by Gary Chesla
The Captain of the Cumberland lifted his mic. “This is mother. What’s your situation scout?”
“We found ten dead on deck. There are about a dozen more below deck. They are alive but I think they are all crazy. Cap they bit me and Carlson.”
“Say again scout. They did what?”
“A couple of these crazy bastards bit me and Carlson. It hurts like hell Cap. Instructions?” Davis said.
“Stand by scout.” The Captain said.
“Will do.” Davis replied as he rolled his eyes as he looked back at Jamison.
“What are you laughing at XO?” The Captain of the Cumberland said.
“Nothing Sir!” the XO replied trying to force the smile from his face.
A smile spread across the Captain’s face as laughter sounded from all areas of the bridge.
The Captain picked up his secure phone line to the Ronald Regan. He waited a moment then spoke. “Captain. We boarded the first fishing boat as ordered.”
“What did you find?” The Captain of the Ronald Regan asked.
“Ten dead. The deck is covered in blood. I don’t know what the hell happened out there.” The Captain of the Cumberland replied.
“Any survivors?”
“The away team said there are about a dozen survivors below deck, but they think they have all gone crazy or something. Two of my men reported that they have been bitten by the survivors. You want us to put a bag over their heads and bring them back to the Cumberland for treatment?”
Tom Bolten, the Captain of the Ronald Regan sank back in his chair. He didn’t want to believe what he had just heard. From his briefing with the Pentagon, he realized what he had feared could happen, was happening. Not only was his ship in jeopardy, now the Cumberland had been infected.
He knew the Cumberland could not bring any of the survivors aboard and have any chance of surviving themselves. If in fact the people the Cumberland had found were indeed survivors.
He wanted to tell the Cumberland to leave their away team on the Chinese fishing boat and get the hell out of there. It was the only sure way for the Cumberland to survive. But that went against everything the U.S. military stood for. Their creed was that they would never leave anyone behind. He knew this was one time they should leave someone behind.
He pulled the phone closer to his lips. “Negative Cumberland. Listen carefully. China has had an outbreak of a deadly virus. So far there is no known cure. I fear those people are beyond our help. Get your men off that boat now. I’ll notify the Chinese authorities what we found. They can handle this. The only way we can be sure the virus won’t spread to the Cumberland is for you to leave the away team on that boat and get the hell out of there. But I know that is not something either you or I can do. So get those men back to the Cumberland and put them into isolation. No one can have contact with them for seventy-two hours. Understand Captain. That is an order you cannot afford to question” Tom Bolten said slowly.
“Understood.” The voice from the Cumberland replied sounding confused.
“I want an update on their condition every eight hours. Good luck Captain.”
The Captain of the Cumberland stood stunned as he listened to the phone go dead in his ears.
He had not been in on the briefing with the Pentagon. The fewer people that knew what was going on with China, the better. This was the first the Captain of the Cumberland had heard about a situation in China.
The fact that command would even mentioned the possibility that it would think about leaving his men behind and abandoned scared the hell out of him. There was more going on than he was being told. That was life in the Navy. He accepted the fact he was only told what the Navy felt he needed to know.
He couldn’t help but feel he was not being told something that he really should know about.
But now he had a ship to worry about. He hung up the phone and picked up the mic. “Scout, reply!”
Davis punched his mic as his body began to sweat. He shivered all over despite the warm wind blowing in off the South China Sea.
“Scout here.”
“Scout, get your team off that boat and return to base. The Chinese will pick up the survivors. Confirm.”
“Confirmed.” Davis said as he let the mic fall back against his uniform. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He used his sleeve to wipe at his eyes to clear his vision.
“OK, let’s go home.” Davis said as he glanced around at his team.
There were no complaints from anyone except for the loud unintelligible sounds that came from the cabin.
They all started for the side of the boat to climb the netting back to the skimmer.
Everyone except for Carlson. He just stood and stared at the cabin door.
“Carlson. Move your ass!” Davis yelled.
Carlson slowly moved his head and looked at Davis.
“You OK Carlson?” Davis asked.
“I don’t know.” Carlson replied, his speech slurred. “I feel weird.”
“Tell me about it.” Davis replied. “Get in the skimmer. You can go see the doc when we get back.”
Carlson staggered as he shuffled his feet, following the others to get back on the skimmer so they could go back to the Cumberland.
Lieutenant Paulson climbed down the ladder and hopped off the last rung, landing in the passage way that would take him back to the sick bay.
He had the urge to go have a smoke and let the sounds of the landing fighters help clear his mind.
He had a lot of thinking to do if they were going to get through this situation.
He had been in the Navy for twenty years. He had served as a ship’s doctor on carriers during both Gulf Wars. He had seen the casualties of war during his time with the Navy, but he had never felt like this. He had never faced an invincible enemy before.
The possibility of facing defeat was never a feeling he had faced before. If what the Captain had told him was true and he had no reason to doubt the Captain. If anything, the severity of the situation had been sugar coated and they were in even deeper shit than what he was led to believe.
The jumbled mess of information running through his head would not help him come up with any productive ideas.
A smoke and a little mind clearing would be helpful, but first he needed to get an update on his patients.
He walked quickly to sick bay. He came to the entrance to the sick bay. He swung the lever on the hatch to the right and pushed the door into the room as he stepped over the curved bottom of the hatch as he went inside.
He suddenly stopped as the strong smell of ammonia and the copper smell of blood assaulted his nose.
He stood still, temporarily stunned by the unexpected odor.
As his mind recovered from the shock, he began to notice the dark red streaks that covered the walls.
He quickly glanced at the beds in the sick bay. The beds where his patients had been were now empty.
As he looked at the empty beds, his thoughts now an even more confused jumble of meaningless information, he heard a sound. The sound was familiar. A picture of the hot shot fighter pilots from the 107th tossing down a meal in thirty seconds so they could rush up on deck to be catapulted off the carrier for a mission, came to mind. Those guys were great pilots but they had absolutely no table manners. Watching them eat was enough to ruin a person’s appetite. How they kept it all down while being subjected to 7 G’s was beyond him. He pushed the door open further, half expecting to see the group of pilots eating dinner at his desk.
Instead he saw the Petty Officer bent down, blood running off his chin as he pulled the intestines from the unmoving dead body of his assistant Bill.
The rest of his former patients busied themselves by tearing off chunks of flesh from other areas of Bill’s body.
Bob Paulson doubled over and began throwing up. Vile smelling red and brown liquids splattered across the floor in front of him.
Bob could barely see from the tears that flooded his burning eyes.
He
planted his hands on the floor as his knees hit the floor to balance himself to keep from falling on his face.
As his hands slid in the foul smelling vomit on the floor in front of him, Bob’s body heaved as a sickening yellow liquid hit the floor and splashed over his hands.
He couldn’t believe he still had anything left in his stomach to throw up.
Bob caught motion from the corner of his eyes. He slowly moved his head and saw the blurry shapes moving in his direction.
He tried to stand, but stumbled backwards and fell over the hatch and ended up on his back in the middle of the narrow passageway outside of sick bay.
The most unbelievable inhuman moans started to come from inside the sick bay.
Bob struggled to get to his hands and knees. He reached up and grabbed the lever on the hatch and pulled the door closed. He slid the lever in place, only letting go when he heard the latch click into place, locking the door.
Bob fell back on the floor and pushed himself away from the door until his back was firmly against the wall across from the sick bay hatch.
He stopped struggling and let his body fall limp as fear twisted his features as he stared at the door. Slow rhythmic pounding sounded on the other side of the door.
He stared at the door, barely able to believe what he had just seen. It was a scene out of a late night horror film.
The last time he had seen anything like this, he was drunk on his ass watching Night of the Living Dead.
Being drunk and knowing it was only a movie, it had little effect on him at the time. He wished he was drunk now, anything to give him an excuse to write off what he had just seen as another work of fiction being presented for his entertainment.
After what he had just seen, he wasn’t sure if a bottle of scotch would have any effect on him at all.
He thought he was going to go totally insane, but movement and horrifying sounds from down the passage near the lab distracted him.
He reluctantly turned his head to look towards the lab.
One by one, grotesque bodies dressed in bloody shredded white lab coats fell over the bottom of the hatch and into the hallway. Even as they fell and bounced on the metal deck, their eyes never lost their focus on Bob.
They struggled to get to their feet. One of his former lab techs didn’t bother to try and get to his feet. He just began to crawl in Bob’s direction. Its eyes locked onto Bob. It opened its mouth. Dark red blood flew from its mouth as it let out a loud groan.
Bob got to his feet and staggered down the corridor, bouncing against the walls as he frantically tried to make it to the ladder that would take him up to the next level and away from the arms that were reaching for him. From the eyes that were burning a hole through him. From the jaws that were snapping opened and closed in anticipation of biting into him.
Bob felt like he was running through a field of quicksand. He strained and pushed, but he felt like he was moving in slow motion. His body didn’t want to move. He was starting to panic as the sounds behind him grew louder and closer behind him.
Finally his hand latched onto one of the rungs on the ladder.
Bob frantically pulled himself up to the next rung as the hands on his legs tried to pull him back down into the groaning and the sound of snapping teeth below.
“One more rung” he thought as he moved up the ladder. The open hatch was just above him. Instead of feeling relieved, it scared the hell out of him and he hesitated.
He had only hesitated for a second, but it was a second he didn’t have to spare.
He screamed as something bit into the calf of his right leg.
He screamed even louder as the teeth in his leg pulled away as their owner fell to the deck below, taking with them a large bloody chunk of his leg.
The quick surge of adrenaline gave him the strength to pull himself up through the hatch.
Bob Paulson crawled a few feet down the corridor then collapsed on the deck and passed out.
Chapter 4
One week later.
John picked up the remote and changed the TV to channel 11, the NBC affiliate in his area.
He sat on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees as he nervously leaned forward and stared at the screen. He pushed the channel button and the TV changed to CBS.
John rocked back and forth as he pushed the button on the remote again, now he was looking at the screen for channel 4, the ABC station.
All the channels had the same thing. A dull gray screen with the words, “Emergency Broadcast Alert” across the top of the screen in red letters, but nothing else.
The drone of the robotic mechanical voice, “This is a National Emergency Alert,” had stopped two days ago. Today, even the scrolling message that moved across the bottom of the screen was gone.
The absence of the scrolling message was no big loss. It had the same message running for the last two days. “Marshall Law has been declared. Stay in your homes. The National Guard has instructed that all highways are to be used by emergency vehicles only. Remain in your homes until you receive further instructions.”
John and his family had waited in their home.
The last bit of useful information was four days ago. The information wasn’t really useful. It didn’t tell them what to do or what to expect next, but at least it gave them something more than the fact there was an emergency and to wait for more instructions.
The first indication of a problem was something about riots in China. John thought that was strange. He thought that rioting was unique to America. Americans seemed to riot over anything. They would spend years buying and fixing up a house. They would buy a nice car and nice furniture. Then someone would say something to offend them or something would happen that they didn’t like. The next thing you knew, they would burn down their house and blow up their car. Then they would bitch to the government that they needed help to buy a new house and a new car. That sure didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense.
Apparently America didn’t have a monopoly on stupidity. With the world economies becoming intertwined, China appeared to have begun to adopt some of the West’s behaviors.
John had felt the reports were concerning, but not too disturbing. That was in China. What was the worst that could affect him, Walmart would have to import stuff to sell from India or Vietnam instead of China. No big deal.
Maybe something good would come from all of that. We might actually have to start making these things in the U.S. again. New factory jobs in the U.S. would be a good thing. It would be good as long as the workers didn’t demand $100,000 salaries to make $5.00 products. It could end up being good for everyone.
The next day the reports started to become alarming. Apparently war was breaking out in Asia. Someone dropped a nuke. It had been over eighty years since anyone had dropped a nuke. The U.S. had mutual defense packs with Japan, South Korea, Australia, and a lot of other countries in the South Pacific. John knew it wouldn’t take much to draw the U.S. into a major war. Everyone had missiles and nukes now days. There were a lot of countries that was just looking for an excuse to use their weapons.
The next day reports of rioting on the West Coast of the U.S. were the major headlines. No surprise there. Apparently the fighting in Asia had offended some of the people in California and they decided the best way to protest was to burn down their house and blow up their neighbor’s car. People were crazy. At least it would take a lot more than a war in Asia to get the people on the East Coast to burn down their own home. In fact, no one in Ligonier, Pennsylvania had ever burned down their own home, at least not intentionally.
That night all the major networks went off the air, replaced by the creepy looking National Emergency Alert message.
John wasn’t able to even find any radio stations that were still broadcasting.
This was when things started to get scary.
The Emergency Broadcast, in its mechanical voice, reported emergencies in New York, Washington, DC, Boston, Atlanta, Miami and Charlotte. It
didn’t give any reason what the emergency was about, just that no one was to try and travel to these cities.
There were no news clips to show what was going on in these cities, just don’t go there.
John had worried that maybe someone had decided to drop a nuke on these cities. If that wasn’t the reason, he was sure that the emergency was that everyone in these cities had decided to burn down their own homes in protest of something.
After three days of being instructed to stay in his home until given further instructions, John decided to go into town. He lived about three miles north of Ligonier. His food was running low and he wanted to find out if anyone else knew anything about what was going on.
Maybe he was too accustomed to listening to the radio and TV for information and he had overlooked some other alternative that would have told him exactly what was happening. He didn’t know what that would be, because if he knew he wouldn’t be asking himself this question. He had tried the computer, but when the networks went off the air, so did his WiFi connection.
His cell phone still seemed to be working, but he didn’t know who to call. Directory assistance didn’t answer anymore so he didn’t have the phone number of any place that might be able to tell him anything.
He had his brother Mike’s number, but he was on vacation and his call to Mike went straight to voice mail. Mike had taken his family and had gone to some state park in Kentucky that didn’t have any cell phone reception. Maybe when he was on his way home, he would get the message and call him back.
John had left Mike four messages to call him right away. He told him that he thought the world had gone crazy and he should call him as soon as he got his message.
He wasn’t expecting to hear from Mike anytime soon. Mike didn’t like phones and seldom turned on his cell phone.
Hopefully Mike would be curious after a week without cell phone reception and turn his phone on to see if he had received any calls.