The Sixth Extinction America Omnibus [Books 1-12]

by Johnson, Glen

  Tentacles thrashed around them. They picked their way through.

  There was a large puddle of black gore that also dripped from the metal bars. They splashed their way through it.

  “How did you free me?” Bachman asked in short strained, clipped words, due to his throat aching. He blinked repeatedly because his eyes were hurting from the strain of the blood that was forced into them.

  “Easy,” she said while trying to lighten the situation. “I realized some of the cattle are still attached to their milking machines. I jumped the metal barrier, and cranked it the other way, to full power.”

  “Say what?” He stumbled slightly.

  Emma helped him back up.

  “I reversed the machine, so it started pumping the creature with all the black pus and blood, mixed with milk, and God knows what else.”

  A large slab of concrete dropped onto the ground behind them. The creature hollered in annoyance at them heading away.

  “My cousin Ken owns, well, used to own a dairy farm. I’ve watched him reverse the pumps to clean them out dozens of times.”

  “Thank you Ken,” Bachman muttered.

  They reached the large open barn doors. Zone 4 stretched out ahead of them. In the distance, they could see some deformed sheep and a couple of pigs, but they looked like they were keeping their distance, as if they knew there was a bigger predator around.

  There is a series of administration buildings along one side.

  “Let’s try to reach them,” Bachman said with a husky voice.

  Slowly, and carefully, they started to pick their way from building to building. Behind the large creature was still slamming itself against the doorframe.

  It took them twenty minutes to carefully move from building to building. A few chickens raced past the end of the block, but they didn’t seem to notice them. Some windows had tentacles draped from them, and crawling over everything, and across the ground, even a few patches where a sheep or pig had been caught in them, and had been squeezed until they popped.

  Bachman tried not to imagine that it could have been him, if it wasn’t for Emma’s quick thinking.

  The offices were empty. Just the gore and clumps of hair and bones left behind when the infected humans were herded out by the pods.

  The offices and corridors stunk of rancid meat, congealed blood, with piss and shit. It made a thick, vile stench that coated their mouths and throat. Twice Emma gagged.

  The offices were right next to the main tunnel that joined Zone 4 to Zone 1, and just to one side was the underground subway system that joined every zone together. From here, they could get to any location in the bunker.

  However, they needed to find a location inside the building where they could find something to eat, drink, and then hide and get some much-needed rest.

  203

  Alex and the others

  On the cargo ship

  Somewhere off the shore in New York State

  It had been hours since the attack on the beach, and slowly, but surely, everyone had been ferried to the cargo ship without any further mishap.

  However, the ship wasn’t moving; it would take Andy a few days to check over the engines before he was willing to risk moving the vessel. But they all decided they were safe. Even if the creatures did somehow manage to make it out to them, there was no way they could climb the wet, steep sides of the ships hull. The only connection with the ocean was two huge anchors, with the thick chains, but they could hold off creatures climbing the large links by hosing them down with the powerful water jets, and if need be, raise the anchors.

  Each of them was assigned a cabin. There was enough room for them all to have their own private space.

  In Alex’s cabin, there was another three beds, which would probably slowly fill up as they moved the cargo ship around the coastline. However, he had nothing to store in his cabin, all he owned was what he was wearing. The space was empty and void of items. It looked like it was a spare room, to hold an overflow of crew. It smelt musty and wet. Even so, it still seemed like a five-star hotel compared to what he was used to. He pressed down on the soft mattress. It had been a while since he had slept on one.

  Alex was exhausted, just like everyone else, but he found it hard to relax. He could do with hunting for a change of clothing, and then a good hot shower, but first he wanted to explore his new surroundings. He found it hard to believe he was in a safe place. It had been so long since he could say that, so it was difficult to let his guard down.

  He found himself jumping at unfamiliar sounds – mainly the creaking of the metal ship, or if he caught sight of anyone out of the corner of his eye. It would take time getting used to not having to be so alert.

  Saying that, his first thought when climbing aboard was, have they checked every nook and cranny? Has every section of the ship been inspected? Could there be a popper hidden away, waiting for someone to stumble around a corner?

  He was told they had found nothing while checking, not even the remains of poppers. The whole ship was deserted like a ghost ship when they discovered it. Even so, Smokie stated they spent almost a week scouring it from top to bottom. Their best defense, she said with a smile, was Tia, she raced into every nook, sniffing everything. If there was anything alive, or dead, on the ship, she would have found it.

  The cargo ship was vast; it is just over six hundred foot long, with the deck stacked high with thousands of colorful metal containers, which they were slowly working their way through. A list was being compiled of what was being discovered inside each container, and its location. The list was long and varied. It ranged from high-performance sports cars and motorbikes, to iPads, watches, and telephones, even a complete house that was tightly packed inside eight containers and was ready for reassembly. It was a slow and laborious job, and Dudley and Sue had broken into one hundred and thirty-three so far. The ships manifest stated it was carrying just over six thousand – four thousand twenty foot, and two thousand forty-foot containers. And even though it listed what was in each container, it was hard to pinpoint particular containers due to how they were stacked, and finding the ID on each. There was probably some sort of order to them, but they were yet to work it out. There was also the large main holds below deck, where the canned vegetable oil, china plates and teapots and cups, and the tonnes of Chinese New Year decorations were stored.

  Alex stood next to the towering main structure, as the rain lashed against the covering he was stood under.

  The pilothouse was situated on a construction that was officially called The Bridge Castle Front. The structure was six stories tall with another towering collection of antenna and walkways on top that was just as high again.

  A patch of metal decking had a pile of collapsed boxes that was mostly ash, which was still burning. It looked like boxes full of Chinese decorations were covered in cooking oil and then set alight. A towering black plume of smoke stretched into the overcast, raining sky. The pouring rain was slowly smothering the flames, but it continued to belch out smoke.

  The coastline looked peaceful from his location. He couldn’t make out the dead on the beach, just a line of smoke from the location of the island, and if he didn’t know it was from an explosion; he would have reasoned it was from a large fire. The rain made everything hazy and undefined.

  The sound of the ocean continuously crashing against the hull was a reminder they were off the land. Added to the gentle swaying of the ship, it was a little disorientating.

  Acquiring sea legs, Andy called it. Some were naturals; others took weeks to adjust.

  Everyone was told to rest and was asked to meet up in the mess hall tomorrow morning at 9 AM. Even though it was only just after 7:30 AM now, they were given a whole day to recuperate. They would then be assigned their positions and told what was expected of them if they wanted to be members of the crew.

  It was nice to be able to amble along the massive vessel, keeping away from anyone. He needed his own space, and even though he had his own
room, he could still hear people talking in the mess hall, just outside his door. He needed quiet. He needed time to let everything sink in.

  He was informed food would be ready at midday when he passed Kate. Apparently, Donna, Sherry, and Frank were busy preparing food in the large, well-stocked galley.

  Alex’s stomach was grumbling at the thought of some hot food.

  He reached the bow of the ship. There was a tall, thick structure that looked like a modern-day Crows Nest with steps leading up it. It was a good five or six stories tall. Alex started to climb the steep steps.

  Just as he reached the second platform, he could just make out the sound of someone shouting in the distance. The hair stood up on the nape of his neck.

  Surely we aren’t being attacked out here?

  He scanned the deck. He couldn’t see anyone. He then turned to scan the ocean. Up until now, he had been concentrating on climbing the steep steps, and realizing how unfit he was. However, when he turned his attention away from the ship, he noticed what the person was shouting about.

  “You got to be shitting me!” he muttered as his eyes widened in fear. He wrapped his arms around the nearest pylon.

  204

  Frank and the others

  On the cargo ship

  Somewhere off the shore in New York State

  Frank’s cabin was small, but after living in a container, and sleeping rough, it was like getting a room at the Ritz. He even had his own bathroom.

  Whoever lived in it before had left in a hurry, there were still belongings and clothes lying around. The clothes were too small for Frank, but the ox-blood coloured baggy dressing gown was big enough. He stripped and showered, taking his time, washing the grime away. The dirt and blood ran around his pale feet. He left his clothes soaking in the sink after he found a toothbrush, and after rinsing it, used it to clean the thick plaque away. He rinsed his mouth with strong mouthwash. It reminded him of drinking alcohol.

  What I wouldn’t do for just a shot of whisky right now. He licked his lips and put the thought from his mind.

  In the cabin, he found some photos held to the metal hull by magnets. The prior occupant was small and runty looking, with a long ratty face, with a scraggily beard and bloodshot beady, runny, poached-egg eyes. All the photos showed the little middle-aged man with his arm around different women, all Asian in appearance. Each had a date scribbled on the wall next to it. Frank counted nineteen women, and a couple that could have been transvestites.

  Frank ignored the photos. He unclipped them and put them in a drawer.

  He found miscellaneous items in a cabinet. A beard clipper, which he returned to the bathroom and gave his beard a trim. Some fingernail clippers, he also used, and a brush, which he managed to untangle his ginger hair with. He felt a little strange using someone else’s property, but he guessed that sort of mentality no longer applied in this new, darker world.

  He felt refreshed. He left his cabin and wandered to the mess hall, to see if he could be of any help.

  “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop,” he muttered.

  No one commented on his dressing gown.

  He was informed there was a large industrial washing machine just to the side of the galley, and Caroline was about to put a wash on, if he was interested. He collected his dirty clothes from the sink and caught Caroline just before she shut the door.

  Caroline was wearing a man’s red and blue-checkered flannel shirt and jeans that looked baggy, but they were clean.

  She also asked him if he could keep an eye on the machine because she was going to start some food for everybody. He asked if he could help.

  There was a large walk-in freezer in the galley, it reminded Frank of the last one he had entered, and how he had cut the hand off an innocent woman, condemning her to death.

  He started peeling potatoes. A lot of them were growing roots, and he had to cut most of the potato away, but there was plenty in the large tote bin.

  Sue asked him to keep the peelings because they were going to collect some dirt and make a large garden on the deck.

  Unbelievable, only an hour ago I was fighting for my life on the pebbled beach, with people dropping dead around me, with the animalistic calls of the infected, and now; I’m stood in front of a chrome counter, peeling potatoes, preparing a cooked meal.

  If someone had told me I would be doing this now, when I was stood over a naked, deformed body, with a bloody club in my hand, I would have laughed in their face.

  The murmur of conversation drifted around him. Then the hum of the ship started to vibrate through the soles of his feet.

  Alan must be testing the engines; he reasoned.

  He stopped what he was doing and just stared at the large glistening, half peeled potato in his grip.

  ‘And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose,’ Romans chapter eight, verse twenty-eight tells us.

  However, no matter how hard he tried, Frank couldn’t make sense or reason out of the world’s predicament. The vast number of people who have died, and in horrific, agonizing ways.

  How can this be Your wish, Lord?

  Donna was making a large pot of stew, a hearty meal to fill, and warm everyone. Caroline was making fresh bread, to go with it.

  “Just a drop, to warm the bones,” Donna said, as she tipped a good two cupfuls of red wine into the large cooking pot.

  Frank watched her pop the cork back in and place the bottle to one side.

  He licked his lips.

  Just one mouthful.

  He realized his hands were shaking.

  No, no more. I need to fight my demons. He realized that he had literally just been fighting real demons, he didn’t need exaggerated ones as well.

  Frank finished the pile of potatoes without another glance at the dark bottle.

  “That just needs to simmer for an hour,” Donna explained. She wiped her hands on a cloth. She turned to thank the priest for his help, but he was already gone. She didn’t notice the wine bottle was also missing.

  205

  Naomi and the others

  On the cargo ship

  Somewhere off the shore in New York State

  Naomi’s feet were aching. It felt like she had been walking for hours. She had no idea where she was on the ship. After storming off when she first arrived, she headed into the first open hatch she found, and slowly made her way into the depths of the vessel.

  She was looking for the sick bay. She was convinced a craft this large would have a good selection of drugs to choose from.

  However, she was hopelessly lost.

  She had no idea there were so many corridors down inside the vast metal hull; she presumed the space was all taken up by the cargo. It wasn’t the case; she had been walking along the same corridor for over an hour. At one point, the corridor arched and doubled back on itself. She guessed she was heading back toward the main ship’s superstructure.

  She was pissed with herself for wasting so much time. It was obvious the sick bay would be inside, or close, to the main towering structure.

  It had taken her so long because every time she found a hatch, she looked inside. She found nothing of interest.

  One thick hatch entered into a colossal section of hull that seemed the size of several football pitches. She walked around the metal walkway that hugged the sides of the vast chamber. Below it was stacked high with thousands of pallets of boxes, held together inside thick rope nets. She had no idea what they contained, and she couldn’t find a way down to check.

  She wondered if anyone was even concerned she was missing?

  Probably not. They all hope I’ve fallen overboard; she reasoned. Bastards!

  God I’m hungry. She slammed a hand against the cold metal hull. It reverberated down the corridor.

  I bet they’re all sat eating without me.

  A dull vibration started to run through the soles of her boots.

  Is that
the engines? Are we moving?

  There was a banging sound behind her, coming from the end of the long corridor.

  “Hello?” she called.

  Nothing.

  Maybe something shifted from the vibration of the large engines?

  Then the sound of a metal object dropping to the deck, sent a chill down her spine.

  “Fuck this for a game of soldiers,” she muttered. Then, without another word, she started running in the opposite direction.

  206

  Bachman and Emma

  Zone 4

  The underground bunker

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  Zone 4s offices were large and had numerous rooms within which to hide.

  Emma left Bachman resting in a ground floor office, with a view across the street outside, to keep a watch, while she headed to find something to eat and drink.

  She located a kitchen on a level full of desks with waist-high partitions that had the remains of the occupants plastered everywhere. The smell of the decomposing remains was nauseating. She found a fridge full of people’s lunches. She collected lunch boxes full of sandwiches and a bowl of what looked like spaghetti carbonara, and some cans of soda and some packets of nuts.

  Emma was soon back by Bachman’s side, and together they slowly started to consume the pilfered food. Even though it was cold, it was amazing, after days of nothing.

  Bachman was concerned that they couldn’t see much movement outside the large plate-glass window they were ducked down beside. It was as if most of the animals had also been rounded up and herded off. They could only imagine how close to the surface the infected army is, or they might be racing across the surface as they sat there eating.

  However, they had no choice; they needed to rest. If they kept going, they would collapse from exhaustion.

  They picked the room because of the window, which they could easily exit, with a thrown chair to aid them. There was also a large cupboard at one end. They entered the small cramped space. It was a stationery cupboard, and there was nothing comfortable with which to lie on.