Zombie Rules (Book 5): Mount Weather

by David Achord

  Seth spoke up. “In order for these esteemed doctors to manufacture a vaccine, they will need access to that specific building. That’s where the labs are. And here is the mission.”

  We listened as Seth outlined the mission in the military format. In short, the Marines were going to attempt to secure Fort Detrick. Sarah was going to lead a contingent that would act as a rear guard and, if needed, a reactionary force in case the Marines needed help.

  Doctor Kincaid explained. “Virus research was never the mission for Mount Weather, so, it doesn’t have the necessary equipment, nor does it have the proper containment protocols. In a word, our only hope lies with Fort Detrick.”

  “We’re going back,” Seth said plainly. “We have to secure the facility so the two doctors here can successfully create a vaccine.”

  “And that’s where you come in, Zach,” Doctor Kincaid said.

  “How so?” I asked warily.

  “Securing the lab is the first step,” Seth explained. “The second step is getting the lab or labs up and running again. The third step is you. The two doctors will need you in order to create the vaccine.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Count me in. When do we leave?”

  “You will not be going to Fort Detrick,” Stark said.

  I looked at him and back at Seth. “What gives?”

  “Until the doctors can create a suitable vaccine, we are under orders to not use you in any high-risk mission,” he said.

  I frowned. “Whose orders?”

  “Mine,” President Richmond said plainly.

  I tried in vain to form a plausible argument which would allow me to join the mission. And I voiced a few of them, but the president was adamant. The bottom line, I was grounded.

  “Alright,” I said in surrender. “But I’d like to believe I can help out in some way.”

  “Oh, there is, Zach,” Doctor Smeltzer said. “You see, you are far more unique than you realize. We’ve reviewed the tests performed by Major Parsons. The results of the testing were somewhat remarkable. We know of only one other person like you, but sadly they’ve died.”

  “The woman in Kentucky,” I said.

  Doctor Smeltzer nodded. “Was she a relative of yours?”

  “I don’t know of any of my relatives living in America.”

  “All the more reason to protect you,” Seth said.

  I looked at Doctor Smeltzer. “So, what do you need from me?”

  The two docs smiled broadly. “A few vials of blood should do it,” Doctor Smeltzer said. Doctor Kincaid nodded in agreement.

  “Excellent,” Stark said. “Now, with the president’s permission, why don’t we check in with Sergeant Clark?”

  President Richmond gave a silent nod. He seemed more interested in his cup of tea at the moment.

  Grace took the cue, and we watched as the satellite’s image began moving in a southeasterly direction. Soon, it zoomed in a building that looked like a gas station.

  “Sergeant Clark’s current location,” Grace said.

  I tentatively raised my hand. Seth nodded at me.

  “Who is Sergeant Clark?”

  “Do you remember encountering a gentleman outside of Roanoke?” Seth asked.

  “I do,” I answered. “A crazy dude with his zombie wife mounted on the front of his truck.”

  Grace giggled.

  “Yes,” General Fosswell said. “That’s Sergeant Melvin Clark. Prior to the pandemic, he was an operator on a Special Forces A-team.”

  “His rank was E-7, sergeant first class,” Seth added. “He’s had personal issues, but he is a damn good soldier. In fact, at one time General Fosswell had submitted his name to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Sarah asked.

  Seth nodded. “His entire team was wiped out in Afghanistan in an ambush by the equivalent of two company size units of Taliban. Melvin held them off for over thirty hours, calling in air strikes on them while under heavy fire. When reinforcements finally arrived, Melvin was surrounded by dead Taliban. He’d killed several of them in hand-to-hand combat.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Yes,” General Fosswell said. “He has some personal issues, but he’s one of a kind. Over the course of the last two years, he has conducted several long-range reconnaissance missions on behalf of Mount Weather.”

  Grace stood and pointed at a solitary building displayed on one of the monitors. “He checked in last night and gave grid coordinates to that building. He’s out there all by himself,” she said, her voice trailing off.

  Garret made a face. “She has a crush on him.”

  “You do,” she quickly retorted.

  Seth looked at his watch. “In fact, we should be receiving a message from him at any minute.”

  “What is his mission?” Sarah asked. Seth nodded at Garret, who was grinning broadly.

  “Oak Ridge has power,” he said.

  “They’re not mind readers, Garret. Explain,” President Richmond admonished.

  Garret’s grin faltered slightly. Grace jumped in.

  “My brother loves to play with the satellites,” she said. “Two nights ago, he was looking over the country and found a significant amount of lights at the Oak Ridge Laboratory known as Y-12, which is located in east Tennessee.”

  “But they only stayed on a few minutes, and then they went dark again,” Garret added.

  “Melvin’s mission is to go to the lab and attempt to make contact with whoever is there. If he deems them to be hostile, he is directed to take necessary action.”

  “He’s going to take them out?” I asked.

  “Only if it’s necessary,” Seth replied.

  “He must be one hell of a badass,” one of the Marines muttered.

  “He’s very capable,” General Fosswell said, and then made pointed eye contact with the Marine. “And expendable, just like you.”

  “Point taken, sir,” Justin said and cut his eyes at the Marine, subtly warning him not to argue about it.

  “Oh, we have an incoming message,” Grace said as she looked at a console.

  “Put it on audio, please, Grace,” President Richmond said.

  “Mike Whiskey, Mike Whiskey, this is Mad Dog Forty. Objective reached. The first location is unoccupied but has indications of human upkeep. I will proceed to objective two in one mike and will attempt contact. Mad Dog Forty, out.”

  Chapter 11 – Nut Sacks

  Lieutenant Justin Smithson was standing at parade rest when the rest of the Marines sauntered outside.

  “Good afternoon, Marines,” he’d said when they’d formed up and he ensured all were present. “I hope lunch was enjoyable.”

  There were some murmurs of assent, but he hushed them with his next statement.

  “Well, now. You men look like Marines again, but now I need to see what kind of shape you’re in, so I think we’re going to go for a little run around the perimeter.”

  The grumbles of protest were loud now, causing Justin to suppress a grin.

  “Sir?”

  It was Joker. Justin acknowledged him with a slight nod.

  “We just ate and we ain’t got running shoes on.”

  Justin scoffed. “Well, now. I imagine if you ever run into a pack of zombies, tell them you can’t run on a full stomach. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “I don’t see Corporal Bullington joining in,” another one remarked.

  “That is because Corporal Bullington is pregnant. Are you pregnant, Marine?”

  The Marine had nothing to reply.

  “Do we at least get to stretch, sir?” Joker asked.

  “You already should have,” Justin replied. “You’re Marines. You should always be ready for action.” With that asseveration, he barked a few commands, and in short order had them running at a double time.

  It wasn’t until the third time around the perimeter when the first Marine ran off to the side and puked. Justin smiled inwardly and kept them running. By the time they’
d made it to lap number six, everyone except Justin and Sergeant Crumby had tossed their lunch. Justin finally relented, and for the last lap, he slowed them to a walk.

  When he’d marched them back in front of the main building, he halted them and ordered them to stand at ease.

  “Not bad, but there’s a lot of room for improvement,” Justin said. He was about to speak again when Joker raised his hand.

  “Speak,” Justin ordered.

  “Sir, I’m willing to give all of this stuff a chance, but so far, I ain’t happy.”

  “Oh, my. You poor thing. What would make you happy, Private Joker?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. We’ve been cooped up in here for months. Why don’t we go out on some patrols or something?”

  “Yeah, let’s go kill some zeds,” another one said. Justin glanced over at Sergeant Crumby.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” Crumby said. “We’re going out on a mission tomorrow morning.”

  There was at least one whoop of joy and a lot of grins.

  “Alright, listen up.” Justin spent the next thirty minutes giving the mission order. As he spoke, he could see looks of anticipation. He liked it; they’d already forgotten about how he’d forced them to puke no more than thirty minutes ago.

  “Alright, Marines. Head to the chow hall and see if they’ll let you men get a snack. We’re going to need two weeks of water and rations. Corporal Conway, that’s your responsibility.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Sergeant Crumby?”

  “Sir?”

  “They’re going to let us use two Strykers. Make sure they’re squared away.”

  Sergeant Crumby responded with a silent nod.

  “I’ll be in the armory. After you get a bite to eat, come and draw your weapons.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll see you there in thirty minutes.”

  When Justin walked into the armory, he found Ensign Boner sitting with his feet propped up, bright red Beats headphones covering his ears, eyes closed, listening to who knows what. Justin slapped the side of the open door to get his attention.

  Boner opened his eyes slowly, wondering why someone was annoying him. When he saw Justin, he put his feet down and removed the earphones.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “We’re going to be drawing weapons for the mission, and I wanted to get a look at them, make sure they’re battle worthy.”

  Boner’s eyes narrowed. “Mission? I haven’t heard of any mission.”

  Justin gave a somber nod, like he was surprised and concerned nobody had informed him of the upcoming mission. In fact, he knew Ensign Boner had been intentionally left out of the loop.

  “Look, I don’t know what your history is, and I don’t know what you’ve done to get on the bad side of General Fosswell. I’m just a Marine and I follow orders. You know what my first order was when I arrived here, right?”

  Boner continued staring at Justin for a long minute. “So, what’s the mission?” he asked.

  “We’re to escort Smeltzer and Kincaid to Fort Detrick, secure a lab, and protect them while they attempt to create a vaccine.”

  Boner made a face and shook his head. “They already tried it once and it failed. The whole contingent disappeared. It’s a suicide mission.”

  “Those are my orders,” Justin replied.

  Joker and two other Marines walked into the armory while the two men were staring at each other.

  “We’re here, sir,” Joker said.

  Boner scoffed and sat back down. “Have at it,” he said. “It’s your funeral.”

  Justin faced them. “Alright, let’s take a look at the weapons.”

  Justin pulled each individual weapon off of the rack and inspected them carefully.

  “They’re dirty,” he muttered.

  Boner gave an apathetic shrug. “We have a shortage of cleaning products.”

  “Steam,” Justin said.

  “What’s that, sir?” Joker asked.

  “Do we have anything around here like a steam cleaner?”

  “Yeah, I mean, yes, sir,” one of the Marines said.

  Justin gazed at him. “Jenkins, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Jenkins. Kirby Jenkins.”

  “Alright, Jenkins. Round up that steam cleaner and set us up a cleaning station. We’re going to have these weapons good to go before we head out tomorrow.”

  “You can’t do that,” Boner contended. “They’ll rust.”

  “Not if we lubricate them,” Justin rejoined.

  “We have maybe one ounce of Hoppe’s lubricant left,” Boner rejoined.

  Justin sighed and turned to his Marines. “Joker, go find Zach. I happen to know he has a case or two of 5W30 synthetic motor oil stored in his trailer. Tell him what we’re doing and I would be most grateful if he let us borrow a quart.”

  “Aye, sir,” Joker said and started to walk out.

  “Oh, Joker.”

  Joker stopped and turned.

  “Zach is particular about some things, so don’t go in that trailer until you get his permission, unless you’re ready for a fight.”

  Joker chuckled. “He and I are cool, sir.”

  After Joker and Kirby walked out, Justin turned his attention to the remaining Marine.

  “Private Merritt Burns, you were a sergeant once, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What happened?”

  “Dirty piss,” he replied. “They’d already busted me down in rank and I was about to be discharged. You know the rest.”

  “Well, there are no more piss tests, aren’t you the lucky one,” Justin said with a small grin.

  “And you better believe I’ve smoked since then,” Burns said. “They have a pretty good supply here.”

  “They got marijuana here?” Justin asked in surprise.

  “Oh, yeah,” Boner answered. “They had a hydroponics lab going the first week.”

  Justin chuckled. “Go figure. Alright, back to business. Burns, your job is the ammo. For the sake of simplicity, all of the weapons we’ll be carrying will be one caliber. M4s, M16s, and two M249s. Standard load, but I want the 249 gunners to have a minimum of five nut sacks each.”

  “Five nut sacks? Sounds pretty kinky.”

  They looked around at the voice to see Rachel and Sarah walking in. Rachel acted like she was confused and continued.

  “A Marine with five nut sacks? I’m calling bullshit, I’ll need to see proof,” she demanded.

  “Uh, it’s a slang term for the ammunition holders for the M249 light machine gun,” Burns said.

  Rachel gave a sly grin. “You’ll still need to show us your nut sack.”

  “Knock it off,” Sarah said.

  Rachel kept grinning and changed the subject. “Are you big tough Marines going to share any weapons and ammunition for us?”

  Justin cleared his throat. “Major, have you chosen your personnel?”

  “Briscoe and Stallings,” Sarah replied. “They’re both electricians.”

  “Can they shoot?” Justin asked, and then remembered there were others listening. “Can they shoot, ma’am?”

  “They say they can,” Sarah replied.

  Burns cleared his throat. Justin gave him a questioning look.

  “We’ve had some target practice lessons in the past with the civilians. They did okay, sir.”

  Justin nodded and looked back at Sarah questioningly. She gave a halfhearted, dismissive shrug.

  “They’ll have to do. None of those so-called secretaries are interested in going. Apparently, they’re immune to being voluntold.”

  “You got that right,” Boner said. He’d been sitting in his chair, silently listening to their conversation.

  “What’s the story on them, Lawrence?” Rachel asked.

  Boner shrugged like it was old news. “There’s eleven of them, all are supposedly geniuses. Ten of them are married to each other. Only Parvis Anderson is single. Not only do they run the place, they’re a pseudo think tank
for the president. They’re the ones who keep the power grid up, the sewage plant working, pretty much everything.”

  “It sounds like they don’t even need the president or senators,” Rachel said.

  “Secretary Stark is their de facto supervisor,” Boner said. “And President Richmond is in charge of Secretary Stark, so there you have it. Things are getting tense around here though, it might all change soon.”

  “How so?” Justin asked.

  Boner was silent now and leaned back in his chair.

  Rachel walked over and started massaging Boner’s shoulders. “C’mon Lawrence, don’t be the strong silent type. Tell us what’s going on.”

  “That feels damn good,” he muttered, his eyes partially closing.

  “You know you want to tell me,” she cooed and grinned at the others.

  “There’s an internal power struggle going on,” he said. “Some of the senators want Richmond out and are pushing for a presidential election.” He chuckled. “It won’t do any good though.”

  “Why not?” Rachel asked.

  “Because they’re all power hungry and they don’t even realize how impotent they are.”

  Rachel squeezed his shoulders one final time before stopping. He looked back at her questioningly. She responded with a wink.

  He sighed, stood, and stretched. “That felt wonderful, but I’ve got to make my rounds.” He then looked pointedly at Justin. “You’re responsible for the armory until I get back.”

  They all watched him leave.

  “I wonder what’s really going on,” Rachel said.

  “That is the question,” Justin replied, and then changed the subject. “Alright, let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 12 – Blood

  They took no less than twelve vials of blood, all the while gabbing on like teenage nerds seeing their first set of breasts. As they chatted, I looked around at their lab. It held the usual pieces of equipment you’d find in a lab and was fastidiously neat with the exception of several pieces of paper hung on the wall with thumbtacks. They were black and white photographs printed out on regular paper.