Zombie Battle (Books 1-3): Trinity

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Zombie Battle (Books 1-3): Trinity Page 8

by Jacqueline Druga


  Steven knocked.

  The sound stopped.

  “Come in,” Saul called out.

  Steven entered. “I brought you some information and something to eat.”

  “Ah, thank you Captain Long. I appreciate that.” Saul turned his chair from the television. “My wife would appreciate knowing someone was feeding me.”

  “Does she know you are back in the states?”

  Saul nodded. “I called and let her know. I was a bit vague.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Ever been married to a Jewish woman?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Being vague doesn’t wash. I give her about another half hour of tolerance and then she’ll be calling nonstop.”

  “What are you going to tell her?” Steven asked.

  Saul shrugged. “Don’t know, Captain.”

  “Please, call me Steve.”

  “Steve.” After a pause, Saul exhaled. “What news do you have?”

  “Well no deaths . . . yet. One is close, very close; vitals are so slow they are nearly undetectable.”

  “What about the other soldier.”

  “Not far behind,” Steve replied. “We’ve managed to slow the progress of the bacterium in the blood stream with sedatives. But that’s prolonging its reaction time. Right now, we have a the second soldier prepped in a CT scan and hooked up to EEG for when he passes and well, regenerates.”

  Saul cringed a little. “Why not the one closer to death?”

  “He was thrashing quite a bit. We’re probably going to probe the brain here shortly, with your permission, to halt regeneration.”

  “You may do so if he’s already violent.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What about the boy?” Saul asked.

  “Calm and quiet. Like our second soldier.”

  “Could there be two strains of the?”

  “I doubt it. It’s how the bacterium affects the brain. The calm and quiet is abnormal. We have five more due to arrive. Three are showing signs in the blood stream, according to our initial blood tests and sequential ones run on the plane.”

  “The other two.”

  “One is a Sergeant who has a wound of unknown origins during an attack. No bacterium yet in the blood, he’s coming here as a precaution and if he’s clear, posted here because of something he did.” Steve shuffled through his notes. “Seems a Specialist Carlson was bitten and this sergeant amputated the arm immediately in the field. This is the one Dr. Powers upstairs is waiting on.”

  “Why is that?”

  “As of two hours ago in flight testing revealed he was showing the bacterium in his blood stream, however it seems dormant or dead. Hard to say. Could be a possible key to stopping it.”

  “Think he has immunity”

  “Quite possible.” Steve closed his folders and finally glanced to the monitor behind Saul. “What are you watching?”

  “Oh . . .” Saul exhaled. “You can call it my own research. Since we have nothing real to base this on, no case study, I’ve turned to what seems to be the closest thing to case study.”

  “Fiction?”

  “Movies -- yes. My God, a twisted mind came up with this zombie shit. Do you suppose they’re psychic?”

  Steve chuckled. “Not at all. They didn’t really find this walking dead information in the creative portion of the brain. Zombies date back hundreds if not thousands of years.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, not walking dead per say,” Steve explained. “There is this fish toxin that is used in voodoo to create a comatose near death state, and when the victim snaps out of it, they are pretty much mindless drones. Zombie is actually derived from a Haitian word zonbi.” He shrugged.

  “But ours are indeed dead,” Saul said, turning to the video monitor and pointing to the frozen image on the screen. It is one of massive amounts of zombies. “How do you suppose, if should this happen here, what would make it get so out of control?”

  Steve rubbed his chin. “My best explanation? Remember that shampoo commercial from years ago. One friend bites two friends, they bite two friends, and so on and so on . . .”

  “That’s not funny.” Saul shook his head and paused. “Okay, it is. Call it the Faberge effect ”

  “Exactly. The same thing happened in Peru. Plus what adds to it is human nature. Like the Sergeant who amputated that soldier’s arm. We don’t have it in us to kill the injured. We try to save them. We can’t, they turn, they bite. One bites six, they bite six, before you know it, the Faberge effect.”

  “The Faberge Effect. So all it takes is one infected person.”

  “If not handled correctly. Yeah, but, I think we’re a bit more sophisticated than the movies make us out to be.”

  “So you think we made a mistake by bringing it to the US?” Saul asked.

  Steve shook his head. “Other than this lab, I highly doubt it is leaving Peru.”

  At that instant Saul’s phone rang. He held up a finger to Steve then turned to retrieve the call. He listened more than spoke, muttering, ‘I understand’ three times before thanking the caller and facing Steve. “You doubt wrong.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Saul ran his hand down his face, revealing a distraught look as his hand hit the desk. “Hans was infected. He attacked on the plane . . .”

  “Oh my God.” Steve closed his eyes.

  “They landed.” Saul paused. “As we speak, they lost control of the airport.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fayetteville, NC

  Lil had been married to Jack eight years when she cheated. One time was enough and she was still paying the emotional consequences for her actions. That was fine with her; a punishment she felt was well deserved.

  Each day that went by, since the incident that occurred nearly a year before hand, she thought less and less of that fateful night. No longer had an hourly or daily guilty thought, but rather occasionally. In fact it had been a while since it crossed her mind. Then she saw that roadhouse saloon and she couldn’t get it out of her head.

  That’s where it started. Out with her new found friends when Jack was away at training or home and just not there. Drinking, dancing, acting single.

  She forgot that one night, with the slight help of alcohol bravery, that she was indeed married. Forgetting again when she went home with that man that she had seen several times before at the saloon.

  It ended as quickly as it started and Lil gave up all of her friends and not at Jack’s request. All of them except Garrick.

  It was the one friend that Jack really liked and posed no threat at all to their marriage. Actually, he was Jack’s friend long before he was Lil’s. He was a good one to have. Especially at that moment. To many, Garrick was labeled a nut job or eccentric. To Jack he was sincere and the man with the means and knowledge to be any way he wanted to be.

  Garrick’s parents were ‘old’ money from down south. He went to the best school, West Point, joined the service, and then after on re-enlistment. Garrick, totally convinced that the world would meet its demise in his lifetime, retreated to work on his survival world.

  It was a project Jack helped a lot with, only because Jack enjoyed it. Well, hidden, the survival hub was, as Jack described, a safe haven. Nine foot concrete walls encircled the camp which consisted of a huge concrete building. Below that, over a hundred feet down was another concrete bunker. It had its own water supply, power supply and ability to grow food. It was secluded deep in a wooded area on a large piece of land owned by Garrick’s family.

  He made a small living by being an online trader.

  A fortress to meet any apocalypse scenario, well just about.

  Lil was certain if the current situation tuned into an apocalypse scenario, Garrick’s fortress would be the place to go.

  So she went ahead of time to talk to him.

  He didn’t live in the fortress. Garrick had an apartment in town and claimed he’d only go to the fortress to party
or in case of impending doomsday.

  His cell phone was off, no answer on his landline; Lil had to talk to Garrick. She was certain Jack wouldn’t mind.

  After trying his apartment, Lil headed to the hills to find him; that had to be where he was hiding. It was a short two hour drive and she hoped it would keep her mind off Jack. She hadn’t heard from him.

  She arrived at the property driveway and was greeted by a tall, rusted, wire fence with a ‘Keep Out. Government Property’ sign dangling. A rouse?

  Stopping the car, Lil stepped out finding the intercom control hidden by the fence. “Hey, Garrick, you there?”

  After a brief hiss of static, his happy voice flowed over the speaker. “Hey, pretty lady, sure am. Come on it.”

  Lil said her thanks, got in the car and watch the gate open. It swung shut after she drove through.

  A hundred yards or so she arrived at the Iron Gate that looked like a garage door. The concrete walls were well hidden in the trees and brush.

  The gate rolled to the side and she drove in. It was indeed a different world in there.

  No sooner did Lil step from the car, Garrick emerged from the building. He was stoned, of course, Lil didn’t expect anything less.

  With a hardy, ‘hey, hey, hey’ Garrick embraced her welcomingly. A taller man, not as big as Jack, would be considered ruggedly handsome if the ‘I haven’t bathed in days’ look counted for something. “Let me help you with your stuff,” he said.

  “I didn’t bring any stuff,” Lil replied.

  “Man, whoa, you ran that fast for the hills? Things that bad?”

  “No. They aren’t bad. I just needed to talk to you. Get your opinion. Can we go inside?” Lil asked.

  Garrick motioned his hand toward the building, allowing her to lead the way.

  <><><><>

  He poured a double shots of whiskey in a glass for Lil. “Got an entire room full. Jack will be pleased.” He sat down on the couch across from her.

  “So that’s why you’re here?” she asked.

  “Yep. Been monitoring radio. Listening to the little man.” Garrick lifted a marijuana cigarette and lit if up as if it were regular tobacco. He showed it to Lil.

  “No. But thank you,” Lil said. “So you think this is it?”

  “Without a doubt. I predict a week before this thing gets out of control. Dude, really, last transmission it had spread to the hospitals in Berlin. Fucking Germans though, they aren’t no American soldiers. Can’t battle like we can. Speaking of soldiers, what’s Jack say.”

  “That’s why I’m here. You know this shit’s up my alley.” Lil explained. “Jack’s in Peru. Sent there for a situation.”

  Garrick coughed. “Man, Peru is where it started. This mad cow, rage virus shit that the terrorist doctor let loose on the plane. He was in Peru.”

  “It’s not mad cow or rage, Garrick. Jack was able to get me a message. Sent it in code. To let me know what was happening down there. Three letters. WWZ.”

  With a ‘whoa’ Garrick exhaled loudly. “World War Z.”

  Lil Nodded.

  “Fucking zombies.” Garrick smacked himself in the forehead. “I knew it. For real?”

  “That’s what I got from Jack. If he sent that and he doesn’t buy into it, then you know it‘s for real.”

  Garrick stood up and began to pace. “Then it is only a matter of weeks. If that shit is there, then some big shot science guys are bringing it here to work on it, thinking they can cure it.”

  “You don’t think they can contain it?”

  “No. Fight it? Yes. Contain it? No. All it’s gonna take is one person to be infected. That’s it.”

  “Are you gonna stay put here?”

  “Yeah, get things ready. This will be the safe place to be.”

  “I agree.” Lil stood. “OK, I’m gonna head back and get my own things ready.”

  “You aren’t staying?”

  Lil shook her head. “Not now. I’ll be back. But I can’t return until I hear from Jack. Will there be anything you need?”

  “A woman, perhaps.” Garrick laughed. “You know, to help with those lonely times during the apocalypse.”

  Lil chuckled at the joke, stood to leave but stopped when Garrick called her name with seriousness.

  “All kidding aside. Don’t waste time. Get back here, Jack will find you.”

  Lil nodded, took in his advice, gave a simple nod of agreement, and then she turned and left.

  CHAPTER SIX

  May 8th

  Atlanta GA

  There were three vital things that told Irma Klein that something was amiss in regards to this virus. She had been married to Saul for too long not to know it in his voice.

  But his voice wasn’t what sent the alarms in her head blaring. His voice merely confirmed it. The virus.

  For as long as Irma could recall, not a single CDC team member ever died in the field of the virus, like Katherine. Saul, since becoming director, never left to go to the field, and he was gone and back before Irma knew it.

  And now he was holed up at the CDC. He placed a simple call to her the evening before telling her he was back, and he would call her later.

  That was hours earlier.

  Usually, Irma would give a half an hour, but knowing the graveness of the situation, she held off.

  She tried to nap. Lord knew she didn’t sleep all night, but it was useless. She then turned to the news and that made matters worse.

  The terror outbreak in German was all over the news. Some sort of Chemical weapon attack that cause the infected to act insane. The news told of how local authorities and the military were trying to gain control of the airport and other public buildings.

  It wasn’t until the news stated that authorities had identified the terrorist responsible for releasing the chemical agent . . . Hans Riesman.

  Hans?

  Surely that was untrue. Irma wasn’t crazy about Hans as a person, but to release a weapon. Hans was working on the virus in Peru.

  Irma paced.

  Think Irma, Think.

  Her thought process relied on her years of experience in listening to Saul. Hans was in Peru, working on the highly contagious virus, what if . . . Hans was infected and escaped.

  That had to be it.

  Slightly panicked, because the virus had left Peru, Irma raced to the house phone. It was then her cell phone rang.

  No one really called her cell phone. Irma told them not to because Saul hated using minutes, even though their daughter told them about unlimited usage plans.

  Irma was unsettled with surprise to see it was a call from Saul’s cell. Something was definitely up.

  “Sauly,” she answered the phone with worried haste.

  “Irm, I don’t have a lot of time to talk . . .”

  “Sauly, what’s going on? I just saw the news. . Hans and . . .”

  “Irma, listen to me. Forget the news.”

  Irma heaved out a breath, hand to her chest. She closed her eyes and held tight to the phone. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m not sure, what will become of this, if anything. It may fizzle. But, pack a bag, call Sara, go get her and little Jerry . . .”

  “Saul, is it . . .”

  “Do it. Hit the ATM, get as much cash as you can, head north to your sister’s and stay there. “

  “What’s wrong with our home?” Irma asked. “Can’t I get our daughter and grandson and bring them here.”

  “Get out of Atlanta, Irma.”

  “Why?”

  “We brought cases back with us . . . I just need to feel secure. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’ll go.”

  “Yes.” Irma nodded, even though he couldn’t see her.

  “Take the phone charger for the car.”

  “I will.”

  “And, Irma . . .” Saul paused. “Bring the gun.”

  Before Irma could say anything, Saul was gone. The line went dead. She stared at it knowing fu
ll well he didn’t dramatically hang up. Never in all of their years together did he ever end a call without saying, ‘I love you’.

  It had to be bad. Irma prepared to call her daughter. She would then pack a bag, get Sara, and before she left Atlanta, she was going to see Saul. Because she didn’t know, with the way he sounded, if she would see him again. She just didn’t know.

  <><><><>

  Saul lifted his eyes to Jack. He stood there, armed and somewhat intimidating as he held Saul’s phone.

  Saul nodded slowly. “Could you have had less of a dramatic timing in taking that phone?”

  “Sir, I gave you a minute. I have to delete this call history before they found out I let you make that call. I was supposed to just get this from you.”

  “I know. I know.” Saul watched Jack, his large fingers fumbled with the phone. “Problem?”

  “Yeah, 1998 called and wants this phone back. What the hell?”

  “If you’re trying to delete the history, I haven’t a clue. It’s an old phone.”

  “No shit.” Jack breathed out. “Okay, you have it.”

  “What?” Saul asked.

  A few more moves of his fingers and Jack handed the phone to Saul. “Here. See if you can figure out how to delete that last call.”

  “What was it you did?”

  “I sent your wife a text telling her you loved her. You know, just in case.”

  “Thank you.” Saul examined his phone. He stood, and then paused in his phone manipulation. “Sergeant. I know they took your phone. Did you need to call your wife?” He extended his phone to Jack.

  Jack shook his head. “Thank you. But I’ll figure something out. I’m sure I’ll get to call her soon.” With a motion of his head, Jack placed a hand on Saul’s back, leading him to the door. They were leaving the basement sanctuary, even if only briefly, for the meeting with Dr. Powers.

  Gene Powers was an amazing mind. Well ahead of his time in thinking and technology. If anyone could figure out what was going it was him.

  Jack stood guard outside the door, and only two individuals went inside. Saul and Steve.

  Powers looked frazzled, three laptops set upon his desk. His graying hair was tossed about and glasses were a tad crooked.

 

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