Sorrow
A Novel Written by Brian Wortley
Copyright Brian Wortley
Published: May 22nd, 2016
Preface
I cannot sing or else I would have sung you a lullaby.
I cannot dance or else I would have tapped my feet and made you smile.
But what I have, I give you.
These my words. My labor.
Because, you see, I’ve never met you and yet I love you
With a love far beyond myself.
For My Precious Adrienne
Who gave me the fabric with which to weave the strength of Sara
Book I
Of Love and Madness
The Prologue of Emotion
Lavender. The blue smell permeated the room in its unforgotten companionship. The remembrance of a drifting thought that dared to hold a stuffed penguin more closely than a human. Tucked away in its hiding place where judging eyes would not see its empowering presence. Tux, as she called him, lived there in the bottom of her backpack and rarely made an appearance. For a friendless high school experience seemed hard enough without the mockery of a needed childhood toy.
For this old toy her mother invaded the child's lavender-colored room. Nothing in the world seemed as pressing as holding Tux in her arms. With the penguin's owner gone, it would receive a mother's embrace. Through desperate digging, she found him buried under books. Close to her chest the powerful penguin cast the desired spell on the mother making her remember only the summer sunlight of its owner and not the winter of her passing. Tears of reunion, more befitting a wedding or funeral, streaked down her face. Boulder-like drops of it struck the blue lines of the notebook paper below, forever marring it.
In perfect denial, she laughed. Some stray fragment of a sentence her daughter said only a few weeks past caught her mind. For a moment, the mother's laugh drowned it out. The incessant scraping at the back door. She stood like a witness and testimony of happier times.
A little gasp escaped her mouth after she passed the neighbors at the back door and woke a little to find the front doorknob in her hand. She would go to them but she would not let them in. No, this sanctuary would remain until the very end of time. Euphoria, as is befitting the insane, welled up in her and she smiled as a tear fell off her lip. Her fingers turned and pulled back the knob making sure to lock the door behind her.
In a little twirl, she pranced down the front steps past the fence.
There they ate her. There she died. Seen and remembered ever only by the watchful eyes of Tux.
The Prologue of Logic
The world, as we know it, has ended.
In a whirlwind of events during the first quarter of 1992, Zalac Enterprises announced a new drug during a press release. What had originally been created as an age-defying beauty product evolved into a startling discovery. They had created an effective way of fighting the growth of cancer cells and, more importantly, had found a way to pre-cure anyone of cancer so long as it was not a preexisting condition. In real-world tests, they had vaccinated subjects and then exposed them to cancer-causing materials with complete immunity. Through a miracle of science, the body became unable to produce cancerous cells.
If cancerous cells already existed in the body, the drug helped fight it by forcing the cells to recreate themselves back to their original form. It was as if the entire aging process was reversed. As if the drug weren’t miraculous enough, it was able to restore multiple types of dead cells back to complete functionality. Patients experienced increased brain function and higher intelligence.
In a sweeping action of humanitarian effort, the drug was introduced nearly world-wide by the year 2000. For five glorious years (nicknamed The Neon Age for the themes of bright colors woven throughout the arts), humanity thrived under a time of unsurpassed creativity and ingenuity. Seven more cures for common fatal diseases were discovered. The visual arts (mostly of canvas and film) surged with quality. Artists spend months decorating sky scrapers, sidewalks, and streets until entire downtowns had been transformed into works of art.
After a breakthrough in projection technology, the use of holographic images became a reality in movie theaters. Movies were no longer linear storylines but dynamic experiences in which the moviegoers could not only interact but influence the entire production. With reactive programming engines written into the backend of movies, films took on a life of their own with nearly infinite possibilities for storylines and endings. Humanity experienced all over again that early twentieth century sensation that swept over the first movie goers. They saw before them something new beyond their wildest dreams. And for the second time, humanity basked under the glow of the silver screen.
During The Neon Age, time itself seemed to speed up. World-changing events happened on an almost monthly basis. Waves of new discoveries came upon the heels of previous ones only days old. Architects could not build fast enough. Artists could barely paint one creation before a better one filled their minds. As The Neon Age progressed, this became worse. Half-finished projects littered streets and homes. Inventors could not hold onto one idea long enough to complete it before another took its place. True working inventions became few and far between towards the close of the fifth year.
Unable to focus, finish an idea, or even function in normal ways anymore, the general public became increasingly agitated. Like incessant blows from a boxer, ideas came one right after another almost to the point of insanity. The music composed in those last months boasted only climaxes without resolution. Humanity had spun out of control. Tranquilizers and depressants had only limited success in fighting these demons. The human mind seemed incapable of slowing.
Finally, something had to give.
On July 17th at 5:17 PM US Mountain Standard Time, it happened. In less than 60 seconds, around 60% of the world’s population died without warning or previous symptoms. Everyone affected stopped, gazed up towards the skies for a brief few moments, and then simply fell dead. Pandemic ensued for survivors. Sidewalk prophets screamed of the ending of the world.
Silence fell upon the earth. At long last, the human mind found relief from the relentless march of ideas. In death humanity found peace. For two weeks, the survivors believed the infection to be airborne and so remained indoors. Barely anything moved upon the surface of the earth save the howling wind and its billowing smoke from the innumerable fires.
Time immediately overturned its horrendous speeds. Days, now filled with anguish and torment, seemed unending. The spinning of the earth slowed, causing the days to last as long as 44 hours.
But on this restless planet, peace could not last forever. On the twenty-eighth day, the restful mind of the dead awoke to a hellish nightmare. All at once, the dead gasped to life stretching their rotting hands towards the burning skies. Their yellow bloodshot eyes sprang to life. The dead walked again. In motionless gazes, they haunted the halls of cities. They howled in the dark watches of the night like animals. Their crippled minds awoke but only in the most basic capacities. Those living dead knew only food.
It was estimated, only a fraction of the dead awoke into zombie form. The rest remained silent and became the early food for the revived. Sheer pandemonium ensued, allowing those with weapons to seize control. Renegade groups became common in the suburbs and countryside. The living were herded off into makeshift encampments by those in power. The zombies almost always overwhelmed cities by their sheer numbers. Their relentless onslaught drove out most who dared to venture into populated areas. Cities became deathtraps for the unprepared and the overconfident.
Mercenary groups were common as renegades banded together pooling their weapons to sell
themselves out to anyone who would hire them. The luckiest of these groups landed permanent jobs defending colonies. But the remnant of humanity proved unstable. And those with power often used it. So mercenary groups quickly gained the reputation of turning on their employers whenever profitable.
Part 1
The Trade
Early one September morning, one of these mercenary groups travelled down Highway 24 deep in eastern Colorado.
The silhouettes of three modified military Humvees stood out against the morning sun as they came down one of the back roads into Colorado Springs. The Interstates had been so populated with cars when the virus hit, they were rendered all but totally useless. All three Humvees boasted extra armor faceted over the windows, standard post-apocalyptic metal plow on front like the old locomotives, and .50 caliber machine gun mounted on top where the gunner sat. They were machines of beauty.
Zombie sightings were common even in some remote places (like the middle of Kansas where they had come from). The gunner on the lead Humvee, Sergeant McCoy (as he called himself), would take shots at groups even though they posed little threat to the moving convoy. As they neared the outskirts of Colorado Springs, a clump of zombies came into view. They gathered by the side of the road. McCoy let out a yell as he readied his weapon. With a few deafening bursts, he reduced several to bloody shreds splattered across the ground. To the gunner’s unending pleasure, .50 calibers machine gun versus unarmored bodies never got old.
“You see that headshot?” McCoy yelled through the opening. But between the noise and apathy no one ventured a response. McCoy replaced his right headphone and leaned back against the vehicle. “Like a water balloon.”
Captain Morgan (the convoy’s self-proclaimed leader) thought about mentioning the waste of ammo to his sergeant but decided against it. There would be plenty of ammo where they were going and it was a good stress reliever.
The whole idea of coming to The Springs was Brady’s idea. He used to live there and knew the military bases would have stockpiles of supplies. Brady was a newcomer to the group. A distracted man. He could often be seen staring off into the distance deep in thought. No one asked or cared about his past. Such details no longer seemed important to post apocalyptic survivors. Brady became close with the Captain quickly but no one else in the group seemed to care for him. But friendship in the group was awarded through months of survival.
Visiting the military bases in Colorado Springs was an easy sell to the Captain because of their many top secret projects. Any secret information they found there could prove invaluable. Along with potential secret information, there was the underground base in Cheyenne Mountain to the west. Such a place would be an ideal hideout in their current situation. With the hordes of non-perishable supplies, the Captain thought they’d have an easy life for years.
They had been in Kansas City only a few days ago. The Captain wasn’t terribly fond of old populated areas, but they were low on supplies (mostly food and rum). The suggestion to head to The Springs involved travelling across Kansas which they had done before with ease. They broke with their usual tradition of staying off Interstates and travelled along I-70. The Captain agreed to it because Kansas was mostly flat and so it would be easy to go off-roading if necessary. They had made good time travelling through the night and were within reach of getting to their destination when planned.
The company did not know what to expect in Colorado Springs. The virus had affected populated areas differently. For the most part, they had seen two types of urban zombies. One group seemed to gather in random areas that made little sense. Sneaking in, taking supplies, and getting out was a fairly simple matter. The second group of zombies seemed to form a type of perimeter around the city as if defending it. Unless extreme circumstances forced it, they simply avoided the cities with the perimeter type of situation. The Captain adamantly denied that this form of perimeter was an indication of intelligence. Though he offered no other explanation, he remained convinced of some unknown reason.
As the outskirts of the city came into view, the gunners watched for signs of either type. Since it sat right off the highway they travelled, their first stop would be Peterson Air Force Base. The military had been just as affected as everyone. The bulk of the personnel were killed by the virus and the usual percentages came back to life. Most, if not all, of the bases had remained functioning even after the US power grid went down. Although several offered guesses, the cause of the power grid’s failure remained a mystery. The bases maintained power through backup generators that kicked in and lasted for the following days, weeks, or months depending on their power sources. McCoy had guessed they all went dark by now.
McCoy and several others had had heated discussions on the power grid. McCoy was absolutely convinced that all of this had been an inside job. With that assumption, it made perfect sense that whoever “they” were would immediately seize the power grid and shut it down to the remaining US population. But most others weren’t convinced. They offered up any number of reasons. Few, if any, saw eye-to-eye with McCoy on anything. Most blamed McCoy’s 10-year-old personality, which excelled at bringing out everyone’s argumentative side. Whatever the reason, few got along with him.
Despite most of the company disliking McCoy’s personality, he was a necessary evil. They could use anyone they could find in the “Outback.” The Captain affectionately called it that and claimed to have spent time in Australia.
• ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙
The Humvees rolled up to the unmanned guard gate of the Air Force base. Just as McCoy predicted, the base appeared to have no power. As they slowed the vehicles to a crawl behind an unmanned guard post, they were confronted with that eerie feeling they still hadn’t gotten used to. There was something terribly unnerving about seeing whole cities with no people (alive or dead). In the countryside there were usually bodies haphazardly scattered, but in the cities they had all been dragged off and eaten by the hordes of zombies. City streets had a chilling emptiness about them. Despite being neglected for only a short time, city buildings showed an unusual amount of decay from the great winds and the debris it kicked up. Large fires throughout the US steeped the sky in a smoky apocalyptic haze. This caused a Mars-like atmosphere of red dust and ash. The sun burned in a bright orange-red tint throughout the day. Normally, visibility was limited to only a few short miles, but every now and again the haze would lift for a minute or two to bring the welcomed remembrance of a clearer sky.
They parked the vehicles and proceeded on foot. Armed mostly with M-16’s with grenade launcher attachments, they slowly walked down towards the commissary. The Captain broke up the group into three units. Two to explore and one to guard. The Captain and five others would scavenge the commissary for supplies while Brady and the rest of the troops (besides the three gunners guarding the vehicles) would start going through some of the buildings for anything interesting.
An uneventful first hour passed as Brady’s team located ways to bypass security and gain access to restricted areas. Not until they gained access to these areas did they discover bodies. These had been inaccessible to the zombies outside and so remained undisturbed. In several of the quarantined rooms they found zombies granted a second death from starvation. The men searched them for valuables like keys. Not long after that, Brady located a server room and used one of the keys to open the door.
Looking over the silent equipment made Brady smile. He’d been a system administrator before the infection and this was his home turf. He couldn’t wait to get to use his old skills. Brady set down his equipment and started to get to work. He brought with him his two prized possessions. The first, a battery backup, he kept zealous watch over and recharged the batteries whenever possible. With this, he could run a single system for several hours. The second was a masterpiece of his own design. He had engineered a little touch screen computer to quickly plug in a hard drive to access the files without having to go through the security of actually booting up the device. This gave
him immediate access to any unencrypted system.
Both served him well. With the battery backup, he booted up an important-looking server. With a simple program on a CD he carried, he quickly reset the password and was able to login. Even though the network wasn’t up, this still gave him access to the local hard drive and hopefully information that could help. While the main server booted up, he started removing one of the hard drives from a lesser computer. As he dove into his work, it made him forget how horribly broken the world had become.
A sudden yank from behind jolted him from his work. Instinctively, Brady lunged forward out of his chair breaking the grip. He whirled around to be confronted by a hideous half decayed drooling face. The zombie attempted to bite Brady in the shoulder, but found he lacked the strength. Even as Brady looked at him, the monster’s flesh clung to his bones. His face hung as if some unseen hand pulled down on the flabby skin. The droopy flesh covered the tops of his eyes forcing him to tip his head back so he could peer out the bottoms of his eye sockets.
But now, without the element of surprise, the zombie had little chance. Brady fired a few easy shots and soon the monster’s brain matter lined the wall. Brady checked the rest of the room before continuing and found a pile of picked clean bones in one corner. Obviously this had been the substance keeping the zombie alive longer than the others. Brady shuttered to think these were probably system administrators not unlike himself. As he searched, he found several power cords and networking cables chewed through and mysterious missing chunks of drywall.
The zombies were rarely lethal to weapon holders unless they could surprise or overwhelm their victims. Their slow speed made them easy targets for elimination or avoidance.
Brady and the men with him worked out a plan where they could give enough power to the building to boot up the servers and networking equipment enough to get out to a satellite connection (assuming the satellites were still functional and in correct positions). Brady knew it would be a long shot. This, more than possibly anything else, would prove McCoy’s theory of an inside job. Though he never worked on them directly, Brady knew enough to know satellites required constant tending to keep them in position. So if there were someone out there managing the world’s resources, they would surely be supervising this.
Sorrow: A Novel Written by Brian Wortley Page 1