by Carl R. Cart
“Do you guys think you could have helped me any slower?” I growled.
“It was your bright idea to catch this fucker,” Hard-on replied. “Why didn’t we bring some duct-tape or something?”
“I didn’t actually think we would find anybody!” I shot back.
Hard-on knelt down beside our captive and looked him over. He waved his hand back and forth. “Man, this guy stinks!”
The creature thrashed and groaned.
“Hey, he’s pretty active for a dead guy,” Hard-on observed. “You still think he’s a zombie?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. I wasn’t sure how to tell. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing, and I couldn’t take his pulse with gloves on. I shrugged and shook my head.
Gunner had moved away from us, I could hear him quietly praying.
I looked down at my suit. It was covered in slime and mud, but it didn’t appear to be ripped or damaged. I figured I would probably be okay, but I smelled like rotten ass.
“Let’s get this cocksucker back to camp,” I suggested. “Maybe then they’ll believe us.”
We cut a stout sapling down and thrust it through our captive’s arms, behind his back. Hard-on took one end and I took the other. We lifted the trashing, bloody red bastard and slowly pulled him through the forest. Gunner took point and led us back, pausing occasionally to let us catch up.
We had to stop and rest several times, but we finally made it back to our camp.
Everyone turned out to see the bloody monster we had hauled in out of the woods. Major Dorset took one look at it and ordered the corpsmen to take it away, out of sight. According to him it was bad for morale. They pulled the struggling body into a tent and closed the flaps tight. You could still dimly hear its moans.
The colonel came out of the clean tent and went in after it. He didn’t come back out.
Everyone stood around in small groups, talking in hushed tones and whispers.
“The show is over!” the major finally shouted. “Everyone get back to work!” He looked at me with murder in his eyes, but he had ordered us to bring the thing back.
Sgt. McAllister led me and the others away from the HQ.
“Go through decontamination, all of you,” he ordered.
We trudged over to the decontamination area, and stood with our arms outstretched. A corpsman sprayed us down with hot soapy water and an anti-viral foam, while another one scrubbed us with a long poled brush. Finally, they hit us with water again and turned us loose. We staggered back towards camp.
McAllister was waiting for us.
“You three are something else,” he laughed.
“What?” I asked.
“The safest place for you right now is out there in the forest, and you three assholes wander back in here with the elephant man in tow. The major is madder than all Hell.”
“Well, we were followin his orders,” Hard-on quipped.
“Don’t be so fucking dense, Hard-on,” the sarge replied. “I don’t think the old man thought you would find anything like that monstrosity you guys dredged up. But since you did, we’re going back out to look for more!”
“What?” Gunner groaned.
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant drawled. “You three are to head back out to wherever you found that guy and see what else you can dig up. I’m taking Gordo with me, way, way out there, to see what’s going on. Maybe we can find some locals to talk to.”
“Shit,” Hard-on moaned. “When will this crap end?”
“Don’t know,” McAllister answered. “But the colonel wants us to find him one of the missing villagers too. He wants to see if the virus is doing the same thing to them that it is doing to us. Our orders are to acquire an infected villager and bring him back to the HQ. I volunteered your squad for the job, seeing as how you’ve got the most experience with the virus’ victims.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Get your asses back in the brush.”
“We need to find some duct tape first,” Hard-on joked.
We walked through the forest a short distance away from the camp. I was so hot and tired that I could barely walk. The wet pants legs of my uniform were chaffing my inner thighs, and my feet were squishing inside my boots.
“Let’s just find a place to hide for a while, and get some fucking rest,” Hard-on suggested.
“I’m not walkin around no more,” Gunner agreed.
“Cool by me,” I said. “I don’t think I can get in any more trouble than I’m already in.”
We found a tightly packed clump of smaller trees and squeezed inside the tiny clearing between them. Each of us claimed a trunk to lean back against. I sank down on my ass with my rifle across my knees and gratefully closed my eyes.
We probably should have set a guard.
REPORT FROM COLONEL WARREN, MEDICAL CO BRAVO
COMPUTER RECORDS AND INITIAL ANALYSIS DATA FROM COLONEL ORTEGA’S UNIT RECOVERED. TO BE FORWARDED
AS ANALYZED. CANNOT CONFIRM ORTEGA’S HYPOTHESIS WITHOUT CULTURES.
ALL MEDICAL PERSONNEL MISSING ASSUMED KIA. SOME HUMAN REMAINS RECOVERED, STILL UNIDENTIFIED.
BODY OF SPECIALIST THOMAS BRADFORD RECOVERED. BRADFORD TESTS POSITIVE FOR UNIDENTIFIED VIRUS AND SUFFERED SERVERE DAMAGE, POSSIBLE CANNIBILIZATION?
VIRUS CAUSES EXTREME MODIFICATIONS TO HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY, CANNOT FORWARD DETAILS WITHOUT FURTHER
VERIFICATION OF ANALYSIS.
TRANSMISSION ENDS
COLONEL WARREN, USARMY MEDICAL CORP
Chapter 6
12:02 p.m. Zulu
The Congo
Africa
I’m not sure how long I was out, but something woke me up just in time. I heard a low moaning noise dimly through my mask and hood. I rubbed the lenses of my gas mask to clear them. Something was reaching for me through the trees.
One of the infected villagers was grasping for me with one outstretched arm. I was mere inches from his struggling, blackened fingertips. The man had wedged his bloated belly between two of the tree trunks we had climbed over to get into our hiding place. Gunner and Hard-on were still out cold.
I kicked them awake.
Gunner practically climbed his tree, screaming in Spanish. Hard-on didn’t panic quite as badly, but he wasn’t too happy either. I moved away from the thing as far as I could.
We all watched the man struggle to reach us. If a skinny villager had found us we would have been fucked. This guy wasn’t as bad as the pepperoni man, but he wasn’t going to win any beauty contests either. He had several nasty wounds on his arms, shoulders, neck and face. They were all crusted with dried black blood. I pointed out that they all looked suspiciously like bite marks. His eyes were a nasty, filmed over yellow color; they looked like a dead man’s eyes. Every soldier who had ever killed a man knew those eyes. He had collected a few hundred flies of his own. We couldn’t smell him through the masks, but I was willing to bet he smelled bad; dipped in shit, three days dead, stinky, triple fucked, Ugandan whorehouse pussy bad.
“This shit’s getting way out of hand,” Hard-on observed once he calmed down enough to speak coherently.
I talked Gunner down and we discussed what to do.
“Let’s get the fuck gone out of here, before it gets loose,” Gunner suggested.
“Now, wait a minute,” I said thoughtfully. “We should take this fucker back to camp.”
“No, that is a very bad idea,” Gunner replied.
“No, it is a good idea, and let me tell you why,” I began. “If we turn this poor bastard over to the colonel, maybe he’ll finally figure out what’s going on out here. Maybe he’ll find an antidote. Hell, maybe he’ll pull his head out of his ass and realize that the people we were sent here to save are all dead, and then we can get the fuck outta here!”
“I don’t know,” Hard-on said slowly.
“This one will be easy,” I pointed out. “He’s already half way in the bag.”
They finally agreed to h
elp me.
Gunner kept his attention while Hard-on and I climbed out of the trees on the other side of the grove. It looked clear, so we crept around to the struggling villager’s ass end. I held his feet together while Hard-on wrapped his ankles in duct tape. I climbed up on top of him and used the rifle sling trick to secure his mouth, it worked like a charm. Finally, we climbed back into the grove and poked at him with a stick. When he grabbed it we quickly wound his wrists together with the tape. Took us all of five minutes to wrap him up.
Hard-on and I grabbed the waistband of his pants and hauled him out of the trees. We dumped him on his face in the mud. He struggled to stand up. I put a boot to his ass and then stood on him.
“We need another pole,” I suggested.
We struggled into camp with our prize, but this time only a couple of corpsmen came out to meet us. They removed the pole and pushed him onto a stretcher. They secured him with bungee cords and picked him up.
“Where are you taking him?” I asked
“He’s going into the sample tent with the others,” he replied.
“The sample tent?” Hard-on asked.
“That is what the colonel calls it,” the corpsman answered. “All of the specimens you guys have brought in are in there. Don’t ask me what the colonel is doing with them. You don’t want to know.”
They carried the struggling, groaning villager away and disappeared into one of the larger tents.
I noticed a constant, muffled moaning. It was coming from the tent they had gone into.
“Do you guys hear that?” I inquired.
“It sounds like a dozen of those things,” Hard-on responded.
“This place is cursed; it is a place of the damned.” Gunner swore. “Let’s go away from here.”
“We need to find the sarge,” I suggested.
We wandered around the camp, asking for Sgt. McAllister. We finally found him at the decontamination area. Some of 2nd Platoon’s guys were there being processed.
“I wondered where you guys got off to,” McAllister said.
“Did you and Gordo find anything?” I inquired.
“Yeah, we brought in another medic, he wasn’t as bad as the one you guys bagged,” the sergeant answered.
“We found another one, Sarge. A villager, like you wanted,” Hard-on bragged.
“Awesome,” McAllister responded. “While you guys were out lollygagging we bagged at least ten of those things. They’ve got quite a collection of them now.”
“What are they doing with them?” I asked.
“Fuck if I know,” the sergeant growled back. “But one of 2nd Platoon’s guys got bit bringing those fuckers in. They got him over there with Jonesy.”
“Is Jonesy okay?” I solicited.
“He’s still alive,” McAllister responded.
“Did you get a good look at any of the other ones they brought in, Sarge?” I asked.
“Yeah, I did.” he responded seriously.
“Well, are they sick, or dead? What the fuck is going on with them?” I inquired.
“We still don’t know. The colonel and his men are running tests around the clock trying to figure this virus shit out. It is beyond me why he wanted all these infected brought in, but I’m just a stupid grunt. The colonel hasn’t said anything to me yet, but the major’s position is that these people are sick, so sick that they don’t realize that they should be dead. They’re too sick to die,” he concluded.
“What?” I stuttered back.
“That’s exactly what I said,” McAllister laughed. “Don’t make a lot of sense, does it?”
“Look, Sarge, I’ve seen dead people before, and these things we’re bringing back, they’re dead,” I concluded.
“Dead people don’t walk around,” McAllister countered.
“Sarge, they’re dead!” I insisted.
“This shit is something entirely new, Parsons. You’re not a doctor, you’re a grunt, and you’d damn well better remember it before you get yourself shot,” he concluded.
“Sgt. McAllister, listen to me. The unit we came here to rescue, they’re gone. You’ve got to know that in your heart. We are risking our lives out here for nothing!” I grumbled.
“Dying for nothing goes with the territory. Suck it up. Sometimes you’re too smart for your own good,” he warned me. “You guys get out to the village with the rest of 1st Platoon. We’re establishing a forward perimeter. More of the locals might come in. I don’t want any more fucking surprises!”
We went through decontamination again and moved out to the village. The sun was high in the afternoon sky; it beat down on us like a huge bronze hammer on a flat iron skillet. I realized that I was becoming extremely dehydrated.
We linked up with our sister squad at the chapel. They had spread out in a rough skirmish line across the village. Their squad leader, Specialist Sadler, came over to meet us.
“Man. I am glad you guys are here,” he swore. “We were spread way too thin to stop anything from coming through.”
“Yeah, we’re thrilled to help you queers out,” Hard-on replied.
Sadler ignored him. “Have you guys heard anything?” he asked. “Nobody’s telling us nothing.”
“No,” I replied.
“But you guys shot one of them, the nurse right?” he exclaimed.
“There’s something very wrong with the people who were here,” I added. “We had a hell of a time killin’ her. We had to shoot her to pieces.”
“Damnation,” Sadler cursed.
“Yeah,” I replied sadly.
“Well, you guys can take the right side; we’ll take the chapel and the left. At least now we can keep each other in sight. I feel way better with you guys here.”
We spread out across the village. I sat in the doorway of an empty hut and sipped warm water from my canteen. At least I was in the shade. I was starting to feel sick and dizzy. Part of me panicked, I was sure I had the virus. Reality kicked in and, I realized I was just getting sunstroke; it had happened to me before. I tried to stay still and calm. Slowly, I began to feel slightly better. It had been a long day.
I tried to stay alert. I peered out between the huts before me. The superheated air shimmered before my eyes. I could swear I was seeing movement in the distance.
I blinked to clear my sight. Slowly the hazy figures coalesced before my watering eyes into men.
The villagers were returning. They limped and hobbled forward; a lot of them.
I stumbled back to the chapel. Gunner and Hard-on were right behind me.
“They’re coming back,” I croaked.
“We have to hold the line,” Sadler demanded. “Get back out there.”
“No way, man,” Hard-on responded.
The sound of gunfire came clearly to us, just from our left at the edge of the village.
“Shit,” Sadler cursed. “No one is supposed to be firing! You guys need to get back out there.”
The rest of Sadler’s squad burst through the huts and joined us.
“What are you guys doing?” Sadler demanded. “Who was shooting out there?”
One of his men stepped up. “Some of the villagers came at us on the east side,” he panted. “Something was wrong with them. I figured they had the virus, so we pulled back to avoid contact. We fired a few warning shots, but they just kept coming. What the hell are we supposed to do if we’re not shooting, throw rocks at them?”
“Fuck!” Sadler growled in frustration.
“I see one!” Hard-on shouted, pointing between the huts.
“Somebody better get the Sarge or the LT on the radio and sort this shit out!” I remarked.
“Great idea,” Sadler responded. “Somebody bring me the MSRT.”
“Hey you guys! They’re comin’ in!” somebody shouted from the left.
We moved into position at the rear of the chapel, taking cover as best we could. The main road ran directly by the chapel, and several small paths converged from the far side of the village here. Sad
ler’s squad and us made eight. We had two SAWs between us, and around two-hundred rounds of ammo each for the M-4s. Of course, we were under orders not to fire.
I could see several villagers slowly converging on our position. They staggered stiffly up the track. Their moans filled the air as they advanced. Every man in the platoon wanted to break and run. Only our training kept us where we were.
Sadler finally got the LT on the mobile satellite radio transmitter. They argued for a moment. “The LT wants us to hold this position. He says no one should be shooting; we are not to fire warning shots. We can only return fire if we are fired upon.”
“What?” Hard-on yelled, dumbfounded.
“Tell that dumb bastard what’s going on up here!” I shouted.
Sadler argued into the radio. “The LT says do not fire unless fired upon!” he repeated.
The lead villagers stumbled forward. As they closed with us, we could all plainly see that something was extremely wrong with them, that they were all fucked. The closest man to us could barely walk. One of his arms hung limp and useless at his side. His clothing was bloodstained and torn. His face was shredded so badly that I could plainly see his teeth and part of his jaw bone, and he was missing an eye. The next two behind him looked even more fucked up.
“Are you guys seeing this shit?” Hard-on yelled. “They’ve all got the virus!”
“Shut up!” Sadler screamed. “Everyone hold your fire! The LT says do not fire!”
Everyone stood their ground as the villagers advanced; we followed our orders to the last.
The lead villager stumbled into the line. He grappled with one of Sadler’s men and they went down in a twist of thrashing limbs.
“Fuck this!” Hard-on bellowed. He opened fire on the closest villager. The man crumpled under the point blank rounds, but continued to crawl forward. Hard-on stopped shooting and viciously stomped the man’s head in. I could hear his victim’s skull crunch under his boots.