by Kuhn, Steve
Kylee took over the mic and identified herself. She told him we were all listening.
Hicks: Well, you and Don have certainly thrown a wrench into whatever plans your crazy old man had goin’. Thigpen wanted me to get to the bottom of just what the hell was goin’ on at that facility, and I gotta tell you, we’re waist deep in a pile of monkey shit. I had words with the doctor and one of your people before the colonel’s men showed up for the fireworks show, and they filled me in on all of it. It’s a helluva story, to say the least.
Kylee: You said ‘one of our people’? Was his name Murphy?
Hicks: Yeah. That’s the guy.
Kylee: Is he alive? Is he with you?
[Long pause]
Hicks: No. No, he isn’t with us. Once the shooting started, the eggheads and any civvies they had there were either killed in the crossfire or they ran off like roaches when the light comes on.
Kylee: What about a girl? Name’s Alyse. She was wounded but recovering. Any word on her?
Hicks: Negative, lady. Look… can we play Family Ties later? I got shit to do.
Kylee: No, we can’t. This is important—maybe not to you, but it is to us. Is she alive?
Hicks: [Sigh] I don’t know. The infirmary and the offices were hit with mortar fire at the onset of the battle. Once the Goddamn bernie enclosure fell, it was a fuckin’ mess. We burned it all up.
Kylee: Wait. You burned it down?
Hicks: Yeah. It wasn’t our intention, but the boys got a little keyed up when the army pukes breached the gate, and we got a little carried away with the incendiaries. The place might have been destroyed, but we kicked the shit outta them. We were outnumbered ten to one, but those pukes didn’t have a clue who they were fuckin’ with. While they been sittin’ pretty in Bragg, we been kickin’ ass and leavin’ a footprint. My men have seen enough death to fill a hundred lifetimes, but those army boys under the colonel couldn’t handle the thought. For every one we killed, three turned tail and ran like little bitches. Stupid shits. I bet they got the colonel convinced they won that fight, too. Pfft… whatever.
Kylee: Are you aware that you may have destroyed any chances of fixing this shit, or did that not enter your mind at any point?
Hicks: Look, lady. Are you gonna sit there and bust my balls all day, or do you people actually have something to offer?
Kylee mouthed the words, ‘What an asshole,’ to us before keying the mic again.
Kylee: Here’s the deal. Don and I are the only ones that we know of who have the physical traits to sort this shit out. I’m sure Morofsky explained that to you. With enough time and the right people working on it, we can still beat it. But to do that we need the colonel out of the way, we need a safe place to settle in, and we need you… you… with the help of Thigpen to ensure all that can happen. You think you’ve been under pressure? You ain’t seen shit yet, pal. Now, I suggest you choose your next actions very carefully unless you plan to live what little time you got left surrounded by dead motherfuckers that wanna eat you with zero chance of a normal life ever again. Any chance for the entire world to see an end to this plague is now sitting squarely on your shoulders, Hicks. How’s that for pressure, buddy? You can make history, or you can be history. Now what do you plan to do about that?
[Long pause]
Hicks: Goddammit, lady, we’re low on ammo, low on food, low on water, and that asshole father of yours has cut off all of our supply routes. The only thing we aren’t short on is fuel.
[Inaudible voices]
Hicks: All right… look. We’re about a day’s drive from Nellis, but that’s haulin’ ass. If I give you our position, do you think you can make it to us? We’re dug in pretty good, so I give you my personal guarantee we’ll be here when you arrive.
Kylee: Negative. We’re completely surrounded with nowhere near enough ammo to even put a dent in the herd. They got us pinned down in an air-control tower, and they’re still comin’. We ain’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.
Hicks: [Sigh] Well, shit. Standby.
[Dead air]
Hicks: Lemme get on the horn with Thigpen and get his take. Maybe he’s got an idea. In the meantime, keep quiet and keep your heads down. Got it? Leave this channel open, and don’t speak to anyone else—not anyone.
Kylee: Heard that.
That was about two hours ago, and we’re starting to lose light. This sucks just to be waiting around for…
Wait!
I hear a chopper. It’s a Goddamn helicopter!
Entry 151
Yep, it was a chopper all right. Exciting as that may have been, it wasn’t exactly what we were hoping for. When I first heard the deep thumping of the blades in the distance, I had these images in my mind of some team of special forces dudes rappelling into the airfield below, while covering fire from some big-ass 30 mm helicopter-type shit was mowing down the dead by the tens. I had visions of them landing that bitch right in the middle of a hundred corpses and waving us into it like some commando extraction as we ducked our heads under the blades, wind whipping through our hair, taken off to the safety of Kilo Company. Fuck yeah!
More like fuck you.
The chopper made its approach and hovered over the field of the dead, holding its position. It was small—feebly small even. In fact, it probably had a maximum capacity of three guys plus the pilot. It just sat there, suspended in the air, as the hundreds of bernies below reached into the sky as if they could actually reach it. The only thing it was succeeding at was turning a rag-tag mob of the undead into a tightly packed ball of stink directly under its airspace.
The pilot could be seen plain as day, even in the waning light. He made a hand signal by raising his palm as if to say to us, ‘Don’t move.’ Then he adjusted the little microphone arm on his helmet and began to speak into his communicator. Seconds later, the radio in our tower sparked back to life.
It was Hicks. He told us, “Ah, good. The pilot’s telling me they made it, and they got a visual on you. That sound about right?”
Don snagged the mic up and said, “Yeah, we got him. Best thing we’ve seen in weeks. So, you pulling us outta here or what?”
Hicks came back with, “Um… well… no, not exactly. Take this info down.” I passed my pen and an empty page from my book to Don, and he scribbled down the position of Kilo as relayed by Hicks before passing me back my stuff. Then Hicks told him firmly, “You have five minutes to get your shit in gear. Gather everything you need, and be ready to bug out. When you’re set, give the pilot a thumbs-up and take cover. They’re gonna mow you a path outta there. Once you’re clear, haul ass to our position. We’ll be here. Got that?”
Don grumbled at the thought as he realized the same thing I did. We were gonna have to fight for whatever good things come to us. It was always the same. He asked Hicks, “I guess you won’t be giving us a ride then?”
Hicks replied disappointedly, “Unfortunately, no. That bird there is the only thing Thigpen could cut loose, and we’re lucky we got that much. If it was anybody else in that tower, I’m sad to say you’d be S.O.L. No more talk now. We’ll have time for that once you’re safely with us. Good luck, and we’ll see you in a day or so.”
Luckily, we stayed ready to move. Our shit was always in go-bags, and we never really settled into a place anymore. We knew better. Instead of scrambling to pack up, Don took that precious five minutes to gather us all around and whip up some personal med-kits. He explained, “Everyone take one of these. I want you all to keep them in your right-front pocket.”
Seth was only half paying attention, and he tucked it into his left pocket. Don snapped at him, “I said you’re right-front pocket.”
Seth scoffed and asked, “What difference does it make?”
Don exhaled to remain patient and told us, “If we’re in the shit, we need to know exactly where it’s kept. It could save your life. We used to do this all the time when I was on a tour. If any one of us goes down, you grab their med-kit… Don’t use your own on them. U
se theirs. That way you have yours on you in case you get injured. Follow?”
We all nodded and stashed the kits as instructed. When that was settled, we strapped our packs and bags on our backs, made sure our weapons were loaded, and Kylee gave the pilot the thumbs-up. We took cover under the desks as best we could.
From my position, I could only partially see what was going on in the sky and nothing of what was going on at the ground level. The chopper peeled off to the right and gained some altitude before what looked like a bunch of tennis balls came tumbling out of the side door.
The explosions felt below were devastating. It must’ve been a bunch of grenades or some shit. Then that was followed by full-automatic rifle fire—not a lot of it, though. Smoke billowed into the sky, and the acrid stench of burning flesh forced its way into my nose. I fuckin’ hated that smell. Not only did it make you wanna yack, but it stuck with you for a while after. I choked back a gag in an effort to save the tower from turning into some Stand By Me barf-o-rama situation.
The chopper was gone in seconds, and we were left in silence, the thumping of the blades having faded completely. We all just sort of sat there like we were waiting for more. It was… anticlimactic.
Nick moved first. He crawled out from his spot and approached the glass in a crouch before peeking outside. “Jesus tap-dancing Christ on Broadway… You guys should see this!”
We joined him reluctantly, and a silent measure of hope washed over me. Whatever they used… Whatever they did… It damn sure did the trick. The sun was dropping fast, and the ground was littered with pieces of bernies. A thick, black slick of blood coated the ground around them. Most were decimated, but a few still roamed around. Many were missing arms, and even more pulled themselves through the muck on their bellies, having been grotesquely separated from their lower halves. Bottom line, though, was that we could negotiate a way out now.
Don snapped, “Sidearms and melee weapons now. It’s gonna be close quarters. Stay tight, watch each other’s backs, and get to D-Prime. I fuckin’ miss Cutty right about now, but we can do this. Y’all with me?”
Nothing needed to be said.
We moved swiftly down the tower’s stairs and kicked open the doors. Shit! It was darker now, and the sun had completely dropped below the horizon. It was way different than being up in the tower from a visibility standpoint. D-Prime sat waiting for us, fully fueled, some fifty yards away with only a handful of geeks in the way.
Welp… leave it to Seth—that fuckin’ guy.
We were hustling along, and not even ten seconds into our approach, he broke off from the group and started stomping out some crawler. It didn’t even make sense. The thing wasn’t even remotely threatening us. So, then, instead of rejoining us, he got on his hands and knees and dipped his fingers into what was left of the crawler’s head.
Nick half whispered, half shouted at him, “Seth!… Seth! The fuck you doin’, dude? C’mon!”
Nothing.
In fact, this crazy bastard smeared the black shit across his face like some kinda macabre war paint and then moved farther away from us to attack another shambler. I could barely see them at this point, but Nick kept trying to get his attention. All he managed to do was get three or four heading our way.
Kylee snapped at us, “Fuck ’im. We gotta go. If he wants to act like an asshole, that’s on him.”
Nick argued, “Nah, somethin’ ain’t right. Keep moving. I’ll go get him.”
Kylee told Nick angrily, “Then there’s gonna be two of you out there. It’s too dark for this shit. Treat him like a child. If he hears that truck start up, he’ll come runnin’… if he ain’t dead by then.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth, Don smashed his bat into one of the approaching dead. Lilly told him, “Good one,” but Don just kept watching with his head on a swivel.
Kylee huffed, frustrated, and told Nick, “Whatever. Just whatever. We’re going whether you are or not. Work it out.”
Nick nodded quickly and ran off towards Seth’s direction. By the time Kylee sparked the engine to life, Nick could be seen literally dragging Seth by the collar towards us in the back of the trailer. As they hit the doors, Boyd pointed his gun directly at Seth’s head. Seth’s eyes got as wide as dinner plates.
He was gone, man. His head was in an entirely different world until Boyd’s gun got his attention.
Nick raised his blade and threatened Boyd’s arm, saying, “I’ll chop that motherfucker off if you squeeze.”
Boyd ignored Nick altogether and asked Seth, “Are you b-b-bit?”
Seth said nothing. He just rubbed his face, smearing the blood even worse.
Boyd adjusted his aim slightly to the left and exploded the head of a biter that was approaching from behind the two hit men. He repositioned his aim back to Seth and asked again, “Are. You. B-b-bit?”
Seth shook his head.
Boyd offered him a hand and pulled Seth into the trailer, with Nick following behind before closing the doors tightly. Boyd looked at Seth and said sarcastically, “J-just lookin’ out f-f-for our safety. You know how th-that is…”
Seth scowled, knowing he fucked up. Don grabbed Seth by his shirt and started chewing him out, but Nick stopped him. He said, “Look, chill. He’s fine. Just let me talk to him.”
Don shoved Seth towards the front of the trailer and told Nick firmly, “Sort out your boy, or I’m gonna do it for you. We don’t need that kinda shit!”
Nick followed Seth, and they’re talking quietly in the corner at the moment. No lie, I’m a little scared of Seth right now. The guy’s off his fuckin’ rocker. He hasn’t been the same since the stuff went down with Chalmers. Then he nearly took out Boyd, and I don’t even wanna talk about that shit he pulled with the revolver to his own head. I dunno, man.
Kylee will drive through the night until she gets tired. She’s got Don with her in the cab if they need to switch off. In the morning, I guess, we’ll all have to gather and discuss the Seth situation. For me, though, it’s time to sleep, even if I’ll be doing it with one eye open, watching Seth. It’s been a shitty few days… weeks… year…
Entry 152
There’s something inside of most people that governs their actions. It’s something like an ‘on-off’ switch. The way I imagine it, the ‘on’ position keeps you civil and levelheaded. It keeps you grounded enough to think before you act and to weigh the consequences of those actions. In a normal society this is crucial. It’s a common bond that the majority of people share so that things can run smoothly. Granted, there are exceptions. I think we can all agree on that. I mean, sure, some people are just batshit crazy, but for the most part, we all sort of understand what is and isn’t acceptable. In fact, there are many times when the group, meaning society at large, will defend the common mindset. Think back to standing in line at a grocery store. If someone came up and cut in front of everyone, you can bet that all the people in line, even the ones ahead of the guy that cut, would ostracize the offender en masse. So, yeah, you know what I mean.
Then there’s the ‘off’ switch—something makes you snap, and you lose the ability to think. You act on pure instinct. JC spoke of this back when we were holed up in the service station. His switch flipped. He shot up those guys because he wasn’t thinking clearly. I believe he used the lion analogy, like if a lion is hungry, he’s gonna fuckin’ eat, straight up. He’s not gonna stand aside and be like, ‘Oh, sorry. You had that gazelle first, bro, so I’ll just move to the back of the line,’ because, if he did, he’d surely starve to death. If he was able to, he’d just kill the lion in front of him and fill his belly. And, if I remember correctly, it was our group that ostracized him for it—myself in particular in the form of a good, old-fashioned ass whoopin’.
That’s because I did, and still do, believe that the ‘switch’ is what makes us human. It’s why we’re special. We’re not animals, and I’d like to hold everyone to that standard, but what happens when the majority is no longer of that min
dset? What happens when the people with the ‘switch’ turned ‘on’ are in the minority and most everyone else has theirs permanently in the ‘off’ position? We become animals. It almost forces the few of us who have our switches ‘on’ to turn them ‘off’ just to keep going. We become nothing more than roving packs of hyenas, scavenging and murdering to survive.
I truly believe that we don’t have to be that way, but it has to be a conscious decision. We have to try to be that way, and we have to fight to keep it. Therein lies my struggle because, by definition, the people who have switched ‘off’ can’t be reasoned with. You almost have to force them to act right. In the old days, the law ensured that to a degree. Someone acted like an asshole, and they would end up in the pokey. They’re separated from the rest of us. In some of the more heavy-handed cases, they’re eliminated, put to death. That didn’t bother us so much because we didn’t have to pull the trigger or insert the needle ourselves. That’s no longer the case. We are the law now. We are judge, jury, and executioner. Everyone’s hands are dirty. How, then, does the executioner keep his switch in the ‘on’ position?
That brings me to Seth…
We pulled off in this little shanty town in the middle of nowhere. We were still half a day out from Kilo, and everyone needed to stop for a few.
Kylee didn’t say anything to anyone as she passed. She wasn’t bitchy, though, just quiet. She patted Lilly on the head then slipped into a bedroll in the trailer, leaving the rest of us milling about outside.
The town was clear—not a bernie in sight, and like an old western movie, tumbleweeds very literally rolled through the streets. Seth and Nick leaned on the side of the truck while Boyd made his way up top to scope out the area from a higher point of view. I asked Lilly if she wanted to hop out, but she politely declined. She opted to climb into the bedroll with Kylee and “snuggle,” as she put it. It was nice to see something… childish from her. I didn’t think for a second to talk her out of it.