Les knocked on her door and called out to Connie. After a few seconds hesitation, Connie opened the door and let him in. She was in tears. Earlier, people had been at the door trying to get in and fortunately had moved on when she remained quiet and not gone to the door. Les had Connie gather a few of her belongings and headed out. In the hall, they encountered their first zombie. It was one of the girls living in the dorm.
Les was a big man and was able to keep the much smaller girl from injuring them. He finally had to hit her over the head with the pistol he had brought along. Les told Connie to stay calm and quiet as they crept down the stairs. When they got to the lobby, they found several zombies wandering around. They tried to sneak out of the lobby but were spotted by the zombies. Les was forced to shoot their way out of the building. His gun emptied just as they'd made it to the door and they were able to make it outside.
When they got out of the dorm, Les' truck was surrounded by zombies. They were probably attracted by the sounds the engine made as it cooled down. All the extra ammunition for the gun was in the truck so they were stuck. They were going to have to make it out on foot. Les and Connie had spent the last several days hiding from zombies and trying to find a way out of the city. They were eventually able to make their way to a small landing field Les knew of, steal a plane, and make their way home. The plane they took was low on fuel but Les was hopeful it had enough to get them home. Once in the air, he had been able to reach his wife on the radio and let her know they were safe. That was when he found out his home was surrounded. Five minutes before he'd run out of fuel, Les lost contact with his wife.
They'd been able to set the plane down safely on the highway and Les had barely been able to bring the plane to a stop before hitting the Greyhound bus blocking the road. When they came to a stop, the bus emptied of zombies. They'd been trapped in the plane for about fifteen minutes when we showed up.
We were on a gravel road headed to Les' house when we spotted the first zombie. There was a steady stream of them headed down the road towards the house. Cindy was shooting out the window at the ones Al wasn't able to run down. Gina joined her and we were able to kill every zombie on the road. We got to where we could see the house. There were dozens of zombies in the yard and the front door was open. We could see Les' wife on the second story roof with their other daughter. She had a long pole in her hands and was pushing zombies off the roof as they came out the window beside them. They would tumble down the roof, fall into the yard, and either get back up and head back in or crawl to the door to try to make it back onto the roof. We got out of the vehicles and stood surveying the situation.
“Rick, I want you to stay here with Connie and watch the road.” Al said. “Cindy, you and Gina get shotguns and pistols and clear the zombies from outside. Steve, you and Les come with me. We'll clear the house and get them off the roof. Rick, make sure the safety is off and try not to shoot yourself.”
I could hear Rick mumble something to himself but I don't think Al heard him. I was pretty sure I heard “fuck off” in there somewhere. Al fixed Les up with a 9mm. I had my sword and two 9s on my waist. Al had his pistol and carried a sawed off shotgun. Al got Connie a shotgun and told her to wait at the truck with Rick. We started for the house making as much noise as possible to draw the zombies to us and away from the house. Al opened fire first.
“Girls, go to the right. Shoot any that come your way. Steve, Les, we're going straight for the door.” Al shouted.
It turned out Les was a pretty good shot. He concentrated on the zombies to our left. Al and I went straight at them. Al was so fast, I was hardly able to get a shot off before he would drop the ones coming right at me. Just as I got to the porch, a zombie fell to the ground right in front of me. I shot it in the head and looked up to the roof. Les' wife waved down to me and shrugged her shoulders. There were several zombies trying to crawl onto the porch. Having broken their legs falling from the roof, they still tried to get to the prize waiting inside. I shot all five of them and went onto the porch. The smell coming from the zombies was horrible. Their rotted flesh was crawling with maggots. Al and Les joined me on the porch and we started in.
“Les, go left. Steve, take the right.”
Les went in to the left and I started to the right. We both ejected our magazines and slapped in new ones. The stairway was about ten feet in and right in front of us. A zombie was crawling up the steps. He was about half way up and blocking the progress of the five behind him. One stepped on its back and started climbing over. Al shot it in the head. “No butting in line.” He said. The zombie fell back into the other four and they all tumbled down the steps. Al walked up to the tangled bodies and shot them all.
“Steve, clear the ground floor. Les, come with me. We're going up.”
Al climbed over the dead bodies lying at the base of the steps and started up. He shot the one crawling on the stairs and climbed over. Les was right behind him. I looked around the room. It looked to be clear. There was a hallway after the stairs so I started down. There was a door to my left and one on the right. The door to the left was closed so I went to the one on the right. It was a bedroom. I eased my way in and looked around. Someone was standing at the window looking out into the yard. I cleared my throat to get his attention and the zombie looked back over his shoulder and growled at me. Before he could turn to come at me, I shot him in the head. Blood, bone, and brains splattered the wall behind it.
The rest of the room was clear so I went back into the hallway. I opened the closed door and looked in. It was the bathroom. There was a zombie in there. He was sitting on the toilet. It was one of the strangest things I had ever seen. The lid was down, his pants were up, and he was just sitting there. “I'm sorry.” I said. “I didn't know this bathroom was occupied.” Then I shot him in the head, closed the door, and headed down the hallway. The kitchen was in front of me. A zombie stood at the refrigerator looking at the closed door. He heard me come in, turned, and came at me. I holstered my pistol, drew my sword, and stabbed him through the eye. There was a doorway leading off the kitchen that led to the dining room. Sitting at the dining room table was a zombie. Man, these zombies were sure doing civilized things. His back was to me and he didn't hear me come up behind him. I pulled the sword back and brought it down on the top of his head. I cleaved his head in two and he dropped to the ground beside the chair.
This was the strangest bunch of zombies I'd seen so far. We had one zombie gazing into the yard. One was sitting on the toilet taking a crap. Another one was looking for something in the fridge. And a zombie waiting for someone to bring him his dinner. I assumed I'd just come across a group of developmentally disabled zombies gathering for Thanksgiving. I could still hear shooting outside but the gunfire from inside the house had stopped. I made one more circuit through the downstairs and didn't find anything. Then I went outside to see if the girls would need any help. The yard was strewn with dead bodies. The smell was awful. I was looking around thinking we wouldn't be able to just walk away from this one. We would have to stay and help clean this mess up.
I looked up to the roof and no one was there. I guess they were finished inside. I looked back at Rick and Connie. They were headed this way. Al came out on the porch with a scowl on his face.
“Next time, don't just walk away. Let me know when you're done clearing a room.” Al said. “Did you shoot that poor zombie while he was taking a shit?”
“I'm sorry, Al. I just wanted to make sure everything was going okay out here. And yes, I guess you could say I did.”
“Did what?” Gina asked.
“I shot the zombie it the bathroom. It was just sitting on the toilet. It looked like it was trying to take a dump. All the ones I shot after Al and Les went upstairs were acting strange. One of them was just sitting at the dining room table. And one was standing at the fridge. It was creepy. You know?”
“I've got it!” Al said. “The one at the table was hungry and the zombie on the toilet was full. Simple.”
“I don't care what they were. We've got a hell of a mess to clean up here.” Cindy said as she shot a not quite dead zombie crawling on the ground in front of her.
“We don't get to just walk away from this one guys.” Gina chimed in.
“Yeah, I thought about that when I blew some zombie's head all over the wall in there.” Al said.
“Look, you guys don't have to stick around. I really appreciate everything you did for us.” Les said as he walked onto the porch arm in arm with his wife.
“So, you're throwing us out? No dinner invite?” Cindy asked with a smile on her face.
“Of course we want you to stay.” Les' wife said. “My name is Marla. Thank you all so much. I don't know how long I could have kept that up. I must have pushed thirty zombies off that roof.”
“Okay, that's settled. We're staying. Let's drag these bastards out of the house.” Al said.
“If you men will do that, we girls can start cleaning up inside. I'm sure you all made a hell of a mess.” Gina said.
“I'll get the tractor and we can drag these bodies away from the house. I'll take them out in the fields and burn them.” Les said.
Rick, Al and I started dragging the bodies out of the house. Les pulled a trailer out front and we started loading them in. It took a few hours to get the house and yard cleaned up. While we were working, a few more zombies wandered in. Al gave everyone else hatchets and I used my sword to dispatch the strays. We wanted to keep the gunfire to a minimum. Now that the horde was gone, we didn't want to draw any more attention to ourselves. By the time we were done, we had a huge pile of dead bodies to burn. There were over sixty zombies in the fire. Les poured fifteen gallons of gasoline on them and lit the fire. The smell of the burning bodies was almost as bad as the smell of their rotten flesh. Fortunately, the wind was blowing away from the house so we wouldn't have to smell the fire all night long.
Les had a large farm to go along with his crop dusting business. A week before the outbreak, he'd finished bringing in his crops. That left plenty of open field and we were able to make the fire far away. The landing strip where Les kept his plane was in a field close to the house. When we were finished, he took us over to show us his plane. It was a Cessna 188. I didn't know much about planes but it seemed like a beauty to me. It looked brand new but was actually over thirty years old.
“I was wondering if you all could do me one last favor?” Les asked.
“Sure, what is it?” Al said.
“Could you take me back up the highway? I'd like to fly that other plane back here.”
“You have fuel here?” I asked.
“There's a pump on the other side of the hangar over there. I've got aviation fuel, diesel, and regular. I'd be more than happy to fill your tanks before you go.”
“That would be great. We have hoses and hand pumps but this would be a hell of a lot easier.” I said.
“Alright then. First thing in the morning, we'll go fuel up your plane. Then we'll get back on the road again.” Al said.
“Sounds like a plan.” Les said. “Let's head back to the house and see what's for dinner.”
“Let's go. I'm starving.” Al replied.
“When aren't you?” Rick laughed.
Chapter 8
Day3
They came and got us early. Work on the gates were complete and they were getting ready to power up the fence. Buses were steadily arriving from the Pentagon. We'd been moved out of the barracks to make room for the personnel from the Pentagon and they had us setting up tents inside the fences surrounding the airfield. Military personnel that would be remaining to secure the airfield would be going on a little camp out. Crates of rifles and ammunition from the armory were being brought to the airfield. Every man was to be issued a rifle and one hundred rounds of ammunition. I still had my side arm but was anxious to get a rifle. Reports were coming in from surrounding areas. The undead would soon be at our doorstep.
General Simmons sent word that I was to report to his office by ten that morning. I grabbed something to eat and headed over. I got there ten minutes early and ended up waiting forty five minutes to get in to see him. I sat outside listening to the General shouting at Colonel Bradley the entire time. It seemed he was pissed off that he hadn't had any input in the video conference the night before. He wanted to know why he had to have “a god damn camera crew” there if they didn't want to hear what he had to say. After knowing the General the short time I had, I could understand why they didn't want his opinion. The door to the Generals office opened and Colonel Bradley called me in.
“Have a seat Captain,” the General said.
“Thank you sir.”
“I wanted to share what we learned last night. As you may know there has been some testing done on the infected.”
“Sir, may I ask you a question?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
“These are zombies we are dealing with? Is that correct sir?”
“Yes, for all intent and purposes, we are calling them zombies. Once bitten you become infected with the virus, die, reanimate, attack people, bite them, try to eat them, then those people die and reanimate. So yes, god dammit we're calling them zombies.”
The Generals voice raised steadily so that by the time he finished he was shouting. “Sorry sir. I just wanted to be clear.”
“Well are you?”
“Am I what sir?”
“Clear god dammit.”
“Yes sir. Crystal clear.”
“Good. Then let me finish briefing you. The Indian government has been running tests on these sons of bitches since the outbreak started.” This was all information I already knew. Major Stevens had told me some of it and the rest I'd read in the report I'd stolen. “They captured about ten of the zombies.” He emphasized the word zombie for my benefit, “And they've been running tests on them. Some they starve, others they feed.” I started to say something. “Don't you dare ask me what they're feeding them. You know damn good and well what they're feeding them.” He read my mind. “The zombies that are denied feeding remained lethargic. They're appearance worsens but they remain surprisingly strong. Once feeding resumes the deterioration stops. It's too soon to tell but it appears that if these things keep eating they may never die.”
“How long have they been experimenting on these things sir?”
“It's been five days. So who knows? Maybe they will rot away like any corpse and eventually die. On the other hand the ones that have been steadily consuming human flesh get faster and stronger. We watched a video of one that was moving around his containment area pretty damn fast. The bastard ate five people in a little over an hour. After finishing the third victim the rate at which it ate the other two was amazing. None of the first five reanimated. I imagine they were too severely damaged. When a sixth victim was put in with it, all it did was rip his throat out and leave him to die. In under two minutes the dead man turned.”
“When they shoved the next victim in with them, the first zombie let the second one kill the poor bastard. As soon as the guy died, the first zombie made the second stop eating. In a few minutes the victim reanimated Do you realize what that means? These things have some sort of a thought process. They were making zombies. Thank God they shot the son of a bitch. They shot the third zombie too. What was horrible was what they did to the second zombie.”
“What could be worse than what you've already told me?”
“They sent this big bastard in there with a sword and he chopped the lower two thirds of the remaining zombie off. It was left alone in the cell for about ten minutes. It didn't die. It just drug itself around the cell. Not once did it try to eat any of the dead bodies in there with it. Just kept crawling over them. Then they threw some old lady in the cell. She was able to avoid the zombie. So they sent the big guy in there with the sword and he hacked one of her feet off.”
“Oh my God.”
“I said it was horrible. The zombie caught her pretty quickly after that and ate
her. It had no stomach left. Hell I doubt it even had a heart. I kept looking for the pieces of the old lady to come out behind the zombie. None ever did. That's where the next part of the report comes in. Our scientists, shit Captain I'm here to tell you, our government knows more about all this than they're letting on. Anyway, our scientists say the zombies don't digest what they eat. They absorb it like some kind of fucking amoeba. This virus that's going to turn us all into zombies is some kind of cross between an amoeba and a virus. And the shit thing is. We made it!”
“A few years ago a pharmaceutical company was looking for a cure for some obscure disease. Professor Jeffery Parks was in charge of the project. All he succeeded in doing was creating a virus that killed a bunch of people. The CIA decided they wanted to stockpile some of this wonderful virus, just in case. First they would need a cure or a vaccine. So they hired the Professor to reverse engineer the cure. Why they would have the same idiot work on the cure is beyond comprehension. But that's what they did. I really don't understand the science. They took some DNA from an amoeba and inserted it into a virus of some sort. The new virus combined with a bacteria. Long story short, the zombies are created by an infection caused by this mutated virus.”
“A few days ago the FBI apprehended Professor Parks returning to the U.S. on a flight from China. There were several vials of the new virus in his luggage. He had just finished seeding the infection in China. Before that, he had been to Australia, Germany, and Japan. He's the reason the virus is spreading so fast. They have him in a lab somewhere working on a vaccine. They should just execute the crazy bastard. The powers that be think he's our best chance at stopping the spread of the infection. I personally think he can't be trusted.”
Dead Life (Book 3) Page 4