"Yeah, I saw, Reaper. They both died well. I lost three on the roof and we're all wounded, but nothing serious. The kids are okay. A few lightly wounded but they're suffering more from dehydration and starvation than anything else," she responded, and the Reaper nodded while breathing a sigh of relief. "What do you want to do with the prisoners?"
"You keep prisoners?" He looked at her in surprise.
"No."
"Good! Tie their legs together and drag them along."
"We need to get out of here, Reaper, the horde is going to breach that front barricade shortly and they're already starting to figure out there's a back way in. We'll load up in those trucks out back and take the highway. It will shave off an hour getting back to the factory."
"This won't take long, Alethea. Bring them!"
The Reaper strode to the front of the warehouse, then outside to a large cleared area. Just ahead of them a barricade had been erected using various crates and metal housings, and against this on the far side, already pushing it inward, were hundreds of Satan's minions. An eerie whine was coming from their mass, and the Reaper frowned again before turning back to the Sirens holding the captives.
"Throw them down in the center and gag them," he commanded. The women complied, and within a minute, nine squirming gang members were rolling around frantically as they tried to speak through their gags. "Now your two fastest need to remove a few of those crates, Alethea, and get back here." He was standing with Alethea on the raised platform before the double doors leading into the warehouse. He then called out to the men and women squirming on the ground before him.
"The Lord has judged you, and found you unfit to be a member of the human race. Enjoy Hell and tell Satan when you see him that more will be arriving shortly." He saw that the two women had moved several of the crates at the barricade. That was all that was needed, as the weight of the zombies behind, pushed it open further and all at once they came streaming in, heading towards the figures on the ground who were desperately trying to roll away while screaming behind their gags.
They watched in silence as the prisoners were quickly eaten alive, shooting the few zombies who tried to climb the steps, then moved inside the warehouse and bolting the door when the screaming stopped. Alethea turned to the Reaper, a neutral expression on her face.
"You're a hard man, Reaper."
"These are hard times, Alethea," he responded, but she started grinning at him.
"Come on, Reaper. Let's get to the factory and have you patched up properly. We have doctors."
*****
Chapter 12
DAY 11: 0645 ET MONDAY NOVEMBER 14TH
Don blinked as he slowly opened his eyes to the rising dawn. With a grunt he sat up, rubbing the accumulated night’s grit away, and glanced at his watch. 6:45 and a perfectly crisp morning; bright sun and a cloudless sky greeted his gaze. He smelled coffee. He knew at least some of the men had already risen, and quickly rose to grab a cup before they drank it all. He had learned early on that as much as he disliked these men, or underlings as they really were, they hated him even more, and would quickly eat every meal they prepared while ignoring his orders to save him a plate. He gritted his teeth as he strode to the fire and thought about the various unpleasant things he would do to them once the need for their services was over.
"Morning, men," he grunted at them as he neared. As usual, they ignored him, which was very irritating but he shrugged it off. All of these men had dependents that were ostensively safe in secure underground housing in Vermont. In reality, the dependents were hostages to the men's good behavior, and the men knew it. He grabbed a cup of coffee and a plate of powdered scrambled eggs and sat on the ground eating while he finalized the plan he’d come up with last night.
"Nolan, Locke, and Cobb, I have a job for you three," he mumbled around a mouthful of hot, almost tasteless food, and saw them look up at him, expressionlessly. Don glanced around and saw several bodies lying outside the parameter of the high fence surrounding the oil pumping station they had taken refuge in yesterday afternoon. It was only thirty miles from Newaygo but it had been imperative to stay below radar for at least one hundred and fifty miles or they would be picked off by the Badgers’ missiles so they had skimmed down the open lanes of highway and side roads until finding the pumping station. Don cursed the loss of the fighter planes. How could he have known Newaygo’s system was properly set up? As he looked closer, he saw that the bodies were all those of biologicals. Obviously, the men had been busy while he slept. Nothing in sight was moving, so he turned back around.
"We're going to drop you off about ten miles from Newaygo. Gates thinks he can get that close flying at treetop level. We need to stay below fifty feet or the Badgers’ radar will pick us up." Gates was the pilot of their MH-60 Black Hawk and their current mode of transportation. He had carefully mapped out a route that should keep them below the radar threshold of the anti-aircraft weapons system.
"What's the mission?" rumbled Nolan, his deep gravelly voice a match with his hard grizzly bear looks.
"You're going to get as close as you can and wait for the right opportunity to grab the asset."
"You mean your girlfriend!" stated Cobb.
"I said asset and I meant asset. Doctor Lynch needs to extract her DNA," growled Don.
"Wooo. Perfect. Cloned sex slaves. Will they strip the intelligence from her?" quipped Abbot as he nudged Nolan, who was scowling at Don. They had all seen the picture of the asset. A woman named Jean, whom they had narrowly missed acquiring multiple times. The assets 'assets' were remarkable in their proportion.
"That actually is a possibility, Abbot," remarked Don.
"I like my wife just the way she is," rumbled Nolan again.
"Yes, Nolan, but the new colony will be top heavy in men who all need relief at times. This is just an extension of the plan."
"Ha! Not if Lynch keeps castrating every man that makes him angry," joked Dix.
The last comment angered Don, even though he knew there was truth to it, and he frowned at all the men. Don knew that eventually he would have to deal with Doctor Lynch or they would have a revolt. The man seemed to have delusions of being a bizarre modern day version of a twelfth-century emperor, complete with harem. Don knew that would cause major issues sooner vs. later and sighed, knowing he would have to take care of the problem. He just hoped Doctor Lynch could perfect the serum before he would have to be dealt with.
"Enough. Get your gear together. Full field load out for you three and anything extra you think you need. The plan is to hide just outside their perimeter, unless you feel you can enter it without notice. If you see an opportunity to grab the asset, do so and get out. Then contact us and we will be there shortly. We need her undamaged. Got it?"
The men nodded and Don threw his half-eaten plate in the fire, then swallowed the last of the coffee in his cup before tossing that at Shafer who was gathering up the rest of their gear. These men were underlings; as such, they would clean up the mess until they were no longer needed. The ultimate plan had no place in it for the low-intelligence soldiers these six were. The new world order would not have war, thus no need for warriors. Don smiled secretly as he watched them gather up their equipment.
*****
DAY 11: 0700 ET MONDAY NOVEMBER 14TH
"Supreme Leader, we have a problem." It was Samson and he was banging on Johnny and Celeste's door, just as Johnny was trying to get a morning quickie. Johnny had been suckling on her nipples like a baby while trying to spread her thighs apart with the knee of his good leg when the banging and loud voice intruded on his pursuit of happiness. Celeste giggled and pushed him off her as he protested.
"Shhh. He'll go away if we ignore him."
"No he won't. It's Samson!" She giggled louder and rolled over on her belly, denying him one of life's simplest pleasures. They had a room to themselves, which most did not, and Johnny was trying to make the most of it. Unfortunately, Celeste and Samson were not complying with his wishe
s and he scowled as he flipped a birdie slightly downward towards the floor in Loki's direction. Fucker!
"Go away Samson!" he shouted back as he rolled over, following Celeste, and buried his face between her ass cheeks while his tongue slithered out trying to reach her sweetness. She squealed in surprise and batted at him with her hands as she rolled over again, putting him in the perfect position to ...
"Stop that Johnny!" but she was laughing. Still, it didn't do him any good because she kept rolling to the edge of the bed, then swung her legs over and got up while pulling her bathrobe on.
"Can't go away, Chief Indian Brave. We have problems and you're needed!" Samson shouted back.
"Since when did I become an Indian chief?" Johnny was willing to keep this up all morning, because though it was an ego boost to be mostly in charge, it was still embarrassing to have Samson going around using different titles of respect to address him. Celeste was wagging a finger in his direction and Johnny sighed while getting up on his side of the bed and reaching for his pants. Damn it!
"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" he called out as he struggled into his clothes, and making sure Celeste was decent, he whipped the door open. Samson sat there in his wheelchair grinning at him.
"About time, oh Ultimate General!" Samson crowed as he reached out a hand to grip Johnny's wrist, yanking him out of the room and into the hallway.
"Hey, hold on. I can walk!" Johnny snapped as he almost fell and barely managed to balance himself using his sword cane.
"Then do so, Fearless Leader, or I'll put you across my lap like a baby. They're all in the Director's meeting room. Come on!" and Samson took off with Johnny limping after. Johnny didn't worry about Celeste, for she could get around fine and take care of herself, although blind.
Everyone of importance was at the meeting, and Director McLean started as soon as Johnny came limped in.
"Meeting is called to order now that Johnny is here." The tone was abrupt but the warm smile she gave him indicated she was glad to see him.
"Well, the first order of business is food. We are out and need some." Shirley Davenport was the first to speak. She was the supervisor over Housekeeping and Food Services. She did not look happy.
"Wait, out? But the cafeteria is supposed to keep at least a three-week supply for the residents here," Dr. Rossi complained as he stood up. Director McLean was also standing up, calling out over the general uproar that had erupted.
"Order, order! Everyone calm down and follow meeting rules."
Johnny rolled his eyes and looked at Samson, who shrugged. With an identical shrug, Johnny balanced on his good leg and, lifting his sword cane up, brought the hard aluminum shaft down on the meeting room table in an explosive Crack!
"Quiet, all of you. Don't tell me I was interrupted trying to get some just to hear a bunch of people argue? Everyone shut the hell up and Shirley, tell me why we are low on food!" Johnny glowered at all of them in the sudden silence, and then Shirley spoke.
"We do keep close to a month's supply of food for general cafeteria servings and the permanent residents here. But that is for roughly three dozen permanent people and a few hundred casual diners each month. That's why the buffet is so small. We have over six hundred with the office staff that were able to get to us from the three adjoining complexes. It's too many for the amount of food we have." She sat down and glared at Dr. Rossi.
"OK, so we need food. What's the problem besides thirty thousand guppies on our doorstep?" Johnny inquired sweetly before continuing. "Lots of food out there with most people quickly dead. We just have to get it, and there's an EZ-Mart across the street on the south side."
"Like you said, Johnny. Getting it is the problem." Director McLean said tiredly.
"Have Samson and Chester throw a double line of cars over the wall and we'll walk there and bring it back," Johnny quipped with a smile.
"I'm strong, Chief, but not that strong," laughed Samson.
"Okay, where's Whit?" Johnny asked, serious again. No one knew and Johnny rolled his eyes. Whit was head of maintenance here and knew everything about everything. Or at least Johnny thought he did.
Meeting adjourned through lack of positive input or even any input approaching normal levels of common sense, Johnny and Samson left to hunt Whit down and show him the problem. EZ-Mart was ninety feet away, with five thousand guppies standing between it and them. EZ-Mart had groceries and other sundry supplies. It also had bottled water was in short supply which was in short supply though they had enough water in general. The facility was near Lake Michigan on the east side, and because of prevailing winds it rained almost every day for at least a brief period. Even during the winter, but then they called it snow. Plastic sheeting had been erected to capture the downfall with containers of all sizes being filled daily.
It only took them a few minutes to find Whit and explain the situation to him. Whit thought for a moment, then excused himself, telling them to wait there. Fifteen minutes later, he was back with a smile on his face. "Follow me," he directed, and led them to the southeast corner of the center, then pointed up at the power lines entering from overhead.
"Easy, guys. Power's been off for days and it won't be coming back anytime soon, trust me. Besides, we can pull the fuses on the poles out there just to be safe. We'll walk across, then go in through the store roof." He was smiling, and as Johnny looked at it he could see the attraction the idea had.
"But how do we walk across? I'm not sure many of us could balance on those three power lines." The facility was run off what Whit explained was three-phase electricity, and the incoming lines went to a main electrical building near the edge of the wall in the corner they were standing in. Whit explained how they would strip the desktops off the furniture in the facility, and after drilling a few holes, tie them to the power lines. After gluing some safety matting down, of which they had plenty, they could easily walk across the street to the other side where the lines went to an almost identical yet smaller housing on top of the supermarket. The front doors were open, so they would have guppies to contend with, but they would barricade the doors first and then start moving supplies out.
It not only worked, it worked great, and went off without a hitch. They almost lost a couple of people in the store by forgetting to check the bathrooms for guppies, but luckily they would survive their various bite wounds, and the center now had enough food for possibly another two to three weeks.
Johnny had pulled every able-bodied man and woman available and set up an assembly line for transferring the supplies while the guppies moaned and shifted under them, trying to get to their version of food. It did the guppies no good, and Johnny was happy that another crisis had been solved temporarily. Now he had time to find out where Celeste was hiding and see if she was into late morning physical therapy!
*****
Samuel had been up all night being debriefed by Major Robinson and his officers. He told them everything from the beginning, and from their remarks, he knew he had made the right decision. Many stories abounded here in this makeshift refugee camp from dependents of flight and Special Forces crews, and other local survivor groups, about how they had been saved by the heroism of these men and women. Samuel was tired but excited at the same time. Captain Douglas Price had just informed him that the Chinooks were arriving with the a load of dependents and supplies from Kentucky, and would immediately turn around and pick up Josh's group after unloading. They would then make a run to one of the great many FEMA supply warehouses listed in the files Samuel had downloaded. Of course, they would go in heavily armed, just in case either zombies, as they called them now, or rogue government troops, were present.
Samuel had told them everything he had learned: how the virus had been specifically manufactured at the direction of a handful of evil men under the direction of a geneticist by the name of Lynch, how the product had been released early because of something having to do with false gold being discovered in the country's gold reserves and that the end goal of the vacc
ine, after the super flu had been introduced, was the elimination of ninety-seven percent of the Earth's population. What had actually happened was a ninety-five percent death rate and transformation for that greater majority into what was now commonly being referred to as zombies.
What truly sickened these men, as they examined the data Samuel had downloaded, was that the end goal of the virus was not just death to the masses, but also an alteration in the biophysical makeup of pre-adolescents to produce a certain chemical combination. These evil men actually hoped to distill from them a modern day version of the Fountain of Youth. It was revolting in that it required stripping all the bone marrow and certain glands from the young patients, which obviously resulted in death. The resultant serum was supposed to retard aging by a factor of three, even in those of advanced age. It was a sick fantasy, brought about by aging men and women whose hands held too much wealth and power. Everyone there had been shocked that so many elected officials had taken temporary wealth as payment, even knowing their children and grandchildren might pay the ultimate price for their betrayal of humanity. Major Robinson had reasoned the thinking behind it was simple. "It wouldn't happen to them.” What fools they had been.
They could not stay here much longer. Even though Jackson was out of the way in terms of being close to the major population centers like Detroit, Lansing, Toledo, and Kalamazoo, it was a major urban city in itself and as such posed major problems. Major Robinson had said just that morning that they would have to move soon, and the men and woman of the 162nd SOAR had been scavenging busses and flatbed tractor-trailers for that very purpose, while erecting barricades around their new supply depot for later retrieval. A meeting would be held that evening but the unofficial consensus was to head for Newaygo, as it was the only viable large group they had heard of.
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