Soldier On: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse

by Shawn Chesser

  Specialist Cooley steered the armored vehicle along a maintenance road intersecting the freeway. In a few short minutes they were moving south and dodging stalled cars on I-25.

  “I have the vehicle in sight. It isn’t moving sir and...there are Zs all over.”

  “Light em up Wilkes,” ordered SSGT Johnson.

  Electric motors whined as the turret rotated on target.

  ***

  Duncan slowed the heavy vehicle down; when the headlights illuminated the mangled semi he stepped on the brakes and brought them to a complete stop. The tractor was wedged against the overpass supports; the double trailer connected to it was jackknifed, blocking all four lanes.

  “Dagnabbit,” drawled Duncan as he searched for reverse.

  Daymon opened one eye and peered at Duncan. “Is that the best one you’ve got? I’ve heard nuns pop off better.”

  “Mind your business and spot for me.”

  Bang. Something heavy slammed onto the roof. The two men in the front seat flinched and looked up as if they could see through quarter inch plate. A zombie tumbled down onto the engine cowl and crushed its face onto the windshield.

  Zombies were mindlessly pushing each other off of the roadway above, the armored trucks idling engine and intense headlights were an irresistible lure. Every time one of the creatures swan dived atop the armored car the resulting impact was amplified ten fold inside.

  “Get us out of here...now.” Cade yelled. They were on the verge of being trapped; killing himself with his own Glock was not an option.

  “I’m trying.” The vehicle finally started creeping backwards.

  Daymon feigned a look at each mirror. “Ok, spotting for the driver. On the left...we have zombies. On the right...we have zombies. Can one of you guys look out the back...I’m sure there are zombies back there also.”

  “I don’t need smartass remarks. I can’t see a fucking thing. What’s blocking us in?” Duncan was losing his cool.

  “Like I said...zom...”

  Staccato bursts of heavy machinegun fire bounced off of the cement walls and roof of the underpass. The fireworks show lit up the night on both sides of the truck. Daymon’s face appeared demonic, bathed in red from the flashes of light. He had been in mid-sentence about to push Duncan’s buttons some more, when the flesh-eaters surrounding them started disintegrating before his eyes. Bits and pieces of zombie bounced off of the walls, the tractor trailer rig was being splattered with flying chunks of decaying flesh and fractured bone. Toxic bodily fluids painted the sides of the double trailer and ran off in yellow and red rivulets.

  “Wh..whos sh..shooting at us?” Vincent’s disembodied voice asked from somewhere in the dark.

  “Those are tracers from a large machine gun...someone’s saving our asses,” Cade answered, while he twisted his head struggling to see where the fire was coming from.

  As quickly as it started it was over and once again quiet and dark below the underpass.

  Duncan revved the engine and felt the truck start crawling in reverse up the slight incline. It was a bumpy ride; the fallen zombies were bursting under the weight of the Wells Fargo truck. Duncan successfully choreographed a three point turn before the armored truck grudgingly delivered them the final thirty yards uphill. Duncan had no idea what to expect or who their saviors were. A pinpoint of light flashed off to the right shoulder of the Interstate.

  “What do you make of that?” Daymon asked.

  Duncan nervously checked the mirrors while dabbing beads of sweat from his forehead. “My Morse code is rusty...I think the first letters were F-O...”

  “Follow them,” Cade ordered.

  “To the point my brother,” Daymon let his gaze lock with Cade’s.

  Cade processed the silent interaction. He wasn’t able to decipher whether it was a silent challenge or if he was Daymon being Daymon. After all, the man was good at acting abrasive.

  “Can’t be any worse than staying put and letting ourselves get surrounded again,” Duncan added as he engaged the transmission. The armored truck lurched forward and they blindly followed the tracked vehicle.

  From the brief glance of the silhouette Cade surmised it was a Bradley fighting vehicle, and since it was rolling solo they had to be close to their base. He had a feeling that he was going to get some sort of closure, one way or the other, in the coming hours.

  ***

  The Bradley sped east on the gravel two lane road. Duncan had his hands full trying to keep up. They were running with the lights on, but the dust being kicked up by the tracked vehicle made their headlights virtually ineffective.

  “Where do you think they’re taking us?” Cade noticed that Vincent had somehow shed the stutter, but decided not to mention it to him.

  “We’re on a United States military reservation. I noticed surveillance domes spaced a few hundred yards apart on the perimeter fencing, standard United States base security. The same stuff went up everywhere after the 9/11 attacks.”

  A building loomed, it looked like a very large bomber hanger. Cade had been on airbases like this all over the world. The pieces were falling in place...they had finally arrived at Schriever AFB in Colorado Springs.

  The hangar doors parted only wide enough to allow the two vehicles entry; brilliant fluorescent lights illuminated the interior of the expansive hangar. The building was designed to be large enough to service two C-5 Galaxys at the same time.

  Cade noted that several prefab buildings were erected inside of the hangar. Multiple rows of empty hospital beds also drew his attention, they stretched the length of the hangar, spaced uniformly like the grave markers at Arlington; Cade estimated they numbered in the hundreds. “If this is a quarantine building gentlemen...clearly someone was anticipating a lot more survivors.”

  Two men in full level four bio hazard suits motioned for Duncan to stop the truck.

  “Looks like were going to get the once over,” drawled Duncan as he shut off the engine.

  “It’s in our best interest to cooperate. Be ready to relinquish any weapons. It’s most likely their SOP to disarm, disrobe and disinfect us,” Cade said, just trying to be realistic.

  “Wow boss. You make it sound like a fuckin spa treatment,” Daymon retorted.

  Cade took note as three soldiers dismounted their M2 Bradley and joined the welcoming party. Two of the three were armed with SCAR carbines held at the low-ready position. Cade figured they were being cautious in case anyone in his group suddenly died and reanimated.

  “Gentlemen are any of you armed?” The soldier speaking to them was a staff sergeant; he was obviously the commander and the highest ranking of the three. Cade couldn’t see his uniform well enough to discern his unit, but he was Army.

  Duncan took the lead. “Yes Sir, but we’re low on ammunition. Thanks for saving my ass...our asses back there. It was looking a little hopeless for us.”

  “To be honest, I had a hard time believing what I was seeing when you entered our assigned sector. Denver is hot with the infected and we haven’t seen anyone arriving from the north in a couple of days. The good thing is that the dead aren’t here in large numbers yet.”

  “Well I still owe you one staff sergeant.”

  “Now...the weapons please.”

  Daymon relinquished his machete- rather reluctantly.

  Cade dropped the mag and cleared his M4 before handing it to the SSGT.

  Duncan racked all of the shells from his shotgun and handed it over butt first.

  “I left the Glock in the truck,” Vincent said clearly without stammering or stuttering.

  “Follow me,” said one of the men in the rubber suit, his voice came through the speaker sounding thin and unnatural. The four survivors complied. Each were led to a separate exam area and ordered to disrobe.

  Vincent received a thorough once over, the doctors, or whoever they were, appeared to be looking for obvious bite wounds. He also had to stand in front of a thermal body scanner; he had no idea what for. After the batte
ry of tests he was pointed in the direction of the showers.

  Duncan got the same treatment and retired to the showers after a few extra debriefing questions.

  Daymon didn’t go so easy he had a hard time with the authority being heaped upon him. The soldiers handcuffed him and let the doctors check him out under their watchful eyes.

  Cade received the most scrutiny. The gash on his nose was cleaned and sutured while the attendee grilled him about the injury. The man in the suit also asked him about the scarred over gunshot wounds on his shoulder and neck.

  “Hunting accident,” Cade replied.

  “So you hunt two legged prey?”

  “No comment. Are we finished here?” Cade was growing tired of the inquisition and found it hard to follow the advice he gave the others.

  “For now, but my superior is going to want to talk to you about the conditions outside.”

  Cade locked eyes with the doctor, “I need to know if there are any survivors from Fort Bragg on this base. My wife Brooklyn and my eleven year old daughter Raven may have been refugees from there. Do you know anything?”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your situation. I know that a few helicopters arrived here from back East a few days after the outbreak. I wasn’t on base yet when they arrived so I can’t be certain exactly where they came from. The base is getting more crowded day by day. Our guys are coming back from deployment in waves; I suggest that you find Major Freda Nash, if anyone knows who, what or where...it’s her.”

  Cade knew the major but didn’t let on. “Thanks. It’s the little bit of hope that I needed. Where can I get some chow?” There’s no way, Cade thought, that I’ll be able to sleep.

  ***

  Cade took a very long hot shower totally oblivious to the other three survivors.

  Daymon stared at Cade’s tattoo, the word “INFIDEL” arced from one shoulder blade to the other, rendered in black Old English lettering. It reminded Daymon of the “THUG LIFE” tat that Tupac Shakur had on his stomach and took with him to the grave. “Looks like my man likes his bacon,” Daymon paused for comedic effect but not one person laughed at his joke. Not wanting to lose the center stage he tried another one liner. “Or his wife caught him doing someone he wasn’t sposed to be doin.” Crickets, Daymon was nonplussed, “I’m getting some sleep. It’s been real fellas.” The track commander directed Daymon to the round the clock cafeteria and also where he could find a place to sleep.

  The Bradley commander singled out Vincent. “Private get dressed and come with us. Someone will give you the standard orientation in the morning. The enlisted sleeping quarters are down by the flight line, we’ll take you over there. Should be plenty quiet going forward, most of the C-130s and C-5s have already landed. Springs is only about fifty-percent cleared and that means we’ve got plenty of doors to kick and lots of Zs to deal with.”

  Vincent looked at Duncan and Daymon, snapped them a quick salute and followed his newfound superiors.

  Duncan put on a clean pair of ACUs, said “Adios” to Cade and Daymon and set off in search of a rack with clean sheets. The man was bone tired from all the running. Hell, he thought, even a hot rack with week old bedbug infested sheets would do.

  Only Cade and Daymon remained. Cade spoke first, “You might want to stick around. I have a feeling someone with your skill is going to be in demand around here.”

  “I think I have to sleep on that. I do have a strong feeling that my mom is dead...it’s a gut feeling and I always trust my gut.” Daymon put up a closed fist, waiting for a bump.

  Cade reciprocated, “In that respect, you and I are alike, and my gut tells me I’ll be seeing more of you.”

  “So far this parting of the ways has a kinder, gentler feel to it...unlike our, gun in my face, first meeting.”

  “I’m sorry...it was necessary considering the circumstances.”

  With a-think nothing of it-flick of his wrist Daymon walked out of the exam cubicle.

  Cade had come so far and overcame so many obstacles to find his family. The feeling resonating in his bones tried to tell him that everything would be all right. The ex-Delta Force operator was left sitting half naked and alone, while his hopes and doubts battled for supremacy in his head.

  Chapter 35

  Outbreak Day 7

  Schriever AFB

  Colorado Springs, Colorado

  She had been running nonstop for what seemed like an eternity. Every time she reached a seemingly safe refuge, a pack of the fast moving zombies would cut her off.

  A crumpled galvanized steel garbage can lay between her and a darkened alleyway. Brook vaulted the obstacle with ease and set her sights on a low-hanging fire escape.

  The undead had tapped into a new wellspring of energy and were now sprinting after her, moving more fluidly than before and faster than she had ever seen. The ghouls snarled and moaned, clicking their teeth-anticipating her meat.

  Brook leapt for the bottom rung and snared it with both hands. The ladder was supposed to slide down but it didn’t budge.

  “Get away from me,” Brook screamed. With all of her might she pulled herself up the ladder one rung at a time. She felt a tug as one of the creatures caught ahold of her boot. Their combined weight pulled the ladder down and dropped her into the crowd of hungry zombies.

  Brook awoke thinking that she was dead but quickly realized someone was banging on the screen door.

  “Auntie Brook...Auntie Brook. Get up, our brother is coming.”

  Her next waking thought was one of gratitude-she was thankful that she was alive and more importantly the superfast and agile zombies weren’t real.

  “Ok...I’m getting dressed. Come in for a moment girls.”

  Raven stirred on the top bunk bed. “Mom what’s wrong?”

  “Get up sweetie. Aunt Annie is going to have her baby.”

  Raven stretched and yawned and then greeted the twins.

  Sierra and Serena calmed down and waited on the bottom bunk for Brook to get dressed.

  “Is your mom in any pain?” Brook didn’t expect accurate information from the young twins.

  Sierra answered, “Not really...but she says she’s really hungry.”

  “She is eating for two...Why don’t you three go and get some food and then hurry right back.”

  “Ewww, the food is awful here,” Raven stated.

  “The foods not for you...it’s for Annie.”

  The twins retreated further into the bottom bunk to escape Raven’s dangling legs.

  Brook bolted from the room on her way to the infirmary.

  “What wrong?” Dmitri asked in broken English. The orphaned boy had adopted Brook and Raven. He was still half asleep on the top bunk adjacent to Raven’s.

  “Everything is ok Dmitri. It’s real early. Go back to sleep,” Raven said.

  The three girls were off on their mission to get Annie something to eat. Before the screen door slammed shut Dmitri had already resumed snoring.

  Chapter 36

  Outbreak Day 7

  Over Kansas

  Ari decreased throttle, a slight clunk sounded indicating the aircrafts separation. The refueling boom, sticking out of the Pave Hawks nose, retracted to a more aerodynamic position. The KC-135 pilot pushed the throttles to gain altitude while he initiated a hard bank to starboard. The first two pit stops were done in the dark and had required the tanker to fly ahead and loiter in a racetrack pattern, waiting for the slower Pave Hawk to rendezvous. The KC-135 out of MacDill AFB in Tampa, Florida and the black helicopter had already performed the delicate dance three times during the thousand mile flight. It was obvious to Ari that the tanker pilot and crew wanted to return home and he couldn’t blame them.

  Ari Silver had been pushing the Pave Hawk hard on their return flight. The earth flashed by underneath the HH-60G at one-hundred and seventy knots, Kansas was but a gold and brown blur basking in the glow of the rising sun.

  “Three down, none to go,” Ari updated anyone that cared to listen. It
had been a long grueling stretch of flying, Ari was fatigued, but at least the hardest part, aerial refueling, was over. He shifted in his seat, his butt happy that the finish line was getting closer.

  General Desantos adjusted his boom microphone before responding, “Where are we right now?”

  “Sir, were passing over Garden City, Kansas.”

  Ever since Ari had relayed the message from the SATCOM that Annie Desantos had gone into labor, Mike Desantos started acting fidgety and impatient; a far cry from his normal stoic and reserved demeanor. “That should put us close to the Colorado border...right?”

  “Sir, yes Sir. You are going to be meeting your son before twelve hundred hours.”

  A huge grin sprouted on the Delta Force commander’s craggy face. Even though it smelled like road kill inside of the helicopter and the undead Chinese national was still kicking and squirming in the bag at his feet, today was the best day of Mike’s life.

  Chapter 37

  Outbreak Day 7

  Schriever AFB

  Colorado Springs, Colorado

  Cade picked at his powdered scrambled eggs. No matter how much Tabasco he put on base chow it always tasted the same. He should be grateful, he thought, it was the first hot food that he had eaten in days, and the first meal he had the pleasure of attempting to consume without having to be hyper vigilant of his surroundings. He chose a seat in the far corner of the building where he could watch the comings and goings. The only other people occupying the cafeteria appeared to be an aircrew, the three men and a woman attired in blue flight suits talked animatedly amongst themselves.

  Cade looked at his Suunto, it was 0330 and soon more soldiers would be filing in for morning chow; he was sure of that.

  A man approached with a plate of the same runny eggs and a cup full of something hot, tendrils of steam wafting up. The older man sat down gingerly, thrust his meaty hand across the table and introduced himself, “Hi, name’s Dan.”

  “Cade...good to meet you,” he said pumping Dan’s hand.