The End

by P. A. Douglas

  Ashley glanced over at the truck gauges. “How are we looking on fuel?”

  “We have half a tank. There’s no reason we can’t get there on that. We might cut it close, but it will get us there for sure.”

  “I hate to interrupt your little chat, but I’m getting drenched back here!” Kieta grimaced and pulled the back part of her shirt over her head. The rain fell a little harder now than it had when they stopped.

  Jenny seemed to enjoy the rain. With that same blank stare and an awkward smile like something sinister, she stared into the clouds. With her neck cocked back at a 90-degree angle, the girl just looked up, eyes wide and not blinking. The heavy rain fell on her face, soaking into her hair and dress. The little beads of loose droplets ran down her cheeks and forehead onto her shoulders.

  Ahead of them, less than a quarter mile, the pile up of vehicles stared back at them.

  “I think I saw an off-ramp a couple miles back,” Victor said.

  Glancing at the gas gauge again, Ashley shrugged. “Not like we have much of a choice. If we feel like gas is going to be an issue, we’ll just stop and fill up on the way. If it comes to that, I want to fill up before we get into Tallahassee and the more congested areas. We can handle a few of those things here and there, but it’s the massive crowds that are going to be the death of us.”

  Victor agreed.

  “Look,” Kieta said shifting more into the cab from the window pointing out past the first few parked cars ahead of them. Her wet head dripped into the cab, and no one seemed to notice or care. What she was pointing at definitely took precedence.

  Amongst the wall-to-wall automotive blockade, scattered and spread, ghastly figures started to appear. First, it was one, then three, and then a dozen. Ghoulish faces popped out from behind abandoned cars and open truck doors looking right at the passengers of the idling Chevy. The rain beating down on their rancid flesh bounced off the shoulders and heads of the approaching undead as they made themselves known. One by one, each zombie sluggishly crept out from the parked cars, trucks, and vans pressing forward. Several of the walking dead quickly broke past the cars out into the open street. With heads up high and arms out, their fingers reached with the intent of digging and tearing away at fresh tissue. The highway street at their feet instantly ran red and gray from the beating rain. Blood and chunks of rot, decay, and grey matter washed away from their putrid skin and bones onto the pavement.

  “About that exit a few miles back, any time would be good,” Ashley calmly said as she pulled up the M-4 into her lap, mostly just for comfort’s sake.

  “I hear you,” Victor replied. “Sit back, Kieta.” Victor looked over his shoulder and popped the truck into reverse.

  After making an impromptu U-turn, the truck and its passengers made for Tallahassee and the military base. Ashley Fox sat back watching the rain slowly get a little worse. How was she going to explain losing her partner, the pilot, and the chopper? The closer the truckload of survivors got to Tallahassee, the more her stomach began to turn.

  6

  The song playing was familiar, yet Clay was having trouble placing what it was. It wasn’t the actual song in its original form, but a softer version with wood flutes and chimes. He stood there humming along in irritation, trying like hell to recall the song’s actual name.

  After clearing each of the rooms on the first floor, which went off without a hitch, the hallway was a mess. But other than that, the soldiers had no luck in finding any more infected or unexpected surprises. Clay and Gus stood in the elevator as it descended to the zero level security clearance basement floor. The elevator was larger than normal and had a futuristic glimmer of silver and LED buttons. After it stopped, the doors failed to open. Clay smirked and pointed at the key card slot positioned above the small screen to the right of the metal doors.

  Clay said, “I pulled the woman’s ID back up there in so we could identify her when we got back. But I bet we’ll need this to get the door open.”

  With a told you so grin, Clay inserted the ID.

  “What the heck is that tune?” Clay said, under his breath.

  Gus paid him no mind. He eyed the double doors, ready for whatever awaited them on the other side.

  Clay readied his weapon and focused his eyes. He knew good and well that not knowing that elevator song would probably bug him for a couple of days, at best.

  The elevator doors slid open up to a massive room. The two men quickly darted from the elevator, allowing the doors to close behind them. With weapons at the ready, the two soldiers panned their rifles, scanning the room for any threat. They were half expecting a zombie to leap out from a corner of the room or for someone to start shooting on them. But none of the expected threats existed.

  The room was filled with scientific laboratory equipment and unfamiliar things that Dr. Gibbs would have probably drooled over. Some of the equipment Gus recognized as being something he might imagine being in the lab on base. There were several tables lined up in rows at one corner, with stacks of papers and boxes atop them.

  Farther up, they could see what looked like hospital equipment. Gurneys and respiratory monitors lay stacked to one side along with surgical tools and protective gear. Next to the monitors, a large green sheet draped from the ceiling blocked off a section of the room.

  Gus and Clay quietly inched forward toward the sheet. There was something hidden behind it, and Gus had the innate feeling that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t really want to know what was behind it. His imagination gave him chills. The sound of heavy breathing came from behind it. The mechanical sounds clicked and pulsed rhythmically from behind the shrouded space.

  Reaching out, Gus grabbed the sheet and pulled it back, instantly bringing his rifle up into position. The loud, steady, sound of metal rings sliding across the metal pole filled the room as the sheet slid open revealing what lay hidden away.

  With his back turned to the two armed men, an old, frail-looking man stood over what appeared to be an operating table. On the table, laid a pale-skinned woman who looked just as old, if not a bit older, than him. She was unconscious and hooked up to monitoring equipment. A respiratory mask covered her mouth and tubes ran down her throat. Part of her head was shaved down to the scalp. Lines had been marked upon her skull, as if she was being prepared to be cut into.

  The old man, facing away from Clay and Gus, pulled up a scalpel in one hand, and without turning, called out to the soldiers, “Took you two long enough.”

  “Turn around and face me. Hands up over your head!” Gus bellowed.

  “You boys sure did a number on my employees up there,” the old man replied, not the least bit interested in what Gus had barked at him.

  “I said turn around, old man!” Gus stepped forward, clearing the chamber and setting a fresh round into place. The dispensed shell clanged on the floor.

  The man obliged, turning around with both hands over his head. Gus reached into his chest pocket, pulling out the photo. And he put it back just as quickly. He then glanced back at Clay, who hadn’t moved a foot since the sheet slid open revealing the old man.

  “This is our guy,” Gus said as he eyed Clay. He addressed the old man once more, “Drop it, old timer.” Gus shifted the barrel of his rifle from the old man to the ground.

  Slowly setting scalpel down, the man said, “No need to be so on edge, Mr. Stanford. That is your name, right? I’ve been expecting you both. I mean you no harm. Please, please, take it easy and lower that weapon,” the old man requested.

  “How the hell do you know my name?”

  “I know a lot of things, Gus, but none of that is important right now.” The old man slowly lowered his hands and stepped forward with his right hand outstretched. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Grech Vonhinkly, as you already know. But you can call me Grech. I own this facility, along with several others like it. And this is my wife. Her time has, unfortunately, passed. It was her time, as it will be mine, before long. You can just sense those ki
nds of things with old age.”

  Gus looked over the old gray-headed man’s shoulder at the frail woman lying on the table. She looked peaceful.

  Clay had made his way up next to the two men, handshake still lingering. “Hello, sir. My name is Jared Clay. I’m sorry to hear about your loss. What happened to her, sir?”

  “It was just her time, my boy. I merely did my best to comfort her during the journey. She had cancer. It was a long time coming.”

  The two soldiers could see the age and pain in this little old man’s bright blue eyes. He was holding back his sorrow. Gus was baffled as to what he should do next. The mission was to come in, get the old geezer and get out. But how could he be that heartless? With the monitors going and the respiratory stuff still functioning, it must have meant that she had just passed.

  After a few moments of silence, the old man turned off the equipment and covered his departed companion’s body with a white sheet.

  “So, how did you know we were coming?” Clay asked.

  “Well, my good boy, that is a fine question, indeed. I’m linked into every broadcasted signal, from here to Japan and back, all on this little device over here,” Grech said.

  Grech walked from the makeshift hospital quarters to another part of the facility. He moved slowly, like an old man that might be in his late 70’s, and with a limp, at that. After a few moments, and with quite a few hobbling steps, the old man was seated at a large desk.

  The two soldiers cautiously followed him to his desk. The desk had one big microphone and several buttons and knobs, all lit up. After sitting down, Grech reached up pressing a knob or two, then clicked the single button attached to his microphone, holding it in place.

  “Go ahead,” Grech said, motioning for Gus to lean over him and speak into the mic.

  Gus shrugged, and feeling silly, did so, “Hello, come in!” he said.

  The radio on his hip along with the speakers on the large table chimed in simultaneously. Watts’ voice came back, “What’s your status, Gus? Been on hold for a while. Started to think you might be dead. Over.”

  As Gus looked down at the old man, puzzled, he leaned in closer to the microphone to reply. As he did so, Grech got his attention by tapping on a set of monitors to his right. There were probably twenty screens in all. Each one showed live footage from a different part of the facility. One of the monitors showed the rooftop and a large portion of the chopper. The pilot was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t up there.

  “Well, look at that. You’ve got this place on lockdown, for sure,” Clay said, obviously impressed.

  The old man liked that and let him know, with a smile and a nod of agreement.

  “Still doesn’t explain how you know who we are,” Gus said. He leaned down, pressing the button on the mic one more time, and replied to Watts, the pilot, who suddenly came into view on the small screen, “Subject acquired. Facility cleared. Headed your way shortly. Over.”

  “Roger that,” the pilot said. They watched as his handset clipped back to his hip and his rifle came out. Standing at the ledge of the rooftop, his rifle rested against the cement railing. He sighted something down the barrel.

  “What’s he shooting at?” Clay asked.

  Grech reached up, clicking a few buttons. The monitors changed from many small images to two larger images spreading across all of the smaller screens. One image was of the shooter, still perched on the roof’s ledge, and another was that of the fields beyond the shooter’s sights. Although the screen was mostly brush and the surrounding tree line, several approaching zombies peeked out past them. Instantly, one ghoul dropped to the ground from a headshot. In the other set of screens, they could see the pilot adjusting his weight and resetting his aim on another of the undead creatures. It went down.

  Gus said, “Hate to rush you after losing your wife, but we’re here to bring you back to base. So, if there is anything you need to get together before we go, I suggest you get to it.”

  “And what will we do when we get there, Mr. Stanford?” the little old man asked, looking up at Gus from his seat, with squinted brow.

  Before the soldier had time to respond, Grech continued, “You don’t get it, do you? I have done the calculating and, realistically, it won’t be safe to go up for close to another ten years, give or take. It’s over! And, the sooner you come to that conclusion, the safer you will be.”

  “What the hell are you getting at, old man?”

  “Let me spell it out for the two of you,” Grech said, as he got up from the desk. “Five general stages are used to describe the process of decomposition: Fresh, Bloat, Active and Advanced Decay, and Dry/Remains. The general stages of decomposition are coupled with two stages of chemical decomposition: autolysis and putrefaction. These two stages contribute to the chemical process of decomposition, which breaks down the main components of the body.”

  Grech scooted along as he spoke, taking his sweet time, as he crossed from one part of the large lab to another section, all the way across the underground facility. As the two soldiers followed him, they passed hospital bays, similar to the one that Grech’s wife was in. Others looked like testing stations, for God knows what, and others were decked out with computers and other test equipment. Slightly hidden away in the corner, something was broken; glass and dirt lay strewn all along the floor. It looked like someone had gone behind the mess and tried to clean it up.

  Gus knew that they needed to be on their way, but he was just as curious and intrigued as his counterpart.

  Clay followed along beside him, wide-eyed and full of childlike excitement.

  At least, Gus felt at ease. There weren’t any infected creatures in the room, and it wasn’t like that little old man could do much damage if he did decide to flip out.

  “Once the heart stops, chemical changes occur within the body causing cells to lose their structural integrity. The loss of cell structure brings about the release of cellular enzymes capable of initiating the breakdown of surrounding cells and tissues,” Grech said, his voice swelling in excitement. “This process is known as autolysis. Visible changes caused by decomposition are limited during the fresh stage, although autolysis may cause blisters to appear at the surface of the skin. This is where our fungus, Cordyceps Unilateralis, comes into play, changing everything. I haven’t had the chance to study the long-term effects in person, but I have a rough idea. Consuming the non-vital soft tissues, such as things like the skin and blood cells, causes the decomposition rate to rapidly occur.”

  Grech and the two soldiers finally reached their destination, clear across to the far end, where the elevator waited. In front of them, there was a small table, and setting atop it were three different containers filled to the brim with some type of liquid. Inside the liquid were human body parts. One container had the bottom part of a leg and most of the foot. Another held a heart, and the last had someone’s head in it.

  “Look, Mister, we don’t have time to play freak show with you. Our pilot is up on the roof, expecting us any minute. I need you to get your things together so we—”

  Grech interrupted Gus and continued his speech, “This you will want to see and hear, I promise.”

  Grech leaned up, pointing at the individual containers and their contents. “In each of these containers, we have major chunks of, what our fungus would consider, non-vital meat, if you will. The first container has not been introduced to the fungus, but the second and third containers have. The container in the middle has been given a very moderate dose in comparison to the other one.”

  The two men examined the containers for a moment, immediately seeing what the old man was trying to get at.

  “So what? The fungus, or whatever it is, is breaking the flesh down a lot faster, which explains the disfigured bag of bones that are walking around,” Clay said.

  The leg and foot were normal, and the two other contained body parts appeared to be falling apart with rot and decay.

  “What I am getting at,
gentlemen, is that the decomposition process of someone who has come into contact with Cordyceps Unilateralis quickly jumps from the first stage of decomposing to the last stage within days. This is something that, at times, could take months or even years, considering the corpse’s location. Decomposition is largely inhibited during advanced decay due to the loss of readily available cadaveric material, or in our case, non-vital tissue. With how fast these things are decomposing, if denied new non-vital tissue, they could shut down altogether within a couple of years.”

  “So that explains their need to feed,” Clay said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Let me get this straight. So you are saying that as long as they have something to eat, they aren’t going to die?”

  “Right, and if we deny them sustenance, it is only a matter of time before the fungus turns on itself, slowing down the body’s natural system. Once it does that, it will feed on itself and it slows down rapidly.”

  “Yeah, but if it only would take a few years to get rid of them, then, what is all of this ten years’ crap all about?” Gus bristled, while he crossed both arms, puffing out his chest.

  “Ten years is right, Gus. I have estimated that it will only take six years, or so, for them to actually run out of food. Add a few more years for good measure and we have ten,” Grech replied, leaning against the table.

  “So you got that figured out, do you? What about how this all started, then?”

  “Now Clay, do you really think they would have you come all this way if I didn’t have that bit of information?” Grech said. “Your government has sent you in here, with the pretense that they want to figure out what’s going on, and that means they lied to you. They know what’s going on. They are the ones that have funded my research for the last decade. Leave it up to the Americans.” Grech huffed.

  “If we’re going to waste time down here talking answers and pointing blame, then explain that broken glass back there that we passed. All that dirt.” Gus broke away from the table and swiftly made his way back toward the hidden mishap.