Z1N1: The Zombie Pandemic: 2012 Was Just the Beginning

by Mitchell Layne Cook

  April 2, 2013: Tuesday, 10:31 AM – Boise, Idaho – Illumination Pharmaceuticals – main campus …

  Karl sat in his office going over status reports from last week when he heard one of the large military vehicles below roar to life. He pushed himself away from the desk and walked over to his favorite window. Like a colony of well-organized ants, the soldiers stood in formation and listened to Lieutenant Dwight Samson bark orders. Karl had no idea what was being said, but the men and women split off into two groups after the lieutenant had finished his speech.

  A group of about twenty soldiers led by Lt. Samson left the facility and headed north. The remainder of the platoon stayed behind and focused on their duties. Karl saw Michael speaking to one of the soldiers but the conversation did not appear to be going Michael’s way. As Michael turned to enter into the building, he looked up and saw his boss standing at the window. Karl motioned for Michael to come up to his office.

  After a few minutes, Michael rushed into Karl’s office – apparently he had run up the stairs to deliver the important news to his boss. “You will not believe this!” Michael blurted out. “I didn’t hear everything that Lt. Samson said,” Michael conceded, “but something big is going on!”

  Karl tried to appear disinterested, but his curiosities were definitely piqued.

  “There is some kind of riot or something two miles north of here at the mall,” Michael continued. “Lt. Samson and his soldiers are going to restore order!”

  “A riot here in Idaho?” Karl paused briefly as he looked out the window. “I bet it has something to do with those hippie-ass protestors that have been living outside our facility for the past week…”

  Lt. Samson and his small cadre of soldiers arrived at the local strip mall. The first civilian teams on scene had already cordoned off a small section of stores. An ambulance siren blared in the distance. Lt. Samson directed his driver to pull the armored personnel carrier to the side of the U-shaped blockade comprised of police cars and fire trucks. The lieutenant exited the vehicle and maneuvered his way through the yellow tape to find the civilian in charge.

  After questioning a few policemen, Lt. Samson was directed to speak with Detective Holcomb. The lieutenant walked over to the backside of a large black SUV where four police officers listened to a man wearing a dark gray suit and navy blue tie. The well-dressed man fit the description of the person the lieutenant was looking for. The detective stood about six feet tall, dark brown hair and sported expensive, coal black sunglasses.

  “Detective Holcomb, I presume?” Lt. Samson inquired.

  “Yes, sir - that’s me,” the young detective replied, standing a bit taller as he addressed the military man. He had previously worked with the FBI and DEA on a few of his more difficult cases, but the US military? This was a first for him. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Apparently he had picked the wrong week to transfer to Idaho…

  Lt. Samson removed a half-smoked cigar from his pocket and clenched it between his teeth. He flicked his lighter a few times and soon, with a few deep puffs, the cigar blazed to life. “What does it look like in there, son?”

  “We didn’t understand the original call from dispatch,” Detective Holcomb said softly. “The nine-one-one call stated that an angry mob of people had entered the jewelry store and began tearing up the place and attacking the customers.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, when we got here…what we saw…well this part didn’t make any sense.” The young detective began to hyperventilate slightly as he tried to find the words to explain what he had witnessed an hour earlier.

  “Calm down, son - take a deep breath.”

  After a few brief moments, the detective composed himself and continued. “We got here and barricaded the area about an hour ago. We could see inside the store. There appeared to be eight customers and maybe two employees trapped inside with the angry mob. It looked like a hostage situation at first.”

  “How many rioters are there?” Lt. Samson inquired.

  “Six…I think. I saw one of the rioters grab a woman by her face…her head looked like a grapefruit in between his huge hands.” Detective Holcomb paused as he realized how apt the analogy was. “That man bit her face repeatedly.”

  Lt. Samson rubbed his index finger around in his ear as he tried to make sense of the words that had just come out of the detective’s mouth. The lieutenant motioned for his soldiers to approach the command area where he and Detective Holcomb were standing. The troops formed a single-file line, waiting for instructions from their leader.

  “All right, boys and girls,” Lt. Samson began, “this is the real deal. Our detective friend here says that the rioters are some sort of whacked out cannibals…whatever the hell that means. We have at least six hostiles cooped up in that store and maybe ten civilians.”

  “What do you want my people to do?” Detective Holcomb asked.

  “Secure the area – basic crowd control, son. Do not allow anyone past that barricade.”

  Detective Holcomb and the four police officers left the makeshift command area and moved back to the start of the barricade. Two ambulances and another fire truck had arrived on scene. Detective Holcomb directed the emergency crews to stay behind the barricade until the area was secured. A Channel 14 News helicopter circled overhead; soon more media would converge on the area once the other news agencies got word of the major story brewing at the small outlet mall.

  Lt. Samson split his soldiers into Alpha and Bravo teams; he would lead the former. Alpha team approached the jewelry store from the west and Bravo team closed in from the east. A purple neon “For Sale” sign flickered on and off above a full display case. The sign’s downward pointing arrow flashed above some cheap costume jewelry behind the thick glass outer window. The flashing sign indicated that there was still power to the store, but the rest of the interior was jet-black and neither team could see any hostages from their vantage point. Apparently the rioters had moved their prisoners to the back part of the store after knocking out the overhead lights.

  Lieutenant Samson kneeled down at the west side corner of the building. He made eye contact with the Bravo team’s lead soldier on the east end of the building. Lt. Samson motioned for Bravo team to move to the back of the store. Their job would be to guard the rear just in case the perpetrators decided to make a break for it. Bravo team backed away from the front of the building as they moved into position behind the store. The soldiers sloshed through the muddy, unpaved parking lot and positioned themselves behind dumpsters and parked cars. The protective barriers would provide good cover in case anyone from inside the store had weapons.

  Lt. Samson pivoted on his knee as he turned to address his team; his back faced the large glass window that occupied the majority of the store front. As he did so, a thundering crash of expensive glass exploded behind him followed almost immediately by a loud “THUMP” as a mutilated body hit the sidewalk next to him. The lieutenant instinctively rolled out of the way and pulled his pistol from its holster and scanned the area. He glanced down quickly at the body and then back to the store; he couldn’t see anyone inside the building.

  Blood quickly began to pool up on the sidewalk around the body. Lt. Samson put his gun back into its holster and motioned for Alpha team to maintain their positions about twenty feet from the body. The lieutenant walked over to the body and gently pushed it over with his boot. The body sluggishly rolled over on its backside. What used to be a young woman was now a mutilated corpse - missing over half of her face and neck and part of her blouse. The lieutenant knelt down to inspect the body; there were bite marks and scratches all up and down her forearms, obviously defensive wounds from her failed attempt to fend off her attacker.

  “Look out!” Sergeant Vaughn yelled.

  Lt. Samson quickly turned his attention from the corpse to the busted out window behind him. He sized up the large, sickly looking man that had emerged from the cave-like interior. The purple neon sign flashed overhead illuminati
ng the behemoth’s awkward features. His pale gray skin looked like old hamburger meat that had been left out too long. The man was hunched over but still easily topped six feet in height and must have weighed in excess of two-hundred and fifty pounds based on Lt. Samson’s best estimate. The hulking man’s swollen face was twisted and contorted; his eyes were dark and sunken in. Most of his body seemed to twitch sporadically – like a horse does when shaking off flies. He was covered in blood and held the other half of the woman’s blouse between his teeth.

  With a terrible growl, the large man flung himself through the window lunging for Lt. Samson’s throat. A deafening shotgun blast echoed off the buildings knocking the giant man out of the air; he crumpled to the ground, sliding for a few feet before coming to rest on his side. Now two bodies lay side-by-side on the small sidewalk. Lt. Samson glanced back towards Sergeant Vaughn, thanking him with just a look for saving his life. Once again, the lieutenant motioned for Alpha team to hold their positions.

  As expected, local news crews began flocking to the scene, but the barricade did its job and allowed Detective Holcomb to better do his. He and his men kept the overanxious reporters some twenty feet to the south of the original barricade. Threats of police brutality bubbled up from the crowd as the police used “reasonable” force to restrain some of the media. Detective Holcomb had heard it all before. He’d rather do his job and keep everyone safe. At the end of the day, it was much easier to answer for his “excessive” tactics than contacting families to let them know that a loved one had died because he failed to do his job properly.

  Lt. Samson knelt down next to the second body and grabbed the man’s arm. He tried to roll the large man over to better see his face, but the man was too heavy. Sergeant Vaughn moved away from Alpha team’s current position towards the body. He knelt down as he tried to assist the lieutenant. Both men were finally able to roll the mammoth man onto his back. As the body came to rest, a giant hole in the center of his chest was exposed; the two soldiers could see the pavement of the sidewalk through the cavernous wound. Sergeant Vaughn looked away briefly…he had never been so close to a dead body.

  The beastly man opened his blood-soaked eyes. In an instant, he sat straight up, reached out and clamped his massive right hand around Sergeant Vaughn’s throat. Before Lt. Samson could react, the large man jerked Sergeant Vaughn close to his chest and gnawed a large chunk of flesh and bone out of the soldier’s face and tossed him like a ragdoll into the side of the building. The members of Alpha team stood shell shocked at the scene playing out before them. Half of them hesitated while the other half tried to steady their weapons on the monstrosity in front of them. They chose not to shoot for fear of hitting their lieutenant.

  Lt. Samson stood up from his kneeling position; he reached down and unclasped his machete from his leg strap. At this particular moment, the grizzled soldier felt vindicated that he had decided to purchase the weapon with his own money since his asshole requisition officer had denied his earlier request. The newly-freed blade glistened in the sunlight as it made its downward arc deep into the large man’s left arm, severing it from its body just below the elbow – a feat that a standard issue K-bar could never match. Thick blood spewed all over Lt. Samson’s fatigues. The depraved beast-man grunted and groaned as he pushed himself up from a seated position to a kneeling position.

  Lt. Samson kicked the large man in the ribcage; the force of the blow knocked the one-armed man off balance causing him to fall face first onto the body of the dead girl. The colossal man recovered and quickly moved to an upright position. Lt. Samson dropped his machete and once again un-holstered his SOCOM 45 caliber pistol. Two shots rang out in quick succession, hitting the large man in the neck and collarbone; un-phased, the large man kept advancing towards the lieutenant. Lt. Samson unloaded the final rounds into the attacker’s body, but the target acted as if the gunshot wounds were just a minor inconvenience. In desperation, Lt. Samson threw his empty gun at the seemingly unstoppable man.

  Corporal Jackson quickly joined the fray. She picked up the lieutenant’s discarded machete, grasping it firmly in both hands and moved behind the bullet-riddled attacker. She raised the blood-soaked blade above her head and began hacking into the large man like a lumberjack chopping wood. The first strike lodged deep in the man’s neck midway between his shoulder and spine. She struggled fiercely to remove the blade as the behemoth turned his attention towards her. As he spun around, she was able to free the blade and deliver another gashing strike to his face. The gray-skinned man raked his hand across her chest; she could feel his fingernails rip deep into her flesh; she dropped the machete as she doubled over in pain.

  Lt. Samson propelled himself towards Corporal Jackson knocking her away from the angry man. Alpha team now had the opening they needed. A hail of gunfire erupted and the man fell to the ground motionless. The team ran over to assist their leader and Corporal Jackson. One man went to check on Sergeant Vaughn, but one look told the soldier that Sergeant Vaughn was already dead. Lt. Samson picked up the sergeant’s shotgun and moved over to the downed gargantuan man. He placed the barrel of the gun directly against the base of enormous man’s neck and pulled the trigger; blood, brain, bones and cement erupted from the blast finally ending the confrontation.

  Multiple gunshots from Bravo team rang out from behind the building.

  “You three come with me,” Lt. Samson yelled as he pointed at three of his more veteran soldiers. “Someone get to Detective Holcomb. Tell him to get an ambulance over here ASAP!” Lt. Samson and the three soldiers cautiously ran off to the back of the building as a light misting rain began to fall. Hundreds of shots rang out before the lieutenant and his men entered the back parking lot. An ominous cloud of steam rose from Bravo team’s superheated rifle barrels; the spent casings littered the ground like the abandoned playthings of a whimsical child after playtime had ended.

  As the smoke cleared, Lt. Samson surveyed the area and called out to Bravo team for them to hold fire. A plethora of corpses lay strewn over the ground. Bravo team came out from behind their barricades when they saw their leader arrive; the soldiers were mortified by what they had just partaken in.

  “Sir, they busted out of the building chasing after those people,” the leader of Bravo team began. The soldier pointed at three disfigured, almost unrecognizable bodies that lay in a deep puddle of bloody mud. “We ordered them to stop, but they didn’t listen.”

  Another soldier spoke from behind Lt. Samson. “They caught those people and knocked them to the ground. They started clawing and ripping flesh from their bodies…they were chewing on them, sir…we had no choice…we had to fire.”

  “Don’t worry, soldier,” Lt. Samson said as he turned and placed a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

  “What the hell’s going on here?” another member of Bravo team asked.

  “I don’t know. Call in backup,” Lt. Samson ordered. “Get the IPPC team from the lab over here now! We may need to quarantine this area.”

  “What about the hostages, sir?” A female soldier inquired. “Should we go into the store and see if anyone needs our help?”

  Lt. Samson bowed his head. “They’re all dead…there are no hostages alive in that store.”

  Lt. Samson surveyed the carnage in the muddy field. He counted eight bodies lying in the back parking lot of the building. Each body gruesomely displayed in some twisted, mangled final resting position. As Lt. Samson walked out of the kill zone to return to the front of the store to assist Alpha team, he said something that would haunt his men and women for the rest of their days:

  “I know this will sound bat shit crazy, but listen closely,” Lt. Samson motioned for Bravo team to move closer to him. “If any of these fucking corpses move – use your E-tools and decapitate these sick sons of bitches…”

  Chapter 15

  April 5, 2013: Friday, 4:17 PM – Boise, Idaho – Illumination Pharmaceuticals – main campus …

&nbs
p; For the last three days, Lt. Samson and his soldiers had been quarantined at the mall along with the police, rescue and media agents that had ventured into the danger zone on Tuesday. Medical personnel had been rushed to the scene to treat the injured only after the quarantine was in place. Makeshift hospitals or “bubble domes”, as they were called, had been constructed onsite made from lightweight aluminum structures and medical-grade plastic sheets. All of the stores around the mall were under strict IPPC quarantine guidelines. Only officials with proper hazmat gear and authorization could enter or leave the area. The streets of the surrounding area were blocked off; local police authorities stood guard in twelve hour shifts.

  During the rest of the work week following the Tuesday incident, the production facility had almost returned to its pre-military involvement atmosphere, even with half of the soldiers still present. Karl was highly pleased at the transition. Those “grunts” as he often referred to them as had no inclination to lead any new endeavors or change the status quo. The soldiers basically fulfilled their previously assigned roles and stayed out of Karl’s way.

  However, that all changed earlier this morning with one phone call. With incidents of riots and attacks becoming more prevalent in the evening news, the US Marine Corp felt it prudent to fortify the Idaho facility. They contacted Karl and informed him that a Major Pavlik, another platoon of soldiers and some additional technical personnel would be dispatched to the Idaho facility by Monday of the upcoming week. This news did not please Karl.

  Karl had been in the office since before sunrise; he couldn’t sleep last night and figured he might as well come into the office. He had draped his sports coat over the back of his chair like he did every day. He really hadn’t accomplished anything during the morning except for becoming increasingly angrier about the news of the soon-to-arrive troops. Sure it would be three more days until they showed up, but it didn’t matter to him. He wanted control of his facility back. He was tired of going through the military checkpoint at least four times every day – when he arrived, when he left for lunch, when he returned from lunch and when he finally left the facility at night. He was tired of showing his credentials to the soldiers on duty and tired of seeing them in and about the facility itself. How much longer would they be here?