Legacy of the Living

by Sean Liebling

  "Yes, I saw the footage. OK, well, what do you guys think? Obviously, we have to move away from the coast, but to where? My vote is towards Michigan because it's the closest, but we can ultimately decide where later. Does anyone disagree?" asked Rich, and then watched as his lieutenants all shook their heads. That was the beauty of their organization. Rich had surrounded himself with like-minded men and women, and it was rare that disagreement broke out within their ranks.

  Suddenly, the stack of cars behind Robert creaked, and then slid inward a foot towards them. Another creak, and as the men watched, the vehicles wobbled and slid in an additional foot accompanied by groaning metal. Early on in day one of this new world, they had 'acquired' three large bulldozers and a crane from the local construction company. Those, they had used to create the current barricade: cars all wedged together and stacked two high. The barricade had originally been only a single line of cars, but an incursion of the bastards on day five had forced the defenders to add an extra level. Fucking zombies could climb. Who knew?

  "What the fuck? Back, damn it!" shouted Rich. Then gunfire erupted around them as the sentries standing on top of the stacked vehicles opened fire on the horde.

  With a screech of metal, the top car wobbled harder while sliding inward then toppled over, rolling towards them as Rich and his lieutenants scrambled out of the way.

  "Everybody, look out!" shouted Rich as he raised his M4 carbine on its sling and started firing.

  Like a wave, a solid stream of zombies spewed over the remaining car even as rounds from nearby guards were striking them. The pasted remains of dozens of crushed undead didn't seem to slow them down a bit as Robert immediately jumped towards them, drawing his broadsword while swinging wildly, his sons on either side holding their shields close while simultaneously trying to protect their dad and chop downward on the heads of others with their own swords. Together, as a team, they took out the leading advance of undead while Robert vainly pushed forward, trying to move closer into the widening gap as the zombies’ mass was enough to slide the remaining car forward. However, the wave of zombies was too great and he was forced back a step, then another as the double-stacked cars on either side of the opening started wobbling.

  "Look out!" shouted Robert as the zombies broke around him, splitting into two waves as most avoided the deadly scythe of his sword. "Hell, fucking no! They're headed your way guys. Rig those damn charges! There are too many to hold back!"

  Their backup plan in case something like this happened was M18A1 claymore mines. Each guard had at least one wired to the side of the bottom vehicle on which he or she stood. There had been cases of them at the National Guard warehouse they raided, and the addition of steel pallet banding had fastened them securely enough that the zombies could not pull them off. The wires fed backward through the interior of the crushed vehicle, and the thought was by firing them off they would gain enough time for the response teams to arrive.

  Suddenly the guard on the right, Gary, was thrown off balance by the shifting barrier and tumbled forward into the seething mass. "Jesus Christ, no!" shouted Rich as he tried to shoot enough of the creatures to go to the man's rescue. Piercing screams rent the air, causing Robert to shudder within his chain mail even as his sword swung through the necks of two more. Footing was becoming treacherous as the blood and puss along with body parts littered the ground around them. Robert tensed his legs to provide a more stable form for swinging his sword when a cry for help came from beside him. He was able to clear a few more in front of him and immediately stepped into the gap before more zombies could fill it.

  "Dad, help!" It was Danny, his youngest at twenty-one, and Robert swiveled sideways to get a better look behind him even as his sword continued its constant arc, cleaving through the chests of two more of the dead beasts. Oh my God! thought Robert, as he saw several zombies clinging to Danny's back, trying to bite through his chain mail while dragging him backward.

  "Glenn, follow me!" Robert screamed while looking over his other shoulder to see his older son almost back to back with him. The zombies were circling around. There were simply too many of them to continue forward. They had to retreat, and now. "Noo!" he screamed again when Danny was dragged downward as even more of the undead converged on him from the sides and he was thrown off balance. Robert’s view of his last born was replaced by a writhing mass of putrid bodies accompanied by screams from his boy.

  "Get the hell away from my son, you bastards!" then he was leaping forward, shouldering aside the bodies of the moving undead while wildly swinging his sword left and right as fast as he could move it. Behind him he felt Glenn bump into him as Glenn backed up as fast as his dad was moving forward. "Fuckers!” he yelled again in rage as he kicked outward while swinging.

  His sword cleaved through the heads of three or four as his heavy reinforced leather boot knocked two more off his son. "Hold on, Danny, just keep holding on," Robert shouted again, striking two more off Danny before he saw the mass of zombies heave and Danny’s arm punching upward with his Dark Ops Black Raven fighting knife clutched tightly in his gauntleted fist, its blade penetrating an undead skull with ease. They had cleared enough of the zombies off him that his bloody chain mail was visible in places. Robert’s throat tightened and he prayed to God his boy was alright.

  With another shout Robert leaped and landed, straddling Danny, while swinging his broadsword in a semicircle with the full strength of his shoulders and back, clearing the zombies off his son's prone form with each mighty swing. He tilted slightly as some of the forms his boots rested upon were still moving. Then Glenn was there, swinging his own sword one handed while reaching out a gloved hand to pull the dead from his brother.

  "Fire in the hole!" Rich shouted from in front of them somewhere, and Robert instinctively hunched his shoulders against the blast he knew would come.

  Explosions rang out around Rich as a vaporous red haze filled the air on the far side of the stacked cars. His ears numb from the combined blasts, Rich and the others fired their rifles into the packed masses still trying to push through the opening. Then there was respite from the slaughter as the last few zombies staggered through and open space appeared behind them. As Rich edged into the opening, Craig beside him, he saw body parts and red slurry coating the landscape for dozens of yards in every direction. On the far edge of this was a surging sea of undead, slowly making their way back to the cars. Then the response teams were there, driving the last few back with dozens of automatic weapons firing at once. Rich moved again to get out of the way, as a bulldozer moved in to push the cars back and teams of living swarmed over the packed vehicles to plant more claymore charges. Ten yards behind the defense line he saw Robert and Glenn helping Danny up, and Rich hoped the boy was okay before turning to the others around them.

  "Fuck me! That was close. OK fellas. Let's get the move started. Another couple of those and we'll either be out of ammo, dead, or both," Rich stated while he turned away, letting the others work, and trotted over to Robert, Craig following.

  *****

  Nolan pulled his hat off before entering the office Jean was working in. He had walked through the front entrance of what they called the Adult Learning Center after greeting the guards stationed out front with a lazy hello. Just like any farm hand would. Now he was about to meet the asset that asshole Don wanted recovered at any cost. Inside the building, two more guards were stationed at either end of the perpendicular hallway. Since the building was only a short distance from the center of town, Nolan realized additional guards and response teams were capable of being there in seconds.

  Originally they had thought to hide until nightfall then do their scouting but then decided it would be easier to join one of the multitude of work crews that were scattered all over the place in order to learn the asset's daily movements. It had taken Locke, Cobb, and himself hours to find the right people to replace. Even then, they had only been able to find two couples that had recently arrived and had no children. Moving in qu
ickly during their lunch breaks, Nolan and Cobb had killed them, hiding their bodies in a crawlspace. Nolan and his men would be long gone before the stink of decomposing bodies raised any suspicions, and even then it might not, as each of these two couples had had a small home to themselves.

  "Knock, knock," Nolan called out just before knocking on the glass door. Inside, Jean was bent over a laptop; she looked up with surprise when she heard his voice and then knuckles against the door. Quickly he entered, closing the door behind him, and while holding his ball cap against his chest he gave his best smile and a half bow before speaking again.

  "Hi, Miss Jean. I hope I'm not intruding."

  "No, of course not. I mean, I am busy, but how can I help you?" Jean smiled pleasantly at Nolan as she closed the lid of her laptop. It was then that Nolan was greeted to his first close look at the asset. Wow! She was smoking HOT. He felt his breath catch for a second and inwardly cursed himself. She was the package and nothing more.

  "Me and the missus just wanted to thank you for taking us in. This is better than we imagined and I was hoping since you are the governor's lady that you could just let him know all of us really appreciate what he's doing." Nolan smiled even wider at her, trying to put a sincere expression on his face while acting the stereotypical country bumpkin.

  Jean’s expression instantly took on warmth as she rose quickly and came around the desk to take his hands in hers.

  "Oh! He would say, you are very welcome," she replied, smiling, her beauty radiating like a palpable presence. "There is no need to thank any of us, as we are all in this together. What is your name and are you military, or ex-military?" she continued, glancing at his short-cropped hair.

  "Nolan, Miss, Eric Nolan at your service. I was Army but was discharged many years ago. PTSD I'm afraid. I keep my hair short as it's a hard habit to break." Jean was nodding at his explanation, then spoke again.

  "I'm sorry about your PTSD, Eric. And your wife's name?" Jean smiled sweetly at Nolan.

  "Betty, Miss Jean. Do not worry about the PTSD, I've been over that for years now." Nolan's real wife 'was' named Betty, but was currently in Vermont with the other wives of the Special Operations groups, but the easiest names to remember when lying were those in your life.

  "No children? Or, were they ..." Jean’s voice trailed off as a stricken look crossed her countenance.

  Nolan waved a placating hand after releasing hers. "No, no Miss Jean. The good Lord granted us no children in this life. We are happy nonetheless to help out with those of others."

  "I see. Well, welcome then and thank you. Did you need anything else Eric?"

  "No, Ma'am. Well, I was curious, what is it you do here?"

  "Here? This is our seed storage for distribution. We are currently planting winter crops in every greenhouse near out location. The zombies won't bother them and they’re easy to maintain. I come here every afternoon around 4:00 PM to update our master lists so we know what's available for planting."

  "That is a good thing, Miss Jean. Well, thank you again, and I won't bother you anymore. Just wanted to say thanks."

  "Again, Eric, you are very welcome. I wish you and your wife well, and please be safe out there."

  "Yes, Ma'am. Take care." With that Nolan backed out the door, his smile of gratitude turning to one of triumph as soon as his back was to her. They now had her schedule, or at least part of it, and this was an ideal location to a quick egress out of Newaygo, being very close to one of the cleared fire lanes. Quickly he made his way back to the house and informed his men of the new events and his subsequent plan. Tomorrow, they would strike!

  *****

  DAY 11: 1700 ET MONDAY NOVEMBER 14TH

  Major Robinson surveyed the officers and staff sitting at the wide conference table before him and scowled. Damn it, he wished more of their officers had survived, but the assassination teams had caught them all by surprise. Off to one side, Dr. Samuel Thomas sat quietly. He was there to answer any questions the others might have after reading their briefing. The wealth of information he had given them explained a lot of things, including the why of the contagion and the assassination squads.

  "You've all read your briefs. Any questions?" he started the meeting off at 1700 exactly.

  "I have one," Captain Douglas Price, the major's executive officer spoke up.

  "Go ahead, Doug."

  "What is your opinion of the validity of this serum of youth, Dr. Thomas?" Captain Price had stood and turned to Samuel when he asked his question. Samuel stood in return and hesitated for a moment before replying. He hesitated because they had previously told him to answer the questions to the best of his knowledge with no hedging.

  "The medical analysis is sketchy with just a brief DNA breakdown and a few projected chemical analyses. I do think there is some validity in the analysis in that it may retard aging cells. Rejuvenate them possibly; however, the information is assuming too many factors on regeneration and not enough on the physiological aspects of cellular structure associated to aging." Samuel saw many with blank looks and sighed while forcing his mind to think in simpler terms.

  "Alright. Think of cells in the human body like raindrops. They age as they fall to the earth, and when they hit the ground, death." He saw everyone nod now and continued. "What this serum appears to do—and don't get me wrong, it will probably work for a time—is to freeze those cells in place. It would be like hitting a wall of raindrops about a thousand feet up with a blast of liquid nitrogen which would turn the raindrops to ice particles which fall slower, yet shatters when they hit." He hoped they understood that. It was very hard for a researcher to speak in laymen terms. Researchers simply weren't used to it.

  "So you’re saying that the serum they hope to perfect from the bone marrow of children, which kills them by the way with the extraction process, will retard and perhaps even slightly reverse the aging process and prolong their life to some extent, but when they die it will be quick and devastating. Does that sum up what you were trying to say?" Captain Price was scowling at him and Samuel nodded emphatically while internally slapping himself for not being clearer. Thank God, the military wasn't as stupid as most wished to believe they were.

  "Yes, exactly how you said it. I think possibly aging could be suppressed for only a few years, but it makes the cells so brittle, for lack of a better word, that anything could upset them and cause almost instantaneous death. I would have to guess simple things like electric shock or even another cellular level virus of which there are thousands. Also, the original formula was never properly perfected; they expected ninety-seven percent of the adult population to die, not turn into these ... things. So, the serum may have no effect at all, or it may kill the host." Samuel sat back down and Major Robinson took over again.

  "Regardless, this gives us somewhat of a map of where these rogue forces are located. Mid-state Ohio, Vermont and an undefined location in Colorado, that is heavily fortified and presumably underground. We know they have nuclear launch codes for tactical weapons because of the strike on Fort Hunter. So we have to assume the Speaker of the House who has disappeared has been compromised already if not dead, or, they have the football." There was a stirring as the remembrance of the death of thousands struck a chord within all of them.

  "Next on the list is logistics behind the thousands of refugees we've accumulated and are protecting. Waste is becoming a problem, but food is not thanks to that FEMA warehouse raid. It will take all night and part of tomorrow for the Chinooks to ferry those supplies back." Earlier that day they had raided a Homeland Security warehouse near Toledo and had found huge stockpiles of supplies. MREs and smaller caliber ammunition, along with medical equipment and tens of thousands of filled water containers were currently being ferried back to their location in Jackson. The warehouse had been identified on a supplies list which was part of the download Samuel had retrieved from the director's computer. Major Robinson had sent the Ninth Special Forces with a pair of Chinooks and two escorting Black Hawks t
o investigate. Word had come back of the major supply cache and Major Robinson ordered it transferred immediately. The Chinooks would be at it all night and into the following day and still needed a last run to Fort Campbell to pick up the last of the missile loads and remaining survivors. "But waste is an issue, a major one. We're protecting almost ten thousand survivors here. We are also overflowing the airfield with another tent city. Violence is becoming an issue."

  "I recommend Newaygo, Sir." Lieutenant Max Purcell had spoken up, grinning at him. Robinson grinned back.

  "One step at a time, Lieutenant. Anyone else have a suggestion?"

  "Well, we need a smaller fortified town away from the major urban centers that we can protect, if not the Newaygo area then something similar, though I like their idea of small communities close together to provide mutual support. We are too exposed here and we're already getting drifting biologicals from Detroit. It's only a matter of time before they head our way in force." Chief Warrant Three James Sheldon had spoken up. Major Robinson nodded at his words and addressed the group again.

  "I'm saving Newaygo for last, so next I want a rundown on weapons and ammunition levels for our birds. Lieutenant Ebers, you have the floor."

  "Well Sir, we're in good supply for now on Stingers and the same with twenty mic for the planes and helicopters. Where we are running short is the 7.62 for the 134s. All of ours use the disintegrating belt links. The linked ammunition is in short supply at the moment. There was a cache in the Toledo warehouse but it's only about thirty thousand rounds, which is not nearly enough if we really need them, Sir. We may have to hit another warehouse on the list or find a Guard Armory that carries full air load outs. The 5.56 is plentiful, as we have millions of rounds now. The 7.62 is also plentiful but in bulk crates like the 5.56. None of it is linked though. We have plenty of TOWs and grenades, especially with the supplies from Toledo. Really it's the linked stuff we might get short on."