Nuclear Undead: Wake the Dead

by N. J. McConnell

  When I carefully sat in one of the empty chairs, the room that had been noisy as I came in became deathly silent. “What happened?” I asked with trepidation.

  They looked back and forth at each other daring someone else to speak up first. “We were attacked by a pack of zombies last night,” explained Dad. “Three teenagers snuck outside and they were bitten before the guards could get a clear shot and take the undead out.”

  I just sat there in shock. I understood what it meant when they said the kids were bitten. It meant they had their skin and muscles ripped from their bodies as they fought for their lives and screamed for help in a blend of agony and terror. It was one of the most horrific ways a person could die.

  Tears were pouring down my face by this point and I was speechless. I seriously didn’t know what to say. Nothing could make this better.

  “There’s more,” he added. “One of the kids survived the initial attack, but he has a bullet lodged in his chest. It must have ricocheted. That’s the only thing we can figure because the guards weren’t shooting close to where he was standing. The problem we have now is that he needs a surgeon. Nicole has operated on animals, but humans are another matter entirely.”

  “Then what can we do?” I asked.

  Dad answered, “The kids say there’s a surgeon who lives alone outside of town. They said the old codger’s a bit of a grouch and they think he’s a little crazy because not only did he build a bunker next to his house, but when this thing hit on the east coast, he shut down his practice and told his staff that he was going to hole up in his bunker until things were back to normal.”

  “Do you think he’s still alive?” I asked thinking to myself that the doctor had been right.

  “There’s a good chance he is if he stayed in the bunker as planned.” answered Dad. “A few of us are going to leave in a few minutes to try and make contact with him. If we can convince him to come here and perform the surgery, the boy might live. He may be an unpleasant man, but having a doctor nearby can save lives.”

  Beau and Terek walked in just that moment followed by Sawyer and Benson. Everyone but Beau was dressed in military style camouflage and armed to the teeth. Beau said, “We’re heading out now.” Dad nodded, kissed me on the forehead, and walked out the door.

  With the life of a child on the line, the men drove faster than they normally would until they reached the home of the doctor. The bunker was easy to find by using the directions from the kids and Beau’s knowledge of the area, but no one answered the door when they knocked, although there was a camera at the entrance aimed their direction. They were standing in a cluster discussing what to do when the door cracked open and a gun edged its way out.

  “Go away!” said a shaky voice. “I don’t have anything you want.”

  Dad put up his hands and walked closer, but not near enough to spook the armed man. “We’re just here to talk to you, Dr. Taylor. We’ve formed a community over at Chuck Wilson’s place and we’d like to talk to you.”

  The door opened more and the doctor edged his way out. “That so? What do you want me for?”

  “Well, I’ll be honest with you. A couple of young folk snuck outside last night. Two of them were attacked by the undead. They didn’t make it. Another is in bad shape. A bullet ricocheted and it’s lodged in his chest. We have a veterinarian at the ranch watching him right now, but she says that he needs a skilled surgeon. We were kind of hoping that we might be able to work out a deal with you so that you’d help him.” explained Dad.

  The door slammed shut and the doctor was gone behind it. The men turned, looked at each other and shrugged, not sure what to do next when the door reopened and the doctor strolled out carrying a couple of bags. “Well, what are we waiting for?” He asked impatiently as he stood there waiting to leave.

  On the drive back, Dad was peppered with questions from the doctor about the ranch and what kind of people lived there. When they pulled into the gate and up to the door, the doctor seemed a bit overwhelmed by everything he saw in front of him, but didn’t mention anything out loud as he opened the door of the vehicle, stepped out onto the grass and then reached back in for his bags.

  Nicole gave him a warm welcome as soon as he walked through the doorway and quickly escorted him back to where the boy was resting. Dr. Taylor brightened somewhat when he discovered the veterinarian was a woman and they both started discussing their patient’s status in the language of medicine that we laypeople never fully understand.

  After hearing the kids talking about the grumpy old doctor, we expected a gray haired gentleman to be cowering in fear at the bunker, but Dr. Taylor was only in his late thirties. Somehow we forgot that teenagers and children view everyone over eighteen as being middle aged.

  Now that the doctor was here to care for the patient, I returned to the office to begin work on my new projects. It was difficult to keep my mind focused with all the activity going on around me during the day. I kept asking myself the same question. If there’s fencing encircling the living areas, how did the zombies get inside the perimeter?

  When lunchtime rolled around, everyone was walking on eggshells. The kids lost two of their closest friends and were struggling with guilt because they hadn’t stopped them from going outside. The teachers were angry that they hadn’t been told, but also felt guilty that they hadn’t noticed anyone was gone until it was too late. These kids experienced a horrific situation together that created an unbreakable bond - one that can only be severed by death. Unfortunately, death came to knock last night and somehow, it breached the fence.

  The medication helped me to sleep deeply last night and I feel better physically, but today I’m weighed down with the guilt of not being awake and cognizant enough to help those kids. Maybe I could have seen something before it happened. Maybe I could have stopped it. I’ll never know now, though. The guilt is gnawing at me. I suppose none of us are untouched by what happened.

  Nicole and Dr. Taylor came out a few hours later to give Dad a rundown of the patient’s chances of pulling through and it sounded as though he was going to make it, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. The bullet broke a rib and it splintered in his chest cavity. One piece of rib had punctured a lung causing him breathing problems. Luckily, his heart wasn’t damaged, but the pieces had to be surgically removed before they could work their way that direction and end his life.

  Dr. Taylor agreed to stay on at the complex with us under two conditions. One was that he will have a room to himself away from noisy kids. The second was that we agree to renovate some of the rooms in the basement or in one of the small homes on the property as a clinic for patients to be seen, a surgery room, and a pharmacy in order to keep medications close to where they would be used. We were happy to oblige.

  Nicole can now go back to her favorite past time of caring for the many animals on the ranch and the new ones the boys already started rounding up from outlying farms and ranches. We’re still working with a deadline in mind, but hoping for the best.

  It all depends on how long it takes before the reactors, mainly on the East Coast, overheat and throw fallout into the air. If we don’t gather the animals quickly and secure them in a safe place, they could become contaminated and die.

  Of course, best case scenario will be that Nuclear Regulatory Commission’s maps are correct and the radiation will dissipate before it makes its way to Wyoming. Jason believes there’s a reasonably good possibility that this will be the case. We hope he’s right. Our futures are riding on what happens.

  Along with his teaching duties, Jason will soon start working to discover a vaccination for immunity that if he’s successful, will keep us from dying and turning after being bitten. His research has to wait, however, because right now his attention is on finding a way to keep everyone and everything from becoming contaminated if the fallout reaches us.

  Even though it isn’t likely to happen now that we’re in Wyoming, Jason believes in preparing for all contingencies. He handed Dad a li
st of items that will be needed in the next few days to complete his safety plan.

  Jason avoided looking at me directly. I think he’s still remembering being flashed while I was loopy. I’ll never be able to live down the embarrassment, but I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.

  I glanced over Dad’s shoulder at the list that Jason wrote and most of it makes obvious sense. Geiger counters are crucial because they’ll warn us when and if the air becomes contaminated. Hazmat suits are also a good idea if for some reason we’re forced to leave the interior of our home and go outdoors before the air clears. Jason mentioned that if we can’t find the Geiger counters, there are security badges used at certain research facilities which can detect radiation. The question is whether there are any in close proximity.

  Jason also suggested that all the windows and doors not only be covered with the wood and metal we’re currently employing, but the cracks be sealed to make them airtight. If the Geiger counters pick up contamination, we’ll immediately head downstairs and stay there until the air clears. The animals have to be sealed into their spaces as well.

  While the actual fallout won’t last for a long time, side effects will. For instance, we won’t be able to plant food crops until a large layer of topsoil is removed from the fields. That would be extremely time consuming and because the fields will then be left lower than the other land, they’d be subject to flooding. Jason suggested that we stock up on all the commercial topsoil that we can find. With Beau’s help, they found a business nearby that sells topsoil by the ton, so it’ll be the best place to begin. Our main concern will be how to store the soil to keep it from becoming contaminated or it’s useless to us.

  Speaking of contamination, our water supply comes from well water. If the ground is affected, the runoff can pollute the water supply. If that happens, we’re pretty much screwed. We depend on water for bathing, cooking, drinking, caring for animals and farming. There’s simply no way to store the amount of water we and the animals will need to survive in a way that keeps it from being tainted if fallout moved into our area.

  Jason emphasized that we’re out of the danger area listed on maps provided by the NRC and when these Fukushima type events take place, which is a certainty, we should still be safe and unaffected at this location. According to his calculations, the closest fallout near us will be on the southeast corner of Nebraska about seven hundred miles away. We still want to take precautions, but coming here was certainly the right decision to make. We’re in the safest place we can be.

  I waited until they finished discussing where to locate the supplies on the list and then asked the question that had been bothering me all day. “How did the zombies get into the complex? Did they knock the fence down?”

  I realized that the question had struck a nerve when the room got quiet. People were looking over at each other trying to think of the answer to the question all of them had apparently been considering.

  “Someone left the gate open.” answered Dad.

  “How can that happen?” I asked in astonishment. “We always double check the gate to make sure it’s closed and it’s part of the rounds that the guards do. That doesn’t make sense.”

  As heads nodded in agreement around the room, Dad answered solemnly. “You’re right, but when we brought the boy in after he was shot, the gate was open.”

  “Do you think that the kids opened it themselves?” I asked quietly.

  “We can’t be sure until after we speak with him and he’s not in any condition to answer questions right now,” Dad stated with a hint of frustration in his voice.

  “The reason that I’m asking,” I pushed, “is that when we were on guard duty the other night, Greg and I noticed something felt a little off.”

  Dad started to ask something, but I kept speaking, so he waited. “We didn’t report it because we couldn’t find anything out of place even after turning on the flood lights and using binoculars, but there was something.”

  “What do you mean ‘something’?” asked Pete from the other side of the room.

  “It’s hard to explain,” interjected Greg who had been listening in to the conversation. “It was more the absence of noise than noise itself. It was too quiet like something scared off the animals or something. Know what I mean?”

  Pete and Dad looked at each other, then Dad addressed the rest of the room. “Anybody know how to track?” A couple of hands went up. Sawyer said that he was raised tracking and of course Beau knew how, but that wasn’t a surprise. The more I got to know him, the more impressed I was with his skills. Terek said that he was rusty, but could probably help out.

  “After lunch, I’d like for you men to take a look at the area around the gate and see what you can find. See if anything doesn’t make sense.” Dad proposed.

  “We’ll be happy to help,” replied Terek and Sawyer while Beau just nodded in agreement as he slowly took another bite of his food.

  It was another busy day. I can hear the sound of drills and the hammering of nails from my desk inside the office. Dad came in after I’d been there for less than an hour and asked if I was up to driving one of the trucks into town to pick up a load. He expressly forbade me lifting anything, though. I’m happy to get out in the fresh air. The walls were beginning to close in on me and I’m getting cabin fever.

  I was now on pain management and could drive while taking the Tramadol. It doesn’t make me sleepy, but just takes the edge off of the pain so that I’m able to function somewhat normally. Nicole also nagged me into taking the thyroid medication my primary doctor prescribed, but I’d never had filled. Yes, she chewed me out about that. Apparently, hypothyroidism isn’t something to be taken lightly and not being on the right dosage of medication can damage your heart. I never knew that. My other doctor didn’t bother explaining that.

  We left straightaway to pick up supplies for the clinic from the small hospital in town. Dr. Taylor came along with us and is riding with me. Apparently, he and Nicole hit it off right away and when she mentioned she and I were friends, he decided not to ride with anyone else. I think it’s a sweet gesture and to be honest, it’s nice to be around someone who’s quiet and doesn’t bounce off the walls like the teenagers tend to do when we go on these trips. In the back of my mind, though I have to wonder if Nicole also sent him along to spy on me. I wouldn’t put it past her.

  The medical center is located in the heart of Harrison, so we’ll have to be careful and clear the area before starting to work. It doesn’t help that the hospital Emergency Room was open on the night the world ended, so those who turned will for the most part still be locked inside of the building. When we pulled into the parking lot, we had no idea how bad things would really be.

  Dad said I couldn’t pack or lift anything, but he knows how good I am with a gun and trusts that I won’t do something stupid and get everyone killed. He’s still having a problem letting me go into dangerous situations after losing Mom, but he’s dealing with it better and is now doing his best to keep his concerns from affecting his decisions.

  Things would have gone smoother if Dad had a few days at least to train us as a team so that we can work in tandem, but we’re unfortunately running out of time. We don’t have the luxury of training. We just have to learn as we go.

  Although the doors to the main entrance were locked, the E.R. doors were cracked open. They’re the type of sliding glass doors that operate on electricity, so we had to pry them the rest of the way open in order to move inside. Dad took point and made a cautious entrance, looking all directions including at the ground. The undead like to hide underneath things to reach out and grab you or take a quick bite.

  When he saw it was clear, he motioned us inside and we began to spread out. We walked down the hallways room by room searching for anyone who might be alive, but were extra vigilant to keep from being bitten by the undead. That would be a death sentence.

  The outbreak must have hit quickly here, too or the emergency room would have been f
illed with people bringing in loved ones who were in the process of turning. It might seem like a heartless thing to say, but I’m glad that it happened fast like it did or we wouldn’t have been able to clear the building. We killed more than three dozen zombies on the first floor alone and there were still two floors above that one.

  The undead were mainly employees, so we figured that an infected had entered right through the automatic doors while the power was still on and bit someone, who then bit someone else and the disease just kept spreading. By the time it was over, everyone was either part of the smorgasbord or undead.

  We finished up with only one area left to check. We put this one off until the end because we knew that no matter whether the zombies got that far back or not, the results would be unspeakable. The quaint country hospital held a forty bed section devoted to assisted living of those who are elderly or in need of full time medical care. Residents in their rooms with the doors open would have been subjected to being bitten, but they’re the lucky ones. Those who stayed in their rooms would have heard screaming for hours. The worst part is that they would have been trapped in their beds dying either from starvation or dehydration if their hearts had been able to hold out from the fear. We all know this to be the case, but no one is willing to put it into words.

  It took us an hour to clear each of the rooms and put each of the residents out of their misery. One old man in a wheelchair was doing his best to chase us down and take a bite, but couldn’t remember how to turn the wheels, so he pushed with his legs instead. If he hadn’t been belted into the chair, he would have fallen to the ground.

  When were almost ready to leave the area, a creature crawled from under the nurse’s station and almost took a bite out of Benson before the soldier felt teeth on his combat boot and shot it in the head.

  All in all, we exterminated nearly a hundred undead in the tiny hospital - almost a tenth of the population. I was relieved to go back and sit in the truck while the men did the packing and lifting. I’d rather not remember the faces of the people – no, not people, zombies – that I’d shot in the head today. It’s something that will likely stay in my memories and dreams for a long time and might be impossible to forget.