The Infected Dead (Book 1): Alive for Now

by Bob Howard

  Chief Barnes rotated the plane until it was facing straight out to sea and powered up. He was in the air and banking to the right so fast I couldn’t believe it. He leaned toward us and said, “The faster we get away from the area the less likely someone will get a fix on where we came from.”

  We stayed even with the coast for a few miles and then came back over the dunes and trees at a south westerly course as we also gained altitude. If anyone saw us they would think we came from near this part of the coast instead of Mud Island.

  When we reached our cruising altitude, Chief Barnes leaned over and signaled for us to all bring our heads together over a chart. He had marked the routes from Mud Island to Lake Moultrie and from Mud Island to the Naval Weapons Station in Goose Creek.

  He pointed at both destinations and said, “It’s almost a perfect triangle. Ninety miles to Lake Moultrie, ninety miles from Mud Island to Goose Creek, and ninety miles from Lake Moultrie to Goose Creek. I’d still like to fly towards the lake in case we have to land, but how about skipping the stop at Lake Moultrie and go straight for the main target? We should have more than enough fuel for the round trip.”

  “It’s just a couple of hours one way,” he added.

  We all nodded our heads in agreement, and he plotted the course toward Goose Creek from Lake Moultrie. I felt a tug at my shirt, and turned to find Jean reaching to pull me back to my seat.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea, survivor boy,” she said playfully. “We have work to do.”

  Jean pulled two sets of binoculars from her backpack and handed one to me. “We need to be watching out of both sides of the plane.”

  “Are we looking for anything in particular?” I asked.

  “No, Baby, anything moving is worth knowing about, whether it’s dead or alive.”

  I looked at her when she called me ‘Baby,’ and I got goosebumps. I had been a loner for so long that I didn’t even know what to say, but Jean was happy to help me get used to the idea of being around other people, especially her.

  She gave me a smile and put the binoculars to her eyes as she leaned toward the right side windows. I did the same out the left side and brought my binoculars into focus.

  I immediately realized why Jean had said anything moving would be interesting. Everything I saw was sitting still. There were cars sitting still on roads, and there were dark shapes on and off the roads that had to be bodies, but nothing was moving. Visibility was very good, and the Chief kept the plane steady, so I had time to focus on details. There wasn’t anything encouraging to report except the fact that there weren’t any infected dead walking around, either.

  Jean was the first to spot something moving, and it was close to the halfway point. There was a group of about six infected dead walking down a road. She watched until we were well past them to see if they reacted to the sound of the plane. Either we were too high, or they weren’t interested, because they never looked up.

  Time went by fast, and soon we were passing the small town of Moncks Corner. With a population of only about ten thousand people, there didn’t seem to be any heavy concentrations of the infected. We saw them from both sides of the plane, but the largest group was in the Walmart parking lot.

  We already had the discussion about Walmart when we were back in the shelter having a cozy drink around the kitchen table. I had told the others that Uncle Titus had talked about the apocalypse and how everyone would go to Walmart at the last minute because if you needed something, you could get it at Walmart.

  Jean had asked, “Did you ever go to Walmart on Black Friday? It’s brutal. Can you imagine what it would be like to go there when other customers weren’t just trying to kill you, but to eat you?”

  I had been to the Walmart we were flying over, and I remembered a lady taking things out of my shopping cart just because she wanted them, and it wasn’t even Black Friday.

  Now there were groups of the infected at different places around the outside. It looked like a group of them were trapped inside the garden section, and I figured they were going to be there for a long time.

  Chief Barnes turned and told us that he was going to follow Highway 52 into Goose Creek and then turn east when we were parallel to the Naval Weapons Station. He said it should give them an idea of how bad it had gotten in the area. Goose Creek was only about forty-thousand people, and it was mostly suburban. The lack of an urban area would have given them at least a fighting chance at survival.

  Kathy held up her hand to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone listen up,” she said. She put the radio on speaker so everyone could hear what was being said.

  “Casualties are high, and the infection continues to spread. There is no known cure for being bitten. If you are bitten, and if you love the people you are with, you should do the right thing and off yourself before someone else has to, or even worse, before you bite someone you love.”

  Chief Barnes said, “Who is that, Kathy?”

  “The person broadcasting said he was a pastor at some church. He said he was passing along information for the military, but I don’t believe him. From the way he started the broadcast, I doubt the military even exists anymore,” she answered.

  “What did he say at the start of the broadcast?” I asked.

  “He said this was a scourge brought on us by God for passing laws for same sex marriage,” she said. “Doesn’t sound like someone the military would use as a PR person. If the military was capable of passing along a message, it wouldn’t come through this guy.”

  “Any military broadcasts?” asked Jean.

  “No, and my guess would be that they will remain quite,” said Kathy.

  “What makes you think the military will stay quiet?” I asked.

  Chief Barnes answered for her. “It’s only logical, Ed. The military got pushed back into disconnected units. Ships are at sea, bases are overrun, no word from a Commander in Chief, and not enough supplies to be taking in survivors. Not to mention the risk of the infection being able to get inside the places where they have dug in.”

  “Chief Barnes,” I said,“How do we know the military won’t fire on us?”

  “We don’t, Ed, but there’s a pretty good chance they might want this plane, so they would rather take it from us than shoot it down. We should be safe while we’re in the air. After we land, it’s anybody’s guess what they will do.”

  “The preacher and his friends, on the other hand, are more likely to try to bait us in for a closer shot. That’s why they want us to think the military is with them,” said the Chief.

  By this time we had flown down Highway 52 past the town hall and police station. The surrounding area was all crowded with suburban neighborhoods. Two story, three bedroom houses in several designs were on both sides of the highway, and it was so strange to see everything so still.

  Some of the houses had burned to the ground. Some fires had spread to neighboring homes and then consumed entire blocks. A few were still smoking, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to spark fires a month after everything fell apart. The stories on the ground probably included people who had survived the initial holocaust, only to be flushed out into the open by a shortage of supplies.

  South Carolina doesn’t typically have basements because the water table is so close to the surface, so people didn’t have anywhere to go but up, and people wouldn’t have had time to reach the Goose Creek Walmart or the hardware stores dotting the area to load up on supplies. Sooner or later, someone would drag their barbecue grill inside their garage and set fire to the house.

  It looked like there was still power to most of the area. There were some digital billboards over the intersections where people would have the longest waits at red lights, and the red lights were still working. There were plenty of cars sitting at those intersections, but they didn’t go when the lights changed.

  As we flew over the most heavily congested intersections, we could only imagine they way it had all played out, but I had seen it first hand i
n Surfside. It didn’t look real, but it was.

  There was an ambulance sitting at one intersection, and the back doors were still open. I remembered the EMT’s rushing forward to help, only to be forced to turn and run when they became the victims who needed the help.

  By the time the Chief banked to the left where Highway 52 met with St. James Avenue, we all felt like we had seen enough. Burned out homes, cars and trucks abandoned in the road, and the endless bodies. The only thing really absent were the infected dead that were conspicuous in their absence. We expected to see them everywhere, but there was nothing moving.

  Our answer to where the infected had gone was answered soon enough. As we approached the main entrance of the Naval Weapons Station we saw them. They were everywhere.

  The Chief had kept a respectable altitude in order to go unnoticed if possible. Kathy said, “Can you imagine the noise level down there? Must be a couple of thousand at least.”

  The Chief said to all of us, “In case you’re wondering, there are plenty of good places to land on the river. I’m going to fly over the Weapons Station to get there. Kathy is going to be monitoring all channels in case someone tries to hail us. Jean, Ed, I need you two working those binoculars. Try to spot any kind of central command and control.”

  As we flew above the main road that drives through the heart of the Weapons Station, we saw that it wasn’t laid out like a typical military base. The main gate is usually right up front, but to reach the actual restricted part of the base, there was a long straight road.

  “Chief,” I said as I tapped him on the shoulder, “why isn’t there a big gate with concrete barriers or something.”

  Kathy leaned over to where we could all hear her and said, “Do you notice anything about the hoard of infected dead?”

  I looked down at Redbank Road which seemed to be straight as an arrow for miles and saw that the dead were spread out, and there were bodies mixed in with those that were still moving forward.

  As I watched, Jean said, “Are you guys seeing this? It’s like that great wall of infected reaches a specific point and then they drop over dead.”

  “Someone is shooting them,” I said. “And they must be damned good shooters, because the bodies are really piling up.”

  Chief Barnes said, “Do you see why they don’t need a gate, Ed? The infected have to walk a straight line for miles, and those heavy trees along both sides of the road must be jammed up with military snipers. If we were lower, we could probably hear them.”

  I put my binoculars to my eyes and watched the infected dropping to the ground. To the left and right sides of the road there were clear zones about fifty to one hundred yards wide. Then there were deep ditches, and then there were tall fences. Most of the shambling infected dead just stayed on the road and tried to keep moving forward, but they eventually were dropped by an expertly placed bullet.

  Occasionally a pack of them would veer off to the right or left. If any weren’t shot by the time they crossed the clearings, the ditches did the rest. None would be able to get out of the ditches to be able to test the fences.

  Kathy had been using her headphones again, and her head suddenly popped up from the controls to the radio.

  “Joint Command Naval Weapons Station say again,” she said into the microphone that curved down in front of her mouth.

  We all looked at her with surprise because the Chief had told her not to key up the microphone unless she had to.

  Kathy paused as she listened to something in her headset, then she keyed up again. “JC NWS, our destination is the Cooper River and the pier at Snow Point, over.”

  She switched on the speaker so we could all hear the response. “Otter seaplane approaching JC NWS, I repeat, you do not have clearance to land. If you land, you will be fired upon, over.”

  “NWS we request permission to land and assist with NWS defense. I am a trained Charleston police officer. We have a civilian naval officer and a registered nurse on board. We would be an asset to your defense, over.”

  Kathy didn’t say anything about me because I didn’t really have anything going for me except that I owned a survivalist’s dream home, a boat, a houseboat, and a seaplane. My skills at video games weren’t really worth mentioning.

  We all felt like we had the rug yanked out from under us. The military seemed to have taken a good stand at this location, but they weren’t taking in guests.

  Kathy tried again before they could answer. “NWS we don’t understand. We are infection free and can be of assistance. Please let us land, over.”

  The voice on the other end of the radio replied coldly, “Otter seaplane, JC NWS cannot support additional civilians at this time. We have weapons targeting your aircraft. When you reach the Cooper River, you will proceed east toward the Wando River. If you change course before you have reached the Wando River, you will be terminated, over and out.”

  The last three words were like saying there would be no further discussion.

  As we passed over the end of Redbank Road, we saw a real military gate, but it wasn’t as if they would actually need it. The target rich environment at the other end of the wide road was going to be the stopping point for most of the infected.

  We saw the Cooper River up ahead, and Jean said, “Guys, look at this.” She pointed southeast of our path toward Snow point, and we saw that the former submarine piers were back in business. There were several warships lined up around tenders, ships that serviced and supplied submarines and destroyers.

  Chief Barnes said, “I didn’t think this place would fall, so I don’t understand why they won’t let us land. It wouldn’t be too hard to quarantine us until they were sure we were safe.”

  “Maybe that has something to do with it, Chief.” I pointed more to the northeast of the piers where an armada of private sailboats and power boats were crowded into one area. There were hundreds of them.

  “Good God,” said Kathy.

  Her reaction was pretty much shared by all of us. The boats were littered with bodies, and a few still had infected dead on their decks. We saw a few fall overboard as we approached the middle of the Cooper River.

  We were surprised when JC NWS came over the radio again. “Otter seaplane, this is JC NWS, please be advised that our base has lost the capacity to contain the outbreak of the infection. We are withdrawing to the fleet of naval vessels at Snow Point. We are already limited with regard to our ability to provide assistance.”

  The radio operator sounded almost apologetic while explaining the circumstances below. “The civilian vessels you see in the Cooper River are people who tried to seek military protection. Due to the relative isolation of the NWS facilities, we were able to provide shelter and protection, but the infection came over from Daniel Island on the private boats. That area is now known as the Deadhead Yacht Club. We advise that you continue on course as far up the Wando River and beyond as possible. There are no existing safe zones on the South Carolina coast, over and out.”

  Kathy keyed up one last time, “JC NWS, thank you for the information. Can you provide any further intel with regard to Naval Base at Kings Bay, Georgia or bases near Norfolk, Virginia, over?”

  “Otter seaplane, that’s a negative. Naval Station Jacksonville is also evacuating, over. Good luck to you and your friends.”

  Kathy took off the headset and sat it aside. We were passing over marshes and a few minutes later we could see the Wando River ahead. Chief Barnes stayed on a true course, not because he was afraid they would still shoot them down, but because it wouldn’t do any good to turn back. The military was probably pulling its snipers away from the trees lining the road, and within a few hours they would be heading out to sea.

  It would probably take a few days for the infected dead to walk all the way to the fortified gate, and maybe it would hold for a few more days, but Joint Command Naval Weapons Station had given up because people who had been bitten just weren’t willing to do the right thing to keep it from spreading. I imagined man
y of them were even bitten by loved ones themselves.

  ******

  We followed the Wando River until it became too narrow to land further ahead, and we were all surprised when the Chief gradually turned and brought the plane lower, then lined up for a landing.

  The map showed that we were about a half mile up river from the Paradise Island public boat landing, but the Chief was taking us toward a private dock.

  Kathy traced her finger along the path that matched ours and said, “You’re trying to get us close to Wando Farms Road. Why, Chief?”

  “Because someone must’ve gotten off a lucky shot. We’ve been losing power since we passed over the Weapons Station. It looks like we’re walking from here,” said the Chief.

  Jean said, “Did anybody else see what I saw in the bunker area of the Naval Weapons Station?”

  Kathy turned toward the back seats and said, “Yeah, I saw it, too. There were a lot of infected strolling around by the bunkers. Some of them were in uniform.”

  The bunkers were lined up in six rows with eight bunkers per row. Forty-eight bunkers originally intended for storage of the ballistic missiles that were shot out of submarines, were perfect to convert to be fallout shelters. The Navy probably evacuated the families who lived on base and stashed them in the bunkers.

  It must’ve looked like a good idea at the time, but they undoubtedly suffered the same fate as all other bases. No one wanted to leave a bitten family member behind.

  “I saw women and children wandering around between the bunkers,” said Jean. “I also saw military snipers tracking us from the top of that big berm that surrounds the bunkers.”

  “In that case, I guess it wasn’t just a lucky shot,” said Chief Barnes.

  “You said we have to walk from here, Chief. Any chance of fixing it?” I asked.

  “Not much chance at all, Ed. There are a lot of things you can fix with string, but the problems that are related to engine pressure are usually major. If it’s just an oil line, we can probably come back and repair it, but we won’t know until I get a look at the damage.”