Dead Storm: The Global Zombie Apocalypse

by Nicholas Ryan

  “Kill ‘em!” Hilderbrandt felt like he was drowning under the weight of infected. He couldn’t free his arms. The press of stinking bodies became overwhelming. One of the infected lashed out for his throat. He reeled back just in time and shot the ghoul from point-blank range, but other hands clawed relentlessly at him. Bill Hilderbrandt staggered under the clamor of ferocious triumphant howls and felt himself falling...

  2nd squad’s heroic, defiant last stand ended in screams and blood and gruesome slaughter.

  THE OVAL OFFICE

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  The SH-3 Sea King helicopter clattered over the South Lawn and hovered for a few moments before sinking gently to the grass. Secret Service agents were waiting in the downwash from the rotors. Colonel Quentin Fletcher, Commander of USAMRIID, came down the steps and was whisked towards the West Wing.

  Fletcher was new to the position, having taken charge of the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases on Fort Detrick the previous March. He was a trained physician who had served in Iraq; a man of medium height, too solid to be labeled wiry. His dark hair was greying at the temples, cut close to his skull.

  The President’s private secretary knocked politely and after a moment of measured pause, led Fletcher into the Oval Office.

  President Austin sat at his desk, talking on the phone. His face was a picture of tense concentration. He caught the USAMRIID Commander in the corner of his eye and understanding flashed on his face. He gestured for Fletcher to sit, then turned his full attention back to the phone.

  “I understand,” the President said to the caller. “As soon as possible, please.”

  He hung up and buzzed through to the outside office. “Sonia, can you get Walter and Joe in here immediately?”

  The President hung up and blew out his cheeks. He scraped his hand across his brow. A tension headache sat crouched behind his eyes, thumping like a jungle drum.

  “Colonel Fletcher,” The President stood and extended his hand. Fletcher stood stiffly and the two men shook hands across the paper-strewn desk. “I assume you have seen what is happening across Seoul at the moment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What’s your take?”

  The Colonel made a wretched gesture with his hands. “Sir, we don’t have any data that would allow USAMRIID to draw any conclusions at this time. Everything coming into Fort Detrick at the moment is anecdotal and unreliable. We’ve heard some disturbing reports and seen some gruesome footage…”

  “Is this agent the North Koreans have used anything like Ebola or Anthrax?” The President had no in-depth knowledge about the science behind biological weapons – just an intrinsic everyman’s fear.

  “No, sir. Definitely not,” Fletcher was adamant.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Sir, every agent that has been examined for biological warfare applications has a much longer incubation time, and they’re more passive in the way the infection is spread through the population.”

  “Passive?”

  Fletcher made an apologetic face. “Passive isn’t the right word, sir. I know just how virulent these agents can be. But compared to what we’re seeing in the footage that’s being broadcast from the impact zone, this… whatever it is… that the North Koreans have manufactured is evil and diabolical on a scale mankind has never seen before.”

  The door to the Oval Office opened. The Secretary for Defense and the President’s National Security Advisor came into the room. Austin made the introductions and then perched on the edge of the desk and loosened his tie.

  “Go on, Colonel.”

  Jim Poe and Walter Ford sat on the facing sofas. Fletcher got out of his chair and turned so he was addressing the room.

  “Sir, this contagion has the potential to be apocalyptic,” the commander of USAMRIID said. “It appears to be transmissible through blood, causing death quickly. But within the victim’s body, the virus appears to be somehow re-wiring the corpse, returning it to an animated form within an hour or two. The undead victim has basic cognitive and physical functions similar to…” the man paused for a moment groping for the right words, “… similar to a wild predatory animal, or primitive man.”

  “Jesus…” Walter Ford croaked.

  “Somehow the North Koreans have created a doomsday biological weapon and then found a way to spread the initial contamination in aerosol form.”

  “Aerosol?” Jim Poe interrupted.

  “Droplets,” Fletcher explained. “A spray form.”

  “So this thing could be carried on the wind?” President Austin was horrified.

  “I don’t think so, sir. Not any more,” Fletcher speculated. “I think the victims at ground zero were all infected by aerosol. But the initial contagion might have only been active in the air for a few seconds – just long enough to be breathed in by the first sufferers. Once they were infected, my guess is the pathogens incubated in their bodies until death overtook them. Then the macabre re-animation process would have begun. The dead were brought back to life, infected with the primal rage instinct that seems to be a dominant characteristic of the disease. They’re attacking, and spreading the virus through bites and wounds.”

  “Have you ever seen anything like it?” Walter Ford asked, appalled.

  “No, sir.”

  “Do… do we have anything like it?” the President was almost afraid to ask. The idea that any government in the world would actively set about creating such a monstrous biological weapon was abhorrent.

  “No, sir,” Colonel Fletcher said emphatically.

  “Can the spread of this thing be stopped?”

  “I don’t know,” the USAMRIID commander confessed. “Pathogens like Anthrax or the Ebola virus are lethal, and our best defense once an outbreak has been detected is isolation and quarantine. That works well enough because the victims are usually on the precipice of death, and most of their internal organs are shutting down. This… this is very different. I can’t see how it’s possible to contain the infection when the carriers of the disease are aggressive and violent. They would need to be somehow restrained, not just contained.”

  “Could CDC be helpful?” Jim Poe asked.

  Fletcher shook his head. “With all due respect, sir, it’s doubtful. CDC is a fine organization and we do a lot of work with them, but it’s a civilian department designed to deal with civilian outbreaks. What we’re talking about here is strictly military.”

  The President had listened with growing concern. “Are we in serious trouble here, Colonel Fletcher?”

  The USAMRIID commander fixed the President with a level stare. “Yes, sir. I think we are. This contagion has the potential to be a global killer.”

  “How can you know that?” Walter Ford jumped to his feet.

  “I can’t – yet,” Fletcher admitted. “But the power of a biological weapon lies in its exponential collateral effects. Typically they begin with a small amount of cases in a concentrated location and the infection is passed on to those nearby. Quickly, the rate of infection multiplies through a series of inevitable chain reactions. Once an epidemic starts, it spreads fast. In this instance, the North Koreans have targeted Seoul, with a densely packed population that numbers into the millions. But more importantly, it’s a hub for trade and travel throughout Asia. Even in the grips of a current military conflict, there will be overseas tourists and company representatives there doing business. And there will be soldiers, sir,” Fletcher said pointedly to the President. “Before the Korean conflict broke out three weeks ago, we would have had thousands of our troops in-country. I don’t know how many are still there, but they’re in serious danger.”

  The President and the Secretary of Defense exchanged significant glances.

  Walter Ford began to pace the floor, his head down, gnawing at his lip. He was fretting over the Colonel’s comments, and trying to choke down a rising sense of blind panic. “How far could this infection spread?” he stopped suddenly and fired the questio
n.

  Colonel Fletcher looked bleak. “It is impossible to quantify the reach of this outbreak without data, sir. Anything I say right now would be based on gut-instinct and hunch, not scientific proof – because we just don’t have the information we need to make an informed judgment.”

  “Then give me your gut feeling,” President Austin intervened. “Give me something – anything.”

  Quentin Fletcher was a physician. Wild speculation went against his conservative fact-based training. Reluctantly he sighed.

  “Sir, I believe this is a ghastly strain of contagion that has been engineered specifically to destroy the world – a doomsday device. I think the infection will burn like a fire through Asia and into Europe. It feeds on the fuel of living people, and Asia is densely populated. My guess is that Taiwan and Japan will be overcome quickly, and the infection will spread north into China. From there, unless it is stopped somehow, it will reach Russia and beyond.”

  “Unless it is stopped?”

  Fletcher shrugged and returned to his fire analogy. “Firefighters bulldoze wide firebreaks between the flames and the properties they hope to protect. Those wide tracts of land are cleared of fuel and are hopefully wide enough to prevent the flames from leaping the breach. It’s the only way I can see anyone stopping the spread of this infection; somehow creating a barrier between the infected and the living. That might happen once the contagion reaches places like Mongolia and the eastern reaches of Russia. Those regions are not densely populated, so perhaps the infection will be slowed… but we’re talking about a purely geographic spread – not considering the nightmares of modern transport. Incheon International is one of the busiest airports in the world and vessels out of South Korean harbors ply the shipping lanes across Asia and into Europe…”

  “Christ…” Walter Ford expressed the horror that everyone else in the room shared. He grimaced at the President like he was in physical pain. “Sir, I think it might be time we considered initiating ‘Operation Solo’.”

  The President nodded. “I’m calling an emergency Cabinet meeting. Tell the Vice President I want to brief him, and get everyone else here as soon as possible.”

  *

  An hour later President Austin called the meeting to order and stared around the Cabinet room at the assembled faces.

  The room was full; Vice President Hallmeyer, Jim Poe, Walter Ford, Virginia Clayton and several other secretaries were in attendance. Those who were unavailable at such short notice had sent undersecretaries. Colonel Fletcher sat against the wall near the fireplace.

  President Austin got up from his chair and leaned on the oval mahogany conference table that had been a gift to the nation from President Nixon.

  “Thank you ladies and gentlemen for attending at such short notice. I have called this emergency meeting because the USA and much of the rest of the world is facing a potential crisis the likes of which we have never seen before.”

  There was an audible murmur from around the room. The President’s grave expression seemed to reflect the somber tone.

  “All of you are aware, I’m sure, of the crisis unfolding on the Korean Peninsula. Kim’s regime has fired at least one biological weapon into the heart of Seoul, igniting what might become an unprecedented worldwide epidemic. With us today is Colonel Fletcher, commander of USAMRIID. He’s here to bring everyone up to speed on what we know so far – and what might be at stake.”

  Heads turned. Colonel Fletcher stood and the President added, “Please begin, Colonel.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. Ladies and gentlemen, the biological weapon fired at Seoul earlier today represents something mankind has never seen before – a new military horror more disturbing, more dangerous than any other weapon man has so far devised – including nuclear weapons…”

  President Austin took his seat and flipped through several folders on the conference table before him. The files were all marked ‘top secret’ and bordered with red-and-white striped tape. Inside were fragmented reports from USFK Command in Korea, bundled with media reports that had been snatched off the wire services. It didn’t amount to much at all. More telling than all the paperwork before him had been the live television images being beamed out of the warzone; the nightmare pictures of the infected rampaging through the streets of Seoul, blood-spattered and enraged as they attacked the crowds that were fleeing in terror.

  “What are the latest reports from ground zero?” the Secretary of Commerce asked.

  “I just got off the phone from Fort Detrick before this meeting began,” Colonel Fletcher said heavily. “Already the number of infected is beyond our ability to estimate. It might be ten thousand. It could just as easily be one hundred thousand. The contagion is spreading and has broken through every military containment line so far established.”

  “Do you know what this contagion is?” Virginia Clayton asked.

  “No, ma’am. The most dangerous bioweapons such as Anthrax, Botulism, Smallpox and Ebola all behave in a manner very different to what we are witnessing. This is a type of pathogen that we have never seen before.”

  “So it can’t be treated?” the undersecretary of Housing asked with rising alarm. He was a middle-aged man with a pale face and an unruly cap of curly black hair.

  “Sir, we still don’t know what we’re dealing with. All the evidence we have at the moment is anecdotal.”

  “So it can’t be treated?” the man repeated his question.

  “No.”

  “Mother of God,” someone at the conference table whispered.

  “What about our troops in South Korea?” the Secretary for Education spoke from the end of the table.

  “They’re already engaged,” Jim Poe answered. “They went in to the fray with the first responders on the streets of Seoul.”

  “How many men do we have on the ground over there?” Virginia Clayton asked.

  “Normally we have around twenty-eight thousand,” SecDef replied. “However we’ve been cycling those numbers up over the past couple of months since things began getting tense on the Peninsula. At the moment, we have just over thirty-seven thousand service personnel on the ground.”

  “They need to be evacuated!” Housing insisted.

  “It’s too late,” Quentin Fletcher’s crisp firm words cut across the voices around the room that had begun gradually rising in alarm. “It’s too late and too dangerous to evacuate anyone from Korea.”

  “Are our troops infected?”

  “I don’t know,” the USAMRIID commander said. “But if they’re not already afflicted with the contagion, they soon will be. The infection is growing at an exponential rate so alarming that it’s practically doubling every hour. A massed evacuation is impractical – and impossible. Within a few hours, millions will be infected.”

  The President sensed the rising panic. He rapped his knuckles on the desk and voices choked into silence.

  “The only immediate option is to contain the infection somehow – and that’s just not possible, nor in our power. Other governments will be confronted with that challenge,” POTUS said. “Failing successful containment, this virus could potentially sweep through Europe, killing billions. The North American continent is isolated by oceans. It is my intention to keep the USA quarantined indefinitely by closing our borders to the outside world.”

  “Mr. President?” Commerce asked deferentially. “Is there a chance we are perhaps over-reacting?”

  “Yes,” Austin admitted bluntly. “But we can’t afford to handle this any other way. If we’re wrong, the press and the public will pillory us… and it will probably cost us the next election. But I’d rather be wrong and voted out of office than take chances with over three hundred million American lives.”

  “Sir, exactly what measures are you suggesting?”

  ‘“Operation Solo’,” President Austin said.

  There was a moment of silent hesitation and uncertainty. Vice President Hallmeyer spoke, becoming suddenly business-like.

 
“All international flights destined for an American airport will be cancelled or turned back if they are already in flight,” he began distributing ‘Top Secret’ files around the room. “All domestic flights remain unrestricted – for now. All ports and harbors on the east and west coast will be closed to commercial shipping…”

  “And we’re going to have to fortify our northern border with Canada and the southern border into Mexico. No one will be allowed to enter the country for any reason. If anyone leaves, they cannot return under any – and I mean any – circumstances.” President Austin took over. “Our Navy and Air Force will enforce a blockade and will have orders to sink any vessel approaching our coastline.”

  “Mr. President, those measures are going to be unpopular, to say the least,” Walter Ford said, careful to keep his tone neutral. “Constitutionally there are bound to be problems – we might find ourselves challenged in the courts. The Attorney-General’s Department might have an opinion…”

  “Walter, I don’t care,” President Austin said. “I also want the National Guard activated immediately. I want them at the borders and guarding every essential facility. Gas rationing will commence immediately.”

  “Gas?” one of the undersecretaries blurted, then shrank in her seat when the President turned his withering glare on her.

  “We import around sixty percent of our fuel needs. Some of the shortfall is met by Canada and Mexico, but we’re heavily dependent on Saudi oil. When that pipeline of supply is cut off, industry and agriculture are going to suffer. Rationing will give us time to adjust. In the medium term we’re going to face an uncomfortable new world.”

  The Secretary of Transport held up his hand like a student in class. “Sir, when do you want these restrictions on international air travel to commence?” Transport was responsible for the oversight of the American air-traffic control system.