by Brown, TW
I’ve noticed a single-mindedness in them that would support those theories. In fact, we’ve been using that to find possible survivors. If zombies are crowded around a particular location, an attempt is made to contact any individuals who may be inside.
On his last patrol, Ian said they rolled into a small town. Of course that is a relative term that has changed in definition. What used to mean less than fifteen thousand now means less than two thousand. He said that there was a small mom-and-pop store, an outdoor supply place that once specialized in hunting and fishing gear—it was entirely gutted by the time they arrived—and a couple of local businesses like the town real-estate agency and a souvenir shop. There were also a few homes, and a couple dozen trailers scattered on wide-spread plots of land.
One of the homes had about a hundred of those things around it; all of them milling around trying to get close enough to slap on the walls, doors, and windows. The team cleared them out and went to look inside. Obviously whoever had holed up in there did so after being bitten. An emaciated woman was discovered in a bathroom clawing at the door; a nasty bite on her left forearm the evidence of her fate.
I imagine this rumor about the Idaho base’s demise will cause quite a stir. I don’t imagine that news like this will stay confined for long. This place is lousy with keeping secrets. Nobody can hold back even the tiniest morsel of news—whether it holds a grain of truth or not.
***
I hate being right. I had to get Teresa to come over because we are tripling the guns around the perimeter. Even with the trenches, razor wire, electrified fencing, and our remoteness on this hilltop, there is renewed concern of being overrun by zombies. The last thing I wanted to do tonight was leave Thalia. Strange. I’ve never been a parent, never wanted to be a parent. Now, well…I’m sorta in that role, and it is super weird.
When I was putting on my gear, I heard a little sniffle behind me. I turned to discover Thalia in my doorway. She had that giant stuffed bear Ian had given her under one arm, but the other hand was planted firmly on her hip (a gesture she’d gotten from Teresa no doubt).
“Papi?” she just started calling me that one day. I tried to correct her and get her to call me Steve, but every time I did, she’d develop this peculiar language barrier.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“Are the monsters coming?”
I stood there for a moment. There’d once been a time where it was okay to lie to your children in order to give them piece of mind. Rules change.
“They might.” That was as close to full-disclosure as I would get for now.
“Me and you and Teresa take the truck?” She walked in my room and picked up the webbed belt that held my spare magazines and handed it to me. As I strapped it on, she went to my dresser and grabbed my chain-mesh lined, studded leather gloves.
I sat at the foot of the bed and laced my boots tight, “If it becomes necessary.” I glanced up at the little girl standing patiently before me with a pair of reinforced gloves designed to prevent being bitten on the hand by a zombie. We were going through this like I was heading to the office. And, I guess, in some way, that is how we had come to deal with it.
I took the gloves and scooped Thalia up in my arms, setting her crossways in my lap. I leaned my forehead against hers in what had become our version of a kiss and hug. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Thalia. I promise.”
She pulled back just a bit, her eyes blinked, and I noticed just how long and dark her eyelashes were. “I know, Papi.”
For her, it was just that simple. The adult that she counted on…relied upon…had spoken. My words were sufficient. Then, she wrapped her little arms around my neck and squeezed tight. I think that is the most profound hug I’ve ever experienced.
“Anybody home?” Teresa called from the living room. In a flash, Thalia was off my lap and racing out to greet her.
I scooped up my gloves in one hand, 30.06 in the other. Even though I man a .50 caliber machine gun, I always carry my own arsenal: rifle with a scope, a pair of Navy Colt .45 semi-automatics, hand-axe, and three-foot machete.
“Joseph just radioed in…they are bringing in seven with their supply haul. He says they found a fuel tanker.” Teresa held Thalia in her arms and had produced an honest-to-goodness Hershey bar which was accepted with the giggle and squeal that I’m fairly certain can only be produced by little girls.
“So he and Aaron are doing okay?”
“He said he wants to learn how to drive the Bradley APC,” Teresa laughed in that way she has that reminds me of how my mom would react when I was little and would say I wanted to be James Bond or Han Solo.
“Who? Joseph or Aaron?” For some unknown reason, it made a difference to me.
“Aaron.” Teresa seemed to understand why I asked. “Can you even imagine?”
Considering that all of them, Teresa included, were in high school just about a month or so ago, I couldn’t honestly imagine any of this. Which reminded me—
“So…how’s Jamie ?” I couldn’t resist.
“Let’s not start this again.” Teresa set Thalia down and walked into the kitchen.
“I’m only asking.”
“No,” Teresa made no attempt to hide her exasperation. “You’re prying, and that will lead to you lecturing.”
“Look…I just feel…” I struggled for the right word.
“Responsible?”
“In some ways, I guess.”
Teresa emerged with a foil pouch of raisins, popped a few in her mouth, and then handed Thalia the bag. She stepped up close and placed her hands on my shoulders, “And if ever I need to turn to somebody…to ask for advice or something…yours will be the first door I knock on. Now, get out there before Wimmer comes looking for you all in a tizzy.”
I knelt and gave Thalia my best attempt at a stern look, “Behave for Teresa.”
“I will, Papi,” she said absently, focusing on the raisins.
Standing and doing a quick pat-down inventory, I made eye contact with Teresa who had a peculiar smile that I had no idea how to interpret. She nodded once, saying a million things that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
***
As it is, there is usually very little activity on any particular watch shift. Thing is, when you’re dealing with zombies, they don’t sleep or have need for any rest. They wander up whenever. Nothing about tonight has been any different.
The one thing about tonight that made up for the inconvenience of the extra shift was that I was there when the scavenger run with Joseph and Aaron came into the compound. Aaron spotted me while they were inside the first checkpoint where some of the medical personnel do the full-body check to ensure nobody is bitten or scratched.
Aaron is really quite a character. I hope he lives long enough to grow into that six-foot, lanky frame of his. I noticed that both he and Joseph have adopted the military high-and-tight haircut.
As a rule, there are a few of the armed sentries on hand during inspection in case somebody comes in bitten and tries to refuse “treatment.” It has only happened a couple of times. It reminds me of somebody withering as they finally confront the gallows.
I was surprised as I let out a breath I’d not realized I’d been holding as Aaron was checked, and again for Joseph. I was also supposed to have my gun trained on them during their check-up. It was pointed at the ground. I don’t think anybody noticed.
“Heard that the airbase is gone.” Joseph looked up at me as he finished lacing his boots.
“Yep,” I said with a nod.
“And that there was only one helo that landed here.” Aaron shouldered Joseph aside playfully, sending his friend toppling over.
“Seems you got a fairly detailed report out there in the wilderness.” I was only slightly surprised at the degree of detail that had been passed. Like I said, no secrets here at Serenity Base.
“Some of the soldiers want that helo either gone or moth-balled.” Joseph was dusting himself off, taking care that m
ost of the dust was going Aaron’s way.
“Sergeant Wimmer has already made that call,” one of my fellow sentries, I think his name was Tim, said as he walked past with a push-cart of supplies already being unloaded from one of the big trucks.
Aaron, Joseph, and I pitched in to help get all the newly acquired supplies unloaded and delivered to their designated locations. It was while that took place that Sergeant Wimmer found me. He looked tired, stressed, and just a bit annoyed.
“Steve.” He motioned me over to the doorway to his office-slash-living-quarters.
“Yeah, Paul?” I didn’t like seeing this person who, in my mind, was the epitome of Army badass, look like something was wrong.
“Get a few people together and ensure that every vehicle that runs is topped off. Also, get your stuff ready so you can leave at a moment’s notice.”
“What’s going on?” This didn’t sound good at all.
“I’m organizing an emergency exit strategy. For the most part I’m going to try and coordinate things so we leave as a group. However, there are a few people here that I am asking to see to their own preparations. If something sudden happens, I want folks in the compound to be able to scatter.
“Shouldn’t you be telling everybody?” This was the first time I knew of that seemingly important information was being withheld from the population.
“I will. I assure you that everybody will be told over the next couple of days. I just don’t want to create a mass panic or cause a run on supplies.” Paul glanced over to the currently vacant playground.
“Do you think we’re in any real danger way out here in the middle of nowhere?” I watched Paul to see if he would make any attempt to be deceptive. His gaze lingered on that play-ground, and before he said it, I was certain not only of what his answer would be, but also of his conviction in believing completely in it.
“Yes.”
***
I arrived home to find not only Teresa and Thalia—both fast asleep on the couch—but Melissa as well. Of all our group, she had—not surprisingly—been the most reclusive. My concern was that she is more than just a little unstable. While she displays moments of clarity, more often than not she simply stands outside of the periphery of what goes on around here. She seldom speaks, and always seems just on the verge of tears.
Like right now.
“Is it true?” Her voice was a whisper. Whether out of renewed fear, or out of not wanting to wake Teresa and Thalia, I had no idea.
I walked to my bedroom, motioning her to follow. Stripping off my weapons, I gave each a cursory inspection for both cleanliness as well as readiness. “Since you are being so vague, I’ll assume you are referring to the reports of large mobs of zombies and the possibility that Serenity Base might eventually be overrun.” She said nothing, only chewed nervously on her bottom lip. For only the most brief of seconds I could see just how sexually attractive Melissa could be if she wasn’t a total wingnut.
In that second or three, my eyes took all of her in. Maybe the fact that she can be as odd as a football-bat had kept those observations from happening until now. Who knows. But she is very curvy. Her body is what I would consider perfect. She has a very appealing “thickness” like girls from back in the Eighties, before Ally McBeal and liposuction turned women into walking skeletons with breast and lip implants. I just knew if I pulled Melissa close to me I’d feel that feminine softness that has been replaced by ribs that poke and hip bones that leave bruises.
“I’ve been asked by Sergeant Wimmer to have my group ready themselves in case we need to suddenly abandon this place. So, in a nutshell, the rumor is true.” I shook off the daydream.
Those tears that had been threatening, spilled down her cheeks. I did the only thing I could think of…I pulled her close and wrapped my arms around her. I’m not proud of myself because one thing led to another and now she is asleep in my bed…naked.
Never in my life have I felt guilty about a sexual relationship. Well, until now that is. I certainly wasn’t any kind of sexual dynamo before all of this apocalyptic crap happened. Yeah, I’ve had a few one-nighters, but I’d be lying if I claimed more than a dozen different sexual partners in my life.
Gads…would that make Melissa unlucky number thirteen? I dozed off wondering how I’d managed to actually complicate my life further than by being suddenly thrust into the role of parent in the middle of an undead uprising that threatened to eliminate all of humanity.
***
It has been a week since the airbase was wiped out. All attempts to make contact with anybody by radio have been fruitless. True to his word, Paul has informed everybody of the potential for a zombie mob to displace us.
Apparently Randall Smith, the CDC guy who I dislike on just about every level, was not happy about the degree of honesty. He is doing very little to dispel the stereotype of shady governmental people. He seems to want desperately to hold onto the old way of things where “the people” are kept in blissful ignorance about matters that they—meaning us—are simply unable to wrap their—meaning our—simple minds around.
Doctor Zahn is still a mystery to me. Talking to Dave Ellis, it seems she keeps her own council. She shows no differential treatment in dealing with Paul or Randall, and refuses to boot her workers from the room when either comes to speak with her.
Other than the fact that everybody has packed bundles that would be quick and easy to grab in case the need for a hasty evacuation rises, Serenity Base is operating as always. Today, I am going to be working a shift in the radio room. I’ll be monitoring for incoming traffic as well as keeping open communications with our scavenger teams. Ian and Billy Haynes and Joseph Wiser are out on one of those missions. While I can’t personally use the equipment to chat, it is somewhat comforting to know first-person how things are going.
As for Melissa, I don’t really have any clue what the deal is with her. I woke up that morning and she was gone. I’ve seen her in passing, but other than that, we’ve not spoken. I did try to go to her place and see how she was, but I got no answer when I knocked. Maybe I’m being a bit girlish about the whole thing. I mean, what if she just needed to “knock one out” so-to-say, and I happened to be the closest guy around?
***
It’s been enough that we have to deal with countless numbers of undead intent on eating us. Yet, because of the nature of mankind, we must also deal with those amongst the living who have decided to take full advantage of this chaos for their own selfish gains.
Two days ago while I was on duty in the communications center, the radio suddenly erupted with screams, gunfire, and one decipherable fragment of a sentence before going dead:
“…—uch firepower to hold off…of our men…dead or wounded…repeat…help…—ver!”
The terrified voice belonged to Billy Haynes. I recognized it right away, but just as abruptly as it began, the message ended. No response has come in the repeated attempts to raise a reply via radio.
The other two groups we had out were contacted. Both were sent to check the area Ian, Joseph, and Billy’s team were known to have been searching. It wasn’t hard to find. Burning vehicles and buildings acted as a locator beacon.
The report we received sent a shockwave through our entire community. There was no sign of any of our men…living. One man, a soldier named Jack Simpson, was chained to the bumper of a still-smoldering military-transport truck. He’d been bitten and turned. The bite was a singular one, and it was on the left hand. He still had his mail-and-leather gauntlet on the right. And then there is the whole chained-to-the-truck thing.
More frightening is that none of our men besides Simpson were found. I’m fairly well acquainted with every man on that patrol. None of our people have acted with violence towards anybody they’ve encountered out there. Whenever another living soul—or souls—was met, they were given the option of coming to our base. There has never been an instance of coercion. And it has always been made clear what the policy is involving somebody i
njured by one of the undead.
What has happened is an act of aggression. Pure and simple. This changes the game plan. After an emergency gathering of the community, we have reluctantly decided upon two resolutions. The first is that we can’t put any more of our population at risk by going out to actively search for the other five missing men. It is a sad, but realistic position. The second, and this one actually passed much handier than I’d expected, is that anyone encountered will be treated as hostile and be made to prove otherwise.
Paul has restructured our patrols. Instead of three six-person groups he will be sending one twenty-person unit that will treat each foray as if they are driving into enemy territory. I’d always assumed that the folks venturing out held that belief to begin with. I’ve learned after talking to Aaron that the standing orders have been to extend an offer to any survivor.
Tonight, Aaron, Barry, and Dave will meet me and Teresa at my place. Unfortunately, Jamie will be on watch. I’m fairly certain I saw the look on each one of their faces when Paul announced that there would not be an active, organized attempt to find our people. Three of the five remaining men missing belong to our group. I’m not convinced any of us can accept that decision.
***
“I won’t just sit and allow the possibility that Billy, Joseph…or even Ian may be alive and we do nothing.” Aaron paced back and forth in my living room. “I’ve known them both since I was six. We played pee-wee football that first year. All four of us have been teammates, scouts, everything together.”
“I can’t say I blame Paul for this,” Barry leaned forward, clasping his hands, “but this sounds like a decision made by Randall.”
“Yeah!” Dave blurted out, surprising everybody in the room. “Them Army types got that ‘no-man-left-behind’ motto or some such thing. Don’t they?”
“It doesn’t matter who made the choice. Our guys are out there. Dead. Undead. Alive. If we do nothing, we have to live with it. If you can do that…fine, but we are loaded out for that emergency evacuation. Rules have always been that nobody has to stay against their will. I’m for leaving first thing. If we find the people responsible, but don’t have the numbers to take ‘em, then we’ll cross that bridge when it is in front of us,” Teresa looked everybody in the eye one by one as she spoke. “Steve, Aaron, Jamie , and I will be at the trucks at sunrise. If you stay, fine. But those are our friends. This ‘needs of the many outweighs the needs of the few’ crap is a sissified cop-out.”