The Zombie Principle

by David R Vosburgh

  “Get down and don’t look!” Kim screamed at her children.

  She reached behind and pushed her kids’ heads down towards the backseat. She turned back around, turned the car on and put it in drive. Before stepping on the gas, she could not help but look in the rear view window. Her husband was nowhere in sight beneath the mass of bodies doing unspeakable things to him. She stared in horror but could not look away, holding onto the slimmest of hopes that Marcus could somehow fight his way out of it.

  Those hopes were dashed when the tallest of the men stood back up and turned to face the car. His mouth covered in what could only have been Marcus’ blood. She had her foot on the gas pedal before he could take even one step in her direction. The tires squealed as she and her two kids pulled out of the driveway and moved down the street.

  As she headed toward I-95 and what she hoped would be the safety of her parent’s house she thought of the last words Marcus said to her. “‘Get the kids to your mother’s house’ and ‘it’s 2-3-6-6’. What in the world did 2-3-6-6 mean?”

  Chapter 6

  Major Charles “Butch” Bradley

  “Sir, the helos will be here in about ten minutes,” said Captain Morris.

  “Alright, make sure the civilians are ready near the tarmac,” replied Major Bradley as he smoothed out the map lying before him on the table.

  Major Charles “Butch” Bradley, an army lifer, made a name for himself during the North Korean War of 2017 leading his men in battle. Wounded twice and receiving the Silver Star for valor, Bradley quickly progressed through the post war ranks until he stalled out at Major due to his refusal to play army politics. Major Bradley was an imposing figure with stern features who demanded the best from the men he commanded while also inspiring their personal loyalty. His leadership and no nonsense style was one of the reasons he had been left to finish the evacuation of Washington D.C.

  “I don’t know how it ever came to this,” Major Bradley thought to himself as he looked at the operational map of the United States east of the Mississippi River.

  No one had been prepared for this, whatever ‘this’ was. The people up the chain of command who were supposed to have the answers still had very little idea about what was happening. The government’s response, and in turn the military’s, to the crisis had been unsurprisingly slow. The higher Major Bradley had risen in the ranks, the more frustrated he had become with the inability to get anything done quickly. Everything required the meddling of government officials and approval by committee. It had not been any different with the current situation.

  Because he refused to play politics and take sides, Major Bradley was assigned as the liaison between the Army and the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) when the first reports had surfaced out of Miami. At first, the Army and DHS did not give the events a second look. Local law enforcement and media outlets described it as a local gang war spilling into the streets of Miami.

  However, this quickly proved not to be the case. By the end of the first day, the city of Miami was in chaos. Reports of roving bands of people attacking bystanders surfaced and the residents of Miami were warned to stay in their homes by local officials. Then the looting began, people taking advantage of the situation for their own personal gain. The following day the Mayor of Miami requested assistance from the National Guard. As usual, bureaucracy got in the way and the National Guard did not deploy until Miami was a complete loss.

  At this point DHS was contacted. There were reports of, not only major rioting, but of a large number of people who reportedly had been attacked and bitten by others. DHS dragged its heels unwilling to get involved in another local problem; they did, however, decide not to disclose the latest developments to the public. They only acknowledged that some unknown condition was responsible for mass hysteria in the area. It was then that Major Bradley had been notified by his superiors of peculiar reports from the Florida National Guard. These reports corroborated the information from local law enforcement that the civilian population was turning on one another in an almost cannibalistic fashion.

  After these reports the government, in conjunction with the military, issued a warning of possible terrorist attacks targeting the affected area’s water supply. It was then that the term ‘the infected’ was first used to refer to those seen attacking and biting others. The Army, fearful of additional biological attacks, began to mobilize its bio-terrorism units. At the same time Major Bradley was tasked with coordinating the Army’s actions with those that DHS might be preparing to take.

  By the time DHS had begun mobilizing, there was no communication from Miami and reports were flooding in that similar attacks were beginning to take place in Tampa and Orlando. The Army finally started to deploy small advance forces in Florida but these were soon overwhelmed with the fleeing civilians, rioters, and the infected.

  As more reports flooded in, Major Bradley was stuck in Washington trying fruitlessly to coordinate a response between the Army and DHS. Completely unorganized and unprepared, the government continued to deny that the crisis was significant enough to warrant extensive federal intervention. Discussions on how to deal with the problem and limit collateral damage contributed greatly to the inaction.

  On more than one occasion Major Bradley sat in on a meeting where one side wanted to go in with guns blazing while the other was very concerned about civilian casualties and infrastructure damage. By the time a compromised response was agreed upon and implemented, most of the major cities and towns in the southeast were over run. By then, reports were starting to filter in from Arkansas, Tennessee, the Carolinas, and Georgia of cases matching those first reported in Florida.

  Then the biggest obstacle Major Bradley was dealing with, besides the unknown, was panic. Ever since the reports had first surfaced in Florida, despite the government’s best efforts, rumors had started to fly about what was happening. These rumors, running unchecked, caused fear not only in the civilian population but also among the enlisted ranks of the military and police forces. Desertions had skyrocketed as soldiers left their posts, taking weapons and ammunition with them, to head home and protect their families. This severely hamstrung the military response as whole units were gutted including commanding officers. To make matters worse, the strain on the electrical and telecommunication infrastructure had caused major power failures and loss of communication. With so many people warned to stay home, as well as those directly affected by the outbreak, there were very few people left to maintain or repair these vital systems. The looting and rioting did nothing to improve the overall situation. The problem had become so wide spread that all military and emergency communication were being done via antiquated shortwave radios; and those were in short supply.

  Two days ago when all communication ceased with forces deployed in Richmond, Virginia the decision was made to evacuate Washington D.C. and move the government to the secure base at NORAD. After the President, members of Congress and other high ranking government and military officials were clear of Washington, Major Bradley was ordered to stay behind and finish the evacuations of the civilian population. For the past two days the small force under his command was moving through the city clearing out the few civilians who had not already fled. Those who could not get out on their own were brought back to Andrews Air Force base where Major Bradley had his headquarters. From here they were picked up by transport helicopter and flown to newly constructed Red Cross camps out west.

  Now, as Major Bradley reviewed his map he thought to himself. “How could the world’s most powerful military fail to contain this outbreak?”

  Shaking his head he turned from his map and surveyed his headquarters, if it could be called that. The small room just off the main hanger at Andrews had been hastily converted to Major Bradley’s base of operations during the evacuation of D.C. After the government and military officials had gone, he could have had his pick of any of the offices but in typical fashion thought it a waste of time and resources to move his headquarters. Now, m
ost of the equipment from the room had been packed into the Humvees waiting just inside the hanger. All that remained in the room was a small table covered in maps and a shortwave radio set up in the corner.

  “As soon as the helos arrive I want that radio equipment in the Humvees,” Major Bradley said to his radio operator.

  “Yes sir,” replied Specialist Simmons as he put the radio headset back on.

  The door opened and Captain Morris rushed in. Struggling to catch his breath he said, “Sir … sorry sir … the civilians are ready.”

  “Very good Captain, you ok?” replied Major Bradley as Captain Morris doubled over gasping for air.

  “Give me a minute sir,” wheezed Captain Morris.

  After he had caught his breath he continued. “Sir, the civilians are fine and the helos are inbound but the sentries at the north gate say those things are getting closer. I think they know we’re here sir.”

  “It was only a matter of time Captain. Tell the guards not to fire unless absolutely necessary. We know noise attracts those things. Then make sure the convoy is ready to go the minute the civilians are off the ground. We’ll pick the guards up on the way out,” Major Bradley said.

  “Yes sir,” said Captain Morris giving a quick salute before heading back out, the door slamming behind him.

  “Never mind what I said before Simmons, go ahead and pack the stuff up and get it to the convoy,” said Major Bradley as he collected his maps from the table.

  Looking over the small room one last time to make sure he did not need anything else, Major Bradley headed into the expansive hanger outside the office. It was a buzz of activity and noise as the soldiers were trying to prepare the civilians for departure. Everyone was talking, orders were being shouted, and children were crying. He barely concealed a look of frustration as he surveyed the scene before him. The far side of the hanger was a less chaotic scene as other soldiers under Major Bradley’s command went about preparing the convoy.

  At the last minute, Major Bradley had been informed that his command would not be flown out of Andrews but instead would leave on a convoy. The reason given was twofold. First, due to the amount of evacuations being performed along the East Coast helicopter extractions were in high demand. Second, his commanders wanted him to look for any remaining civilians around D.C. which could be evacuated. Major Bradley was also told in no uncertain terms that his men should not have a problem fighting their way out if need be.

  For the past two hours the members of Major Bradley’s command had been scouring the base for vehicles, weapons, and fuel for the convoy. Besides the four Humvees that his men had arrived in four days earlier, they had found a couple of two and a half ton cargo trucks and a refueling truck. His men had surprised him by taking the initiative and filling the refueling truck by syphoning the diesel out of every available source on the base.

  In terms of armament, his men had their standard issue weapons ranging from M4 rifles to larger S.A.W. machine guns. Several of the men also had their own personal side arms. Each of the four Humvees was equipped with a 50 caliber machine gun. A couple of his men had found the air base’s armory and had taken extra rifles and what little ammunition was left. From a military stand point Major Bradley was appalled. He had an ill equipped and undersupplied patch work unit, with no intelligence of what to expect and only the vaguest of orders to go by.

  Major Bradley’s plan was to leave with the convoy the minute the helicopters left. They would then travel north on the D.C. Outer Loop from the airbase looking for any civilians who needed help evacuating the area. Once northwest of D.C., the convoy would head towards Fredrick, Maryland; their destination would be one of the few remaining evacuation zones in the region, Fredrick Municipal Airport. Military transports were scheduled to be making around the clock evacuation flights as long as it was safe to do so.

  The sound of helicopters landing brought Major Bradley’s attention back to the task at hand. Seeing Captain Morris approaching the hanger at a run, Major Bradley headed his way.

  “Is everything alright Captain?” ask Major Bradley.

  “No sir, those things definitely know where we are. They are starting to congregate outside the north gate. Enough of them will quickly push through the temporary barrier we erected. The guards have orders to hold until the last possible minute and then displace back here, taking out as many of those things as they can.”

  As if to emphasize Captain Morris’ point the sound of gun fire erupted from the direction of the north gate.

  “Sounds like they’ve breached the barrier, Captain get these civilians on the helicopters now! We’ll cover you with the convoy. Once they are wheels up we’ll bug out of here,” Major Bradley ordered.

  With a quick salute Captain Morris turned around and began herding the civilians towards the waiting helicopters. Major Bradley headed towards the convoy pulling his M9 from his hip holster.

  “Mount up men,” he shouted, “We need to buy these civies some time.”

  With a shout his men leapt into action. They ran to their assigned vehicles, drawing and checking their weapons in the process. The convoy’s engines came to life almost drowning out the distinctive sound of the gunners cocking their 50 caliber machine guns. Jumping on the running board of the lead Humvee Major Bradley directed the convoy past the frightened civilians and into a blocking position between the helicopters and the north gate. As the gate’s guards arrived at a full run behind them, Major Bradley could make out the distinctive movement of the infected that had crashed the gate.

  “Alright men, we just need to hold them until the helos are off the ground. Make your shots count and remember aim for the head. That is the only thing that seems to bring these things down.”

  With that, Major Bradley jumped from the Humvee, gun still in his hand, and jogged to the nearest Chinook helicopter. As he reached one of the crew members, at the rear loading ramp helping people into the helicopter, the sounds of gun fire erupted behind him as his men began to engage the infected.

  “You guys almost done here?” asked Major Bradley.

  “Yes sir this is the last of them,” replied the warrant officer.

  “Good, get these birds in the air quick. Oh, and one more thing. The municipal airport in Frederick is still open for evacuations, correct?”

  “The last I heard it still was sir. After we drop this load off, that is where we are headed next.”

  “Sounds good, my convoy will be headed there with any other civilians we find along the way. Just make sure you don’t leave us,” Major Bradley said with a small smile as he clapped the warrant officer on the shoulder.

  “Yes sir. We’ll see you there,” was the reply as the warrant officer followed the last civilian up the ramp and into the helicopter.

  With a salute he punched a button and the loading ramp began to close. As Major Bradley jogged back to the convoy, head ducked to avoid the prop wash, he heard the Chinooks engine’s power up and felt the wind as they lifted off the ground.

  Ahead of him his men looked like kids at a shooting gallery at the state fair. They stood next to, behind, and on top of the trucks shooting at the infected people who seemed to be coming from everywhere in front of them.

  Reaching the lead Humvee Major Bradley yelled, “Cease fire, cease fire.”

  As the gun fire slowly stopped Major Bradley opened the passenger side door and stepped up on the running board. Seeing the rest of his men, including Captain Morris, mount up in their own vehicles he motioned with his hand and waved the convoy forward. He sunk in to the seat, slammed the door shut and rolled down the window.

  Turning to his driver, Private Sinclair, he said, “Alright Private, let’s get out of here before we all get eaten.”

  “Yes sir!”

  “Oh, and see how many of those thing you can run over on your way out,” Major Bradley said with a hint of a smirk.

  “It would be my pleasure sir.”

  The private gunned the Humvee’s engine and with a l
urch it sped forward turning towards the main gate. About 40 bodies littered the tarmac courtesy of his men but Major Bradley still saw another several hundred more infected people shambling their way. With a sickening crunch the Humvee ran over its first victim as it picked up speed towards the gate.

  The Humvee hit several more infected before they reached the gate and crashed through the fence next to what was left of the overrun barricade. Realizing he still had his gun out but had not fired a shot, Major Bradley stuck his head and arm out the window and drew a bead on the closest infected person. As they sped by, the bullet from the Major’s gun entered the things head. It crumpled to the ground where it had stood and ceased to move.

  “Nice shot sir,” said Sinclair.

  “That was for my mother, she never made it out of her retirement home in Florida,” Major Bradley said solemnly.

  As the convoy merged onto the capital beltway heading north, Major Bradley noticed the number of abandon vehicles. Presumably from people running out of gas and being forced to leave their cars. After the electrical grid had failed most gas stations could not pump gas leaving people with only the gas left in their cars. Thankfully his men had been able to fill their fuel tanker with the diesel required by the rest of the convoy. For now, he would not have to concern himself with that.

  Turning in his seat Major Bradley said, “Simmons did you get all the radios working in the convoy vehicles?”

  “Yes sir, they should all be on the same frequency as your comms system,” replied Specialist Simmons.

  “Good work Simmons.”

  Squeezing the button on his comm link Major Bradley spoke to his men.

  “Alright men it looks like we made a clean exit from the airbase. Nice work. Now I want you all to keep an eye out for civilians. Try not to get trigger happy, sound seems to attract those things. If you see anything, report it, otherwise just follow the truck in front of you. Now I want everyone to sound off to make sure we can all communicate?”