AniZombie

by Ricky Sides

  “Now, as for the other rules, the workers are to load the dead zombies, but otherwise handle them as little as possible. That’s for the sake of their safety. The third rule is they are to take no items from the zombies. There is too big a possibility of contamination with the parasites.”

  “Those three rules are all you have to worry about for the moment. That might change, but for now, enforce those three rules and protect the workers,” Sergeant Shannon instructed Herb.

  “And if some of the workers break the rules?”

  “You’ll be issued handcuffs for this mission. Use them. They will be placed in quarantine.”

  “What if they don’t want to go into quarantine?”

  “They have two choices. Quarantine or a bullet,” Sergeant Shannon responded soberly.

  “You’re serious?” Herb asked with surprise evident on his face.

  “Make no mistake about this, Corporal. These rules are meant to prevent another outbreak, which could cost thousands of people their lives. You’re damned right the government is serious. And you’d best get serious too, because the life you save could be your own, or that of your fellow team members.”

  “I’ll follow my orders, Sergeant. I just hope I don’t get hung out to dry by the government in the aftermath.”

  “Your biggest concern at this point should be failing to follow proper procedure, because the government has also issued a zero tolerance policy for the armed forces. Things are getting strict. If you fail to enforce these rules to the fullest extent, then you’ll find yourself up against years in a military prison. That’s if you’re lucky.”

  “I get you, Sergeant. When do we begin, and where do we meet the workers?”

  “You’ll be taking the team you had yesterday to guard twenty workers. They will be assembling here at the armory in one hour. You’ll stop early enough to head back to town. You need to be back before it gets dark.”

  “Oh, and here’s a suggestion that isn’t on the rules list. Discourage people from coming into contact with the workers. The contractors will be wearing protective gear, but the civilians won’t.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Get your team fed, and resupplied with ammo, and don’t forget the specialty gear I mentioned earlier.”

  ***

  Herb set his breakfast tray on the table and sat down beside Randy, who was eating as fast as he could. “Whoa, slow down there, buddy. You’re eating like there’s no tomorrow,” he said to his friend.

  “Want to watch the news,” Randy said hurriedly between bites.

  “Why? Is something new happening?” asked Herb as he cut up the piece of sausage on his plate.

  “Yeah, haven’t you heard about Kentucky and Virginia?” asked Randy.

  “No, I was in a meeting with Sergeant Shannon,” Herb explained.

  “Both states have outbreaks. They’re saying it’s bad. From what I heard a while ago, they think that some sick people in Mississippi may also have the parasites.” Randy set his fork down on the empty plate and moved his chair back so he could get up. “This thing is spreading fast, and no one seems to know how,” he added. Then he said, “You go ahead and eat. I’ll go see what I can learn.”

  Influenced by his friend’s sense of urgency, Herb ate his breakfast quickly, and then he headed over to the television someone had set up in the main room of the armory. He listened with a growing number of men as the newscaster explained that the outbreaks of zombies that had begun in Alabama had since spread to Tennessee, Kentucky, and Virginia. He added that there were people sick in Mississippi who authorities suspected of being infested with the microbial organisms that caused people to sicken, die, and then reanimate as mindless zombies. He went on to say that the CDC was urging people not to panic. The spokesman for the Centers for Disease Control said they were working around the clock to discover a means to kill the parasites, without also killing the hosts. He pointed out that this wouldn’t save those who had already died and reanimated, but would save people who had not yet died as a result of the parasites shutting down their respiratory system.

  Next, the newscaster spoke of a shakeup in Washington. A source inside the Whitehouse, speaking on the grounds of anonymity, said that a top aide had resigned when the President refused to take action that would guarantee the safety of the citizens of the United States. A photograph of a retired Air Force General, Hubert Ryan, filled the screen. Walking to either side of him were men in suits that the newscaster explained were said to be agents of Homeland Security who were escorting him out and off the premises.

  The newscaster completed his segment by saying, “The Whitehouse Press Secretary has denied the allegations. He says that General Ryan resigned so that he could devote all of his time to his family. He referenced plans to move to the mountains.”

  The news went to more mundane topics, so Herb informed his team that they were about to be sent on their next mission.

  ***

  Herb’s six man team was standing at attention in the assembly area beside their gear when the civilian contractors walked into the room.

  “Well, well, well. It’s a small world, isn’t it, soldier boy,” a voice called out from the crowd.

  Herb knew the voice. It was the man from the last day on the bridge at Decatur. He was the man who had been tormenting the zombies by maiming them rather than killing them cleanly. He frowned, but said nothing.

  The contractors assembled where one of the privates told them they should stand as they waited for Sergeant Shannon. While they waited, Herb saw the man who had accosted him leaning toward his brother, whom he also remembered from the bridge. The two were whispering to each other.

  “All right, you people, listen up,” Sergeant Shannon said in his best parade ground voice, which was only slightly lower in tone than a bellow. “You contractors are about to embark on a dangerous assignment. To minimize the danger to yourselves, and the public, it is critical that you follow the rules that you agreed to when you took this job.”

  Sergeant Shannon then proceeded to recite the rules that he had given to Herb earlier at the meeting. When he finished, he asked, “Are there any questions?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got one for you,” a man said. Herb recognized the voice as that of the troublemaker.

  “Step forward, state your name, and then ask your question, Sergeant Shannon responded.

  The man took a swaggering step forward. He stopped and centered his gaze on Herb. “Is that zombie loving fag going to be one of our guards?”

  Sergeant Shannon frowned in irritation. “What part of state your name did you not understand?” he asked in a loud tone of voice.

  There were chuckles among the assembled contractors.

  “My name is Landon Jones,” the civilian responded angrily as he glared at several of the workers who had laughed at his expense.

  “All right, Jones,” Sergeant Shannon said with his hands on his hips. “Now which one of my soldiers are you referring to as a zombie loving fag?”

  Jones pointed to Herb.

  Sergeant Shannon glanced in the corporal’s direction. “Do you know this man?” he asked.

  Herb shrugged. “Not really,” he answered. “He is the guy from the bridge I mentioned in my report. That’s his brother behind him.”

  “Oh, so you’re the asshole who thought it was fun to shoot the fingers off zombies.” The NCO shook his head in disbelief. “Just days before those people were your neighbors.”

  “No they weren’t,” Jones argued. “I live in Athens, not Decatur.”

  Sergeant Shannon wasn’t accustomed to having people argue with him in the armory. His eyes narrowed angrily, and then he said, “If you have a problem with Corporal Bennett, you’d damned well better get over it, because he and his men will be all that stands between you and any stray zombies as you work to clear the highway.”

  “I won’t be taking orders from that guy,” Jones stated. His face was turning red with anger. He was accustomed to inti
midating people into backing off, but the noncom was making it clear that he was far from intimidated.

  “That’s fine. I’ll make a notation that you are quitting, Jones. Is your brother going with you? If he is, I need his name.”

  “Now hold on there, Landon. I need this money,” his brother protested.

  “I’m not quitting,” Landon said quickly. “This is an opportunity to make damned good money. Yeah, it’s a shit job, but the pay is out of this world.”

  “Then you will follow Corporal Bennett’s instructions to the letter. If you give him any grief, he is under orders to take you captive and transport you to a quarantine location in the city at the end of the day. Violations of the rules won’t fly, gentlemen. The government has issued a zero tolerance edict, and that’s the way it’s going to be. Any of you who don’t want to work under those conditions are free to go now. This is the time to make that decision. Once you’ve been exposed to the zombies, you’ll have to go to quarantine. You’ll be doing that every night anyway, and will have to pass blood tests after the job is finished,” Sergeant Shannon explained.

  One of the men stepped forward and gave his name. He then stated that he had second thoughts and wanted to opt out.

  “Anyone else want out?” Sergeant Shannon asked as the man walked toward the exit and he crossed his name off the list. “No? Good. Then you all understand that we will have zero tolerance for your abuse. This is for your safety as well as that of my men. They have all been working ridiculous hours with very little rest, and none that wasn’t interrupted. My men are on edge, gentlemen. Don’t do anything stupid and they won’t. You should know that if you decide to start a fight with them, they are authorized to use lethal force to defend themselves.”

  Herb noted that the arrogant expression had left Landon’s face. He now looked concerned, and Herb found his discomfort satisfying.

  ***

  The stench of the dead wafted on the warm breeze as the guardsmen moved parallel to the contractors. The zombies were two and three deep in places along the road, but there were also small islands of open space. Some had died from exposure to the searing heat of the Hellfire Missiles, but most had taken multiple heavy caliber bullets to their bodies. The smell was bad enough, but the sight of the grisly gore was enough to make more than one man rip off his mask and vomit.

  The workmen were loading the remains of the zombies into the back of dump trucks. This was facilitated by the use of a pair of large forklift trucks, fitted with steel boxes that were open on the front end. The men on the ground worked in teams of two. They grabbed bodies and tossed them into the low-walled boxes that could hold up to a dozen zombies. Then, the forklift drivers would lift the load and dump it into the beds of the dump trucks.

  The men worked in gas masks, and wore heavy protective clothing and gloves.

  Herb began to despair when he noted that it was late afternoon and they had yet to progress more than a mile along Highway 31. He knew that at the current rate they were processing the bodies it could take weeks to finish this job.

  Meanwhile, he found the presence of so many vultures in the area disturbing. More than once, contractors had to frighten the big birds away from their grisly meals. “Isn’t it ironic that the vultures could die because of their habit of feeding on the dead,” Herb said to Randy at one point. “I suppose the parasites would kill them too.”

  “Let’s hope the parasites are all dead, because if they aren’t, then the birds will probably spread them everywhere they land,” Randy responded.

  Throughout the day, the guardsmen kept a close watch to ensure that the contractors followed the injunction against taking anything from the bodies of the zombies, due to the risk of contamination. They also maintained their vigilance against any strays that might be lingering in the area. Despite their fear that the creatures could beset them at any moment, they saw none that day.

  Throughout the day, they saw flights of helicopters and jets fly past their location as they made attack runs on Decatur.

  They also saw groups of civilians walking in the grass, well away from the bodies the contractors were collecting. They were heading north for Athens. Herb warned them of the danger of being mistaken for zombies and advised them to find a long stick that they could tie a piece of cloth to, which they could use to signal aircraft. This should prove to the pilots that they weren’t a threat because zombies didn’t signal with objects.

  When the team returned to the armory that afternoon, Herb made a full report to Sergeant Shannon. Present at that briefing was a team of men and women from government agencies. The CDC was represented, as was Homeland Security. He was surprised at the interest the government people displayed in the presence of the vultures. They also inquired about other animals Herb or his team may have seen. Herb explained that they had also seen a few crows, but beyond that, they saw no other wildlife.

  At that point, a woman with the CDC said, “What about domesticated animals?”

  “We didn’t see any,” Herb responded.

  “Sergeant Shannon, we need live specimens of the crows and vultures,” the woman stated.

  “The vultures won’t be hard to get. We have to drive them away from the bodies. The crows are more leery. They might be a problem,” Herb explained.

  “We need them ASAP,” the woman, who had introduced herself as Doctor Erma Langley, stated. Erma was a thirty-one year old who had worked for the CDC for four years. At five foot three inches, she was a tiny lady with a petite frame. She wore her auburn hair cut short.

  “I think we could get one today, if we leave immediately,” Herb said. “I wouldn’t want to be out there after dark.”

  “How will you capture one?” Sergeant Shannon asked.

  “We need a net. Can I cut a piece of camouflage netting large enough for the job?” Herb asked the sergeant.

  “I don’t see why not. Get to it,” the sergeant said.

  “I’d like to accompany you,” Erma said.

  “It’s okay with me, but I warn you, the stench is like nothing I’ve ever smelled in the past,” Herb replied.

  “I agree,” Erma said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Your uniform is saturated with the odor.”

  “Oh, sorry about that,” Herb said. Then he frowned and said, “If you go with us, I want it understood that you are to stay beside us at all times. I can’t guarantee your safety if you wander off on your own.”

  “I’m no fool. I’m not about to do anything to endanger myself or your team.”

  “Good, then let’s go.”

  It took only a few minutes for Herb and Randy to cut away enough of the netting material to suit their purpose, and then Herb’s team mounted up in their vehicles and left for the mission. The Humvee and two pickup trucks wasted no time in getting on the road. Soon, they were traveling south on Highway 31.

  Erma rode in the back of the Humvee with a camera that she was going to use to shoot some video footage at the scene. Randy was driving, and Herb was sitting in the passenger front seat.

  “Is that the vultures in the air up ahead?” Erma asked.

  “Yes,” Herb responded. “I hope they’re still feeding. If they aren’t, then this is going to be a dry run.”

  The Humvee stopped twenty yards shy of several feeding vultures. Most took flight as the doors opened and the people emerged, but two did not.

  “What do we do now?” Erma asked Herb.

  “We’ll get the net and capture one of these birds for you. Remember what I said. Don’t go off on your own. I’ve assigned two of the men to guard you. I want you between them at all times.”

  “Corporal, I already gave you my word.”

  Herb nodded, but said nothing.

  The rest of the team joined them near the front of the Humvee. One of them held the netting. “I threaded the 550 paracord through it like you asked,” Private Sutton informed Herb.

  “Good. Then all we need to do is drape it over one of the vultures and pull the strings to clo
se the net.” He turned to the rest of the team and added, “Private Lions and I will carry out this operation.” He then assigned two of the men to guard duty for the team. The remaining two men were tasked with protecting Erma and watching over the net team.

  Herb and Randy each grabbed a side of the net and then they headed toward the feeding vultures. The birds ignored the approach of the men, permitting them to get to within a few feet of them before they gave any indication that they were aware of their presence, but then they both spread their wings and beat them as if they were about to fly away.

  “Now!” Herb said. The two men darted across the intervening distance toward the birds and tossed the net over the closest one. As big as it was, the net was almost too small for the task because the bird had its wings extended. Herb had wrapped the paracord around his right wrist. He grabbed it with his right hand and yanked on it savagely as he stepped back away from the vulture. The constricting webbing forced the bird’s wings to close slowly, which in turn permitted Herb to tighten the net even further.

  The trapped bird made several attempts to hop into the air. This behavior permitted Herb to enclose its feet in the net with a deft yank on the cordage while the carrion eater was in mid-hop. The vulture came down on its side. It hissed at the men as both Herb and Randy moved in to secure it, but it was helpless, trapped as it was in the netting.

  Five minutes later, the specimen was loaded into the back of one of the pickup trucks.

  “Mission accomplished,” Herb said. “Let’s head back to the armory.

  “Well done, Corporal,” Erma said to Herb during the drive.

  “Thank you. I just hope this helps.”

  “It will further our research. We’re thinking that vultures won’t be able to spread the parasites because of the strength and corrosive nature of their stomach acid. We need to know if that theory is true. If it isn’t, then you men will probably be authorized to kill any you see feeding on the zombies.”