“I imagine the ocean currents would push them along,” Doune replied.
“All this time I thought that an island might be safe,” Jackson said.
“I could be wrong,” Doune said.
“Do you think sharks would attack them, or would they know better?” Autumn asked.
“It’s hard to say,” Doune replied. “I’d be curious to learn more about interactions between the infected and animals.”
“Can we try turning an animal into a zombie?” Autumn asked.
“Maybe later,” Doune said.
Autumn knew what “maybe later” usually meant. She’d heard it from her foster parents often enough. Based on how involved Dr. Doune seemed in his current conversation, she had the feeling he was going to be busy for a while, and he probably wouldn’t want to try her experiment any time soon. She wondered if he’d be less likely to put her off if she went ahead and got the animal, so he wouldn’t have to bother with it.
“What I wouldn’t give for a rat right now,” she said quietly to herself.
She knew that the doctor kept vials of infected blood in his lab, so it would be a piece of cake to infect a specimen, if she could just get one.
“If I’m right,” Doune said, “the blockade that was set up to contain the plague from Central America was pointless. All the infected had to do was go around it through the water. It might have slowed the spread, but it certainly wouldn’t have stopped it.”
“Then this means that there really is no way to stop the spread,” Claire said quietly. “It means that eventually the dead will be everywhere.”
“I’m afraid so,” Doune said.
~*^*~
~12~
Demolished Office Building near St. Mary’s
A shot rang out, jarring Chuck out of his semi-conscious state. He often heard shots coming from the distance, but this was much closer. His body ached from the damage that had been done to it when the building had fallen. To make matters worse, he could feel rubble poking into his leg. He had tried several times to twist himself into a more comfortable position, but it seemed that no matter how he turned, a jagged piece of his dingy tomb always found its way to press into his skin. As he listened carefully, he thought he could hear voices. He tried to yell, but he was only able to drag a raspy moan from his parched lips. With a new sense of urgency, he searched his surroundings again for an opening that he may have missed. He had all but given up hope when he heard the voices, closer this time.
Inhaling deeply, he exhaled a hoarse cry for help. He waited for a response. Unfortunately, it came in the form of a low moan. It was there on the other side of the barrier, still waiting for him.
~*~
Lansing, Michigan
The remaining bikers got out their silent weapons and began to fend off the dead while they waited for the truck.
Wombat had his machete, his usual weapon of choice, while some of the others preferred blunt instruments such as bats. Helga had grown fond of her crowbar, and she raised it high as she approached her first target at a run. She dropped the undead man with a single blow and turned to look for her next victim.
While the others held the dead back, Snake and Moose walked the length of the park, discussing what it would take to build a wall big enough to enclose the whole area. Math wasn’t Moose’s strong point, so Snake did some calculations for him, getting an idea just how much area they were talking about. As they moved back toward the bikes, they both turned their heads toward the rubble of the building.
“Did you hear something?” Snake asked.
“Sounded like someone calling for help,” Moose said.
They approached the huge pile of debris, and Snake called out. When he paused to listen, he could faintly hear a male voice responding to them.
“Someone under there?” Moose asked in disbelief.
“Sounds like it,” Snake said, moving even closer.
Lindsey and Wombat ran over with a few of the others, and Snake apprised them of the situation.
“We could pull some of that stuff off,” Wombat said, “but it’s going to take a while, and I don’t see our undead friends standing by while we do it.”
“For sure, dude,” Snake said. “If he’s in the middle where it’s piled high, it probably ain’t gonna happen. Let’s figure out where he is and see if we can clear the area around him.”
They spread out, trying to pinpoint the survivor’s location while still fighting to keep the area clear of the dead.
“Right here,” one of the younger bikers finally called, pointing at a spot in the pile of rubble. “I can hear him!”
Snake hurried over to where the man was standing. The debris was still thick at that point, but it wasn’t piled as high as it was in other places.
Moose and Wombat began to dig into the rubble, but the chunks of concrete proved to be either too heavy or jammed too tightly together to move. The twisted rebar that snaked throughout the destroyed building only added to the difficulty.
“We ain’t gonna get this done by hand,” Snake said. “We need some demolition saws and maybe a jackhammer at the very least. Mark the spot and tell him we’ll be back once we find some equipment.”
The younger biker directed his voice toward the rubble, repeating Snake’s message.
Snake thought he heard a faint reply, but he couldn’t make out the words. He looked up to see the truck finally making its way down the road. Just in time, too, he thought. The dead were starting to move in.
There were four bikers with rifles on top of the truck. On each side of the roof was a length of chain that had been bolted down to give them something to hold onto, though some repairs had been done since Bull’s recent mishap.
When the truck came to a stop, Lindsey ran over to the arriving group and handed Mouse his leather jacket.
Snake let out a sigh and motioned for Wolf to pull up. “What’s Mouse doing here? I thought we were going to leave him home?”
“Sorry, Boss. I tried,” Wolf said with a sigh. “He looked at me with that sad puppy-dog face he makes.”
“Oh, yeah, I know that one,” Snake said. “That always gets me.”
“Same here. What could I do?” Wolf asked. “Besides, he pointed out that it was a clear day, so he won’t have a problem with his asthma.”
“Hmmm, I’ll have to think of something else now,” Snake said. He pointed down the road. “Let’s roll!”
~*~
Demolished Office Building near St. Mary’s
Chuck closed his eyes, relieved to know that help was on the way. He had all but given up any hope of rescue and had been concentrating on just staying alive, one minute at a time.
He wondered what the others from the building would say when they found out that he was alive. He had lived in fear that they would try to reach him and that they would find out about his large stash of food and water. They would have expected him to share it, and he hadn’t been willing to do that.
Then the bombs had dropped, changing everything.
The others would be surprised to see him alive, he was certain. Perhaps they would even guess the reason behind his silence. Maybe they’d want to dig through the rubble of the building and find his food. The thought still sent a feeling of panic through him. He decided that he’d tell them that he had grown weak from hunger and thirst and hadn’t been able to crawl from his bed to speak through the vents. There was no reason for them to know that he’d been celebrating their exodus with a bottle of champagne at the time. That would be his little secret.
~*~
Lansing, Michigan
The streets were like a battlefield, filled with holes and debris along with the usual shambling dead. Snake worried more than once that the truck wasn’t going to make it through. Often, side streets were taken, but eventually the group managed to reach a rental store that Snake had remembered seeing a few days earlier.
“We need jackhammers or something that’ll dig through that mess,” he said, “and a g
enerator large enough to power it.”
The rental store consisted of a small office with some larger buildings behind it. A chain-link fence with privacy slats was connected to the front building, and it encompassed the entire lot. Trees and shrubs had been planted all around the perimeter to improve the looks of the property, but they made it difficult to see what was on the other side of the fence. There was a large double gate in the front with a padlock on it.
Wombat volunteered to climb the fence and survey the scene.
“Watch your fingers,” Snake said. “No idea what’s over there.”
Wombat held up his hands to show Snake the leather gloves he’d picked up that morning. He grabbed the fence as high as possible to avoid any teeth that might be on the other side, and he quickly climbed to the top. The rest of the group abandoned their rides and worked to keep the dead back.
“Boss, we may have something better than jackhammers,” Wombat said, looking over the yard. “I see a couple of garages and a bunch of heavy equipment, including rental trucks. I think we just hit pay dirt.”
“Any dead in there?” Snake asked, walking over.
“Not as far as I can see,” Wombat said, jumping back down. “Could be something behind the buildings.”
“All right,” Snake said. “Boys, let’s go in and check it out, but be careful. We’re not sure what’s in there. Moose, why don’t you take some of our dead friends here for a walk?”
The bikers began to scale the fence while Moose walked back to his bike. Snake had to be given a hand, and he struggled to make the climb. He thought about taking a breather halfway up, but decided against it when several creatures seemed to take interest in him and staggered in his direction. When Snake’s head disappeared behind the wall, Moose pulled his throttle, causing a roar that made the creatures forget about the others. The diversionary tactic worked beautifully as the mindless minions followed him away from the building.
Once inside the fenced yard, the others evaluated the equipment. There were several backhoes, some Bobcats, a couple of large rental trucks, and a large front-end loader. Snake smiled as he approached the machine.
“Suppose there’s a key in here?” He motioned for someone to check it out.
One of the men jumped onto the machine and looked into the cab.
“No go, Boss. Want me to try to hot-wire it?”
“Let’s look for a key first. No reason to risk frying it if we don’t have to,” Snake muttered. “I guess we’d better try the office. Hopefully the keys are labeled.”
“The yard’s clear, Boss,” one of the men said, as a group returned from the back of the garages.
The place gave Snake an unpleasant feeling, probably because the trees around the lot reminded him of the yard where they’d lost one of the younger bikers, Monkey, just about a week earlier. The death of the biker, who had been like a son to Snake, still weighed heavily on his mind. Shaking away the dark thoughts, he told one of the men to try the back door of the office.
The man ran back a few minutes later. “It’s locked,” he said.
“Want me to pick it?” Wolf asked.
“Nah, you’d have to climb over the fence again to get your tools. I guess we write an IOU for a window,” Snake said as he picked up a landscaping rock and threw it through the glass.
Mouse joined them at the window and immediately jumped up to climb through.
“Careful!” Snake warned him, the incident with Monkey still fresh in his mind. “Could be anything in there.”
The words had barely left Snake’s mouth when Mouse howled in pain and dropped back to the ground.
“My shoulder!” Mouse was grimacing while holding his arm gingerly. “I’ve been shot!”
~*~
St. Mary’s Hospital, Lansing
Doune began to download anything useful he could find on the plague, as well as medical documents that he wanted to archive. He came across several discussions on the cause of the plague, but ignored most of them since the content was mere speculation and not worth his time. When he happened upon a conversation that caught his interest, he scrolled down to read the whole thread. One of the participants was a doctor, and there were a few others who seemed to be capable of intelligent conversation. Debating on whether or not to say anything about the nature of the plague, he finally jumped into the conversation without using his real name. He was normally not a paranoid person, but he also didn’t believe in giving out more information than was necessary.
We aren’t dealing with a virus. It’s a parasite, he typed. Then he waited.
The conversation came to a screeching halt. Doune only had to wait a moment before the questions started flying. He ignored the inquiries that dealt with whom and where he was, and simply told them that he was a surgeon and had access to a lab. He typed a short summary of what he had learned about the parasite, which was similar to Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, a parasitoidal fungus.
Zombie ants? Someone wrote back, after a couple minutes. I remember reading about them a while back.
The parasite that we’re dealing with is similar, Doune replied, though quite a bit smaller and much more complex.
As the conversation continued, Doune learned that none of the others had access to a lab and had been flying blind in their speculations. They were interested in hearing everything he had to say about his research on the parasite, and he was enjoying every moment of it. He was in the middle of typing another reply when his surgical nurse, Amelia, showed up.
“Hey, mister genius brain surgeon,” she said, hands on her hips. “Those other doctors need help upstairs if you’re not too busy playing computer games.”
He kept typing as he replied to the nurse. “Amelia, have you ever known me to play a computer game?”
“No, but they still need help.”
“Is it critical? I’m in the middle of a discussion about the parasite. This is rather important.”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You ask them. I’m off duty now, and I’m going to get some sleep.”
Before he could reply, she was gone. He clicked the mouse to send off his reply, getting another question almost immediately. The last thing he wanted to do was to interrupt the conversation to go upstairs and babysit.
“Look at this,” Claire said, suddenly. “They’re saying that London is almost completely overrun as well as several other European cities.”
“I’m not surprised,” Doune said, walking over to look at the report on the screen. Claire clicked on a map and it enlarged, showing an even grimmer picture than what they’d seen just an hour earlier.
“Autumn?” Doune asked, seeing the girl standing by the window. “Would you mind running upstairs for me?”
“I don’t mind,” she said, walking over. “It’s better than standing around here.”
“Will you please ask the other doctors just how urgently I’m needed? I’m in the middle of an important discussion with some people online. They need to know about the parasite.”
“Sure,” Autumn asked.
“Thank you,” he said, returning to the laptop. “Also, please explain to them what we’ve learned about the research facility in Montana. I’m sure they’ll want to know about it.”
Autumn smiled, loving the responsibility she was being given. “I’ll get right on that,” she said, hurrying off.
~*~
Malibu, California
“There’s a whole mass of the dead converging on an alley below,” the pilot said into his headset.
After a short conversation on the radio, he told Wood, “Madec said this is the place.”
A few minutes later, the squad was dropped down onto the street. As the helicopter lifted back up to observe the scene from above, several of the dead tried to grab for it. The distraction allowed the armed men to move in and thin the numbers before the remaining zombies realized there was fresh meat on the ground.
“Take that one alive!” Wood yelled, pointing to a dead man shambling tow
ard them in a lab coat.
“A little late for that,” one of the men said.
With controlled bursts from their weapons, the soldiers were able to rapidly eliminate most of the not-quite-dead. The ground was soon littered with corpses, and more of the dead were moving in from the surrounding streets.
“Is it Rayburn?” another asked as they moved in around the lone, snarling zombie with a pair of handcuffs.
“Sure looks like it. That’s the same messy gray hair, and that looks like the lab coat he was wearing.”
“Watch his teeth!”
“I’ve got this,” one of the soldiers said, stepping forward with a roll of duct tape. “It’s him all right. He’s still wearing his name tag.”
Reaching into the ghoul’s pocket, the soldier pulled out a cell phone and checked it. “This is his phone. It’s Rayburn.”
“Wood, I hate to tell you, but you’re attracting a crowd.”
“We’re ready.”
“Clear me a spot.”
The men formed a large circle and moved outward, killing anything in their paths.
As soon as the chopper landed, the zombie was loaded onto it, and the soldiers followed, the dead quickly filling in the space around them.
“Go!”
As the chopper lifted into the air, some of the undead managed to grab on. A few carefully placed shots took care of the problem, and the aircraft was on its way back to the Yucca compound.
~*^*~
~13~
Yucca Compound, Southern California
“It’s got to be him!” said Bob, looking at the zombie that was strapped to an operating table. “Look. He has Rayburn’s name tag. He’s wearing those dark blue slacks that Rayburn always wears and the white lab coat.”
Dead, But Not For Long (Book 2): Pestilence and Promise Page 11