The Plague Years (Book 1): Hell is Empty and All the Devils Are Here

by Rounds, Mark

  “Hey,” said Dave. Heather had already brewed a pot of coffee and he took advantage of it.

  “Hey yourself,” said Heather.

  “Anything happen last night?” asked Dave as he sat down next to her. He had his Ruger Redhawk in .44 Magnum with a 6 inch barrel in a shoulder rig. Dave had never really cared for the big .44 as it was heavy and awkward to fire quickly but he was running out of firearms. Fiona now carried his beloved Browning Hi-Power and for a backup rifle he had his Ruger Mini-14 was in the corner of the room with the big .338 Lapua in a case, saved for special occasions as he had less than a hundred rounds of the expensive 300 grain match grade ammunition. Everyone was jittery and staying armed.

  “Yeah, it was really wild,” said Heather with a yawn. About 4:40, a cat crossed the lawn. He was a shifty eyed ginger tabby at that.”

  “Yeah, they are the worst,” said Dave with a smile.

  “I heard the generator kick on a bit ago,” said Heather conversationally.

  “It happens every few hours,” said Dave. “The gaps without power are longer and longer though. I need to …”

  His thought was interrupted by sound of the fence alarm going off. Dave had installed some motion sensors along the backyard barbed wire and plywood fence they had built for the party. They were battery powered and so even with the power off, they would work for a bit.

  “Heather, you watch the front,” said Dave as he got up. “I will check and see if that shifty tabby cat is messing with the sensors.”

  “You do that,” said Heather with a smile.

  Dave walked back through the kitchen and peer out into the yard just in time to see a large man in biker leathers tumble over the fence. He was followed by two others. Dave drew his Ruger and went out the back door and fired a round into the ground. The report had the desired effect of waking the Stricklands and most of his neighbors as a bonus.

  The first biker looked up and visible lesions and bite marks were apparent on his face and exposed skin. The second biker was similarly infected.

  “Stop!” shouted Dave, “Or I’ll fire!”

  “Go ahead,” said the second biker grimly. “You think you’re a badass, but we’ll get you!”

  Dave needed no more coaxing. He fired slowly three times having to reacquire the target each time as the recoil from the heavy revolver disrupted the sight picture. The first biker stumbled and fell allowing Dave to shift his fire to the second. Meanwhile, Amber began firing Dave’s Benelli from rear window of the den which she had been sharing with Chris. The shotgun fire took the first biker as he began to stand and slapped him back on the ground.

  Chris came charging out of the den with a tactical vest and not much else and began to fire with his AR-15 through the kitchen window. Over at the Strickland’s fire erupted from the back deck. Dave glanced over and saw Chad taking cover behind his fancy stone barbecue and firing rapidly at the bikers who were now come over the fence in small groups, one and two at a time. Most were armed with knives and chains, but a few were carrying pistols. So far the responding fire was sparse and ill aimed.

  Then Dave heard Heather’s 30-30 opened up from the front of the house. He grabbed the Mini-14 that was his backup gun and ran to the front room. Out front at least twenty chopped Harleys were visible, having come up as the firing started at the rear of the house distracting everyone. Mary and Connor were firing from windows in the front of their house. The siding from both of their homes was taking a beating as some of the bikers started firing pistols and a couple of shotguns as they ran up toward the house. Because the running affected their aim, they were taking out siding, gutters, and windows but the actual number of rounds that were close to target was small.

  Dave was watching them and trying to figure out where he could be of the most use when his own front door burst open and he was confronted by a tall, wiry man wearing tattered leathers and carrying a baseball bat. Dave reversed the rifle and butt stroked the man in the face, the iron butt plate of the rifle focusing the blow to his cheek and nose. As he stumbled back, Dave fired four times from the hip at the man’s midsection. As the biker stumbled back down the steps, Dave took up a kneeling position in the door and began firing as fast as he could at the bikers.

  Then something happened that chilled Dave to the bone. The wood in the door jamb above his head exploded forcing him back in the house. This was the first time Dave could recall that the infected had used a rifle for aimed fire. Enough of them carried personal weapons like pistols or knives and a few had shotguns, but Chad said that the disease affected people’s cognitive ability. It was hard for them to figure out that they needed even the most basic necessities in life and as the infection progressed, they retained fewer and fewer possessions. Weapons often were in that category. Those really far gone were nearly naked.

  Dave looked out the dining room window and saw an apparently healthy looking black man wearing a tactical vest crouching behind Christi Howeland’s Ford Fusion firing on the house with a M-4 carbine.

  Shotgun blasts from the Stricklands broke most of the glass in the Fusion and he recoiled back from the car. Subsequent shotgun rounds staggered him though they did not penetrate his body armor. It gave Dave the time he needed to line up a shot. He fired three times quickly, taking the man in the head and neck.

  Out of the Stricklands’ front door someone, Dave suspected Connor, threw a one quart mayonnaise jar with a burning rag sticking out. It was filled with a mixture of two parts gasoline and one part liquid laundry detergent. The result was a poor man’s napalm that Dave had used during the Second Battle of Fallujah to clear out houses during the Iraq war. When it hit the nearest motorcycle, the fluid inside the bottle splattered and stuck to the cycle and the two bikers nearest to it rather than splashing before it ignited.

  Both the bikers and the motorcycle burst into flames. The bikers screamed but still charged Connor who was now standing in the door. He was able to grab his shotgun and firing twice from the hip, knocked the first biker to the ground. Connor pumped the action of the shotgun a third time and pulled the trigger aiming at the second biker but only heard the clack of a firing pin striking an empty chamber. He struggled to reload the shotgun but retreated in terror as the burning, screaming biker slowly climbed the stairs and entered the house.

  May 28th, Thursday, 6:02am PDT.

  Connor stumbled backwards in horror from the burning apparition in front from of him, dropping shotgun shells as he tried to reload the weapon in his shaking hands. The biker was moving very slowly now, blinded by the flames and in extreme pain but still he moved forward. Connor stepped on one of the shotgun shells he had dropped and lost his footing, falling back against the wall of the living room. That stumble gave Amy the opening she needed.

  She had been kneeling next to Connor and he had given Dave’s old .45 to her for protection but wasn’t at all sure how to use it. When Connor stumbled she aimed the weapon with two hands like Connor had shown her and began jerking the trigger. Her inexperience with firearms showed because two of the rounds hit the wood work of the door jam. One carried past the biker into the street and hit another of the motorcycles parked in the street but owing to the short range the other four rounds hit various parts of the biker slowing him down. But just when she thought she might put the biker down the .45’s slide slammed open, out of ammunition.

  Amy dropped the pistol and was scrabbling backwards and to the side, trying to get out of the way when she noticed the biker jerking and stumbling back. She looked over to the stairway leading to the basement and saw Fiona and Ginger crouched in the top and second steps respectively, Fiona with Dave’s Browning Hi-Power and Katy had Chad’s Ruger Mark II .22 target pistol. These two had been to the range often with Chad and Dave and it showed. They were firing quick aimed shots, all of which hit the biker center of mass. Katy’s .22 ran out of ammo first and then a few seconds later, so did Fiona, but incredibly, even after at least twenty-six pistol rounds had hit the biker, he began moving forwa
rd again.

  But the girls had bought Connor the time he needed. Dropping the shotgun, Connor grabbed Jason’s aluminum baseball bat he had retrieved from Heather’s, and utilizing ten years muscle memory starting from park and rec league baseball to high school varsity drove a line drive with the biker’s head as the ball.

  The smoldering wreck that had been a biker crashed through the door opening and out onto the lawn. Incredibly, the remains of the biker started to rise one more time but a blast from Mary Strickland’s twelve gauge ended the attempt.

  Everyone’s attention was drawn to the end of the block. Mathew Williams and several of his friends had heard the firing and had taken positions among some cars in a driveway a few doors down and had opened fire. The response from the bikers was mixed. Those more fully involved with the infection began charging the new threat from the half dozen residents down the street. Caught in a cross fire, they didn’t last long. Several of the healthier gang members tried to get on their motorcycles and get away, but fire from the Strickland’s, including Connor with his now reloaded shotgun and Amy with her .45, was able to take down a few of them and hurry the rest on their way.

  Dave hobbled over to the black man in the tactical vest. On his way, he waved at Chad who was just coming out his front door beckoning him to follow. Chad stepped over the still smoldering bodies in his front yard, visibly shaken.

  They arrived at the side of the apparent agent provocateur and found to their amazement that he was still alive. Of Dave’s three rounds, one had bounced off of his helmet, one had passed through his jaw and out through his cheek, and one had passed through his neck without hitting anything immediately vital. His vest was peppered with buckshot and he had several small wounds from pellets in his arms and legs.

  Dave grabbed the man’s vest and shook him.

  “Who the hell are you!” shouted Dave into the man’s blood covered face.

  “Doesn’t matter now,” said the man coughing. “I was once called Derek, but no longer.”

  “What were you doing helping those infected bikers?” asked a calmer Chad.

  “One of the ‘Chosen’ resides here,” said Derek coughing again. “They were to help me capture her.”

  “You can trust them?” asked an incredulous Dave.

  “We will all be infected before long,” said Derek, quieter now. “The ‘Chosen’, they will be our only hope. I am infected also but I am a carrier. They listen to me. I will not die, At least not from the disease anyway.”

  David dropped Derek as if he was hot and Derek began coughing again. Apparently one of the rounds had damaged his windpipe and then deflected down into his chest and lungs. He was breathing in a lot of blood and slowly drowning in it.

  “How did you know where to find her?” asked Chad urgently but the only answer he got was more coughing. Derek was curled up into the fetal position and was struggling to breath. Chad kicked Derek hard in the ribs, more from frustration than anything else.

  “How did you know where to find her?” asked Chad more intently.

  “They sent a text …” said Derek. The effort brought another fit of violent coughing. Then after the coughing had again subsided, “that’s all I know … I am but a soldier in this war.”

  The next sound everyone heard was the report of Dave’s .44. The big slug ended Derek’s coughing forever. This close, the report deafened Chad’s ears that were already ringing from the firefight.

  “Why the hell did you do that?” asked Chad heatedly.

  “You want him to blab to your neighbors about your new house guest?” said Dave indicating the approach of Matt Williams and the rest of the neighbors. “Besides, there was no way to save his life this side of a trauma center and they are full to bursting. But think about it, after our neighbors found out who these guys were after, how long do you think it would be before they ganged up and ran us out of town, like that poor drunk?”

  “Dave, some days I don’t know what’s inside there,” said Chad pointing at Dave’s chest.

  “Sometimes I don’t either,” said Dave quietly.

  “We heard the shooting and came out to see what was going on,” said Matt Williams once they had closed the distance. “Who are these guys anyway?”

  “More of the bikers like we ran off yesterday,” said Dave evenly. “Apparently someone let the word out about the party we had. They were after food, wine, and probably our guns if they won. We appreciate the help.”

  “Yeah, well it wouldn’t have been so good for us if they got your guns,” said Matt. We need to help each other, right?”

  “Absolutely,” said Dave.

  “Do you guys want his guns?” asked one of the men timidly while pointing at Derek. He was holding a boy’s bolt action .22 rifle and it was clear it was the only weapon he had.

  “The guy is infected,” said Chad. “I don’t want to touch them, but if you need them, get some vinyl gloves and strip the rifle and the pistol down to parts and soak them in gasoline or something.”

  “Yeah, Ok,” said the man uncertainly.

  “What about the bodies?” said Matt. “We can’t leave them here; there must be fifteen of them in the street.”

  “And about that many behind the house,” said Chad. “They must have come through the Munsen’s yard. You suppose the Munsens are OK?”

  “Munsen and his wife left three days ago for their cabin in Idaho,” said Matt.

  “I hope they made it,” said Chad.

  May 28th, Thursday, 9:12am PDT.

  It had taken over two hours to pile all of the bodies at the end of the street. Chris had called for backup but all he got was a curious request to meet for a meeting at 1:00 pm from his boss. The no one picked up the phone at the County Coroner’s office or at the Public Health office. About that time the phones went down again. In the end, the neighbors got together and moved the bodies to a central pile at the end of the street.

  One of the neighbors had a lawn tractor and with everyone helping, they got all of them stacked. They had used some of their precious gasoline to burn the places that had soaked up blood from the infected corpses hoping to control the infection.

  In the end, Dave had helped the man with the .22 clean and disinfect the rifle and pistol that Derek had been carrying because it took more than a little guts to face a bunch of infected bikers with a .22.

  It was a subdued assemblage that sat in Chad’s kitchen trying to make sense of what had happened.

  “Folks, I’d like to thank you, all of you for opening your homes to us,” said Chris slowly, “but I think it’s time for Amber and me to move on. I have a meeting to go to for the Highway Patrol during which I will resign and take Amber somewhere. I can’t in good conscience endanger you folks any more. I figure we could go to Michigan, I have family there.”

  “I’ll hear no more talk like that,” said Mary sternly. “Of course we weren’t going to ask you to leave and Chris, you should be ashamed for even thinking it.”

  “It’s a noble thing to do,” said Dave, “but it likely won’t help us.”

  “We’ll just pack up and go,” said Amber. “We will be gone in an hour and then they would have no reason to keep coming after me.”

  “Let’s say you did leave,” said Dave quietly. “Let’s say we posted a sign out front that said ‘Bon Voyage Chris and Amber, Enjoy Michigan’. Do you think that these guys, whoever they are, would buy that? The only way they will quit will be when they kill all of us and sort through the bodies. There have been two attacks so far. I count that first one because, looking back, it had to be a recon. That’s why they had what, maybe fifty guys in that last one along with a guy with a rifle to snipe at the right time. If he had been a better shot or Connor and Mary and been less observant, they might have taken us all down.

  “Besides, you guys are handy in a fight,” continued Dave with a wan smile. “Bad folks were bound to come after us when they found out we had food when the grocery stores went dry. Now, they know we are a toug
h nut to crack. The local crowd will stay away.”

  “I still can’t figure out how they found her so quickly,” said Chris scratching his head. “We haven’t told anyone, not Amber’s mom, my folks, nothing.”

  “”It may have been me,” said Chad with a heavy heart. “You guys know I called Dr. Grieb, the epidemiologist I used to work with. I thought I was pretty careful, avoiding keywords and names and he promised me he would keep this close to the vest but there are two possibilities.

  “One, that Terry blabbed to someone. I have known him for fifteen years and I can’t imagine that he would do that knowingly.

  “The other is more sinister. I suspect that the NSA and other governmental organizations have the bandwidth to look at the meta data of a phone call, you know, who the parties are and all, and if there are certain keywords in the conversation, they can come up with a match. Thinking back, I suspect, now, that I am on a watch list to get extra scrutiny as I have pissed off a few of the wrong people. Either way, it’s the only thing I can think of that might have given Amber away. I am sorry.”

  “If they were looking that hard, they would have found something,” said Chris. “Maybe one of the guests at the party recognized Amber. She had been a deputy around here for a while. Maybe they would have said something, and I am probably higher on the watch list than you. It was a rumor, while we were employed that I had a crush on Amber. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist or even a math guy like you to put that one together. Anyway, I won’t forget that you took us in when most folks would have run us out of town.”

  “So what does all that mean?” asked Mary. “Will they be back?”

  “I don’t know, probably,” said Chad quietly.

  Chapter 18

  May 28th, Thursday, 1:00 pm PDT.

  Chris had washed up and had made it to the station where his boss, Lieutenant Miller, had called the meeting. Chris had gotten there just on time and so hadn’t had a chance to chat with his colleagues before Lieutenant Miller began to speak.