“Hey!” the driver of the jeep said with his end of the gurney still in his hands. “What the hell man? Where are you going?”
Clark ignored him. If the truck driver passed the infection on to anyone else, the whole base could be over-run. A line of soldiers had instinctively made a semicircle around the driver, their guns all aimed at him. “Someone needs to shoot him!” Clark said to the soldier still holding the gurney. Just then, General Dodge walked into the parking lot and up to the truck driver. That old man has balls, Clark thought.
“Hey!” Dodge called out to the driver. “Is there anyone else with you?”
The truck driver pointed at his trailer, an old beat up cargo container. That's bad news, Clark thought and slowly started to back away. If that is what I think it is …
“What’s in the back?” Dodge asked.
“Refugees,” the truck driver said, just as he bent over and threw up in a gush of blood. Clark felt a chill run down his back. Refugees? Holy shit!
“How many?” Clark heard Dodge ask. Some of the soldiers had already left the semicircle and gone to the back of the cargo container. The truck driver ignored the general’s question.
“Are the refugees infected?” Dodge asked, louder this time.
“I don’t know,” the truck driver said and he fell to his knees in his own vomit. “I’ve not heard anything out of there since the day before. We came straight over from Montana.”
“How many in the hold?” one of the soldiers yelled from near to the back of the container.
“Full,” the truck driver said. He put his hands to the sides of his head and began to moan. Clark swallowed hard. Full! Oh, please. Oh, shit. Don’t open that container, Clark thought. The truck driver looked up at the sky and groaned again.
“Sir?” one of the soldiers next to the general asked.
“Shoot him,” General Dodge ordered.
The soldier did not hesitate. He fired off a single shot, hitting the truck driver in the head. The bullet passed through the man's skull and blew out the tire on the truck.
Clark looked away from the sight and saw a mob of soldiers now gathered around the back of the cargo hold. He watched as the soldiers aimed their rifles at the back of the container. There was a lot of pointing and shouting, but no one appeared to want to open the door. Then one soldier showed up with what looked like a scuba diving tank on his back. Good Lord, Clark thought. Is that what I think it is?
The soldier held up a long black tube with a small flame on the end. Clark was not sure a flame thrower was the best idea, given the situation. Maybe I should say something to the general before –
Suddenly another soldier stepped forward, turned the door’s lever, and the two cargo doors burst open. A flood of infected poured out and all of the soldiers began to shoot at once. The flame thrower erupted, burning the first wave of infected, but one of the monsters stumbled forward and ran into the soldier with the flamethrower, knocking him backward. The soldier sprayed burning fuel straight up in the air and in an instant, the scene was chaos. Burning infected were running around the parking lot, attacking anything and everything. Soldiers were shooting sporadically. Clark watched as a soldier ineffectively shot an infected in the stomach, over and over as he tried to run away. Suddenly Rocha was behind the infected and shot it point blank in the back of its head with his rifle. “Hold your ground and aim for the head!” he yelled at the soldier.
I have got to get out of here! Clark thought once again when he saw a soldier with an infected on his back. The infected bit into the soldier’s neck and the soldier blindly opened fire with his machine gun. Bullets sprayed in a line, kicking up mud and dirt, nearly hitting Clark. “Son of a bitch!” Clark cried out as Rocha ran over to him.
“Hey, Doc!” Rocha said. “We need to find cover.”
“No shit!”
“This way,” Rocha said and nodded his head toward the cafeteria. Clark followed Rocha as they ran and took cover behind the corner of the building. Rocha took a knee, leaned out from behind the corner and started picking shots at the infected. Clark stood behind Rocha and watched. The soldier had one hell of a good aim. He made sure every shot was clear and that there was no one behind his target. He took his time, picked his targets, and made every bullet count. Infected continued to pour out of the back of the cargo container as more soldiers came out of the surrounding buildings. Vehicles were still driving in from all directions. Rocha shot and killed infected until he was out of ammunition, but dozens more remained.
“I’m out,” Rocha said.
Clark looked at the parking lot. Rocha must have killed thirty of the infected, their bloody corpses sprawled out in the dirt, but Clark saw more stumbling around. Some of them on fire, some feeding on what was left of the living. “Let’s go,” Rocha said and stepped out from behind the corner.
“What?” Clark asked. “Where are you going?”
“I need ammo,” Rocha said and pointed at a soldier hiding behind a Humvee.
“Aww, man,” Clark complained. He had no problem staying where they were, hidden and relatively safe for the moment. Unfortunately, Rocha was already moving and Clark didn’t want to get left behind. “This sucks,” he said as he followed.
Rocha walked over to the soldier cowering next to the Humvee. “Give me your weapon,” Rocha ordered. The soldier was so scared that the rifle noticeably shook in his hands. He could only stare back at Rocha. “Damn it, give me that,” Rocha said and snatched the rifle out of the soldier’s hands. He checked to make sure it was loaded, and then shot an infected that was eating another soldier nearby.
Clark looked around. Smoke filled the air but through the haze he saw an infected trying to get into the main building of the school. “Over there!” he said and pointed. Rocha turned, set the rifle butt in his shoulder, aimed, and blew the infected’s head off. Another one down, Clark thought and continued to scan the area. More of the infected stumbled out of the back of the cargo container. How many of those damn things are there? Just then Clark heard a siren and realized someone had the brains in their head to bring a fire truck. It was big, red, and beautiful. Rocha started shouting for everyone to make room for the truck. Clark saw the soldier with the flamethrower was on fire. He was dead and burning with the fuel tank still on his back. I wondered how hot that tank can get before --
The tank exploded. Flaming liquid erupted over everyone and everything within twenty feet. Clark dove under the Humvee just as the liquid blanketed the side of the vehicle. After a minute, he looked over and saw Rocha was lying on the ground next to him. “That was close,” Rocha said with a grin. Is this fun for you? Clark thought and felt like throwing up. He wasn’t a big fan of almost being burned to death. They waited a moment longer before crawling out and looking up over the hood of the Humvee. The parking lot was an inferno which reached clear to the side of the cafeteria.
Shit! Clark thought. My bags!
“The truck,” Rocha yelled.
“What?” Clark asked as he scanned for his duffel bags. He saw them and wanted to sit down and cry. Both were coated in fire and burned brightly against the side of the building. Oh, God! Clark thought. All that data!
Rocha grabbed his arm. “Follow me,” he said and ran for the fire truck.
With his research literally going up in flames and his opportunity to run and hide long passed, Clark reluctantly followed Rocha to the fire truck just as a soldier jumped down from the cab. More soldiers came over to help and Clark watched as they began to spray down the fires. Clark could only stand out of the way as the soldiers finished killing the infected inside the base and worked the firehose to put out the fire. When it was done, Clark walked over to his duffel bags and thought he was going to puke. Aside from all the personal gear he had brought with him, the valuable research documents he had gathered were destroyed. All the unique, irreplaceable records had burned to charcoal. Worse, there was only one place he knew he could get more firsthand information on why that one patient
was resistant to the infection.
TASHA
Tasha was tired of sitting on the small stool in the communications tent. She was bored and was watching Private Cleveland work at the radio when suddenly he pulled down his headphones and turned to her. “Ok,” he said. “Command promises the chopper really is heading our way.”
“For real?” Tasha asked.
Cleveland shrugged and grinned. “Who knows?”
After a day full of promises, Tasha did not know what to believe anymore. She had waited on the mountaintop throughout the day and tried to be patient, but every hour or so, Cleveland would tell her Command had called in to report the chopper was on the way. Then, Tasha would gather her gear, go outside and wait while everyone else made preparations for incoming zombies. Everyone would be on edge and then … nothing. Cleveland would stick his head back out of the tent and tell them the helicopter had been called off and they had to wait. “Our priority just isn’t high enough,” Williams explained to her. Tasha would puff out a breath of frustration and go back to wait in the tent. Still, maybe this time is the real time, she thought, gathering her gear and heading for the exit. Once outside, she looked around for Williams. He had told her earlier that when the helicopter got there, he would need to know where she was at all times. Tasha thought it was probably more accurate to say that Williams wanted to know where she was at all times so that she did not get him, her, or anyone else on the team killed. Standing there, she looked out over the Sound at the clouds gathering. They had blocked out the sun and while Tasha knew it was still early evening, it felt later. To make matters worse, the wind had turned cold and blew hard over the mountain top. Can a helicopter land in this wind? she wondered just as a gust threatened to blow her over.
She saw Williams come out of a bunker. “This sucks ass,” Williams announced, yelling to be heard over the wind.
“You mean this wind?” Tasha asked, but he either did not hear her or flat out ignored her.
“Come with me!” Williams yelled and started walking toward the road. Tasha, still wearing the military gear they had given her, bounced along behind him. She kept her hand on her helmet to keep it from blowing off in the wind and possibly taking her head with it. They went to the sandbag bunker installed at the top of the road. Ortiz was in there, crouching behind the machine gun.
“How you holding up, Corporal?” Williams asked.
“All good Sergeant,” she replied with a thumbs up. “You think they will be able to pick her up in this wind?”
“Hell if I know! What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Ha!” Ortiz laughed.
“You just keep an eye out for any vegetables,” Williams said.
“You got it, Sergeant!” Ortiz replied and hunkered back down behind the machine gun.
As Tasha and Williams walked away from the bunker and back toward the radio tent, Tasha asked what Ortiz had meant by that.
“Helicopters don’t do well in this kind of weather,” Williams said, yelling again. “Plus, to make things worse, we don’t have any direct communication with the pilots.”
“Why not?” Tasha yelled back.
“Different radio frequencies!”
Why not just adjust the frequencies? Tasha thought as they walked back to the clearing near the tent. She was going to ask Williams but he looked like he was in a bad enough mood and she did not want to make it worse by asking a stupid question. She decided she just had to trust the process, something she was not a big fan of doing. The two of them stopped and Williams looked at the sky.
“Where the hell are those guys?” he asked. Tasha did not answer and instead scanned the sky along with him. How am I supposed to know? she wondered. She did not know much of anything to do with the military. After the helicopter picks me up, will I go straight to Command? I don’t even know where that is! And what would it be like there? Tasha imagined it would be similar to Broken Top, just not on a hill. She hoped there would at least be food and water for everyone and that everything would be clean and organized. I wonder what I will do when I get there? Maybe some sort of job? She knew there were no free rides in the new world. What could I do? The only job she ever had before was working at a burger joint and all she had really done there was make french fries and make sure the floors stayed clean. Or, maybe they have a school going. She would like to finish high school. Before the outbreak, she had hated school with a passion, only going and doing well enough to stay eligible to play sports. Now, going back and finishing her education sounded like an accomplishment.
But what about the cure? And my blood? She knew they had to have a hospital. She could work there. If her blood really was important, maybe she could be part of finding the cure. She wondered how close they really were to solving the problem and why her blood type was so important. I bet there’s a whole team of doctors working day and night together and that they’re on the edge of a major breakthrough. They have to be or they would not have dropped the leaflets. Tasha wondered how long it would be before things were back to normal and what normal really meant to her any more.
She looked over at the city. All she could see was gray. She tried to imagine all of the lights on again with cars and busses driving up and down the streets. There was none of that now. It was almost like an old black and white photograph. She looked for the Command base, but she did not know which direction to even look. “Which way is Command?” she asked Williams.
Williams glanced at her and then at the city. He pointed. “That way,” he said.
Tasha looked, but could not see any identifying buildings. It just looked like the rest of the city. She wondered if the base had fences up like in the movies, with gun towers and big gates. She hoped so. She liked the idea of being safe for once. She could only imagine sleeping in a bed again, somewhere with a real door that closed and locked. There would be guards and she would not have to sleep with one eye open all night, jumping at every little sound, hiding in fear that a creeper would come after her ... or a ghoul. She shuddered at the memory.
“Heads up!” Williams shouted. “Chopper incoming!”
Tasha looked around but did not see anything. She was about to ask from where, when she heard the thump of the helicopter rotors. Turning, she saw the craft as it came roaring around the side of the mountain. Tasha thought it was huge. The helicopter was dark green with a red cross on a white background. One of the doors was open or missing and a soldier stood there in a green jumpsuit and a big white helmet. He was behind a machine gun like the one Ortiz had with her in the bunker and there was a crane sticking out of the door. Tasha was surprised at the size of the craft. She glanced around her. The terrain was very steep in all directions and it did not seem the turnaround at the end of the road was big enough. “Where is it going to land?” she asked.
Sergeant Williams looked at her. “Land? Oh, yeah!” he yelled and laughed. “There is something I forgot to tell you! Helicopters can’t land up here because there isn’t enough room. We tried a couple of times, but the ground is too steep and the parking lot is too small.”
The helicopter hovered for a moment and then rotated around to face the wind. “What does that mean for me?” she screamed to be heard over the roar of the helicopter and the wind.
A large gust exploded over the mountain and it suddenly began to rain. The helicopter was shoved back and Tasha watched as the pilot fought to maintain its position.
“What?” Williams yelled back at her.
Tasha looked up through the rain at the helicopter and pointed with her finger. “How do I get up there?” she yelled.
“They will lower a cable for you!”
“What!”
“They lower a cable with a basket. You just get in and they will lift you back up. You will be fine.”
Tasha looked up at the helicopter. It drifted dangerously back and forth in the wind and rain. “Like hell I will!”
“What?” Williams screamed at her.
Another large gust of win
d roared over the mountain and the helicopter again lost position, this time dropping hard toward the mountain. Tasha thought for a moment the helicopter was going to crash, but the pilot corrected at the last second and lifted back up to hover over them. Tasha and Williams both ducked. It felt like the aircraft was only a few feet over their heads.
“Son of a bitch!” Williams laughed. “I thought that bastard was going to land right on top of us!”
How is that funny? Tasha thought.
The rain began to storm down and the helicopter drifted backward and up again to gain altitude. “What is it doing?” Tasha asked. They watched the craft continue to climb before it dove forward, flew over their heads, over the bunker, and disappeared out over the Sound. “Where is it going?”
Before Williams could reply, Cleveland came running out of the radio tent. “Hey!” he yelled. “Command radioed a message. The pilot had to abort!”
“No shit!” Williams yelled back.
“Yeah,” Cleveland agreed. “For real. Command said they had to pull out. They couldn’t hold position or something and they are just about out of fuel. Command said they will need to refuel before they can come back and pick her up.”
“Godammit!” Williams complained. He was clearly furious. Tasha could understand that no one liked a change in plans, but he was really angry and she did not completely understand why.
Suddenly Tanner’s voice crackled over their radios. “Sergeant!” he yelled. “Head’s up! There is a whole swarm of vegetables coming through the city. Over.”
Williams’ face turned an ugly shade of red. “Shit!” he screamed. “Those dumb sons a bitches went off the wrong side of the mountain. Flying up here draws the vegetables. If they had flown off the other way, the vegetables would have chased them back down the mountain. But no!” He pointed out over the Puget Sound. “They went that way, so the damn zombies are going to keep coming.” He keyed his radio and yelled into it. “Copy Tanner. What are their numbers?”
Outbreak (Book 1): Emerald City Page 10