by Lundy, W. J.
“GNN wants to caution our viewers that the validity of this video has not been verified. It appears like a training video at first; the soldiers could be firing at any target on a rifle range. Then, watch this part right here.”
The drone flew past the soldiers and passed several more lines of the coiled barbed wire. The first row of wire was empty, but the next row held what appeared to be several lifeless bodies. The drone continued without slowing until it came to a third row of wire. A lot of bodies were snagged on the barbs, their clothing keeping them secured firmly in place. Some were thrashing, trying to move forward, others lay unmoving. The camera zoomed in on the line, and it was evident that the people were heedless of the wire that held them. It was as if they didn’t realize why they couldn’t move.
The camera panned along the wire, and a woman looked up at the drone, screaming. The operator paused and then slowly zoomed in on her face. Streaks of dried blood covered her cheeks and chin where it still poured from her eyes, nose, and mouth. Her lips stretched back from bloody teeth, and she reached in vain for the drone hovering somewhere overhead. Then the area around her head pixelated as GNN’s video editors blurred out the moment when one of the soldiers shot her in the face. Her body collapsed instantly and another took her place, bellowing rage.
Chet had seen the unedited version. The entire back of the woman’s head had been blown open, her brain oozing out the hole. The moment the skull was penetrated and the pressure inside relieved, everything spewed out of the exit wound. Bright reds, oranges, and pink froth matted in her light-brown hair and spilled down onto her blouse. Chet had been so unsettled by the sight that he’d been unable to eat the egg white, cheddar cheese, and tomato panini that his assistant brought him—the colors were simply too close to what he’d witnessed.
The drone’s camera zoomed out and then refocused on the next row of barbed wire beyond the one the woman had been tangled in. This one was almost completely flattened down by writhing bodies as more people trampled across them to get tangled in the successive rows of wire.
The video lasted a full two minutes and forty-seven seconds, then the drone returned to the group of soldiers situated at the Humvees.
“And that, ladies and gentlemen,” Chet stated, “is what has us here at GNN worried about what the US Government is not telling us.”
His image was replaced by text on the monitor and he continued, “This is the email that our anonymous source sent along with the drone footage. It reads:
‘We’re from the Second Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division out of Fort Carson, Colorado, and we’re deployed a few miles south of the 470 Loop in Denver. These people are infected with some type of virus. They scream and appear insane. They tear at their own flesh, digging into their face and eyes, like they’re trying to get to their own brain.
We’ve been here for three days, killed hundreds, maybe thousands of infected. They can be shot several times, and they’ll keep coming, unless we shoot them in the head. I know what you’re thinking: that we’re spoofing some stupid zombie movie. I wish that were the case. The infected can take a lot of damage—they don’t seem to feel pain—but even without headshots, they will eventually bleed to death or succumb to other injuries.
We’ve captured a few of them alive, and the Army’s doctors have tried to cure them, but all that happens is our medical personnel end up getting bitten or scratched. If saliva or blood from an infected gets into a cut or scratch, the virus is passed to a new victim. Best we can tell, it takes about twenty-four hours from infection to going full-on crazy.
All of this has been learned through trial and error. I’ve lost more than half of my battalion, including my commander, to this disease. We’re doing our best, but they have numbers on their side. For every one we kill, the virus is transmitted to three more.
I hope your viewers see this video. It is not a joke. I can’t stress how important it is to be prepared for what’s coming. There is no helping these people. Everyone who tries to help them becomes infected. The only way we can help them is to end their suffering and misery before they kill more of us.
Signed, Major [REDACTED]’
“Whew,” Chet said when he finished reading the email aloud. “That’s a lot to process. Dr. Sanjay, what do you make of this claim?”
Chet Davidson adjusted in his seat. He was nervous. All of this was freaking him the fuck out and his body was reacting. He was sweating all over, and the trickle of sweat going down the middle of his back and into his butt crack was uncomfortable as hell. Worse, his makeup was probably going to run soon if he didn’t wrap up this interview.
“It’s either an extremely elaborate hoax, for which the prankster will never be credited for their work…” the doctor stated. “Or it’s real. The transmission methods described remind me of how some parasites control their hosts, particularly in the insect world. These parasites manipulate their host until a series of set conditions are met and then the offspring of the parasite infects other insects, thus the parasite’s life cycle begins anew.”
“A parasite?” Chet asked incredulously.
“It’s not my area of expertise, but sure. I’ve read studies of several different types of parasites that take over their host’s brain, all for the express purpose of completing their life cycles. From parasitic worms that live inside crickets until it’s time to procreate and then cause the cricket to jump into water, effectively committing suicide, to fungi that infect an ant’s brain and cause it to travel to the underside of a leaf and clamp down with its jaws until it dies and the fungus can prosper in the shade, eventually growing out of the ant’s head to drop spores on unsuspecting ants below. There are tons of parasites across several different domains, kingdoms, and phylum that perform similar actions…and it usually doesn’t end well for the host.”
“Don’t make me break out my biology textbook, Doc,” Chet said, grinning for the camera, trying his best to ignore the trickle of sweat running down the side of his face. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“Well, the easiest way to think about it is that parasitic lifeforms exist in all environments and in all forms, including animal, plant, and bacteria.”
“Okay, that’s a lot easier to understand. Thank you,” the anchor replied, squinting at the monitor to see if Kimmie’s makeup job was holding up to the obvious sweat pouring from his hairline. “And given what you’ve seen in the video and what the Army major’s email said, you think the people in Colorado are infected with a parasite?”
The doctor chuckled softly. “To be honest, I have no idea what they’re infected with without examining blood and tissue samples. It could be a new, more virulent type of a hemorrhagic fever like Ebola, Marburg, Hantavirus; those all cause bleeding from soft tissue areas and body orifices… Hell—excuse me.”
“That’s okay, Doctor.”
Dr. Sanjay coughed softly before continuing. “The victims could be suffering from some type of illness caused by prions such as Creutzfeldt–Jakob Disease or from eating infected meat—that’s the proverbial Mad Cow Disease scenario. That could account for the lack of response to external stimuli, altered mental state, and poor coordination. The spontaneous bleeding wouldn’t be present with those illnesses, but it could be self-inflicted, as the email stated some of it is.
“They may even have a form of mass hysteria. There are a multitude of well-documented cases of mass hysteria throughout history that make you wonder what was going on in those people’s minds. Examples of that could be the Salem Witch Trials here in the United States, or the laughter epidemic in Tanzania in the 1960s.”
Dr. Sanjay paused to think for a moment before continuing. It was enough time for Chet to notice a dark streak beside his right ear, where the sweat was running along the side of his face and collecting makeup as it went.
“The victims could also be suffering from the effects of some type of toxin in the air or water,” the doctor continued. “Or possibly a drug that they’d been in
troduced to somehow… There are simply too many variables that I can’t identify by sitting here in Atlanta, watching a television screen. If I could get out there to do some field research, I might be able to give you a solid hypothesis based on my observations. As it is, though, I’m just guessing.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Doctor,” Chet replied. His earpiece buzzed in his ear, telling him that he needed to wrap it up. Two fucking guests, and all we have is guesswork, he groaned internally. He needed an answer as much as he needed a blow job and an ice bath to relax him.
“So, in your scientific opinion, do you believe the footage from Colorado is real?” he asked.
“Unfortunately, I do, Chet. It would take a master makeup artist to accomplish the multiple layers of hemorrhaging—the different layers of dried and fresh blood—on just one of those victims. The video appears to show hundreds of people in all manner of dress, but mostly spring and early summer attire, which means to me the timeframe roughly correlates to the last few days in Colorado. Additionally, the barbed wire looked very real as it ripped into flesh. Again, that could be faked, but it would take an entire Hollywood production crew to simulate that on such a grand scale—”
The studio lighting dimmed, and Chet’s GNN Morning Headlines theme song began playing over the speakers. “Ah… I guess that means we’re going to break?” Chet mumbled.
His headphone crackled, and he blurted out quickly, before he realized what he was doing, “We’re being cut off! They’re cutting the broadcast feed! Get out of Colorado!”
Chet saw the ON AIR light turn off before he finished his last sentence. “Who the hell shut us down?”
“The FCC jerked GNN’s broadcast license,” Chris, the floor manager, shouted. “The entire network is shut down.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t give us a reason. Everything just got turned off.”
Chet knew the reason. The goddamned government was trying to keep this thing under wraps and GNN had been given exclusive video and a first-hand account of the action on the front lines.
“What the fuck did we just uncover?” he asked aloud to everyone in the sound stage.
The only sound was the wet plop of a glob of makeup as it fell from his jaw and landed three inches above the pocket of his suit.
4
National Harbor, Washington, DC
March 26th
“Holy shit,” Lincoln mumbled when the television went dark for a moment before the vertical multicolored stripes appeared, accompanied by a soft buzzing sound. He hadn’t seen those stripes in ten or fifteen years. The invention of twenty-four-hour programming had made them virtually obsolete.
Sidney turned toward him with wide eyes. He’d wandered up behind her at the bar after paying the bill for brunch back at their table. “Is all that really happening, or do you think it’s a ratings grab?”
“They wouldn’t…”
“I’m a liberal, Lincoln, through and through, but I’m not one of those stupid idiots who gets led around by my clit ring. I don’t believe everything I’m told,” she stated. “GNN has staged fake news stories for ratings before.”
He thought about it for a moment, and then pointed at the lines on the screen. “What kind of ratings are they getting from that?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” Sidney turned back to the bar and asked the bartender if they could try a different station.
All of the news stations were out, but there were plenty of channels playing reality television, sports replays, and movies. America loves to be distracted from real life, Lincoln thought.
Sidney pulled a twenty-dollar bill from her small purse and dropped it on the counter. “Here, take a few sips,” she ordered, holding her drink out to Lincoln.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Does it matter?” she smirked. “This might be the last drink we get at a bar for a long time. Maybe even forever.”
“What?” Lincoln coughed as the whiskey burned his throat.
“This is bad, dude. Like, real bad,” she replied. “I’m no expert at any of this, but one of my classes last semester was about international responses to pandemics and the legality of using military forces and other non-governmental agencies as a response force. Remember when we sent the Army to Africa to deal with that big Ebola outbreak a few years ago? They were there, officially, to secure the camps and keep the doctors safe, but they were also there to put a stop to anyone trying to leave, which could potentially infect more people and begin the cycle again. They were authorized to stop trespassers by any means necessary.”
She took the drink back from him and took a long pull. Her lips thinned and then she smiled. “I love bourbon.” She held the glass out for him once more and said, “You go ahead and finish it.”
He reluctantly took the glass and swallowed the amber liquid, then set it down on the bar. “So,” he said hoarsely, “what did you mean about the last time going to a bar?”
Sidney stood up and grabbed his hand, leading him toward the door. When they got outside, she pulled out her phone and tapped on an app to call a car service. “All those places are just the beginning, Lincoln. You need go to the grocery store and stock up on food before everyone gets the same idea.”
“So that’s it then?” he asked in mild confusion. Everything had been going so well. He’d all but guaranteed himself an afternoon of sex and debauchery—he didn’t even remember that she had a clit ring, dammit. Now he’d be taking the proverbial cold shower. What a stupid saying, he thought. Nobody actually does that crap.
Sidney grimaced, then her expression softened. “Yeah, Lincoln. This is some serious shit. We’re talking, like, extinction-of-humanity-level stuff, if even half of what was on those videos is true and if what that doctor said is remotely accurate.”
He stepped close to her and slid a hand around her waist. “That means we should be together, then. We could be the ones to save our race.” Wow, did I really just say that skeevy shit?
“Holy fuck,” Sidney laughed. “That’s the most pathetic example of someone begging for sex that I’ve ever heard.”
Lincoln shrugged. “Ain’t no shame in my game,” he said, mimicking the Nineties rapper who made the line famous.
She turned into him. “I just met you, Lincoln.”
“And we’re pretty great together,” he answered.
“Well, not that great,” she teased. “I’ve had better.”
“Uh.”
“Just last week.”
“I’m not sure I—”
“Oh, shut up, idiot.” She grinned. “I’m messing with you.”
Lincoln grinned back. He wasn’t used to women who were so incredibly comfortable with themselves that they would dare to mention their sordid sexual history, jokingly or not, on the first date. It was kind of refreshing, not having to tiptoe around issues and feel things out.
“So does that mean you’re coming back to my place?” he asked.
She pushed him away playfully. “No. Not right now, anyway. I’ve got to take care of Rick James.”
“Rick James?”
“My cat.”
“Oh. That’s an interesting name for a cat.”
Before she could reply, Sidney’s phone beeped from inside her pocket. She pulled it out and brought the screen up to her face. “The car’s a block away,” she stated. “I’ve decided that I’m not going to class tomorrow, so maybe you have a shot at getting in my pants later today. But first, I’m going to go home and stock up on canned goods and all that, just in case.”
“All right, so should I order Chinese or something?”
She shot him a withering look before turning back to watch for the car. “Uh, maybe you’re not the right person to try to ride out an apocalyptic situation with.”
“Huh?”
The car pulled up, and she talked to the driver for a moment before stepping toward the back of the vehicle. She turned to him. “Lincoln, do me a favor; research ‘disaster preparedness�
�� on the web and then try to follow as many of those guidelines as you can in the next few hours.”
“Yeah, okay. I saw a bunch of things like that the last hurricane season.”
“Good idea.” She jumped up the curb, back to where he stood watching her. She kissed him quickly on the lips. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Lincoln watched her get in the car and waved awkwardly as they drove away. He started walking before the vehicle turned onto K Street.
He had a few bags of chips and some random shit in his pantry, plus a lot of bottled water, but practically nothing else for an extended interruption of restaurant service. There was a Safeway a few blocks from his house. He’d been in there a couple of times, primarily for the occasional steak to grill during football season, but he usually went to the little mom-and-pop market that was on his way home from work. He thought he’d have better luck getting all sorts of groceries from the larger store and decided to go there instead.
On the way to the grocery store, Lincoln looked up a few emergency preparedness tips on his phone. Canned goods and bottled water were the top priorities, as well as extra batteries for flashlights—which he made a note to himself to buy in the hardware aisle—medications and first aid supplies, coffee, and the like. He had a pretty good idea about everything else, but the last item surprised him: Cash. He would have never thought about having cash on hand in case the situation took more than a few days to resolve. He made a note to stop by an ATM as well.
As he walked, a text message from an unknown number came in to his cell phone. “Having car take me to REI by Gallaudet U. for camping gear. Hope I never have to pay off THIS credit card bill!” It was from Sidney, which was odd since he didn’t remember giving her his number.
He nodded his head in approval. That was smart. He had blankets and coolers for beer, but he didn’t have a tent or sleeping bags—not that they’d need them in his house. He wasn’t a big believer in the whole apocalypse thing, but certainly, this situation warranted a little bit of precaution. There was no telling what would happen if the Army didn’t put a stop to whatever was happening out west—and up north, he amended.