The Zombie Solution

by Vic Sandel

  “I appreciate your offer, Mr. Sanders, I really do, but you must understand a few things. We are a highly trained unit. Our designation of CAG-1 is a matter of great pride to us. We were the first coalition unit ever formed and our unblemished record of success is an example for all who have and ever will follow. We work as a unit, and at times individually, but only when it's part of the overall strategy. I've heard how good you are with weapons but please understand, we do not need any “cowboys” or “loose cannons.” If you are going to work with us, we will be proud to have you as long as you can remember, it's a team, not a “shooting gallery”.

  In acceptance, Glen put out his hand and shook with Aaron. “I fully understand sir. Ahl put mah six guns away an jest foller yer orders.”

  “Thank you Mr. Sanders. Why don't you go over to the mess hall and get acquainted with the guys from one and twenty-three. Go listen to them 'toss the bull' about what we've been up to these last months.”

  Glen headed for the mess hall.

  The place was filled when Glen entered. Not only were the two CAG teams in residence, but all of the flight support people had been relaxing there, while the craft they supported were on mission. When notice was received that the craft were in the process of touching down, they filed out to do their post flight services and load them up for the next mission.

  The ground shook as the two F-16s were the first to land. They taxied to their places and popped their canopies just in time to see the C-113 gliding down to touch the runway. Following close behind came the Sktcraft and back to its pad came the Chinook. It had been a busy morning. All were scraping the bottom of their fuel tanks.

  There would normally have been a debriefing session following the mission, but Colonel Dickerson was listening to the radio traffic and already knew where they stood.

  The tired men and woman headed for comfort, and refreshment and the companionship of the mess hall.

  As Colonel Dickerson watched the crews leaving the tarmac, he was suddenly aware of something that had been nagging at him for the last couple of weeks. As busy as everyone had been, he hadn't been able to wrap his mind around it, but now in a brief moment of success and relaxation, it surfaced clearly.

  Where the hell was Major McCaffrey?

  McCaffrey was commanding Wright Patterson prior to Dickerson's arrival. Of Course there had also been a General “Whatever his name was”, but he was always off hiding somewhere, until he had said he received a summons to report to headquarters and left. So General “Whoever” had left for “Where ever”. In other words he “got out of Dodge.”

  McCaffrey, however, had been there. He was spiteful, jealous, resentful, and arrogant, but he was there. Now it seemed no one had seen him for weeks. Maybe he had just taken off. As a whole, the military was in shambles, so it was a possibility. Still, he didn't seem the type.

  He decided to put the thought out of his mind and join the others for a cup of coffee and, hopefully something freshly baked.

  Down in the commissary, there was a lot of hand shaking, laughing, and back-slapping going on. The morning was a total success ,and it seemed as though not one zombie had passed the “firebreak” and remained animate. Shortly they would start the second run of the day and hopefully be just as successful. At the moment, only about a dozen men waited at the “moat” just in case. They were lightly armed and equipped with radios but the firetrucks had not been filled yet as the nitrogen would evaporate if not used quickly. In fact, there had not yet been any reason to even start the air separator.

  At 16:00 hours, (4:00) the F-16's took off again for the second reconnaissance flight of the day. As the heaviest concentration was to the south/, southwest area, they began there. Again, there were a good number moving along, but there didn't seem to be quite as many as there had been that morning. That seemed to make sense, as the morning flock had all the night before to accumulate.

  The call was made and Pete Marcus and the C-113 was once again en route to the scene.

  Bob and Doug banked to the right, heading toward the northwest, and began to follow the long, circular path, once again.

  Everything seemed to be just about the same as it had been earlier, until they passed the northernmost position and began their northeast leg. Despite the pasting the area had been given earlier, there were even more zombies than before. In fact, there were more here now than there had been previously to the south. This was a total reversal of what the numbers had been not just this morning but all week long.

  Bob and Doug immediately radioed the information and called for a switch, sending the C-113 to the northeast and the Skycraft. to the southwest.

  Passing the easternmost position, they found a continuation of the large numbers they had been seeing and called in the Chinook. Between the two craft, they had six sonic arrays that should more than do the trick.

  Passing over the southern area, the numbers began to fall off again, but to clean up the area they each let go one Napalm bomb.

  Other than the strange shift in the numbers, the afternoon mission went much the same. Fly over, and watch them drop. Overlap the area for a total kill and have the jets come in and burn the bodies. In just over two hours they declared the areas cleared and flew home for dinner and a good night's rest.

  The first day was declared a total victory, and not one of the “undead” had reached the “moat”.

  Chapter53

  A New Day

  Despite the success of the prior day, Robyn awoke with the feeling that all was not going to be as easy as it seemed. She decided to opt out of her flight with Jessie this morning, and instead, went to the lab to prepare doses of vaccine and to place them in cold carry kits. Although, she had never possessed ESP, she knew that today they would be needed in the field.

  Her team was bewildered by her actions, especially when she ordered each of them to take a shot. After all, hadn't they just killed countless zombies without any casualties? Why should today be any different?

  Obviously Robyn was not alone in her feelings. as it was an hour before dawn and the mess hall was mobbed. Mechanics coming off shift and pilots and support getting ready for the morning mission.

  Only the CAG vampires were sleeping peacefully, after an all night card game, playing for millions in worthless money that had been found in the paymaster's office. Although they could be out in the daylight and usually were, for limited periods of time, they still liked to get their rest in sunlit hours, when possible.

  The Chinook would be late getting off this morning as the mechanics had discovered a couple of the tie rods to one of the rotors had snapped off and were hanging on one side. These needed to be replaced, and at the same time it called for an inspection of the entire rotor support system. They were already working on it but it would take a couple of hours.

  That meant Brian Sanders and Lou Harris, flying the Apache and Dolphin, would stand ready for backup wherever needed. Rodney could fly Lou's armed Jayhawk, if needed, as there never was time to properly arm his bird.

  Since the northeast path had the highest concentration yesterday afternoon, Doug and Bob took off in that direction to start the morning. Not surprisingly, the grains of sand had once more filled the hole and there was a packed field awaiting them.

  Once again, the C-113 took off on a hunting trip with a guaranteed supply of game.

  Realizing this morning's numbers would echo yesterday's, and knowing that the Chinook was out of service, Jessie and Ron didn't wait for the call. They took off immediately, heading east.

  Arriving at his coordinates, Pete could see that the numbers in this sector were indeed growing. It was as if the enemy was throwing everything they had into a last massive effort. However, zombies didn't plan, they reacted. Well, he thought, no sense getting all mental about it! He signaled Baldwin to start the arrays.

  Jessie, arrived on station and found the same situation Pete had, a full house. Without a word, Ronnie set the controls and the terminations began. It was almos
t too easy. Maybe Robyn was right. After all these months, with the entire world near its end and with the deaths of so many, how could it have been this easy?

  The F-16s had passed the southernmost point, moving to the southwest. Just like yesterday, as they had flown in that direction, the flow of “undead” had tapered off. Well, not exactly. It hadn't tapered off, it had stopped. As Bob flew west he realized that there were no zombies to be found at all. A search of past hot spots came up completely empty.

  “Doug, are you seeing this?”

  “You mean not seeing this!”

  “Roger that. Could we have killed them all here?”

  “Not a chance buddy.”

  “Then where the hell did they go?”

  “I have no idea, but we'd better find out, and quick.”

  A quick call saw Rodney and Lou taking to the air for a low search, while Brian stayed in reserve with the Apache.

  The jets flew inland, away from the cleared area to see if they had backed up. They went further south and west. They flew an enlarging spiral pattern. Everywhere they looked there was no sign of the tens-of-thousands that had to still be functioning.

  The helicopters joined the search, flying lower and at slower speeds. They hovered over anything that looked suspicious and came up empty. They simply were no longer there!

  The mechanics were working at a furious pace to get the Chinook ready to fly. The new rods were installed and they were just checking all of the others. It would only be a little while longer.

  Pete had turned west and Jessie had run east, both just ending zombies until there was not one left standing. They heard the chatter over the radio, but had found it too weird to comprehend. It made no sense. Having finished their missions they continued in the directions they were searching and kept checking around the circle to where the jets and copters were searching. They kept their arrays active to terminate anything they passed over along the way.

  Suddenly the radios on all the craft awoke to screams for help.

  “THEY'RE HERE! HELP US! SEND HELP! WE CAN'T HOLD THEM ALL OFF!”

  Unbelievable as it sounded, the call was from the dozen men keeping watch at the “moat”. Zombies were pouring out of a wooded area near the inner clearing. The men were able to scramble into the vehicles and lock themselves in, but without the load of liquid nitrogen, there was no offense possible. A couple of the men tried the small sound broadcasters and could see that they slowed the “undead” but they lacked the power of the large arrays. There was the armored vehicle that had a large sonic cannon, but when they ran, the fire engines had been closer and that is where they ended up.

  The broadcast had been heard at the base. All the members of CAG-1 and CAG-23 sprinted for the Chinook, which was being warmed up, ready or not.

  Lou Harris was the closest, and flying the Dolphin which had a Gatling. He and his crew raced for the scene.

  Brian Sanders, who had been standing by in the Apache was in the air within fifteen seconds.

  Everyone now knew where the missing zombies had ended up, but had no idea how they had gotten there without being seen. How does one even begin to imagine the unimaginable?

  As the Chinook raced to the “moat” Marco and Banks fired up the generator and got the big air separator going. They planned on freezing the zombies near the vehicles to allow time to offload the CAG teams and get the vehicles loaded and operable. They could move where the aircraft couldn’t go.

  With all the humans either there, or en route, they couldn't assume that they all had ear protection. In addition, they couldn't hold their hands over their ears and operate the vehicles and weapons. That meant that flying over the scene with the large arrays was out of the question.

  When the areas were selected for the inner and outer defense perimeters, the planning team had relied on older topographical maps. Without computers and an active internet, they were unable to check for things like bridges and tunnels, except by personal observation. It wasn't really anyone's fault but they had made a drastic mistake.

  In the 1940s, there had been a canal that connected Dayton to the Ohio River. A long, defunct, railroad company built a tunnel underneath that canal as part of a system that was to connect Dayton, Lebanon, and Cincinnati. With a lack of funds and interest in the project, it was soon abandoned, but not until a section almost four miles was constructed and a row of track laid. The entrance was boarded up, but over the next seventy years or so, the area had grown completely over, the boards had rotted and the canal had dried up. The entire entrance had been long forgotten and remained unseen. The exit, once under water was now on dry land, also completely overgrown.

  Somehow, the zombies had found that tunnel. Unfortunately, the way out was about six-hundred yards from the inner defensive circle in the heavily wooded area. A check of the internet, would have mentioned the construction in a history of the area, but it was not to be had.

  The fact that the zombies had located this alternate route would certainly add to the puzzle that Colonel Dickerson was trying to resolve in his mind. To a rational person, the logical answer that was beginning to form, was as frightening as the zombies themselves. Someone or something is directing them.

  Hidden in the surrounding forest, the “undead” poured through the opening and out the other side, trampling down the undergrowth and breaking the surrounding branches, totally exposing the exit that had been hidden for the past seventy years.

  Because it was originally constructed to allow two trains to pass each other, the tunnel was wide and high. It's shear size allowed a rapid flow of stumbling, shuffling and crawling zombies, despite their diminished pace.

  When Lou arrived at the site, he immediately opened up with the Gatling, in an attempt to keep the attackers away from the vehicles containing the men. Despite his high rate of fire and precision, a good number got back up to continue the assault. He just wasn't getting enough head shots. He decided to concentrate his fire upon the tunnel's exit. He had tons of hits, but they just kept coming, climbing over the bodies of the fallen no matter how high they piled.

  He fired until the Gatling ran dry, and then pulled up and out of the way so the field was clear for another craft. His failure to accomplish anything meaningful was brought home as he witnessed a man pulled through a broken window of one of the fire vehicles and set upon. As he headed home for fuel and a reload, his eyes filled with tears.

  A short time later Brian arrived in the Apache. Having listened to Lou's transmissions, he opted to open up with a rocket attack upon the tunnel. He immediately launched two rockets right into the opening. It virtually rained zombie pieces as a rocket exploded into the piled bodies. For a minute or two no zombies left the tunnel but the outflow resumed. Two more rockets whizzed into the tunnel, but the effect was the same. He then tried to close the opening by plowing his last rockets into the side and roof. No dice, the structure that was built sturdy enough to hold two moving trains simultaneously, stood like the bedrock it had been built on.

  Turning back to the attacking zombies already out of the tunnel, Brian, like Lou opened up with his machine guns. Many were hit but the result was identical. They might have been slowed down a bit but it was no real help.

  Finally, a radio call announced the arrival of the Chinook.

  Brian peeled off, and he too headed for home to refuel and rearm.

  The area was packed so tight the big helicopter had no place to land. The goal had been to freeze the creatures than land and offload the CAG groups. They would take to the vehicles, move them to the waiting copter that would fill their Liquid nitrogen tanks, and they would start up their sound cannons to shatter the frozen “undead”. The only thing they could do was to land on the frozen zombies but there would be no way to drive the vehicles over for a fill-up. All the planning had been based on assumptions that they knew when and where the zombies were coming from and were in place awaiting their arrival. There had been no contingency plan that anticipated an earlier arrival.
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  They needed to do something. Already, two of the fire engines had been turned over as the attackers tried to get at the humans inside.

  The scene looked like Times Square on New Year's Eve, and still they kept coming.

  The Chinook came down to about four-hundred-fifty feet, as Banks slid open the side doors and positioned the nozzles. Within seconds, the super frozen slush was pouring down on the mass below. Instantly, ice was forming on their heads, arms and shoulders. Some of them were getting completely coated and freezing solid. Most, however were still animate as they were just packed too close together for the mixture to fully coat their extremities. Those that did get coated reacted immediately to the sound being emitted by the few vehicles that had activated their emitters and were still functional. Those few zombies actually shattered like broken glass. A couple that had their heads coated also fell headless. Unfortunately,there were just too few getting coated. The concept worked beautifully but once again it was a case of too many too soon!

  Aaron Rogers stepped up to the pilots. “Hey, you guys got any long ropes on this crate?”

  “Sure, about half a dozen five-hundred foot lengths coiled in the barrels along the fuselage.”

  “Tell you what. I need you to hover over the flatbed there. I'll take a dozen of my guys and slide down there. If we can get a couple of those engines filled, we can hit them from a better angle. With their emitters on at the same time, we might just be able to clear a path for the rest. We also might just be able to get to the armored mini tank with its sound array. Set low, there's little risk of collateral damage, and maybe we could begin to turn this thing around.”

  “I don't think I can let you do that, replied the pilot, it's total suicide!”

  Bradley, Bob Eller's second “son', stepped in. “There's no way I'm gonna let you do that either. You're human, and besides you are needed to command this group. I'm sorry sir but this is a mission for we V-men to carry out. We won't be turned or killed by a couple of bites, and we're stronger and faster.”