by Hunt, Jack
Chapter 15
Gottman killed the lunatic. He hurried in and scanned the room for more threats before reaching down and trying to wake Jenna. She was out cold. Blood trickled down the side of her temple. He could see she was breathing but they’d need to tend to that wound soon. He placed her left arm over his shoulders, and looped his right around her waist and hauled her to her feet. Across the way, in the adjoining room, the lab technician cowered. A look of fear masked his face as he gripped the doorway
“You!” Gottman shouted. “What’s your name?”
“Liam.”
“Well, Liam, I need you…”
As the words left his mouth another crazed maniac charged into the room. With his rifle hand wrapped around Jenna, he couldn’t bring up the rifle fast enough.
Fortunately he didn’t need to. Two rounds erupted, and the asshole dropped.
Running into view was Brody. His eyes darted between them and he rushed in to help. “What the hell happened?”
“She knocked herself out, what do you think?” he said. Again he motioned for Liam to hurry over. Liam darted across the corridor like a scared mouse and took his place so Gottman could check for threats. The other three were out of sight. There was a momentary break in the chaos allowing him to find the others and tell them to grab anything they could use as a weapon. The problem was none of them except Michael had much training in weapons. He scooped up the shotgun that had killed Nancy and they continued on until they reached the exit. A swift kick to the door and it burst open into the parking lot where fires were raging and illuminating the night.
Gottman’s jaw dropped when he saw their truck was gone.
Gottman went into panic mode.
“No. NO. NO!” He scanned his field of vision, searching the lot of cars, many had been destroyed. It was as if they had entered a war zone, and someone had thrown Molotov cocktails at vehicles. The fire crackled as it ate away at the insides of vehicles.
Brody emerged clutching Jenna with Liam on the other side.
“It’s gone. It’s gone,” Gottman said punching the air with his fist and cursing loudly. In policing you had to adapt to changing situations. One minute you could be pulling someone over for a busted taillight, the next, dodging bullets. They worked in a state of discomfort, making split decisions on the fly. This was no different.
“We’ll find another vehicle, let’s just keep moving.” Brody turned to an orderly who had offered to take Jenna.
“The name’s Michael,” he said.
Brody was hesitant but knew that it would serve them better if he was protecting their six. Several screams cut into the night, close by, enough to scare the shit out of them and make them move. They were going to need a vehicle to make it to Marfa, but right now it was about survival, nothing more. When they entered the building, it was peaceful and calm. How quickly everything had taken a turn for the worse. Sorenson looked in a state of shock. His eyes were wide like a deer caught in headlights. They hurried south trying to put as much distance as possible between them and the hospital which now had smoke rising above it on the north side. However, they didn’t make it far. On the south side a strong force of military was still there engaging with a crowd of people who were inside the building but had taken out the windows and were returning fire.
Gottman held a fist up, peering around the corner before directing everyone to go left towards the trees. There was very little to hide behind, it was mostly flat desert plains with few shrubs and trees. If it weren’t for the night they would have been spotted.
The sound of gunfire faded as they walked further southeast. Brody knew the Alpine Area Engineer Maintenance facility was a few miles south, and across from that an RV park. He had to wonder if some of the maniacs came from that park.
The group walked in silence, shock setting in, and questions rising.
Brody glanced at Jenna; her head hung low, toes dragging as the two men carried her. He jogged up to the doctor near the front of the group.
“Sorenson.” He turned. “You want to fill in the blanks?”
He shrugged. “It’s a pandemic.”
“Well no shit. What are we dealing with?”
“Well it isn’t zombies,” Gottman said, “because when you kill them they don’t get back up. That is right, doc?”
He nodded, and scoffed finding humor in Gottman’s analysis. “They’re just ordinary people. Like anyone who might contract Ebola.”
“Except this isn’t Ebola, is it?”
He shook his head as they continued trudging south. They could just make out the lights of RV vans in the distance. Little pinpricks of luminescent amber light. The sound of generators could be heard churning over.
“You work for the military?” Brody asked.
“I was brought in by the military. I work for the CDC out of Chicago.”
“Why would they bring you in when they have their own people?”
“For testing.”
“Testing for what?” Gottman asked looking over his shoulder to make sure the group was safe.
“It’s called the amygdala syndrome.”
“The what?” Brody asked.
“The military was working on a new form of drug to enhance soldiers. Initially it was created from studies into dealing with PTSD and memories. At some point they began to look at the fight-or-flight response, our basic survival instinct and the possibilities of removing fear and anxiety.”
“Great. Uncle Sam isn’t satisfied with getting people to sign up, now they want lab rats,” Brody said.
“It was done with the best intentions.”
“Yeah?” Gottman said. “Then how did we end up in this mess?” He adjusted his rifle between his two arms and spat on the ground.
“Look, this isn’t new. They were testing all forms of drugs back in the Vietnam War. Back then they were giving them drugs like speed, steroids and painkillers to help them deal with extended combat. They’ve just ramped things up since then.”
“So you’re telling me all these maniacs that we’ve encountered were the end result of what the military was trying to create?”
“No. No, it went wrong.”
“No shit,” Gottman said without even looking at him. Sorenson glanced at him then back at Brody. He was about to explain more but it would have to wait as they were close to the RV park and needed to have their wits about them. The park had enough sites for up to seventy RVs including big rigs. The structures on site were used for a welcoming area, office, shop, cabins, washrooms, showers, playground and a rec room. It was popular with the tourists in the summer months and this summer was no exception. However, it looked different than it usually did with some of the cabins on fire, and several RVs abandoned, and many having collided with one another as if attempting to make an escape.
Brody turned to the others and told them to wait among the ponderosa pines while he and Gottman checked it out. Surrounding the entire park were pine trees that had been planted to provide privacy, and to give people a sense they were in the woods when in reality they were smack bang in the middle of an arid desert. The group huddled together as Brody and Gottman ran at a crouch towards an RV where the door was wide open. They darted inside and Brody used his cell to provide light. It looked like whoever had been there had left in a hurry as they’d left two plates of food on the counter, and the stove was still on. All that concerned Brody was seeing if the keys were still in the ignition — they weren’t. They began rooting around looking for them but didn’t have much success so they exited and tried another one.
It was a bad mistake.
Inside a man lay on the floor of the RV, his guts hanging out of his stomach, and the knife that had torn him open embedded in his chest.
“Geesh. Animals,” Gottman said stepping over him and making his way down to the front. He checked the ignition. Nothing. Brody checked the glove compartment, and then Gottman pulled down the sun visor and keys jangled as they hit the seat. “Ah, bingo!”
“Let’s get him out.”
They returned to the rear and Gottman went to lift the dead man and Brody yelled, “No. Put your gloves on. We can’t take any chances.” He nodded and after slipping into gloves they hauled him out of there.
Just as they dropped his body and were about to reboard, they heard a woman screaming, “No! Come back with my baby.”
Brody turned and Gottman grabbed his arm. “Leave it. We can’t help.”
He nodded, and took a few steps towards the RV as the screaming persisted. He couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. Call it instincts. Duty. Or human decency. He patted Gottman on the back as he was stepping into the RV. “Start it up. I’ll be right back.”
“Chief.”
“Just do it!” he said tearing away and running in the direction of the screams. It was pitch black out. No stars in the sky. Besides the screams from the woman it was eerily quiet for an RV park. He pounded the ground, crossing over into row B, and darting between two RVs before coming out and finding a woman sitting near the rec room on a bench holding a baby in one hand and a handgun in the other. The lady screaming was standing nearby pleading with her to give back her baby. One glance at the woman under the glow of the moon made it clear she was infected. Her skin had turned leathery, her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was running.
While Sorenson hadn’t explained how the infection was transferred, Brody was certain that the odds of that child not becoming infected were slim to none. The woman was pressing her face against the baby and clutching it like it was the most precious thing in her life. She reminded him of some of the drug addicts he’d found in a crack house a few months back — women and men strung out on drugs, their eyes sallow, and cheeks gaunt, and a lifeless dead look to their gaze.
Brody scanned his surroundings for threats before circling around the rec room. He figured if he could get the gun out of her hand that would at least give the baby some chance of survival. He wasn’t going to shoot her, at least not with the baby in hand. As he came into view, the woman who was screaming spotted him. He put a finger up to his lips and pulled back behind the corner. He looked around for anything he could wield — something long and sturdy. A quick decision to dart over to an RV, and he returned with a long pole that was attached to the top of the vehicle using bungee cords. It looked like the kind of thing that might have been used to hang washing out. It was close to six feet in length. The woman was still there when he returned.
He studied her movements. They went in an obsessive cycle. She would bring the barrel of the gun up to the child, at which point the mother would cry out and that would cause her to aim it at her. But she hadn’t squeezed the trigger. Why? He’d seen the way the others were in the hospital, they didn’t hesitate. Was it possible she was still in the early stage of the infection? Was each person affected differently? Was it slowly but surely overtaking them like a crippling disease?
Brody made his move. Slowly he closed the gap between them while her arm was outstretched with the gun. He reared back the metal rod and brought it down hard just behind the wrist, and hit hard enough to break it. The gun dropped, clattering on the ground, and he kicked it away as the mother came rushing in and grabbed her baby. It all happened so quickly.
The woman was lying on the ground screaming in pain as Brody turned to leave.
He’d been so focused on the woman he didn’t notice the crowd of people closing in. By the time he spotted them his escape route was gone.
They stared at him, some twitched others sneered.
All of them were suffering from different degrees of the disease.
Brody turned 360 degrees and realized why so many had become infected. All it took was one, and it would spread. “Back off!” Brody yelled, swiping the air with the steel rod and trying to protect the scared mother who was clutching her crying child. The large group lunged and Brody backed into the cabin rec room behind them with the woman and the kid. He closed the door and locked it. But they weren’t out of the woods yet, the crowd was moving in on them.
Chapter 16
The sound of glass shattering sent a cold jolt of fear coursing through Nick’s body. He and Emerick were searching for an alternative route out of the school but scanning the windows they could see more and more people moving in on the school. Many were fighting each other, as if under threat, while others were rattling locked doors on the school, smashing glass and climbing.
“Kid, you ever fired a gun?”
Nick frowned. “What happened to being the last person on the planet?”
“That was then, this is now.” Emerick removed the Glock and in a matter of seconds took him through a few simple steps of loading and unloading a gun, clearing a jam and aiming. It was foundational. Stuff he already knew from his old man. While his father hadn’t let him shoot a weapon, he wasn’t opposed to letting him hold an unloaded gun. He didn’t want him to be afraid of them. It was all about common sense. Treating every weapon as if it was loaded, never pointing at anything you didn’t intend to kill, and understanding that it wasn’t a toy. He didn’t want to burst Emerick’s bubble as he showed him how to grip it. Nick remembered when he fourteen and his father took him out the back of their house and showed him the exact same thing. In that moment his mind drifted to better days, times when his father and mother got on well. And when they weren’t fighting, slamming doors, or reversing down the driveway.
“So you got that, kid?”
He nodded.
“Keep that gun pointed in a safe direction, and always keep your finger off that trigger until ready to shoot. You understand. And whatever the fuck you do. Do not point it at me. You got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
He slapped him on the back. “Let’s move to higher ground.”
They dashed down the corridor and slipped into a stairwell and took two steps at a time until they were on the second floor. As they moved past classrooms, Nick’s heart was thumping hard in his chest. His breathing was fast as the ever-present sense of danger heightened. As they wandered down the empty hallway, Emerick was making suggestions on what they should do. Hide in one of the classrooms. Find an open window and climb out onto the roof. Or just wait it out and hope to God that no one came up the second floor. Nick was listening and was about to reply when a dark blur shot out knocking Emerick to the floor. In the dark it was hard to see. All Nick could determine was that it had Emerick by the throat and was attempting to kill him. They wrestled around on the floor until they rolled into a shard of light filtering in from the moon. That’s when Nick saw it was a soldier, the same one he’d seen outside before they had made their escape. He had short blond hair, a granite jaw, and was outfitted in the same military gear, minus the helmet. While his skin looked the same, there was clearly something unstable about him.
“Shoot him!” Emerick said trying his best to get the muscular soldier off him. It was near impossible. This was a man who was trained to kill. Emerick’s rifle had dropped out of his hand and clattered down the corridor. It was now a couple of feet away. “Nick, shoot him.”
Nick raised the Glock but was paralyzed by fear. He’d never killed anyone. He’d never been in a situation like this. But in that moment, when he was seconds away from squeezing the trigger, the soldier turned and looked at him. “Don’t shoot,” he said.
“Shoot him!” Emerick continued to cry out as the soldier maintained his grip on Emerick’s throat.
The soldier looked back down at Emerick and said, “You’re not infected?”
“Do I look like it?” Emerick asked. “Are you?”
He shook his head.
The soldier glanced at Nick again and then released his grip and rose to his feet. “I thought you were one of them,” he said brushing himself off and then clutching Emerick’s hand and hauling him to his feet. “I’m sorry but can’t be too careful.”
“Yeah, well maybe next time ask before you decide to go all python on my ass,” Emerick said angrily before makin
g his way down and scooping up his rifle.
“Why are you still here?” Nick asked lowering his weapon.
The soldier cast a nervous glance down the hallway. “We were overrun both from inside and out. It happened within hours of being here. Some of the teachers and students began to act erratic, then locals, parents I believe showed up here and wanted answers. I’m not sure if they were infected or not but arguments over their kids turned into a riot and once the shooting began, it got out of control real fast. We were in the process of loading them on to school buses to transfer to a temporary FEMA camp not far from here when it all happened. I got lost in the chaos. Dropped my gun and…” he trailed off and looked down as if embarrassed or ashamed. Nick had a sense that wasn’t exactly how it played out and maybe he ran out of fear and hid. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d heard of military guys losing it in the heat of battle. Not everyone was hardened and prepared to deal with bullets flying over their heads.
“Well—” Emerick was about to say something when a loud bang down below put them all on alert.
“Quick, this way,” the soldier said.
“What is your name?” Nick asked.
“Chad O’Brien.” He led them into the room he’d come out of. He closed the door behind them, then opened a window, where he proceeded to climb out. “Come on,” he said as they hesitated to follow. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to get as far away from this place as possible, it was the question of why hadn’t he? If this had all taken place hours ago, why was he still here? Nick was the first to climb out. As soon as they were out, he closed the window and hunched over jogging towards a large steel vent protruding from the roof.
“Why haven’t you escaped?” Emerick asked.
“It’s not because I haven’t wanted to leave, it’s because it’s damn near impossible. Let me show you.” Chad took them over to the lip of the roof, which provided a view of the east side. Down below there had to have been approximately a hundred people. Some of them looked dazed and confused, others stood frozen looking ahead and mumbling to themselves.