The End

by P. A. Douglas

  “Thanks for setting it up. That will be all for now,” Gibbs said.

  Gibbs’ lab assistant left the room, his young face looked unusually haggard.

  “Cordyceps Unilateralis,” Gibbs said. A red dot popped up on the screen from the pen Gibbs currently waved in her hand. The red dot circled an open sore inside the exposed eye socket. Clotted blood and gray mucus covered the man’s face on the screen.

  “After examining the non-vital soft tissues secreting the originally unknown gray mucus, I have been able to identify several common traits between the cause and effect, along with that of a parasitoid fungus known as Cordyceps Unilateralis.” The slide changed to another photo. A close-up microscopic split-screen view of two nucleuses showed. The one on the left normal; the one of the right infected and deformed.

  “The fungus’ spores enter the body of the host through its respiratory spiracles. In this case, the host is our recently esteemed, but no longer viable, Professor Taft. The bacterium then begins to consume the non-vital soft tissues. When the—”

  “Wait a fucking minute here. Back it up. Respiratory what? You mean to tell me, that shit is fucking airborne?” one of the men said.

  Baker and Foster looked at one another but didn’t say a word.

  “We’ll get to that,” she said, dismissing his question. “When the fungus is ready to produce spores, its mycelia enter the host’s brain and changes how it perceives pheromones, causing the host to violently attack its victims. The decomposition of the body is a direct result of large amounts of bacterium in the body. Steady consumption of what the parasitoid considers non-vital tissue quickly decomposes, allowing the vital organs to shut down entirely. Rigor mortis quickly sets in, leaving us with what we know as stiff legged walking corpses, General.”

  The room was quiet for a few moments. General Baker said, “A fungus is responsible for all of this? A fungus is making people eat each other? You have got to give me more than that. But let me guess, destroying the brain destroys the fungus. Is this correct, Dr. Gibbs?”

  She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. Then, removed her glasses and wiped them on her coat.

  “You expect us to believe a fungus is causing the outbreak, Gibbs?” one of the older men said. “Like I said, these lab rats are good for nothing but hot air. Give me a break.”

  Gibbs went to another slide and acted coolly. The slide was that of an ant hanging from what looked like a large leaf, the ant took up most of the screen.

  “The fungus I’m talking about… gentlemen,” she straightened herself in the chair, adding a bit more authority into her words, “has been previously documented in nature. Global habitation of Cordyceps Unilateralis in tropical forests, including Africa, Brazil, and Thailand are very common. The ant you see in this image had been overtaken by a close member of this same parasitoid. Our parasitoid. Our fungus. The CU entered the ants, just as is has in Taft, and caused the ants to go crazy. Mounds of dead, walking ants have been reported.”

  The slide changed to a closer view of the same ant. Similar abrasions to that on Taft covered its entire body. Gray specks covered it from top to bottom. Gibbs now had the attention of everyone in the room.

  Baker said, “So you’re telling me that you have found the source of our problem… is that it?”

  “That is correct, and a search through our plant fossil databases revealed similar ant marks on a fossil leaf believed to be forty-eight million years old. With that said, I don’t think that this fungus is currently airborne. If that were true, then we would all be infected and would have been a very long time ago. But the truth is, we are still here. Which leads me to believe that what we’re dealing with here is a manmade strand of the fungus.”

  “If it’s not airborne, then how could it have even spread to begin with?” Foster asked, finally speaking up for the first time since Gibbs entered the room.

  “I’m glad you asked. I was just about to get to that.” Gibbs switched to the next image. It was of an average man in his mid to late 60’s. Nothing unusual stood out. “This is Grech Vonhinkly, founder of GCUR-TECH. He can be easily traced over the internet, along with anything and everything about his organization.”

  “Get to the point, Gibbs.” Baker smashed the butt of his cigar out on the table.

  “GCUR stands for Global Cordyceps Unilateralis Research, and you wouldn’t believe where one of his top three bases of operation is located.”

  “Where?” Baker asked.

  All four men leaned in closer.

  “Jacksonville, Florida.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch! Foster, I want my best men ready and airborne headed to that facility first thing tomorrow morning.”

  The men in the room stood and looked at one another.

  Rob instantly left the room and radioed someone on dispatch as the door closed behind him.

  *

  “Is there anything else for us, Gibbs?”

  “No, sir, that is all I have for now.”

  “Excellent work, Doctor!” The three men exited the room, leaving Gibbs to gather her things alone. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of a day’s stress instantly lift from her body knowing that the harder part of the day was finally over. She just hoped that they would find something of substantial value at GCUR-TECH.

  She had heard of the place once before, back when she was a grad student, and left the conference room a little disappointed for letting it take so long to put things together. With the materials she needed gathered up, she made her way back to the lab where a restless Taft awaited her arrival.

  *

  After taking a long, hot shower and feeling refreshed, Rob Foster ran the five-blade razor down the side of his left cheek, finishing a clean shave. He wiped his face with a towel and checked for any errant hairs or nicks. None. His face was smooth and tight.

  The mirror showed a man in his prime. Young, vital, with unquenchable dreams and aspirations. The outbreak, though, had darkened the future. The enemy didn’t lay across the waters, but resided on U.S. soil. Their weapons deadlier than guns and bombs.

  At least now there was a lead to the outbreak’s origin. It would take time for the story to unfold. Time best spent getting some rest. Work hours were flexible on the base. Essentially, everyone was on duty twenty-four hours a day. It was up to the individual to grab some shuteye when an opportunity presented itself.

  A soft knock came from the barrack’s door, which in itself was unusual. Normally, a cohort’s arrival was announced by a harsh pounding of a fists and a loud demand. Grabbing a robe from the counter, he dressed as he stepped to the door, his bare feet on cold tiles.

  Foster opened the door about halfway. His jaw dropped in surprise. “Dr. Gibbs?”

  “Theresa. You don’t have to call me Dr. Gibbs all the time,” she said. She turned her gaze from his and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time.”

  Foster saw a longing in her eyes slowly fade. Indecision obviously chasing away the reason she came. “It’s not a bad time. I just got out of the shower. You’re about the last person I expected to find outside of my door—not that I’m complaining.” He chuckled, leaving a shy smile on his face. “Is… is something wrong?”

  “Uh, no. Nothing like that. I’ve pushed myself so much lately that even I realized I needed a break. I wanted to take you up on one of those offers to go have a drink.” Theresa Gibbs looked back up with her big eyes glowing and her dark cherry lips moist.

  “I’m not dressed for going out. Although, I did notice you put on a clean lab coat to come here.”

  Gibbs shrugged. “I didn’t pack anything fashionable for my time on the base. A white lab coat hides my dreary wardrobe.”

  “You know, I’ve always wondered what you were hiding under that coat. In fact, I’ve wondered what you looked like wearing nothing at all.” Foster stepped closer, feeling the warmth of her personal space.

  “I…”

  Before she could speak, he pr
essed his lips against hers and kissed her deeply. Theresa melted in his arms, sighing wantingly.

  “Let’s step out of the hall. We wouldn’t want to distract others from their work,” Rob Foster said. He pulled her by the hand into his room and closed the door.

  8

  The Rhino Runner slowly crept up the street less than a block from the radio station. The blades of the chopper remained visible by the moon’s natural light; the bus’s headlights were off to not attract attention. Putting the bus in park, Luke and Megan sat across from one another staring at the mammoth crowd gathered in the parking lot pouring in from the streets. The chopper engulfed in a swarm of bodies, each zombie in an agitated totter, pressed against one another. They moaned and screamed out as if in writhing pain. An ocean of arms outstretched to the sky. Countless arms and hands clawed at the building and its entrance.

  Luke slowly pulled his handset to his face and clicked the button. So on edge after dealing with the bridge, he forewent the team call names, “Gus, come in Gus. We’re in the Green Zone. I repeat, we’re in the Green Zone,” he whispered.

  The cab was silent for a moment and then startled both of them when the radio called back, Gus’ voice on the other end. “Status?”

  “Front and center. Way too much activity. Need an alternate route of entry,” Luke said.

  *

  Seth stood at the window opposite of the one Gus was currently looking out of. “Back here, man, I don’t see any of them in the back. Plus, we got the gate blocking them off on one side by the alley.”

  “I can see you from upstairs,” Gus said into his radio holding down the button. “Think you can make your way around the back of the building without getting noticed? Very little interference detected from that end. The dead seem to be concentrating on the front of the building.”

  Luke’s voice came back over the handset again, “Roger that.”

  From the window of the second floor, Gus and George watched as the large bus slowly crept out of sight and into the shadows in reverse. None of the zombies appeared to even notice as the vehicle slipped away and out of sight.

  George walked over to Billy, waking him from his nap on the floor. “It’s time to get up, Billy. We’re going to leave now and go someplace much safer.”

  “But I like Mr. Seth and his music,” a groggy Billy replied as he leaned up, both fists rubbing in his eyes.

  “Mr. Seth is coming with us,” George said.

  “YAY!” Billy jumped with joy.

  “Now we are going to play a little game,” George said. “We need to keep real quiet so that those bad people out there don’t hear us leaving.” George ran a finger across his lips, sealing them shut.

  “You mean the zombies?” Billy asked.

  Willy was sitting up now. He looked like hell. Pale and bursting into a cold sweat just from the exertion of sitting up, he let out a ferocious hack, shooting a small bit of blood on the floor. Willy looked around the room and no one had taken notice. He quickly tossed a magazine over the blood-soaked couch cushion, his leg no longer bleeding. The area around the wound was clotted and puffy. His slightly torn pant leg covered the injury as he slowly stood. He ambled over to the back window next to Seth, who was working the window open.

  Both men eagerly looked out into the dark. Gus sat on the loveseat, gathering up the gear that he had taken off, allowing himself to be a bit more relaxed during the wait. George and the boy seemed as ready as they would ever be. Billy grabbed a few CDs from the shelf and motioned to George, taking a few along as he eyed the old man’s bag.

  “You all right, dude? You look like you have seen better days,” Seth said, taking his eyes away from the window.

  The sounds of pounding and moaning were still just as strong as it had been after the two armed men joined the group upstairs. The relentless mob of zombies outside lingered on with the infernal beating and banging at the lobby door.

  Taking a deep breath, Willy said, “Yes. I’ll be fine. It took a lot out of me to see Bo go like that. He was my best friend. I just need a shower and some rest. I’ll be fine, seriously.”

  “So exactly how are we going to get down there from way up here?” George leaned in looking over their shoulders out the window at the back lot of the building. “Seems kind of high, don’t you think?” A light draft blew in his face as the three men peeked out the open window.

  “The Runner is made to handle situations like this, boss. They will have us covered. Don’t worry,” Willy replied, stepping away from the window and heading toward Gus.

  “Hey, look! There they are. I can see them!” Seth looked back into the room and motioning with his hands.

  Gus’ radio kicked on. “This is Luke. We made it around back undetected. I take it you’re at the window with the lights on in the upstairs room. We can see you. Moving into position… Over.”

  “Copy that.” Gus handed back the radio to Willy, who latched it to his hip alongside the holstered 9mm, rifle, and machete strapped to his back.

  With the five of them at the window, they watched as the very large bus slowly moved into position, backing in directly under the window. Billy held George’s hand.

  All of a sudden, the double doors at the front of the building gave way. The sheer weight of zombies had overwhelmed the barricade, causing it to weaken. Innumerable zombies stumbled into the lobby, falling over one another as they gained entrance into the building. The crack of wooden doors was followed by countless footsteps traveling up to the second floor.

  “Uh oh, I think I know what that is.” Gus broke away from the window toward the door. He swung it open and ran to the steps leading down to the lobby. He listened for a moment and instantly knew what he heard. The grunts and moans of the undead had made it inside. He could see their shadows along the wall as they made their way to the stairwell. Crashing sounds and thuds thundered as the mob of endless zombies staggered through the building, colliding with numerous things. The fake tree, a few lamps, the phone that had been mounted to the wall… all trampled in their wake.

  “Shit!” Gus darted back into the room with the others as the first of the undead reached the stairs. “We’ve got company.” Gus dashed to the loveseat, and with a single thrust, flipped it over on its side. “Give me a hand!”

  Seth and George quickly stepped over, grabbing anything they could to put in front of the door. Willy stood at the window watching the Rhino Runner as it backed up. The bus was big and the window was only two stories up, but it still looked like a long way down. The Runner’s sunroof popped open revealing the top half of Megan, waving him to come down.

  Willy looked back for only a second before deciding to step out the window. Two couches, the desk, and a shelf stacked with scattered CDs quickly covered the door. The three men frantically looked around in the room for something, anything to help wedge the door from opening. The sounds of the undead drew even closer with each moment as they crept up the stairs. Their footsteps getting louder as they drew near.

  Willy was gone.

  THUD!

  Billy on his tiptoes looked out the window. Willy was climbing into the bus from a hatch in the roof. The horde of zombies in the alley trapped by the enormous fence became antsy as they watched. The sudden thump startled the other men upstairs still hunting for anything possible to block the door. The door started to move. The creatures had made it to the second floor. Their moans were louder than ever as the door shook. The couches and desk bounced about in place.

  “It’s not going to hold! It’s not going to hold,” Seth said.

  “Go! Go!” Gus, with all his might, leaned against the sofas and with one hand up, pointed to the window.

  George and Seth rushed over to Billy and leaned halfway out the window, looking at the ground below. A woman motioned for them to jump. George looked out past the bus. There were no zombies.

  None.

  “Okay, Billy, you ready to do this?”

  “I’m scared.”

  “You can
do this, son. We’re going to make it.” George picked up the child and leaned him out the window, lowering him as much as he could before letting him go.

  “I’m scared,” Billy shouted as he dangled in the wind over the bus.

  “You can do this. You’re going to be fine,” George said. George let him go.

  Billy landed atop the bus. His footing wasn’t firm and he began to slide off the side. Before tumbling to the ground, a woman reached over and grabbed his leg, and pulled him in.

  George tossed out his duffle bag and then stepped out onto the window ledge. “Hell… I’m getting way too old for this kind of crap.” George safely landed on top of the bus, also being escorted down the ladder by the same lady.

  *

  Inside the big bus, George met gazes with Willy, who had a seat in the back. Billy sat next to him looking around and taking it all in. The bus was dark but not dark enough to keep from telling who was who or where was where. There wasn’t a single window on the sides or the back. The front was slightly sectioned off with just enough room for one person to squeeze in and out at a time. A ladder descended from one side of the bus opposite a large side door. The seating reminded George of an ambulance. He hated riding in those contraptions and hoped to never do it again after losing his wife a few years back. The grueling 30-minute drive in the back of that ambulance was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Several shelves lay strewn along one wall with a few guns and a large pack of some kind that looked like a flamethrower.

  Suddenly, bright lights flashed in from around the street corner. An El Camino peeled out as it slid to one side, breaking itself center of the lot. Dust and dirt poured through the air around it as the car came to a stop. Seth was hanging from the second-floor window lit up in the night from the car’s bright headlights. Three people instantly jumped out of the car. Two men and a woman all wielding weapons darted for the bus.