HVZA (Book 3): Hudson Valley Zombie Apocalypse [Project Decimation]

by Zimmermann, Linda

  The engineer suggested tightly wrapping a PDZ in the fencing, pinning his arms to his side, but keeping him standing. Then like a jelly roll, wrap another two zombies facing outward from the center zombie, and then wrap in three more. This would make neat bunches of zombies who couldn’t get at one another, but they could still be ‘walked’ to the trucks.

  This “six-pack” idea was immediately tested, with acceptable results. PDZs could be rolled so tightly together that gags and ties for their hands could be removed. This would greatly simplify the dispersal of the PDZs on the battlefield, as a six-pack could be unrolled off the back of the truck down a ramp, keeping the Cowboy on the truck and not on the ground in greater danger. It would still be extremely dangerous work, but any edge would be welcomed.

  After pulling a solid 24-hour shift, Becks was ordered to take off for eight hours. Normally, under such circumstances, she would have argued, but she was running on fumes and caffeine, and was beginning to feel as if she was going to shatter into a million pieces. She went straight from the lab to the hospital and was very relieved to find Cam sitting up in a chair eating solid food.

  “You look like the one who should be in the hospital,” he said, and meant it.

  Making the mistake of glancing into the mirror, Becks had to agree. After giving him a five-minute briefing on what was going on, and a hug and kiss, she went to her quarters and didn’t even stop to remove her shoes and clothes, and just fell backwards onto the bed. She dreamt of everything from tiny metal particles to massive herds of reanimated corpses, but at least she slept.

  During Becks’ downtime, the replacement teams who had been given crash courses in Devereaux’s solution production began to take over from the original group, and were even able to expand production. Thanks to all of the equipment and chemicals Becks and the others had gotten from Albany, they were able to produce at least 50 times the volume of solution they would have been able to make with just what they had on hand at West Point, and what they had brought back from Columbia.

  The Monk had not sacrificed his life in vain.

  Six-packs of PDZs were being formed so quickly that it was rapidly becoming a logistical nightmare. It would take way too much time to load them all onto vehicles at once—if they could even scrounge up enough trucks and trailers—time that would allow the herd to overrun the communities of southern Rockland County. Commanders decided that transport would have to commence immediately and strategic drop-off sites would have to be found.

  No one knew Rockland County like Becks, and when consulted, it didn’t take her long to suggest Exit 5 of the Palisades Interstate Parkway. On the east side of the highway at Exit 5 was the site of a former drive-in movie theater, with a parking lot big enough to truck in scores of PDZ six-packs. On the west side of the highway had been a golf driving range, which also offered a big piece of open land to erect temporary holding pens for the PDZs about to be sent into battle. The exit also had a tactical advantage in that it was intersected by Route 303, which was currently zombie-free, and would offer access to additional troops, or as an escape route if things went south.

  Becks recalled stories her father had told her about a huge World War II army base just a short distance from there in Orangeburg, called Camp Shanks. Over a million soldiers from across the country were stationed there until they could be shipped overseas, and it came to be known as “Last Stop USA.” Becks hoped these new camps would bring about the “Last Stop on Earth” for the massive herd of zombies headed their way.

  Apparently, Becks wasn’t the only one who knew local history, as when the first truckloads of Orange Blossoms were pulling into the former drive-in entrance, they saw that someone had hung a spray-painted sheet over the old theater sign that read “Camp Skanks.” The name quickly spread and soon even the generals at West Point were calling it that.

  When Becks got back to the lab, she found that production was moving along just fine without her. Even the newly-trained group of scientists and doctors were already teaching the techniques of making Devereaux’s solution to lab techs, who were expected to be able to further increase production within 24 hours. In other words, Becks was already just another pair of hands in the lab—hands that at this point could be more useful firing guns.

  “Becks, you’ve done enough. In fact, you’ve done much, much more than your fair share,” Phil protested when Becks informed him that she was trading in her lab coat for the body armor of the volunteer troops. “Let the others take care of the actual fighting. You need to rest.”

  “Phil, could you just see me sitting in a lawn chair by the river with a good book and a cup of chamomile tea? We both know that’s not who I am,” Becks said, jotting down a few notes on procedural improvements she had thought about on the way to the lab. “You don’t need me here now. What they desperately need are field commanders, especially ones familiar with the area. Recruits are piling in and without the right people to lead them they are just a disorganized mob.”

  “Sergeant Becks!” Phil said smiling, resigning himself to the inevitability of the situation. “I guess I always knew this day would come.”

  “Well, actually it’s Commander Truesdale,” Becks replied with a wink as she handed her notes to a project coordinator. “And I’m counting on you to hold down the fort and keep an eye on Cam.”

  “Speaking of Cam, have you told him yet?”

  “On my way to see him now,” Becks said, and then gave Phil a long hug.

  “Maybe someday we can stop saying goodbye. Take care of yourself,” Phil whispered, wiping away a tear before Becks could see it.

  As Becks was leaving the lab building, she was surprised and pleased to be joined by Sticky Pete and Margo, who had also “enlisted” in the new army. Not in top shape, by any means, they were both nonetheless determined to stand and fight with everyone else. On their way to Combat Headquarters, a Humvee pulled up alongside of them and the driver asked if they needed a ride.

  “Cam!?” a stunned Becks exclaimed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Good morning to you, too,” Cam said laughing, but couldn’t help wincing in pain from the movement.

  “Get back to the hospital, you idiot!” Becks shouted.

  “No can do, Commander,” Cam said with that damned disarming charm. “I have been cleared for non-combat duty and assigned to be your driver.”

  “I’m sorry, please say that again,” Becks said, turning from complete exasperation to amusement. “You have been assigned to me? You have to now take orders from me?”

  “Yeah, just like it’s always been from the day we were married,” Cam replied and then dodged the notebook Becks threw at his head. The sudden movement made him wince again.

  “Good for your stupid ass,” Becks said, climbing into the front passenger seat. Pete and Margo hesitated, and then got into the back as they exchanged silent glances which indicated that the marriage info was news to them, but they weren’t about to ask any questions!

  Combat Headquarters was barely organized chaos in a manner that only the military could create. Information was streaming in from all over, and in any form of electronic communications they could cobble together, from modern satellite phones to Vietnam War-era radios. In the center of it all, a handful of officers were barking orders while standing around a large, 3-D, plaster relief map of the Hudson Valley.

  The map had been removed from a tourist visitor center, and plastic army men and vehicles from a toy set were being used to mark the positions of troops. A cadet’s collection of monster figures was piled up on the Palisades Interstate Parkway to indicate the latest position of the herd, which was getting dangerously close to the New York border. Small superhero action figures with their heads painted orange were now being placed around Exit 5 to indicate that the Orange Blossoms were already being stockpiled.

  Cam and the others were a little uncomfortable being in the presence of all the high-ranking Army brass, and he was surprised that Becks waltz
ed in like she owned the place. He knew it wasn’t that she was overconfident or arrogant; it must just be that she had gone through so much hell surviving on her own for so long that rank and insignias meant squat to her. It didn’t even enter Becks’ mind now that she wasn’t just as capable as any person alive to face any zombie—or human—threat.

  “Becks, we missed you at the last poker game,” some gazillion-star general said to her as she stepped up to the improvised battlefield map.

  I guess that helps, too, Cam thought, as he wondered what other surprises were up Becks’ sleeve.

  Getting right down to business, the generals explained the dire situation with the plastic army men and action figures. Before they could finish, new information prompted a corporal with a limp to push the pile of little Creatures from the Black Lagoon, and Predators, and Mummies even further up the Parkway.

  As he moved the figures with a bridge used for shooting pool in the officer’s club, a wind-up Godzilla suddenly sprang to life, left the pack, and marched over the elevated palisades cliffs and fell onto the cracked blue paint of the Hudson River. Now on its side, the Godzilla figure continued to slide its legs back and forth, spinning in slow circles.

  Embarrassed, the corporal struggled to shut off the rampaging classic Japanese monster, and finally just shoved it into his pants pocket, where it continued to wriggle for several minutes. While the corporal wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere, it was a needed moment of comic relief for everyone else. However, more news was painfully sobering.

  This latest report was bad—the front of the herd was starting to fan out into the woods and side streets. Despite the Army having hastily reinstalled the barricades at some exit and entrance ramps, the long expanse of woods and the lack of guardrails was too inviting for the herd, which had been packed tight like sardines for so long. This was the worst-case scenario—the wider the herd spread out, the more difficult it would be to stop it.

  “We have to start deploying the Orange Blossoms now!” Becks stated in a tone that sounded like she was in charge. “Start placing them along the flanks to try to keep the herd together.”

  There was some discussion amongst the generals and they agreed to start releasing the PDZs, but thought it was best to just drop them on the Parkway in front of the herd. Becks began to protest that they didn’t have enough PDZs yet for a full frontal assault, but soon realized the best thing she could do was get her ass to the front lines with as many troops as possible and assess the situation from there. But before leaving, she at least got the generals to agree to disperse the PDZs on the flanks “if practicable.”

  The few hundred volunteers assigned to Becks would have been a godsend at just about any other point AZA, but now they seemed ridiculously inadequate in the face of such overwhelming numbers. As she stood up in front of the ragtag group of men and women, there was clearly fear in their eyes, but there was also that determined look of seasoned combat veterans. Everyone who stood there today had fought long and hard to make it this far, even the kids who were probably no more than 13 or 14, but had already been through so much in their young lives that they looked years older.

  “Our hope is that the PDZs will do all our fighting for us. If not, then we have to be there to stop the herd from getting farther north. If you’re from the Hudson Valley, I don’t need to tell you what we have all sacrificed to start rebuilding our lives here. And my thanks go out to those of you I hear are from Connecticut, Vermont, Pennsylvania, and even Canada—”

  “New Hampshire!” a small group shouted, cutting off Becks, “Live free or die!”

  “Maine! Dirigo!” a few others yelled enthusiastically, and then had to explain that their Latin state motto meant “I lead.”

  “Rhode Island,” one lone voice called out, and left it at that.

  “The great Commonwealth of Massachusetts!” a few dozen people shouted, and then couldn’t help adding, “Go Red Sox!”

  Everyone laughed as the Massachusetts contingent pulled off their jackets to reveal Red Sox jerseys, and then in unison put on their bright red baseball caps. Numerous Yankee fans in the crowd then started booing, and good-natured ribbing ensued on both sides. Becks let them all have a few moments of levity, as she knew damn well it might be the last time any of them would laugh.

  “Okay, okay, there will be plenty of time to fight amongst ourselves when the job is done,” Becks said, as she was astonished how everyone immediately fell silent the instant she started speaking. “Now you all have been assigned one radio person per squad, and you need to stick by that person as they will be your lifeline if you need help.”

  Becks put her hand on the radio strapped on her left shoulder as she continued.

  “I will be giving you instructions as necessary, so please keep the lines clear. You all know the rendezvous point on the Parkway and how to park your vehicles,” she added, referring to the plan to have all of the cars and trucks parked single file, aimed north, with the keys inside, ready for a quick retreat if the herd began to overtake them.

  “You all know what we are facing here,” Becks said in her most serious tone. “We can’t lose everything we fought for all these years. We just have to beat them. We…have…to...kill…them...all! Now let’s get to it, and go kick some zombie ass!”

  A shout came up from the crowd and Cam could see the expressions of admiration on the faces of the troops for their leader, Commander Truesdale. Each man, woman, and child felt fortunate to have her in charge, as people literally told stories around their campfires of her bravery and adventures.

  Becks was basically oblivious to it all, and still couldn’t quite understand the way people responded to her with such respect. In her mind, in many ways she was still the nurse and med student under the thumb of arrogant doctors and professors. The thought that she had been transformed into a leader of men was laughable, and a concept with which she would never be comfortable.

  Cam was so impressed by what and who she had become, but he knew he would just be wasting his breath if he tried to tell her. When he thought back to the first time they met, it seemed like another lifetime as the shy, brilliant, almost awkward girl stole his heart at first sight. And now kick-ass Commander Truesdale in body armor and bristling with weapons was about to lead her troops into battle!

  It often takes a crisis for someone to reach their true potential, Cam thought. It’s just too bad that this crisis had to be a zombie apocalypse!

  As Becks’ convoy headed south, the Orange Blossom PDZs were rolling off the trucks along the front lines—literally. The Cowboy Squads were picking up a couple of six-packs of PDZs in the backs of trucks from the Exit 5 depots, then driving as close as they dared to the front of the herd, with orders to deploy the PDZs along the flanks, if practicable. While that sounded good on paper, the reality was that the woods along the PIP didn’t allow for vehicles, so they had to drop off the Orange Blossom soldiers as far left and right of the herd as possible, and hope for the best.

  As soon as the driver brought the truck to a halt, two more Cowboys would drop a ramp off the back. While they tried to walk the six-packs down the ramp, in their haste pushing the zombies along, the clumsy groups wrapped in fencing would usually fall over and roll down the ramps to the pavement. Once on the ground, the wire fasteners were cut and the six-packs were unrolled.

  The next problem was to coax the PDZs to the herd, as their initial inclination was to immediately attack one another, or the Cowboys. Cattle prods and long sticks helped to break them apart and get them headed toward the herd, but it took time—too long to attempt these actions so close to the herd as the first squads attempted, as they were to tragically discover.

  By the time the first two Cowboys had unloaded and redirected their PDZs, they found that they had gone too far from the truck and were quickly overwhelmed by the herd. The helpless driver looked on in horror as the two men were set upon, torn apart, and consumed like a school of piranha feasting on animals unlucky enough to fall int
o the water. It was a sight the driver would forever have seared into her memory, as the two Cowboys were her husband and brother.

  The second truck had similar problems, but at least everyone was able to make it back into the vehicle before the herd surrounded them. They were trapped, but safe inside the truck, for now, although the sheer force of the unrelenting herd slowly pushed the big truck sideways along the pavement.

  Orders and counter-orders shot back and forth across the airwaves as it was clear that the deployment strategy was unraveling faster than they could unravel the six-packs and get them where they needed to go. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth Cowboy Squads had a little more success, but two more men were lost, and three of the six-packs were engulfed by the herd before they could be unwrapped. Becks listened to the chaos and confusion with increasing frustration and alarm.

  Had all of their work been a waste? The trip to Columbia to see Devereaux, and running for their lives through the streets of New York City? Going to Albany for supplies and The Monk sacrificing his life? The hundreds of people working around the clock to make Project Decimation a success? Something had to be done, and done right now or the Hudson Valley would be lost.

  “Stun the fuckers!” Becks shouted into her radio after she had dialed in the command frequency. “Stun the PDZs unconscious, unwrap them at the depot, and then use dump trucks to drop them en masse right into the front lines.”

  Cam took his eyes off the road long enough to look at Becks with a drop-jawed expression. There were probably a lot of jaws dropped at Combat HQ, as well, as for at least 30 seconds there was nothing but silence and static over the command frequency. Then the silence was broken, and by the familiar deep, booming voice of the commanding general himself.

  “You heard Becks, stun the fuckers!” he yelled.

  The depot personnel quickly responded with “Yes, Sirs” and Deployment Plan B was immediately undertaken, and with relish. The only thing more satisfying than putting a bullet in a zombie’s head was to jam a stun rod into its ribcage and watch it twitch until it hit the ground. Timing would be tight, but thankfully most of the PDZs would remain unconscious until they could be driven the ever-shortening distance from Exit 5 to the front of the herd.