The Pilgrim Strain

by Edgar, C. P.

  David stopped, turned around and fired a well-aimed but instinctive shot, releasing a jacketed hollow point bullet that traveled at 1,100 feet per second directly into the eye socket of the man, snapping his head back. He slouched abruptly and leaned onto the crying boy underneath him, smothering him with his dead weight.

  David had only reacted, not even thinking about the consequences of discharging a firearm in an American airport terminal, or any airport for that matter. He half expected to be tackled at any moment, but that instance never came to be.

  Everyone near the crash was engaged in a life or death struggle, or running away from one. No one seemed to have even noticed or cared that the shot had rang out. They were all in their own personal nightmare, oblivious to everything outside of it.

  No emergency responders were coming to help. No airport firemen. No police officers. No airport security personnel. Everyone that could break free was rapidly escaping. It’s like they already know not to come.

  “David, fuck dude, let’s go!” Miller had continued along without him but had pulled up to a security door and was trying to wrench it open. It had a keypad security mechanism and was sealed shut. He held the door handle with his good arm, his left foot braced against the wall and was heaving, desperately trying pull the door open.

  “We need to find something to pry this open with!” he yelled between pulls.

  David looked around first to make sure no screaming freak was approaching and then searched for some sort of tool. Unfortunately, he knew that this wasn’t the kind of place where random and useful tools would just be laying around. Nothing.

  “There ain’t shit around here.” David never used the word ain’t.

  Miller took a second to look over his shoulder. He smiled at David. “What about that?” he said smiling. He emphasized with a head nod for David to look again.

  “Yeah, that will work,” David said while shaking his head.

  He felt like an idiot. He walked over to the display case in the center of the corridor. Using the grip of the pistol, he struck the protective glass hard at the corner causing it to shatter at the edge. He struck it again shattering the main portion of the glass and then using the pistol he pushed it inward so that he could reach inside. Stupid, he thought to himself as he pulled the Model 1855 Bayonet from the American Civil War display.

  David turned around with a smile on his face, and he had just enough time to put his arm out to deflect the first body crashing into him. He used the infected man’s momentum, along with the deflecting strike, to plow him face first into the ground. Without a moment’s hesitation, he buried the bayonet into the back of the man’s skull, killing him instantly.

  David stood up abruptly and fired two consecutive rounds into the chest of another infected attacker, this time a woman so severely burned that her skin and muscle were dangling from the bones of her forearms in sheets of flesh. She fell to the ground in a howl, and David was awash with nausea from the smell of her body. He fired again into her head to shut her up.

  Miller had already pulled the bayonet from the skull of the man, and was working on prying the door open. The power was out so all they needed to do was defeat the pin bolt on the security card latch because the magnetic lock and armature plate were already de-energized.

  Miller pried the door using the bayonet and David pulled at the handle with his foot braced against the wall. It gave in a rush of motion and opened just as suddenly as Miller was hit laterally by a huge black man, the force careening into David pushing him through the door with such force that he fell down the entire set of stairs beyond. The door crashing shut again just as David came to rest at the bottom of the landing.

  ***

  The first slap didn’t cause any change. The second slap caused David to gasp heavily as he filled his lungs with air. He coughed violently and spit careened from his lips. He couldn’t quite focus his eyes between each blink. He rolled over onto his stomach. Some debris, dust or something, was in his left eye and his right was clouded over with blood. He swiped his eyes with his hands and tried again. Ok, I’m not dead and I’m not blind.

  David rolled over onto his back again and enjoyed a couple more breaths of air. The smoke seemed to have dissipated somewhat. He wiped his eyes again and looked up.

  “Hey buddy.”

  “Ed?”

  “How you doing little brother? You think you can get to your feet?” Ed asked while grabbing David by the arm and trying to haul him to his feet.

  “Holy shit. Ed?” David exclaimed while standing, although he swayed a little bit once he was upright.

  “You ok?”

  “I’m just a little groggy, but I think I’ll be fine if I can just take a few steps.” David looked around and noticed that there were tactical operators inside the area where he was now standing, and that they were heavily armed and facing outward in a defensive perimeter. They were in plain, civilian styled clothing but he could see that they were all military trained. They were armed with assault rifles and their bulging frames indicated they were wearing ceramic plate carriers under their shirts. At least half of them had visible sidearms holstered in thigh holsters.

  Based upon the presence of earpieces, David was also able to see that they all seemed to be wired into radio communications.

  David took a step and then bent over, throwing up onto the floor. He noticed out of the corner of his eye a couple operators shift weight and blade toward him. The big guy that looked like a Viking was eyeing the hell out of him. They think I’m infected.

  “I’m not infected guys.”

  Now that light was pouring into the space, David could finally see the carnage he had found himself in. It looked like a bomb had gone off.

  “We had to blow our way in. The main terminal is too hot so we decided to go high order on the exterior wall leading in from the service side of the airport. Sorry, we had no idea you were standing right near the detonation.”

  “I was running not standing.”

  David remembered waking up at the base of the stairs. He remembered trying to find an exit when the power system had failed and the subterranean darkness had engulfed him. He had a jolt of fear when he thought of the teenage boy that had been licking the trail of his blood. He looked around suddenly concerned that he would appear.

  “Calm down bro, you’re safe with us.” Ed placed his hand on David’s shoulder trying to console him. He could see his brother was shaken badly by whatever had befallen this airport.

  “There are infected people here Ed. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “Yeah, lots. They have spilled out into the surrounding area and we had to fight our way in. The city will be overrun soon unless the spread of infection can be controlled.”

  “Holy shit Ed. Miller is up there in the terminal still. We have to go get him.” He started to move but Ed grabbed him by the bicep. Ed shook his head and David felt a wave of pain. Miller didn’t make it.

  David, looked away to try and find some neutral visual space to think. What he saw instead was the boy. The boy that had been licking his blood trail and trying to devour him. He was still moving albeit trapped under a heavy piece of debris. The boy was staring at him, and was snarling silently. Drool and bloody vomit was seeping out of the corners of his mouth. Ed was watching David’s expression and had traced his fear to the boy.

  “Daggan, eliminate that.”

  “Roger,” was all that the big man David had mistaken for a Viking said before he walked over to the boy, stomped on his head pinning it to the ground, and fired two suppressed rounds into the side of his head. David did not feel any pity for the boy, or whatever he was now.

  “How did you find me Ed? I’m in a fucking airport basement for Christ’s sake!”

  “Your phone is in your pocket bro. You might not be able to get a connection through the cellular towers because the networks are all fucked, but that doesn’t mean we can’t track you down dude.” Ed winked.

  “No it
isn’t,” he replied patting himself from head to toe. He specifically remembered believing he had lost it in his jacket. He stopped when he felt the hard plastic bulging from his back pant’s pocket. Stupid, here it is.

  “Thank God,” David said in an almost whisper. He let himself calm down, one tier down from lunatic fringe. He was happy his brother had come to his rescue, as unbelievable as that might be.

  Ed depressed his earpiece with one hand, “Let’s get ready to extract.” He watched as his men began moving into a wedge formation toward the breach in the wall leading to the outside.

  “Wait Ed, aren’t there others? I was supposed to rendezvous?”

  “Miller and Einberg were the only team members arriving at this location.”

  “Who is Einberg?”

  “He was on the plane with Miller. We hacked into the surveillance video feed of the airport terminal and confirmed he is down as well.” Ed looked pained by that statement and David could feel the other team members tense up a bit.

  David knew the answer before he even asked the question but it came out nonetheless, “Was he the man that Miller killed?”

  “Yes.”

  David was going to say something else but just suppressed it. He knew the answers already. These men were part of their team and they were all in mourning, the warrior’s way.

  “I’m sorry Ed.”

  “Let’s roll David. We need to get out of here or we will all be dead soon. Merissa was diverted along with one of our guys. They were supposed to land here but they landed in Atlanta after this airspace was closed. My man who was with Merissa texted us when they touched down but we lost communications when the networks fried.”

  David could tell that Ed had more to say but was being guarded.

  “What is it Ed?

  Ed looked at his men and then back at David. “Rainer’s last text said Atlanta was under siege. It said the Pilgrimage was a success.”

  ***

  Ginger Island, British Virgin Islands

  Steam rose from the water like liquid born ghosts emerging from a winter lake. James had been soaking for hours. His eyes closed to the world. His breathing rhythmic, lockstep with the walk of the sun toward the horizon.

  An alarm pierced the silence and his eyes flashed open. It was time.

  James was naked. He likely had been naked for days although he couldn’t remember. It seemed inconsequential now. Unnecessary to burden himself with trivial acts and wastes of energy. His mind needed all the energy he could muster.

  James pulled himself from the hot spring pool set into the floor of the top level of the terraced patio. He was weak and lacked the strength to stand, so he slid out of the pool onto the patio floor and floundered like a fish on his side, his legs still in the water.

  His rhythmic breathing became deep and pained. He began sobbing and convulsed with each. He slammed his fist down onto the concrete. Blood began seeping from the splits in the flesh along his knuckles. He stopped breathing.

  Just as suddenly as the sun dipped below the horizon, along the edge of the Equator, James rose to his feet. The alarm was still sounding off from within the house, within his mind. He moved toward the opened sliding glass door and crossed over into the house, still dripping water from the waist down. His feet slapped against the cool floor leaving behind water prints.

  James found a pair of cargo pants bundled on the floor near a sitting chair and reached down and grabbed them. He slipped the pants on as the alarm continued to sound. Fed up with the sound he yelled at the top of his lungs, “Stop alarm!” Silence swept the interior of the residence, and James bathed in it raising his arms from his sides and spun slowly.

  Satisfied that he wasn’t imagining the quiet, he pushed deeper into the room and found the tablet sitting in its cradle where he last saw it. It had been running a sequence and the alarm had announced its completion. The AI he had recently activated within the residence had been quick to shut it down upon hearing his command. James liked her.

  “Madilyn?”

  “Yes James?”

  “Is the boat ready?”

  “The power system is fully charged and the laboratory memory exchange is at ninety-three percent completion. My operating system image is at eighty-three percent and will require an estimated one point three hours until fully completed.”

  “Thank you, Madilyn.”

  “You’re welcome, James.”

  He grabbed the tablet and while walking opened the video feeds tiled in his global command module. It was a custom system designed to operate a small army of automated UAV assets. Each autonomous in nature.

  Most were medium-sized quadcopters in design that had rooftop launch and recovery bases on commercial rooftops throughout much of the United States and other major cities worldwide. He had a half dozen fixed wing units stationed at remote privately owned airstrips as well for longer aerial tours and direct action missions. They went live yesterday.

  Each unit was self-sustaining, meaning they launched autonomously and ran preprogrammed flight patterns until their energy source was depleted at which time they self-landed and docked on power recharging stations until their next flight tour. All of these units were capable of day and night video imaging as well as communications delivery relays for ground units. The video feeds ran on a private satellite system that James had paid nearly $1.5 billion three years prior. The video feeds were accessed by James’ command system and were comfortably accessible by the tablet sitting in his left hand that he was now bemusedly gazing at.

  It’s beautiful. He was amazed by the colors thrown against the sky in Paris as the city burned. He could tell that the Pilgrims had already colonized the area. It was long dark in the French city. Pitched gun battles were barely visible against the canvas of darkness, captured by the high definition optics mounted on the UAV. Car fires, smoldering buildings, and fast-moving vehicles could be seen but James longed for more definitive action. He wanted to be able to watch the downfall of the old world, as close as he could get from the comfort of the island.

  “Madilyn? Please lower Capstan One Nine into a low-level observation orbit, and give me remaining flight time.”

  “Capstan One Nine is moving into a five hundred meter altitude orbit James. Capstan One Nine will be in that orbit in two minutes and seven seconds. Capstan One Nine will have a remaining flight time of approximately thirty-seven minutes, and will need one hour and twenty-five minutes to recharge after self-docking.”

  “Madilyn please play some Mozart at level five for me.”

  “Die Entführung aus dem Serail at level five.”

  The entire residence became filled with the vibrant, notes filled Opera. James was taken by the depth and feeling in the composition. He drifted in time and space, swaying along with the rise and base. His mind drifted to Belmonte, and his absolute desire to rescue Konstanze from the seraglio of Pasha Selim and suddenly James was thinking about Judith. No, not Judith. I don’t want to save Judith. I want her to be imprisoned forever.

  “Madilyn, bring up a live feed of Judith and place it on my tablet.”

  “James, are you sure?”

  What the fuck?

  “Madilyn, why would you ask me that?”

  “James, you told me to ask you Are you sure? each time you requested to see video footage of your family members?”

  Why would I do that?

  “Madilyn, bring up the live feed of my children.”

  “James, are you sure?”

  He screamed, “Bring up the fucking video feed!”

  His tablet vibrated and chimed simultaneously in his hand and he brought it up to view. Just as quickly as he looked he dropped the tablet to the ground and walked off.

  “Madilyn, it’s time to leave. Prep the boat for a course to our primary landing point, code-named Plymouth. It is time to join the colony.”

  The tablet was still active. It lay facing up on the cold, hard floor. Madilyn had not stopped the application and his last command was
still operating. On the screen, silently, the video showed two small children on the beach outside. They should have been playing games or enjoying themselves, but instead they were devouring. They lay upon the carcass of a dead pig and were pulling at it. The girl reached across the boy for a moment, and he barked and coughed at her. Unsettled she reached further and the boy bit her hard, tearing at the flesh of her arm. She didn’t flinch, rather satisfied that she had grabbed warm flesh, she pulled her arm back and began eating again. Her blood-soaked eyes scanning for another fresh kill.

  ***

  From the diary of John Aldean, shipmate and hogshead cooper, “I saw it glistening against the backdrop of the calm sea. It hadn’t been but a moment of gazing. My eyes had been turned toward the new world when alas I found a sign that fortune favored us. I had not but a moment to hoist the bucket and line and cast it back out. We were yawling from a counter current but somehow, I managed to collect the treasure against all odds. I reeled the bucket with great care so as not to purge and precarious as it was I was able to bring it aboard.

  The prize I found was a simple clear bottle, corked and waxed shut. I had never in my life until that very moment seen such a clear glass container free from malformity, and set within it appeared to be a simple scroll. For fear of losing it to someone with the desire to take it, I placed the bottle down my blouse and after setting and lashing the riggings I had used, went to my quarters for a closer look.