America the Dead

by Joseph Talluto

  The Major looked around to see if there was anyone nearby he could order to get rid of this creature blocking his view, but of course, everyone was out of sight.

  Naturally, he thought. Oh well, gotta do some things myself. He heaved his heavy frame out of the Adirondack chair he was lounging in and walked over. The zombie, seeing potential prey, let out a gurgling moan and managed to spew water in the major’s direction, not endearing itself at all to the living man.

  Ken stopped at a woodpile and selected a suitable club, not wanting to waste ammunition if he didn’t have to. The wood was for the large fireplace inside the lodge, so the logs were about four feet in length and about four inches in diameter. Ken hefted his weapon and turned back to the zombie.

  The ghoul was much closer now, moving steadily on squishy feet. Thorton could see its wet progress across the parking lot and again wondered where it came from, since zombies tended to avoid water for some reason.

  Moving in, Ken readied his weapon in a baseball stance and waited for the zombie to get closer. Just as it was in range, he swung the heavy club. The log whispered through the air and would likely have knocked the zombie’s head clean off if it had connected. But the zombie fell at the last second and the log passed harmlessly over its head. Overbalanced, Ken spun around and fell on his back, his log spinning away harmlessly.

  The zombie, seeing its prey suddenly closer, doggedly crawled forward, grabbing Ken by the ankle and trying to bring it in for a bite.

  Thorton was not about to be brought down by a single zombie. He shoved his other booted foot into the zombie’s face and held it off while he drew his weapon. He was going to have to be quick, because the second he moved his foot, the zombie was going to snap forward and bite him. Taking aim at his toes, Thorton suddenly released the ghoul’s head and fired at the same time. The heavy .44 caliber bullet slammed into the zombie, blasting apart its head in a spray of bone, brains and zombie bits. The now fully dead ghoul slumped to the ground and Ken shook his ankle free of the dead fingers.

  The sound of the shot brought several soldiers running to the scene with guns drawn, but all they saw was their leader getting to his feet with a dead, wet zombie nearby. Thorton holstered his weapon and glared at the assembled men.

  “Thanks for nothing. Where the hell were you morons?” he growled, staring hard at a small man on the far right.

  The man blanched at being singled out, but managed to stammer out, “We were watching the trail. Captain Tamikara ordered us to keep an eye out for roamers while he and three others checked out a survivor sighting.”

  “Survivor sighting? Here?” Major Thorton turned thoughtful.

  “Yes, sir. The captain got a report from a scout party that there might be a couple of survivors up on the hill overlooking the rivers,” the soldier offered.

  “What’s up on the hill?”

  “Haven’t been there myself, sir. I heard from another man that there was an old government building up there and that might be where they sighted the survivors.”

  Thorton looked up at the landscape. “Come with me. I want to see this place. The rest of you get rid of this mess.”

  “Yes, sir!” came the chorus.

  Thorton and the soldier walked over to the trucks and boarded the closest one. They drove along the park’s main road, dodging deadfall trees and branches and slogging through erosion washes. Everything a normally running park would have crews to remove blocked the passage of the big vehicle.

  In the end, what should have taken an easy ten minutes to the top of the hill wound up taking a half an hour. By the time they reached the top, Major Thorton was short on patience and feeling rather frustrated. He stepped out of the vehicle and forcibly shut the door behind him. The slamming door startled a series of birds who protested as they soared to the skies. He paid them no mind as he looked over the facility. It was a small building, roughly thirty feet on a side, made out of poured concrete. It had two small windows and a single steel door. A large radio tower stretched upwards and the entire building was surrounded by a barb-wire topped chain link fence. A small sign near the single gate simply read “U.S. Government Property–No Trespassing.” The area was much more overgrown than the surrounding park, suggesting that this little area had been abandoned years before the Upheaval. What its purpose was, Thorton could only guess.

  The major walked around to the front of the building and looked inside. It contained what appeared to be three rooms. The first had a decaying couch and a couple of broken chairs. The second room was the galley kitchen with a small bathroom and shower along the back wall. The third room was the bunk area, long abandoned. The place was dusty but the elements had been kept out and the concrete had kept out the most persistent of creatures from getting in. The place had been cleaned out, obviously by its previous occupants and the lack of debris and other castaways usually left behind when people left places in a hurry suggested to Thorton that this place had been occupied by former military.

  What the place was for and what it was doing in the middle of the state park was still a mystery. Thorton was curious, but not that curious and was about to holler for his driver when the man stuck his head around the corner of the door which led to the kitchen.

  “Sir?” The soldier, named Cody Ransom, seemed excited about something.

  “What is it?” Ken didn’t hide the impatience in his voice.

  “You gotta see this, sir.”

  “I don’t have time for games, what is it?”

  “Sir, this one I have to show you.”

  Ransom’s insistence got Thorton’s curiosity aroused again and that won out over impatience. He followed the private through the kitchen and into the bunk area. There were three bunks, suggesting a rotating shift of some sort between three men, doing God knows what in this empty place. That in itself wasn’t as curious as the stairwell in the back corner that led down into the ground.

  The opening was simple and was easily covered with a metal door. The floor rug had been pulled back, exposing the trapdoor into the secret of the bunker.

  “Well, well. What have we here?” Thorton asked out loud, peering into the darkness.

  “It’s interesting, sir. Follow me.” Ransom stepped down the small spiral staircase, quickly dropping out of sight. The Major was thoroughly curious and quickly followed. His heavy bulk caused the stairway to squeak in protest. At the bottom of the stairs was a room roughly the same size as the bedroom upstairs. A table and chair sat over by the side wall and a large desk occupied the far wall. A strange metal cabinet sat next to the desk, but the equipment on top of the desk got Thorton’s attention.

  In the light of Ransom’s flashlight, Ken could see a large radio transmitter. There were numerous dials and switches, a microphone for broadcasting and three sets of headphones. Everything looked in excellent condition, despite its age and Thorton could only wonder as to why it was here.

  Back in the late 1940s, the US military was coming home from Europe and Asia with a lot of ponderables and what ifs regarding the security of the United States. It was decided that a communications network needed to be set up securely from coast to coast, unreliant on local power grids and manned by military personnel. The mission and purpose was to provide communication to troops and vital personnel in the event of a nuclear attack from a hostile nation. An electromagnetic pulse, generated by an atmospheric nuclear explosion, would effectively cripple a nation by knocking out its power and communications. The military had it in mind that if such an event were to happen, they would be in a better position to coordinate a counter attack if a system of communication was still active. Across the nation, small structures were built and manned in remote areas, outside the normal prying eyes of the public. Men were stationed in theses places and rotated in and out on a three month rotation. These little buildings had their own power sources and were capable of transmitting messages hundreds of miles to the next station. What was not generally revealed, however, was that these stations had a
darker secret. They were designed not only to be able to send messages, but to be able to listen in on nearly every wavelength used by professional and amateur airwaves. Essentially, these places were the listening posts of the nation, keeping an ear out for subversive activity and for reporting to the authorities any activity of a suspicious nature.

  These listening posts were highly useful during the Red Scare days of the 1950’s and 1960’s, but as other methods of communication developed, they began to fall by the wayside. In 1968, the program was quietly scrapped and the system was shut down. But several posts still remain and some, undisturbed.

  “Well, it’s interesting, I’ll give it that, but why are we down here, looking at a pile of old equipment?” Thorton asked.

  “Sir. I thought the same thing,” Ransom answered. “But then I did this.” The private reached out and flicked a large black switch on the side of the metal cabinet. The dials of the radio suddenly glowed with life and dozens of red and green lights lit up under frequency dials.

  The major took a step back as he realized what he was looking at. Something he hadn’t seen in nearly two years.

  “Holy shit. There’s power here.” He said quietly. “But how?”

  “Sir? Remember that little dam we drove over to get to this side of the river?” Ransom asked, walking over to the stairwell and turning on the light switch. The room was bathed in a yellow glow as an ancient light bulb slowly came to life. Thorton marveled at the bulb as Ransom continued. “I would guess that little dam has been providing power to this little station since they built it and no one ever figured out where the generators were.”

  “Freaking amazing,” said the major. “Well, let’s see what this thing can do.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Private Ransom, sitting down at the desk and placing the headphones over his ears. He sat there for a few minutes, adjusting a few knobs and dials. After a about ten minutes, Ransom took the headphones off and looked up at the major.

  “There’s a lot of chatter out there, sir, more than I thought there would be,” Ransom said.

  “Let me hear.” Thorton took the headphones and put them on. Over the airwaves, he could hear dozens of people talking to each other, mostly discussing mundane things like planting food and foraging for supplies. Some talked about trying to set out for the cities for stuff, others talking about how bad the zombies seemed to be in their area. On other channels, he overheard some people who were getting desperate, hoping someone would come to the rescue as zombies broke down their defenses. He chuckled at that, then looked over at the panel. There was a “Transmit” switch and he pointed to it as he took off the headphones.

  “Think these people would hear me if I hit that switch?” Major Thorton asked his private.

  Ransom shrugged. “Can’t see why not. If we can hear them, I imagine this place was set up to transmit as well and have the power to do so. How are these people talking to each other, anyway?”

  Ken gave a wry smile. “If I had to guess, many of them are talking on CB radios, with a few short waves thrown in for luck. This little device seems capable of sending a message out to all of them, although I sure couldn’t tell you how.” He ran a large hand over the large black box humming quietly. “Interesting. I will have to see how this can be of use to us. For now, monitor these broadcasts and I’ll get a report from you later.”

  “Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, sir?” Ransom asked.

  “What is it?”

  “Could you see if the rest of the place has power? My flashlight batteries are at half at best.”

  Thorton laughed. “Sure thing.” He walked over to the stairwell and ran his hand along the wall. Sure enough, there was a light switch and not really thinking anything was going to happen, he flicked the switch. An old bulb weakly came to life, but it was enough to light the room and both he and the private stared at it for a moment before Thorton went back upstairs.

  In the small living area, Thorton looked around and figured this would be a very useful system to have in place, if he could find out where the other stations were. Chances were pretty slim they would be untouched like this one, but it was possible. The possibilities were pretty encouraging, but he didn’t have the manpower at present. Still, it was helpful to know there was a communication network available.

  Outside the small bunker, Ken walked back to the road and stretched his legs a little, looking around at the forest and listening to the small sounds that nature generously provided. Insects were making their presence known and in the distance, Thorton could hear a couple of squirrels chattering away as they bounced around from tree to tree. It was probably April, but no one would be sure for a while. Hard to believe they had been on the road for nearly a month and likely had a month more to go, but overall, their progress had been pretty good.

  Major Thorton was enjoying the quiet when he began to hear the sound of a truck laboring up the road. He was pretty sure any vehicles nearby belonged to him, so he casually leaned up against the building and waited for the truck to arrive.

  It didn’t take long. A few minutes after he had leaned on the wall, one of the trucks came around the bend and up to the top of the hill. Ken could see his captain in the passenger seat and was amused when he saw the puzzled look on Tamikara’s face. The truck swung into the small area and parked next to the one already there. The captain swung out of the cab and walked over to Thorton.

  “What are you doing up here?” he asked without a salute or so much as a ‘sir’.

  Thorton’s face flickered with irritation, but he hid it well, tucking it away for future use. “Discovering a lot more useful things than you, I’d wager,” Ken said, enjoying the not-well-hidden flash of anger on Ted’s normally impassive face. Ken had been suspecting for a while that his captain was on the verge of a break and he was going to have to deal with that soon, before he managed to recruit others to his side. As it was, he had no idea if Tamikara had been recruiting all along.

  The captain shrugged. “Possibly. But you might want to hear what I have found out from one of our guests.”

  Thorton’s eyebrows raised. “You caught a couple? How interesting. Let’s see.”

  They walked over to the back of the truck and flipped over the edge of the cover. Two of the patrol soldiers got out and stepped aside for the two young men who jumped out afterwards. They were dressed in casual clothing, jeans and sweatshirts and each carried a heavy backpack. Both were wearing belts that had knives and guns, but they were careful to keep their hands away from their weapons. Both of them looked around and the taller of the two, a lanky kid with longish brown hair, roughly six feet in height, addressed Major Thorton.

  “I take it you’re in charge,” he said.

  Ken took a moment to answer. The kid looked capable and he held himself in a way that indicated possible flight if the opportunity presented itself. Thorton stepped closer, looking down at the kid, who returned his look without fear. You will be fun to break, Ken thought to himself. He looked over at the other kid, who seemed to be of a similar age, although not as sure of himself. He was shorter than the first and had longish, dirty-blonde hair. He kept looking around at the assembled soldiers, eyeing their weapons and looking back the way they had come. A runner if he had ever seen one.

  “My name is Major Ken Thorton. You have already met my captain, Ted Tamikara. You and your friend will come in out of the sun and explain what you are doing here and where you came from. I have a lot of questions you will need to answer.” Ken believed in establishing relationships early and determining who was in charge. He noted as he said this last there was a small frown on the taller kid’s face. Typical, Thorton thought, as he went back to the door of the building.

  Tamikara was right behind him and looked around as they entered the small building. “What is this place?” he asked.

  “Later. I want to talk to our friends, first,” Ken said. He motioned to the pair to sit on the aged sofa while he and Tamikara remained standing. He signaled for the other
soldiers to wait outside.

  “So let’s begin with you.” Thorton looked down at the blonde kid. “What’s your story?”

  The kid looked over at his companion, then looked back to the major. “Not much to tell. We’ve been on the road for a while, coming south from the suburbs of Chicago, avoiding the dead and living off the land. Our car crapped out about a week ago and we managed to find a small bass boat which has been taking us down the river. We were looking for some supplies when your men found us. That’s it.”

  Thorton digested this for a moment, then said, “Okay, you’re useless. Outside.”

  “W-What?” The blonde stammered.

  “I hate repeating myself. Go outside. Your information is useless,” the major motioned for the kid to leave and he stood up slowly, looking back at his companion. His friend shrugged and the blonde went outside. He was immediately grabbed by the soldiers and secured, his cries shut off by a sharp punch to the face. He slumped and was trussed up to a tree, just within sight of the big window in the building. His friend jumped to his feet in protest, but kept silent as Tamikara smoothly drew his Browning Hi-Power and aimed it at his head.

  Thorton didn’t even bother to look outside, as he already knew what was happening. He affected a bored look and addressed the other kid.

  “What’s your story?” he asked in exactly the same way he had asked earlier. The brown haired kid sat sullenly, but realized he was a prisoner much more quickly than his companion, who still slumped against the tree he was tied to.

  “We came from a community that had established itself along the canal near the outskirts of Chicago. About a year and a half ago, maybe more, a guy had banded a bunch of people together and they set up a new town, taking it over from the zombies. There’s a bunch of people there now and they are all trained to kill zombies if they need to. Everyone has a weapon and everyone knows how to use it. There are crops for food and we all pitch in to work. About a year ago, the same guy went south to some other towns that had survived and were in trouble. Rumor is he took on about thousand zombies on his own, but I ain’t sure about that. He went to one of the state centers to see what happened to the military and the government.”