by David Spell
Kowalski and two of his team members met in the hallway after hearing the initial boom and then the additional detonations. The marketing and HR support teams had their workspace and cubicles on the right side of the office building overlooking I-85, with fantastic views of the Atlanta skyline, of course. The IT crew got to enjoy a view of trendy Atlantic Station, an upscale outdoor mall near Turner Broadcasting and the urban Georgia Tech campus. Today, however, Paul was glad to be on the far side of the building.
When he and his two engineers approached the marketing and HR section, they could hear people crying out in pain as the street sounds and smell of smoke from outside carried in through the shattered glass. The blast had blown out several large plate glass windows right where eight employees, four men and four women from both sectors, had their cubicles. These eight people and several others had been hurt, as well.
Paul took in the bloody scene in front of him but could not comprehend what had happened. What kind of car accident could have caused an explosion of that magnitude? he wondered. He walked over to the gaping hole where the windows had been and looked down.
Kowalski tried not to look at his bleeding co-workers. Heights did not bother him but blood did. He had always been squeamish when he saw blood and was known to faint whenever his doctor needed to draw some.
The scene below was like something out of a video game or an apocalyptic movie. Cars were on fire and a couple of them were on their sides. People were scurrying around and traffic was completely shutdown on the exit ramp and on 17th Street. Smoke made it difficult to see everything that was happening.
"Paul, can you get me some paper towels?" Brian, one of his team members, was trying to staunch the blood flowing out of Terri, the cute brunette who helped clients with their social media presence. She was on the floor beside her desk and bleeding from several gaping wounds to her face and arm.
Kowalski glanced over at Terri and immediately became light-headed at the sight of so much blood. He realized the danger he was in standing so close to the shattered window and forced himself to take a step back.
"Yeah, sure," he answered, trying to will himself not to pass out. "I'll be right back."
He rushed to the restrooms in the center of their office space to get the paper towels. Without warning, another, much more powerful, explosion shook the building and shattered the rest of the glass windows, spraying slivers through the air. Six additional employees were cut down by the flying glass and infected shrapnel from the massive car bomb.
Paul was knocked to the floor by the concussion, even inside the men's room. He climbed back to his feet and stood there for a moment, breathing hard and feeling his heart pounding inside of him. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, he rushed back out to see what else had happened. The smoke from the street below swirled through the now completely open air facility. Kowalski saw the fireball from the car bomb hanging hundreds of feet in the air. Additional bodies were scattered across the office floor after the last explosion.
When he returned to Terri's cubicle, he was surprised to find the petite girl straddling the balding, middle-aged man. She was biting his face, her teeth digging into his cheek, with strange growling sounds emanating from her throat. Paul could see a gaping wound on the side of Brian's neck, his blood still pumping out of it onto the floor. The IT engineer wasn't moving. Was he dead? Paul wondered, feeling light-headed again.
A young black man, Paul couldn't remember his name, stood up from behind a desk ten feet to his right. Heyward, Kowalski remembered. Heyward with HR. That was how he remembered names. Something was wrong with Heyward. His face was covered with blood and his sharply pressed button down shirt was stained red. He was making a funny noise. It almost sounded like he was growling, too.
Paul's eyes scanned the area, trying to take it all in, when he noticed a pair of brown legs extending out from behind the desk Heyward was at. They began twitching and a young woman pulled herself up using the desk for help. Her throat had been ripped open and she was also covered in blood and gore. Her glazed eyes settled on Paul. Heyward was already walking his way. What was this? What do I do now? Kowalski dropped the paper towels on the floor and looked for a way out.
Someone was now moving to his left. Paul looked over and saw Mary growling and stumbling towards him. Her white slacks were bloody and both of her legs were injured, yet somehow she was shuffling in his direction. Mary was like everyone's second mom. She made birthday cakes for people and brought in homemade muffins and cookies at least twice a week. That was part of the reason Paul was a bit on the chubby side. Oh my God, he thought, what's wrong with Mary?
Kowalski turned and ran. He needed to find a way out of this bizarre nightmare, get to somewhere safe, and call the police. Making his way quickly to the other side of the offices, he realized that it was too late. They were already there at the entrance, as well.
Four zombie-creatures were on top of Candi, the receptionist, loudly ripping her apart in their feeding frenzy. The crunching of bones and the sound of the creature's chewing sent a wave of nausea through Paul. He had always had a secret crush on Candi but had also known that he had no chance with her. And now she was dead.
Paul was trapped. The infected were surrounding him, causing him to nearly lose his mind with panic. Think, Paul, think, where can you go? He remembered passing the storage closet when he exited the men's room and rushed back down the short hallway. He dove inside the closet and locked the heavy wooden door. He was safe. For the moment.
#
CDC HQ, Washington, D.C., Friday, 1730 hours
The large television screen on the wall was tuned to FOX news. The station was cutting back and forth between New York, DC, and Atlanta. Large computer monitors were displaying a live feed from Department of Homeland Security drones flying over each location.
The Washington CDC officers were all putting their equipment on and checking their weapons. The Atlanta team was waiting to hear from Chuck about what their next move would be. Would they assist in Washington or would they head back to Atlanta? The pressing question was, could they actually leave the capital? If the FAA shut the airports down, they might be stranded amidst the chaos in DC.
McCain was holed up in one of the offices making phone calls to his DHS contact and to Shaun Taylor, getting the latest intel from the CIA. Trang and Walker were going over a satellite map of the affected areas around the Rayburn House Office Building and the Smithsonian Institute, trying to calculate the best way to respond. Traffic was gridlocked in the entire area and emergency vehicles were still unable to reach the epicenter of the blast, or even break the periphery at this point. The first responders who had managed to get close to the scene transmitted that they were being attacked and then contact had been lost.
The federal officers were being updated moment-by-moment by the Department of Homeland Security, and it sounded like the numbers of infected were increasing exponentially and spreading out in every direction of the city. A group of over one hundred zombies were moving in the direction of the White House. Upon being advised of this imminent danger, the Secret Service sprang into action. The First Family was on Marine One within minutes and were evacuated to Camp David. The Vice-President and his family were transported to Andrews Air Force Base in nearby Maryland.
The office door opened and Chuck joined all the CDC officers in the briefing room. Tu and Jay, along with their entire squad, were prepared to move out and attempt to bring the situation under control. Eddie and his team were ready to jump in and help the Washington officers if they couldn't get back to Atlanta.
Trang was finishing up his briefing. "This is going to be a rescue mission. DHS wants us to start at the Rayburn House and secure it. We'll kill all the Zs that we can but our main goal is locating and rescuing survivors. The reports are indicating that there could already be close to a thousand or more infected moving through the city. I'm guessing that number is going to go a lot higher before we're done.
"So, let's
find the people that are hiding in the building. If they're in a safe place, we'll leave them there and radio the location in to the Metro Police. If we find survivors and it's not a defensible location, we'll have to play it by ear. We don't have the manpower to protect large groups of people out in the open."
Jay spoke up. "I just got off of the phone with the Department of Homeland Security. Everybody's jumping in to help. The Metro PD's SWAT Team is on the way, the FBI's Hostage Response Team has been mobilized, and the ATF's and DEA's tactical teams are also going to be out there. Metro SWAT is going to start at the Air and Space Museum and the FBI's HRT will start at the Capitol.
"Other than that, the DHS didn't have any specifics of where these other teams are going to be or what they were going to be doing. All they could tell me was that the President ordered every federal agency with an enforcement branch to do their part. Let's be very careful and try not to shoot any other cops. This is what we do but these other guys have stayed out of the zombie fighting business until today. We don't need any blue on blue shooting."
Tu nodded to Chuck. "What are you guys going to do?"
McCain motioned to Marshall. "Eddie, we're heading south. The FAA has grounded all flights but we got a special dispensation to fly. Tu, we've got a Blackhawk that's going to land on your roof and take us to Reagan National. The DHS was kind enough to arrange that for us. Y'all want a lift? It sounds like traffic is pretty rough and an air insertion would save you a lot of time and be a lot safer than trying to fight your way inside that big building."
"Yeah, Chuck, that would be great," Trang answered.
"Just figure out where you want him to drop you off. Their ETA is fifteen minutes."
"I was kind of hoping you guys would be grounded so you could help us," said Jay, with a smile.
"Sorry, Jay. Two officers from our other team are about to get started without us. If we don't hurry and get home, there won't be any left for the rest of us to kill."
"So, what are Andy and Scotty up to?" asked Luis.
"There's a skyscraper right next to where the bombs went off. The windows were blown out, the virus was blown in. Now, the entire twenty-three floors are crawling with zombies. There are a lot of trapped survivors and Atlanta PD can't get to them right now."
"Two guys clearing twenty-three floors?" asked LeMarcus incredulously.
"Yeah, but you don't have to worry about them," said Jimmy. "I'm a Marine and all Marines are badasses, but Andy is one of those MARSOC Marines. They're extra special badasses. And Scotty was an Army Ranger. That boy ain't happy unless he's shooting somebody or blowing something up. At the end of the day, there's going to be a lot of dead zombies and some people rescued."
#
The Wells Fargo Building, Atlanta, Georgia, 1745 hours
For the moment, he could not hear anything outside the supply closet he was hiding in. It sounded like Paul's co-workers turned zombies had migrated to the other side of the offices. There had been some terrible shrieks and screams and that awful, incessant growling. But now, there was silence. Paul Kowalski continued to sit frozen, his back against the wall, his cell phone to his ear.
Finally, after fifteen minutes, someone at the 911 Call Center answered. He told the dispatcher what was happening and where he was located. She could not give him any indication of when or even if he would be rescued. All she could tell him was that other survivors were also hiding in the building and to sit tight and wait.
Paul was having trouble thinking clearly. In a video game, you could always locate a better weapon, more ammo, grenades, and first-aid kits. Here, he was surrounded by toner, envelopes, printer paper, and staples.
A tapping at the door. Softly, but then a little louder. Then a voice. "Please, let me in."
He got to his feet and stood next to the door. What if it's a trap? Zombies can't talk or can they?
"Who is it?" he asked quietly.
"It's Maggie, from Social Media. Please open the door."
Paul took a deep breath and opened it a crack. A tear streaked face, framed with black hair, was looking back at him. He pulled the door open and Maggie rushed inside. She grabbed him and hugged him, sobbing into his shoulder.
Kowalski wasn't sure what to do. He didn't know Maggie other than the occasional "Hi" in the hallway. He awkwardly put one arm around her and patted her back, using his other hand to shut the door.
They stood that way in the supply room for a couple of minutes. He put his other arm around the girl and felt her sobs. It had been a while since he had had a girlfriend and the way things were shaping up outside, he might never have another one. The human contact was comforting and he began to feel better.
Finally, Maggie pulled away, wiping her face with both hands. "I'm sorry," she said, with an embarrassed laugh. "We've never really talked and I just threw myself at you."
Paul forced a smile. "Don't worry about it. I was crying earlier but I didn't have anybody to hold me. Let's sit down," he suggested, and they slumped to the floor, the gravity of their situation weighing heavily on both of them.
"So, what do we do now?" she asked.
"We could introduce ourselves and then I could ask you out? I'm Paul Kowalski," he said, sticking out his hand.
"What? No, I mean about this...everything that's going on. How do we get out of here?"
Paul smiled again. "I was just kidding and trying to lighten the mood a little. I'm not sure. Do you have any ideas?"
She sighed. "No, and I'm Maggie Warren," sticking out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Paul Kowalski."
"How'd you escape?" he asked. "I saw some really bad stuff. I was going to try and get out the front entrance but the doors were blocked. They had the receptionist, Candi, on the floor and...well, I knew I was trapped. They were behind me and in front of me so I ducked in here just in time."
"Call it fate, luck, or God. I don't know," replied Maggie. "I was in the break room, getting a cup of coffee, when the first explosion hit. I tried to do what I could but things got crazy fast. One of the men from HR was lying on the floor near my cubicle with blood pouring out of him. I ran back into the break room and grabbed a handful of paper towels and rushed over to him. But then I heard a guy groaning really loud and I saw Terri grab the man who was trying to help her. He was twice her size but she slammed him down on the floor and start biting his neck.
"And Heyward! Heyward jumped on that new girl and bit her to death. This was all going on at the same time. It was awful so I jumped up and ran around to the other side of the offices. I was thinking the same thing you were. Get out, but like you said, that was a no go. I saw you duck in here but I didn't think I'd make it to the closet before they got to me.
"I thought I was trapped, too, but I ran back and saw that most of them had moved to the front, where Candi was. I managed to slip behind them and get into the women's room. It locks from the inside. But, I knew you were here and I didn't want to be alone. I don't even have my phone. Maybe we'll have a better chance together?"
"I hope so," he answered. "The police weren't very reassuring. I had just spoken with a 911 operator when you knocked. She said that there are a lot of people in the building calling in but she couldn't tell me when the police would be here. She just said stay put in a safe place.
"I don't know if you were able to look outside after the first explosion. I did and it was a mess. All the roads look like they're shut down. Want to see if we can get online and find out what's happening?"
Paul pulled his large screen smart phone out of its belt holster and opened the web browser. Maggie sat next to him against the wall. The internet was abuzz with stories and videos. They stared in disbelief at the video footage coming out of Atlanta, New York, and Washington, D.C. No law enforcement agency or media outlet had a clear picture yet of exactly how the bombings had transpired or how many had occurred. Casualties were already estimated in the thousands with even more newly infected zombies making their way through the city streets.
&
nbsp; Unconfirmed reports were saying that all of the explosive devices were dirty bombs with a twist. The zombie virus and radioactive materials had been mixed and were endowing these latest infected with almost superhuman strength. A cell phone video from New York showed a zombie going after a family trapped in a van. He ripped open the side door of their minivan and killed everyone inside. Another clip, this one from DC, showed a teenage boy run down a muscular man in his thirties, tackling him. The boy easily controlled the bigger man, ripping his stomach open with his hands.
"Superhuman strength?" Maggie pointing at a news report on the screen. "I wonder if that was why Terri was able to body slam that big guy who was trying to help her?"
"That was Brian, one of my team members," Paul said, the realization that his friend and co-worker was dead.
"I'm sorry," said Maggie, looking at Paul. "I wonder if anyone got out of here or if we're the only two still alive from our company?"
Kowalski turned it off and put the phone back in the holder on his belt. They didn't speak for a few minutes, both lost in their thoughts. Paul was a good manager. His people loved him because he was always positive and knew how to say the right thing to encourage them. But, what could he possibly say to make Maggie feel better about their hopeless situation?
"You want to hear something funny?" he asked.
She looked at her new friend but didn't answer. Funny? she thought. What could possibly be funny right now?
"I was going to go home tonight and play a zombie video game," he said.
Maggie smiled, in spite of herself. "Oh, yeah? Which one?"
"The Return of the Dead."
"No way," she said, excited. "That's my new favorite game! I've been stuck on level three for two days and I was going to go online over the weekend and try to find a walkthrough."