Forest Park: A Zombie Novel

by Jamie Marks

  “Here’s another question from our Twitter wall, Chief Atkins. With the crash of the 911 emergency lines, how can the public still contact the emergency services?” Tanya asked.

  “In regard to the problems around 911, we hope to have that situation under control sooner than later. Otherwise, people can contact the police department using Twitter, just as someone did now with you guys, or they can leave a message on our Facebook page. We will also be providing updates using Twitter and Facebook, so I would recommend people keep an eye on both sites.”

  “Can people sign up for automatic updates?”

  “I would recommend that people do all they can to keep themselves informed.”

  “One of the most spectacular rumors that was broadcast this morning via Twitter, Facebook and Youtube, are that some of these attackers appear deceased. In fact, we have shown footage this morning from here in Atlanta, which shows a man being shot multiple times without being killed. Do you have any explanation for this?”

  “PCP.”

  “So you don’t believe in the possibility that these people are deceased? That particular rumor has been running wild over the Twitterverse.”

  “As a practicing Christian, all I can say about that particular rumor, is that it’s totally ridiculous. Some of these people have a serious mental illness, while others are obviously influenced by drugs. Dead people do not stand up and walk from one place to another after death, Tanya. It’s just plain ridiculous.”

  “But on a serious note,” Atkins continued, “I’d like to make clear that people who are found attacking other citizens or taking the law into their own hands will be prosecuted. We have at this time, arrested several citizens for firearm offenses. Any firearm used openly on the streets will be confiscated and the user arrested. This behavior is not tolerated in any way whatsoever. I hope I have made myself perfectly clear.”

  “Surely people can still use their guns to protect themselves and property?” said Tanya.

  “I have no issue with the legal use of firearms. Nevertheless, coldly shooting unarmed and mentally diminished people does in no way equal an accurate definition of the legal use of a firearm. At this instant, our cells are jam-packed with such people, and we’re making arrangements for more holding facilities throughout Atlanta and the surrounding counties, for both able-bodied and psychologically sound people, and for the mentally deranged people who have tried to take over our streets.”

  “So am I right to say that people can carry firearms?” Tanya asked.

  Atkins furrowed his brow and leaned into the camera and said, “It’s very simple, Tanya; an illegal killing is an unlawful killing, no matter the circumstance or the crisis. When Hurricane Katrina destroyed New Orleans, the majority of people didn’t run out on the streets and begin shooting their neighbors for kicks. The situation will be under control as soon as humanly possible, and everybody involved in unjustified killings will be going to jail for a very long time.”

  Tanya smiled and said, “Our next question is an SMS from...”

  THE LIVING ROOM

  Steve turned the volume down.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything, babe. What’s right, that’s the million-dollar question this morning,” Steve said as he took Kathy’s hand and held it with a firm grip. “We’ve been awake two hours or so, possibly more.”

  “It feels like a month,” Kathy answered him.

  Steve waited for a moment to unclutter his scattered mind. He had an idea of what he’d wished to say to Kathy, but trying to place his current train of thought into viable sentences was more difficult than he usually found --- especially today.

  “I’m no expert,” he tentatively began, “and I am no historian, but I’m pretty sure that what’s happening today hasn’t happened before.”

  Kathy nodded in full agreement.

  “I would also like to add that I’ve never seen anyone die, until today. And when I say die, I mean they died right in front of my eyes.”

  Steve shook his head back and forth.

  Trying to find the precise words was like attempting to pull hen’s teeth.

  “I’ve never even seen a corpse before today started either. However, I saw a corpse stand up on its own two dead feet, and stroll across our street and then knock at our door.”

  “It does appear to look that way,” Kathy said, her own thought processes slightly rattled.

  “What dimension did I wake up in today? You know what I’m saying, Kath?”

  “Yeah, I’m asking the same question.”

  “And now some Christian Pat Garret wannabe on television says that they’re not dead people at all. Deceased people don’t walk around he says. It’s people who overnight may have gone deranged! As if that’s not strange enough!”

  “People like to put difficult things into boxes,” Kathy said.

  “I’d prefer a coffin,” Steve answered her, and then chuckled to himself.

  “That’s not funny,” Kathy said.

  “I know.”

  “Anyway your point is what, Steve?”

  Steve became serious again. “My point is this. Nobody has any idea about what’s really happening out there.” He pointed to the street. “And if they do know, they don’t want to tell us --- the public --- the truth because they think we couldn’t fathom it, or they’re refusing to accept the truth themselves, which makes whoever is the responsible person damn stupid.”

  Kathy nodded. “Have you renewed your subscription to conspiracy weekly yet?”

  “So far today, I’ve seen dead people. I’ve heard police sirens, and I watched some poor woman be attacked on the morning show. Then I saw Craig, our new neighbor from across the street, bite into another man’s neck and seemingly enjoy it, which I severely doubt is his regular thing, at least on a weekday. My point is, Kathy, nobody can help us. So we have to help ourselves, and one way to do that is to settle down for the long haul.”

  “Can I add something to all that? And part of that question was rhetorical,” said Kathy.

  “Until we’re all eaten, this is still a democracy,” Steve said.

  “I’m happy to stay here, Steve, but if this shit continues, I would be far happier being further away from Atlanta.”

  Steve had a bad feeling about what Kathy was about to say.

  Even if it’s the end of the world, I’ll choose not to spend it with them, he thought, as if he had a choice...

  “I would prefer we drive to Macon and stay with my sister --- they have guns, he hunts. We could all try to get through this together. Maybe we could find a place in the country, away from everyone.”

  Steve sighed.

  “What do you think?” she asked. “Be honest.”

  “I think we wait. I think we wait and see.”

  FORT GILLEM

  The soldier wearily slung his weapon to his shoulder and stepped out from behind the barricade, a sandbagged wall beside two ornately designed gates, which were made more for their aesthetics, than for defense.

  I have to do something about that, thought Tyler as he waved at another soldier who lowered his M16A4 Carbine from his shoulder.

  The M16A4 Carbine was a lighter, shorter barreled version of the more familiar M16 that fired its first rounds in Vietnam.

  Charlie pulled in next to the Tyler’s Humvee as the captain bounded out and strode back toward the gates. From the Wolfpac’s rear-view mirror, Charlie watched as Tyler pointed in one direction and then another. Suddenly, the two previously relaxed soldiers who were casually manning the gates became increasingly more animated.

  He couldn’t hear what Tyler was saying, but he was sure someone was getting torn a new asshole.

  After a minute or two of chewing his men out, Tyler climbed back into his Humvee and motioned at them to follow him down the road that led to the main administration building of Fort Gillem.

  “My dad would have loved to have a lawn like this,” Charlie said to Susan, who ignored the manicured lawns that were
cropped to military perfection. Even so, Charlie admired the tall pines that ran in ordered straight lines, along with the garden guiding button shrubs, and flower beds that lined all the connecting pathways.

  The buildings were an old world red brick, with glaring white-painted windows.

  As Charlie glanced upward, he saw Old Glory waving slightly in the morning breeze. It seemed to Charlie as if they’d somehow gone back in time to a more wholesome place where men wore Madmen hats and the women never raised their hem higher than a fraction below the knee.

  He could imagine high-tea on the lawn, and the catered affairs, which would have been held for the officer’s wives on spring afternoons.

  However, there was something missing, an important element if you considered it --- people. The base was like a museum, a window into the past.

  There were no soldiers being drilled, no Sgt Bilko or Gomer Pyle, not even a German shepherd patrolling the fences.

  In his mind, Charlie thought the base would be crawling with attack dogs leaping walls, barking loudly and scaring the living shit out of him.

  Not that any attack dog could now compete with a face chomping psychopath who staggered around the Main Street with a butcher’s knife tunneling into his back.

  Any other day the attack dog would have taken a clear victory! Charlie considered.

  However, still, where were the soldiers?

  “Where the fuck is everyone?” Susan said suddenly.

  She sounded annoyed.

  Susan had expected to see the hustle of a busy military base, helicopters roaring over top, tanks rolling by and a column of fit young men just back from a five-mile run.

  “Maybe they’re on maneuvers?” Charlie said, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut as soon as he’d opened it.

  “What the fuck would you know about the army, Charlie, apart from the fact you’re too much of a fat fuck to join!”

  “I don’t know, Susan. I was only just saying, that’s all,” he said as his belly unexpectedly rumbled.

  “Jesus, Charlie, does nothing stop that thing?”

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re fucking disgusting; you know that, don’t you? I just wish you’d consider how I feel having to sit here and listen to that ghastly thing every day.” Susan, hitting her stride was about to continue her daily evaluation of Charlie up until she saw a young officer run from the main administration building to meet Tyler after the Humvee had rolled to a stop.

  Before the young officer could say more than a few words, Susan was standing beside them both. Charlie had never seen her move so fast; it was as if she had teleported from point A to point B.

  “Hi,” Susan said as she held out her hand, hoping the young officer would take it.

  The young officer shook her hand gently and smiled.

  He was early twenties and had that Californian guise about him --- he looked hip and young, with a clean-shaven jaw line and bottomless blue eyes.

  “This is unsettling,” Charlie said to himself.

  He wore a neatly pressed camouflaged uniform, in desert tone and a cloth cap, which was set at an angle. Glancing down to his waist, Susan saw a thick belt that held a low-slung gun.

  Oh, God, that’s hot, she thought.

  “Ma’am,” he said, answering her with the slightest of smiles. He looked like Clint Eastwood in Hang ’em High.

  I could swim in those eyes.

  His attention then returned to Tyler.

  The young officer handed Tyler a piece of paper, and from the moment Tyler began reading from it, a frown appeared on his face.

  “Lieutenant, you’ve read it, any ideas?” Tyler asked.

  “I’ve taken the initiative to begin preparations on your behalf and sent two men down to the main gate. I have also ---” Tyler stopped him from continuing.

  “Put more men on the gate, and organize a team to patrol the perimeter fences at regular intervals. I would also like you to organize the lumber and wire for the cages in the isolation area. Get what you need from local lumberyards, and leave a receipt --- just try to keep it legal. Lastly, don’t deviate from the specifications sent through to us. We need this done ASAP, get to it.”

  “Why patrol the fences?” Susan asked.

  Tyler glanced at Susan and said, “Because I don’t want anyone getting in here who shouldn’t already be in this place.”

  “Why do you need the cages?”

  I may as well tell her, the cat’s practically out of the bag now, Tyler thought.

  “Before I say anything, ma’am, this is, off the record, understood? In fact, all of our conversations are, do you understand?”

  Susan said, “Okay.”

  “According to my orders, Fort Gillem may become a limited, and I mean very limited, local support centre for displaced persons, if whatever continues to continue. This hasn’t yet been confirmed --- that’s dependent on FEMA --- and my orders may change. We also need that isolation area up and running for when, or if, we receive any infected.”

  “Do you think it may get as bad as all that out there, sir?” the lieutenant asked.

  “It may; it’s not for me to say,” answered Tyler. “And, Lieutenant, get someone to hose down my truck too, it’s got shit all over it,” he added as he left the lieutenant and Susan alone.

  The lieutenant looked over and saw the blood on the Humvee for the first time.

  “It’s been a pleasure, ma’am,” the lieutenant said.

  “Lieutenant,” she replied, “I don’t even know your name.”

  “But I know yours,” he said as he dipped his cap to her and then left with a swagger.

  Susan enjoyed watching him leave, almost as much as she enjoyed watching him arriving.

  The gun bouncing on his hip with each step was intoxicating, she thought.

  Screw Paul, Tanya can have him. As she observed the lieutenant leaving, Susan had a feeling that someone was observing her.

  “Ma’am.”

  Susan jumped, he gave her a little scare.

  It was Tyler.

  “Hello again, Captain, what can I do for you? I must say I like your lieutenant. I might have to get one of my own,” she said, sounding playful. “You’ll have to introduce us properly next time.”

  I’m not a big fan of yours, though, the thought flashed through her mind.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not running a country club, ma’am,” Tyler answered her in a monotone voice.

  “How many men do you have here, Captain Tyler, and why the cages in the isolation area?” Susan asked, ignoring the captain’s tone.

  “Thirteen including myself,” Tyler said, ignoring the second question, “and we’re a little shorthanded at the moment, Mrs...”

  “It’s Miss Susan Shaw, there’s no ring on my finger yet, Captain.”

  Susan held out her hand for him to shake. He shook it firmly.

  “Let me introduce myself properly. I am Atlanta’s number one reporter, so if you need anything ‘techno’, Captain Tyler, just ask for it; satellite links, exclusives. I’m sure Fox Atlanta wouldn’t mind helping out in any way you desire,” she said smiling.

  Tyler thought for a moment.

  “Okay, that would be great, Miss Shaw.”

  “What can we do for you first? Is there anywhere, in particular where you’d like us to set up?” she asked. “Charlie, bring your ass out here.”

  Charlie tumbled out of the Wolfpac and yawned like a buffalo.

  “You can start over there,” Tyler said, pointing to the old barracks, “And help by setting up some bunks for any refugees who may need our assistance,” he said as he watched her face grimace.

  “I’m a reporter not a Manhattan-maid, Captain. Why the cages?”

  Tyler overlooked her question and continued. “Can you use a mop, Miss Shaw?”

  “No, not really and I have no intention in learning how!”

  “You’ll get the hang of it. Start from barrack one and work your way up. You should find what you need inside.
”

  “How many barracks are there?”

  “Enough to keep you very busy for a while, Miss Shaw.” He had begun to walk away but then turned and said, “I will endeavor to send Fox Atlanta an email before all of this is over and thank them for all of your help.”

  “What was that about?” Charlie asked after Tyler left.

  “Don’t start with me, Charlie. Don’t even fucking start!”

  * * *

  Tyler strode directly to his office and shut the door.

  “Well, this isn’t exactly cleaning up used ordinance,” he said to himself.

  He sat down on an old wood swivel chair, which could have been carbon dated to the time of the Ark, and went through his options.

  It’s already here in Forest Park. I have limited manpower, and I drove a Humvee over a man who was clinically dead, but didn’t appear to know it. Cages --- the reporter was right to ask about them, should I question the idea too?

  How big was this going to get if the boys upstairs think we needed cages? Do we even have the time to build the damn things? Whatever these people or things are, I really don’t want the job of babysitting them.

  Tyler shut his eyes for a moment; he had a lot to think about, and plenty to do.

  They all had a lot to do.

  Susan Shaw --- she might be trouble.

  “Christ!” Tyler’s eyes sprang open. Car horns.

  TURMOIL AT THE GATES

  Two vehicles were waiting outside the base gates. One was a Forest Park police cruiser with its red and blue lights slowly rotating and the other an old weathered Dodge sedan.

  From a distance, it looked to Tyler as if there was blood splatter on the Dodge’s windows.

  “I wouldn’t have brought them here if I had any other choice! I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not leaving an injured child and her father to fend for themselves. Fuck infection!” Officer Cook said as he gesticulated wildly.