill our stomachs and mend our wounds. I will announce our departure when it is safest for all who want to come. I have no intention of placing any of you in harms way. By the grace of God, shall we go and enjoy the fruits of his house.”
Reverend Littleton walked through the crowd shaking hands and answering questions with McCabe shadowing his every move. Littleton kept a close eye on those who seemed to question his words. The number of non-believers appeared to be dwindling. Soon he would lead them all out of this Hell and straight to God’s house.
***
The sickening stench of the dead lingered in Yonkey’s senses. He tried everything from brushing his teeth multiple times to gargling with kerosene. Nothing worked. His life, for lack of a better term, had become a living Hell. His plan to retrieve the short wave radio failed and almost cost the lives of two sentries, one of which had a family waiting for him inside the Center. Yonkey wandered the halls and the main floor aimlessly. He walked by Gates office several times hoping for an invite to join the second supply detail. No luck, Gates ignored him. Yonkey found himself sitting on the roof in driving rain looking out over the large parking area of the Center.
The rain let up for a moment allowing Yonkey a view of the service road leading up a hill outside the parking area. Memories of the area flooded his mind. He recalled a large graveyard located at the top of the hill. A smile broke out on his face.
“I bet the dead up there aren’t getting up.” He said. Yonkey knew he had to find a map of the area. An escape route through a graveyard had presented itself. He still needed to know what lay beyond the graveyard.
What’s more fitting than escaping the undead through a graveyard? Yonkey laughed.
The rain returned blanketing the city for the night. The Convention Center grew cold as the back up generators ran out of fuel. The supply detail couldn’t come soon enough for the huddled mass of humanity surviving within its walls.
Forty-Eight
“The weather is slowing our efforts sir.”
Hutto looking up from his maps peered at the young soldier over his reading glasses.
“Understood, Private. Combine sector patrols in the east and have them move west through Station Hill and Pheasant Grove. Report back once they have cleared both neighborhoods.”
“Yes sir.” The young Private snapped a salute and exited the trailer. Hutto returned to his maps and satellite images. Computers buzzed behind him and soldiers moved about the large trailer gathering information. Printers churned out the latest surveillance photos while a ranking Officer spoke on a satellite telephone. Kilo Company was in constant contact with the United States Federal Government. Their mission was reaffirmed earlier this morning when orders were received to move on Anderson and then take control of Redding. Operation ‘Renaissance City’ was a go. Across the country, similar operations were under way. Rumors broke out amongst the men that in the heavier populated areas, the metropolises of the country, tactical nuclear weapons had been used. “It’s just a rumor,” Hutto explained. He didn’t think the government would resort to such drastic measures but orders were to be followed. A new age was upon them and he was in the front seat watching it unfold.
***
“Please help us.”
Two soldiers standing in the doorway of 1345 Sands Way opened fire on the young mother and her two children. Up to that point, the young family had managed to survive the event. The two soldiers moved quickly through the remainder of the three-bedroom house. They checked all the closets, cubbyholes, the basement, and the attic. A small stash of weapons sat in the master bedroom closet. The soldier gathered them and placed them in a backpack. Across the hall the second soldier found cash stuffed in a drawer. He pocketed the cash and moved on. More often they encountered the undead but from time to time they came across survivors. Their orders were clear, “TERMINATE ALL”.
Dealing with the undead had become somewhat predictable, although Runners remained the most dangerous of the bunch. Clearing teams were informed that zombies could retain recognizant memory skills, thus leading them to familiar places and surroundings.
“Shit. My rifles jammed and we have a runner.” Private Ashton’s M-16A2 jammed standing on the front porch of a new home as a runner emerged from a house across the street.
Cpl. Weissen took aim quickly terminating the moving threat. “When’s the last time you cleaned your weapon?”
“Last night, I think the rain has something to do with it.”
“Sling it and use your side arm. Once we clear this house we’ll check it. If it’s FUBAR we’ll call it in.” The second soldier turned back, placing his ear to the door while the first soldier looked through the large front window. The curtains were drawn making it impossible to see the interior of the home.
“I think something’s moving inside. Give me the eye.”
Ashton removed a small black box from his side pack. It contained a piece of surveillance gear used for looking beyond closed doors. Weissen switched the power on looking at the small three-inch black and white screen. He knelt down and slid the black cylindrical snake under the door. He watched the screen carefully while moving the snake back and forth scanning the room. In the back of the room he saw what was making the noise. A large zombie sat on a couch with what appeared to be a television remote in its hand. He continued scanning the room then pulled the snake back handing it to Ashton.
“One on the couch fifteen back and to the left. I couldn’t see any others. On my mark, you sweep right, I’ll take left. See you in the middle of the house.”
Over the past week the clearing teams learned it wasn’t necessary to kick in each door they came across, most were left unlocked. Locked doors signaled a survivor was inside and most likely armed. Kilo Company lost two soldiers just one day into operations in Red Bluff when they breached a home protected by several hunting enthusiasts. Now two weeks later, some of the soldiers had the clearing stage of the mission down to a science.
Weissen reached down grasping the doorknob in his left hand while steadying his rifle with his right. The doorknob turned with a click. He pushed the door open quickly. The zombie from the couch hea
rd the soldiers and saw moving shadows. What once was a 6’4 male weighing 300lbs, was now a zombie standing just inside the doorway. His mouth hung wide open revealing blackened gums and his eyes were dark grey. A guttural growl emitted from the zombie as it stepped forward.
“Fuck!”
Both soldiers opened fire hitting the zombie in the upper chest knocking it backwards. They moved in quickly firing at the zombie’s head, spraying brain matter on the carpet. The stench of rotting brain and flesh filled the house.
“Goddamn, I swear I’ll never get used to that smell.” Ashton said.
“We have a job to do. Lets do it and move on. Remember leave nothing to chance, I’ll go left and you go right.”
“Roger that.”
The soldiers split, moving throughout the house. In the master bedroom a female body lay on the bed. The victim of a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head. The soldiers searched the remainder of the room before turning their sights on the body.
“I wonder how long she’s been dead?” Ashton asked.
“Who knows, grab the gun and lets move next door.”
“No really. I wonder if she’s, you know, still fresh down there.”
Weissen turned back facing Ashton.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. We discussed this last week after you fucked that kid before killing her. I told you, we are United Stated Army Soldiers here to do a job. We are not heathens, rapists or anything else like that.”
“Yeah, yeah I know. We take their lives, their guns, their money, but I can’t get a piece of ass once in a while?”
“Listen, when we get back to the caravan we’re switching partners. I’ve had it with your sick shit. Grab that gun and let’s go.”
“Whatever. You can ask to be transferred to a different partner but I bet you it doesn’t go through. You can’t tell them why because you would go down with me.”
“Fuck, man, I don’t care anymore. I have a family waiting, I’ll be damned if I’m going to be court-martialed and executed because I was privy to your fucking extra curricular activities. I didn’t violate the morals clause, you did. Now grab the gun and lets get the fuck out of here. We have a shit load more homes to clear.” Weissen stormed off.
Ashton stood watching his partner exit the room. He held up his right hand and mimicked a gun pointed at the back of Weissen’s head.
“Pow motherfucker.”
The revolver lay in the dead woman’s hand. Ashton reached down and grasped the gun feeling the cold flesh of the hand wrapped around the handle of the gun. He hesitated, staring down at the slightly open blouse. His opposite hand brushed over the woman’s sunken breasts. He moved his hand down to the woman’s baggy sweat pants and ran a finger under the elastic waistband feeling the pubic hair underneath. He moved his hand back up the woman’s chest then back to her groin pushing his hand under her sweat pants feeling the cold lifeless vagina. He probed with his index finger until he found signs of moisture. His member grew hard as he probed the dead vagina deeper.
“Today, Private.” Weissen yelled from the front room.
“I’m coming.” Ashton yelled back, imagining himself ejaculating all over the woman’s chest. He abandoned the thought knowing Weissen would come back any second. He grabbed the gun pulling it hard from the woman’s lifeless grip. Her trigger finger remained in place. A deafening boom rang out and the bullet tore through Ashton’s neck. He fell back against the dresser grasping the gushing hole. Blood spilled around his tight grip. He gasped for air but his lungs wouldn’t work. Weissen rushed in.
“Serves you right, you sick fuck.”Weissen lifted his M-16A2.
Ashton’s eyes grew wide as he backed away. He stumbled into a corner sliding down the wall. His legs grew heavy and his lungs burned for air. Blackness was creeping into his peripheral vision.
“Hope your stay in Hell is worth it.” Weissen pulled the trigger removing most of his former partner’s head.
“Papa, this is Batman.”
“Go Batman.”
“Robin is down. I repeat, Robin is down.”
“Copy that. Fred and Ethel are in your general locale, RZ at Palm Lane and Wolf Creek Road.”
“Copy. Batman out.”
One block away, two soldiers completed an interior search of a modest home filled with lively art. They copied the radio traffic, acknowledged, and moved to the RZ after marking the front door of the home with red paint. The three soldiers checked their maps, marking off their progress. They formulated and executed a new plan to clear the remainder of the neighborhood before nightfall. Ashton’s body was retrieved just before dusk. On the ride back to the caravan Weissen stared out the window pleased that Ashton was gone. He patted the body bag smiling.
***
Hutto stepped out of the command trailer and stood near the rear of the caravan. He saluted a Sentry detail making rounds then casually lit his pipe. The sweet smell of vanilla tobacco lofted into the cold air. The rain ceased falling shortly before nightfall. Hutto scanned the landscape as the sun made its last appearance leaving long strands of orange and pink across the sky. Hutto contemplated the mission and the order for total extermination. The infection moved too fast and the government deemed most of the population expendable. It was a ploy by a Democratic lead government Hutto thought in the early stages of the infection. Then he came to realize his orders came from a joint gathering of remaining officials including both Democrats and Republicans.
Hutto breathed deeply, then started for the chow trailer, when movement out of the corner of his eye stopped him. The reflexes he honed as a young soldier came front and center as he spun with his side arm at the ready. He watched intently as a coyote trotted along the side of the interstate. It came within ten yards of Hutto then darted off into the brush.
Throughout the event Hutto had forgotten the simple fact nature still existed. He scanned the trees and brush for signs of life finding birds at play. He stood very still and closed his eyes blocking out the sounds of the caravan. Birds sang and he smiled for the first time in weeks. The simple sound of nature brought a renewed hope for the future and for mankind. He opened his eyes and watched the birds for a few minutes more as night crept in. He finally walked off to the chow trailer crossing his fingers for fresh coffee. As the sounds of birds gave way to sounds of the caravan, his thoughts turned to the soldier Kilo Company lost today.
Hutto heard through the grapevine the soldier was bad news and had a weakness for the unthinkable. During a closed door meeting the soldier’s name and accusations came up. Hutto considered placing the soldier under arrest and holding him for court-martial once their mission was complete but the loss of three soldiers swayed him to keep the soldier in regular rotation. Now he was dead. Hutto was grateful for the turn of events but knew he had to write a letter to the soldier’s widow and children. He would write that he was a hero and should be remembered as such, not a molester and necrophilia enthusiast.
The coffee was fresh. Things were looking up.
Forty-Nine
Ty carried a large duffle bag, a 12-gauge pump action shotgun and wore a San Francisco 49ers hat backwards. Directly behind him Katie walked with Sugar close beside. She carried two old walkie-talkies from the Bixter Building Security and Maintenance staff. Jess, Rick and Tom rounded out the group. They carried guns and duffle bags walking to the parking garage. The group resembled a bank heist crew out of a bad B-movie.
The parking garage was dim and cold. Ty peered out from behind heavy steel doors. He saw no movement. The lights remained off as to not attract unwanted attention. Outside the security gates at the far end of the garage rain patted the concrete driveway. The roll down gates held a few zombies back after wandering down the steep incline to the underground parking. Ty slinked against a dark wall staying out of the zombie’s view on his way to the Ford F-350 sitting backed into a parking spot near the elevator and stairwell lobby. Ty reached the rear of the truck opening the tailgate. Katie led the rest of the
group along the dark wall feeling uneasy with every step.
Earlier in the morning, Ty retrieved tools from the maintenance department consisting of a heavy bolt cutter, a small sledgehammer, and several hand tools he thought would be useful on their trip to the 7-11. Rick and Tom sat in the back seats while Jess rode shotgun, literally. Ty knelt down scratching Sugar behind the ears.
“You stay with Katie girl. I’ll be back in a minute.” He looked up at Katie catching the apprehension in her eyes.
“Simple smash and grab. We’re in and out.” His words did little to console Katie.
“I know. I just don’t like the idea of being here alone. What if…”
“No what ifs. We went over this. You know what to do if we don’t come back.” Ty leaned in close, out of sight from the others. “You know I’m coming back, you have my dog.” He kissed her quickly on the cheek then turned away.
Katie held a hand to her cheek. “Don’t let me down.”
“Hey, Katie, anything you want to add to the shopping list?” Tom asked as Ty started the Ford.
“Beer. Beer is always good.” Katie smiled at Tom.
The radio in her hand crackled to life.
“You’re on Katie. Just like I told you. The red button, twenty seconds, push it again. Watch for us from the second floor. You should see us at the intersection.” Ty inched the Ford forward slowly while watching Katie in the side mirror.
Katie ran to the secondary main gate control box located in the security office. She took a deep breath and pushed the button.
“One one thousand…Two one thousand…Three one thousand…”
The gate slowly rolled up. It cleared the seven-foot mark clearing the top of the truck. The Ford moved up the steep incline quickly driving three zombies to the ground. At the top of the driveway Ty checked his side mirror. The gate was closing. “Good girl. Lets go shopping.”
The rain fell heavily on the once lively streets. The trip to the 7-11 was easier than anticipated. They drove into the abandoned parking lot stopping near the middle. The group studied the store.
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