by David Bourne
Scott followed Ray outside. After going down the road for a few yards, he found him leaning against a tree, gazing up at the stars.
“I thought you were going to pee?”
“And I thought you were going to tame Lassie.”
“The dog doesn’t have to be tamed—and his name is Watson.”
Ray snorted. “Watson. What a lame-ass name for a dog.”
“Maybe the dog thinks the same about the name Ray.”
Ray glanced at Scott from the corner of his eyes. Despite Scott’s expectation for a reaction, he remained poker-faced.
“You really don’t make it easy, Captain,” Scott sighed.
“What do you want from me, Scott? Go back to the damn store and lie down with your new family, but leave me the hell alone.”
Scott grew very angry. “That’s not my new family, Ray—you know that. I miss my family more than anything else, and they’re the only thing keeping me going in this shitty world. But this doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care for other people. You of all people should understand that.”
Ray picked up a blade of grass and stuck it between his lips. “Are you done?”
“No. I’m only putting up with your pity party performance because I respect you as a person—at least that’s what I’ve felt until now. However, if you don’t snap out of it soon, we’ve got a real problem.”
Ray did not even glance at Scott. He simply kept staring into the distance. “Are you done with your sermon, reverend?”
“No. We’ll both share guard duty tonight. As you seem unable to sleep, you’ll take the first watch. Wake me up when you get tired, and then I’ll take over—and that was no sermon, it was an order, Captain!” Afterwards, Scott stomped off back to the safety of the convenience store.
Phil and the kids were already soundly asleep. Scott checked Chris’ breathing again, but noticed no change and silently covered him with one of the blankets from the storage room. Then he went to the fuse box and turned off all the lights. He didn’t want anyone to see that there was someone at the gas station and store. Afterwards he also lay down on the floor and covered himself with a blanket.
As beautiful as always, Jane smiled at Scott as he stood by the outdoor grill cooking burgers. It was a bright summer day in Augusta, and his son Sam was eagerly chasing after a butterfly in the garden. The yellow butterfly zigzagged so often that three-year-old Sam lost his balance and landed on his behind. Scott laughed. “Come over here, young man, the food will be ready soon!”
Sam raced directly to the picnic table and sat down. Jane brought a bottle of ice-cold beer for Scott and placed it on a small stone table next to him. Then she tiptoed, gave him a kiss on his bristly cheek and winked at him. She wore a blue sundress and a silly straw hat that Scott had recently bought for her at the local arts and crafts market.
Jane went toward Sam and tried to brush off the most obvious traces of grass and dirt from his denim overalls. A light breeze was blowing through the tops of the pine trees, and Scott could smell the pleasant, hearty aroma of grilled steaks drifting from nearby neighborhood cookouts. From somewhere in the distance, he could hear the loud barking of a dog that seemed to enjoy this day as well. Scott closed his eyes and allowed himself a smile.
Everything seemed perfect, except...one thing wasn’t right. Something didn’t fit this scene. Then Scott realized what it was—it was the barking dog he had noticed in the background the whole time. The Gerbers had never owned a dog. The only neighbors with a dog had a poodle whose barking sounded very different. Scott focused on the loud, incessant barking, which became even louder and eventually forced itself into his consciousness.
Scott slowly awoke. When he first noticed the barking, he tried to resist waking up as much as he could because he didn’t want to let go of this wonderful memory. The barking grew louder and louder until the boundary between dream and reality dissolved, and Scott finally opened his eyes. He looked around and felt disoriented. In the darkness he saw Phil and the kids lying to the right of him, and Chris was still lying on the sofa. No trace of Ray.
The barking of the dog was real. Watson seemed to be going crazy in the kennel behind the store. Scott was surprised Phil and the kids had not woken up from the disturbance. Oh well, let them sleep. Ray was probably with the dog out back, and that’s what has caused the racket. Scott wanted to be absolutely certain, though.
As he crossed the store with his ax in his hand, he gazed at one of the shelves stocked with wine bottles and had an uneasy feeling. He went to the back door and started to open it slowly but instead felt resistance. At the same time, he heard the now all-too familiar gargling and moaning sound of an undead creature coming from the other side of the door. Scott gathered all his strength and pushed the door outward so that the zombie standing behind it fell backward and landed with a dull thud on the ground. He was horrified to see five of these beasts shuffling around the outside area behind the store, with some of them trying to reach into Watson’s kennel. The Rottweiler jumped frantically back and forth, barking incessantly. Goddamn it, where is Ray? Scott thought.
He had no time for further thoughts because by this point, the zombies had noticed Scott and they were moving toward him. It was absolutely necessary for him to keep these beasts from invading the store. With a well-aimed kick, Scott broke the neck of the undead lying on the ground. A strong swing of his ax severed the head of the second attacker and it fell to the ground, rolling on for several yards. The stricken creature’s torso first fell to its knees and then toppled over. Scott became aware of the inexplicable sense of satisfaction he once felt before during the battle inside Chris’ house, and he performed with a keen precision that was uncanny even to himself. .
Undead Number Three and Four now approached him from two sides. Scott rotated his ax like a spinning top and struck both creatures at hip height—cleanly slicing through the body of the first zombie and shattering the left hip bone of the other one. The last zombie still stood next to Watson’s kennel and was trying to grab the dog. The undead creature with the broken hip, along with the other lacerated one, still kept moving toward Scott. Scott quickly sized-up his intended target and swung the ax sideways to hit the beast in the temple. His aim was true but then, his second opponent grabbed his right arm and deflected the blow. Instead of hitting the skull, as planned, Scott sliced through the creature’s upper arm and deep into its lung. The ax stuck firm, and Scott let go of it when the zombie’s body fell to the ground. He looked straight at the half-decayed face of the second attacker as it moved closer to him. Either through hunger or through anger, its facial muscles had become so distorted that the creature seemed to laugh at Scott. The zombie also made a disgusting, smacking sound. Scott’s body tightened involuntarily, and he noticed his arms were flexing and his fists clenched. He moved toward the zombie. The creature raised its arms to grab Scott, hissing at him as its next intended meal. Scott struck the zombie with his right elbow and smashed its nose an inch deep into its skull. The creature stumbled backward and landed in the dirt.
“That’s what you get for grinning,” Scott harshly whispered. He stood next to the zombie and began to viciously stomp its face in. Again and again his sturdy work boots smashed the undead creature’s grotesque, smiling face until there was nothing left but a mass of flesh, bone fragments and brain. The zombie with the ax stuck in its torso could only watch Scott’s assault attentively, as it was unable to do anything else. With his face contorted in disgust, Scott’s foot eventually began to hurt from the constant pulverizing of the zombie’s face, and he was beginning to hit more soil than face. He then reached and pulled his ax from the prone zombie’s body and smashed it with full force into the skull. During this whole time, the monster at the kennel was only focused on Watson. Scott quickly dispatched this threat with a strong blow to the back of its head.
“Do any more of you fuckers want to laugh at me now?” Scott groaned loudly. The adrenaline in his body was slowly wearing off. He took a deep
breath and looked after Watson.
The dog whimpered gratefully at Scott. Scott looked around, and it appeared as though he had eliminated all of them. He couldn’t see or hear any more of the undead. Scott resolved he would not leave Watson out here any longer. He took the tow rope he had left next to the kennel and opened the gate. The dog jumped up at him and wagged his tail. Scott tied the rope to the dog collar and led Watson into the store. Once inside, he fastened the rope to a shelf and placed some more meat and water in front of the dog.
He went to the convenience store office, where the other ones were still sleeping soundly. They hadn’t noticed anything, but Scott was more interested in another person who had also not noticed anything: Ray.
Scott went outside.
The Full Extent
Josh did not want to waste any time, and he walked directly toward the officers’ mess. The two guards in front of the building watched him as he approached. Both soldiers were heavily armed, and one of them aimed his weapon at Josh when he saw him coming near. After he identified himself as the Master Sergeant’s son, they waved him through. Josh squared his shoulders—he wanted to look strong for his father, William Pelletier, who was a true warrior. Josh had seen little of him from his early childhood on. His dad was always away on exercises or missions, but he tried to be there for his son as best as he could manage. Josh fondly remembered his first visit to the shooting range with his dad. Weapons are only tools, son. The men who use them are what really makes them effective. He always remembered these words his father had hammered into him. The men who use them ...
Josh was more like his mother. He had been a lanky boy with few friends who had been more interested in video games than in sports. How often did his dad try to get him interested in a military career? Since he was a kid, it seemed as if both his parents had been attempting to pull him to their respective side. At some point though, he became more interested in medicine, and his dad gave up trying to make a soldier out of him. Despite this, Josh never got the impression his dad thought less of him because of his future career choice—quite the opposite, in fact. The senior Pelletier supported his son’s medical career as best as he possibly could, which of course delighted his mother. Visits to the shooting range with his dad on weekends had remained a tradition, though, and Josh would not miss this for the world. He enjoyed it, and it was one of the few ways he and his dad had fun together.
Josh walked through the large entrance hall of the officers’ mess. Normally, only the higher ranks at Fort Weeks dined here, or they used the room for meetings and receptions. He saw numerous pennants and trophies from various military competitions. Soldiers like to compete. The entrance to the dining hall also sported the motto he had seen on the arch outside.
There was a lot of hustle and bustle inside the building. He saw many people talking to each other, but no one paid any attention to him. The dining room had been turned into a kind of command center, with several tables pushed together to form a large square in the middle of the room. When he entered the room, he saw his father standing at the large table in the center. William Pelletier wore his fatigues, and his shirt sleeves had been rolled up precisely, revealing his tanned, muscular arms. His hair was snow-white and trimmed neatly in a short style. He looked very fit for his age and in spite of being fifty-five, he was physically superior to most of the young soldiers. This was the typical image Josh had of his father—always full of energy and drive. Today was different, for in a way William Pelletier seemed to be tired. He glanced at some maps and seemed lost in thought. While referring to the maps, he held a discussion with several other soldiers. Yet he still noticed when someone entered the room.
“Gentlemen, if you will excuse me for a moment, my son just arrived. Corporal Morgan, please take over.” The men nodded and continued drawing on their maps.
William Pelletier walked straight to Josh and embraced him.
“You cannot imagine how happy I am to see you. My guards informed me that you were coming.” William cleared his throat loudly.
“Well, dad, I can imagine it. I’m so glad you and mom are okay. Right now, I’m rather overwhelmed by the situation. It’s sheer chaos out there.”
“We are all overwhelmed, Josh. Come, let’s go to my office.” He turned around and signaled Josh to follow him. He opened the door to his Spartan office, whose only decorative elements were some photos of old comrades of his father. William offered his son a seat and a cup of hot coffee. He carefully closed the door, and then he himself sat down in his office chair.
“You cannot even picture in your wildest dreams how right you are, Josh. Calling the situation serious or dire would be the understatement of the millennium. Desert Storm was serious. Mogadishu was serious. Al-Qaida and all other horrors in the world that you can imagine—these are a fly speck compared to what is happening here.”
“Why didn’t you guys do anything, dad? You’re the goddamned Army of the United States. You have to do something!” Josh suddenly blurted out. He had never once treated his father with a lack of respect and he now expected a stern word from him. Instead, his father sipped on his coffee and rubbed his tired eyes.
“Why do you think we are sitting in this office in the middle of the night, rather than standing outside with the other people?” William asked in a serious tone.
“I have no clue!” Josh replied angrily.
“Josh...” his father said, suddenly looking years older. “We simply were not prepared for something like this. I am a soldier, not a commander. Normally, I supervise basic training and give lectures on ballistic curves and wind conditions. Since the virus outbreak, this base has lost almost half of all its soldiers. Some deserted in order to reach their families. During the first, rather chaotic missions, others turned into these walking monsters and attacked civilians and their comrades. I even had to shoot some of my old friends and comrades. Several soldiers simply refused to shoot infected people. Many did not want to give up on their friends and then fell prey to the creatures themselves. Initially, the military leadership kept us mostly in the dark, so we were badly prepared for all this horror. Meanwhile, none of higher-ups are at Fort Weeks anymore, so I now command the base. We have hardly any radio contact with other military bases, so that makes us practically blind and half deaf. If only a portion of what they report on TV is true, then we are in some real deep shit. Right now, I simply don’t have the resources here to do anything against it. Take a seat in my chair and tell me what I should do because I am grateful for any piece of advice, no matter how small.”
“I had no idea things were this bleak,” Josh answered honestly. He was ashamed of having been so snotty.
“We cannot even see the full extent right now—but do you blame the firefighters if there is a fire? You can believe me, we would be happy to know how things will turn out two hours from now. Right now, we have four priorities: Rescue, supply, communication, fortification. That is what we are working on—and even there we are already reaching the limit of our abilities.”
Josh hesitated, wondering how he should phrase what he was about to say. Then he decided to be straightforward. “One more thing, dad: Maybe you’ve have already come in contact with it. I’m not one hundred percent sure, but some of these beasts still seem to have a remnant of intelligence.”
“What do you mean?” William asked nervously.
“On the way here, I encountered a creature that behaved differently from the others. It was more coordinated and seemed to act with deliberation. It specifically searched for me and then pursued me. The worst thing was this damned monster appeared to control the other beasts. At least they followed this particular creature, as if obeying it.”
“Are you quite sure, Josh?”
“Well, as I said, I’m not totally certain, but I didn’t want to keep that information from you.”
William sagged back in his chair and pondered what he had just heard. Then he sat up again. “Thank you so much. Currently, this does not worsen o
ur situation too much. We can only plan from day to day.”
“Can I help in any way, dad?”
“You can indeed. With your medical training, you are more than welcome in the hospital. Furthermore, I have to concentrate on running this base. I would be glad to have a reliable person close to your mother. Now that you’re safe I hope she will have an easier time here.”
“I’ll do the best I can. You can trust me.” Josh looked his father resolutely in the eyes.
“You are a good boy, Josh, and always were. I am relying on you—I need any help I can get. Eat something, change and get some sleep. Afterwards, I will assign you to the medical team, if that is okay with you.”
“No problem.”
“See you then, son. Get some rest. Talk to Private Harper at the entrance and let him show you to your quarters.”
Josh nodded and left the office. He asked Private Harper to show him the way to his room. When they left the building, the sun was just rising. According to his watch, it was a few minutes past seven. The private led Josh to his room and said goodbye. Josh fell on his bed, feeling exhausted. Before he slipped into a dreamless sleep, he thought about the past few hours, which seemed like an eternity to him. Then exhaustion finally won out.
Discord
Scott first looked near the tree where he had previously left Ray. No Ray to be seen, but he instead found something else and silently cursed it. He recalled the premonition he earlier had in the store, when the wine bottles on the shelf reminded him of Ray’s drinking problems.
I was afraid of that, Scott thought and shook his head in dismay. In the shimmering moonlight he saw two empty whiskey bottles.
He followed the road, but then turned around after a few hundred yards. Ray could basically be anywhere out here, but considering he was probably drunk as a skunk, it was likely that he had found a place to sleep near the gas station or store.