Zombie Battle (Books 1-3): Trinity

by Jacqueline Druga

  Perhaps the place he called the family room was the most militant. It has the most stockpile of weapons, secured in cases, radios and computers. Although every single room in his fortress had a weapon box.

  But the place was clean.

  The kitchen stainless steel and spotless. So much space and storage. Irma couldn’t wait to cook a meal in there.

  But Garrick had done well.

  He told Irma he had purchase fresh produce prior to arriving and was doing his best to can or freeze what he could.

  The dinner for the evening was stuffed peppers.

  They were divine. Then again, Irma really hadn’t eaten in days and her mood was still at an all time low.

  Jerry draped across her lap. His head tilted all the way back as he slept hard.

  Irma sipped her wine. A drop rolled over the edge and dropped to his forehead.

  Jerry didn’t budge.

  “Oh, baby. Ya-Ya is sorry.”

  Garrick stood. “Here” He walked to Irma. “Let me lay him on the couch.”

  Irma shook her head. “I don’t want him out of my sight.

  “He won’t be,” Garrick said softly. “I promise. He’ll be right on the couch and I swear nothing is gonna happen to him. I swear.”

  There was conviction in his eyes and words.

  Garrick repeated. “I swear.”

  Nervously, Irma nodded.

  As Garrick took him from her arms, Irma glanced at Lil.

  Lil smiled at her. “You’re safe here. The baby is safe here. I promise.”

  “Thank you.” Irma watched Garrick place Jerry on the sofa and cover him.

  Jerry’s arms flailed outward in a jolt when the odd ringing sound startled him. In fact, it started everyone.

  “The satellite phone,” Garrick said, rushing across the room.

  Irma’s eyes shifted from Garrick to Jerry who rolled over and returned to sleeping.

  Garrick lifted the phone. “I may have to go outside for this.” He walked toward the door. “Hello?” His face cringed. “Hold on.” He said into the phone. “Let me step outside.”

  Garrick opened the door and slipped through.

  The second his voice said, “Jack?” both Lil and Irma rushed to the doorway.

  “Yeah,” Garrick said. “Yeah, she’s here.” He showed the phone to Lil.

  Lil inched into the doorway. “Jack?” she peeped.

  “Lil, thank God you’re ok. I couldn’t get a hold of you on the phone.”

  “It died. It’s charging. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Jack answered.

  “When will you be here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Jack. You said you’d come. You promised.”

  “I know. But I can’t protect you if I don’t do my job. I have to stay here to do it. But Lil, I promise, if it gets to be too much, I’ll be there. I won’t take a chance. Now do me a favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Stay put. Stay with Garrick. Okay?”

  Lil nodded. A gesture Jack didn’t see.

  “Lil?”

  “Yes, I will.” She said. “I love you, Jack. Be careful.”

  “I love you too. Lil, is Mrs. Klein nearby?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Can you put her on the phone?”

  Lil handed the phone to Irma.

  Irma traded places with Lil in the doorway and apprehensively spoke, “Hello?” it was followed by a gasping, “Saully.”

  Lil stepped inside of the family room to be closer to the baby and to keep Irma’s mind at ease.

  “Saully, we’re fine. What about you? When are you getting here?”

  “Things aren’t going to go as planned.”

  “What?”

  “I have to go to Vermont, Irma . . .”

  “Saully. No.”

  “Irma listen to me. If there’s a way to beat this thing, I have to do it. Understand. You’ll be safe there. You and Jerry being safe are what’s important.”

  “Saully?” Irma questioned. “Can it be beat?”

  Saul paused. “I’m gonna try. So that another parent doesn’t have to go through what we did, I’m gonna try.”

  Irma released a sob. “Tell me you held her hand at the end. Tell me you told her we loved her.”

  “I did.”

  Again, Irma cried.

  “Irma listen to me. I have to go. You are the strongest woman I know. You stay that way, you hear and I will get to you. I will.”

  “And what am I to do if you don’t make it? Live without you?”

  “Yes. You have Jerry.”

  Irma sniffled and tried not to shed another tear, she conveyed her goodbye to Saul and handed the phone to Garrick. Immediately she went inside where, Lil awaited with open arms to give her comfort.

  The two women, strangers a day earlier, were bonded again by the same circumstances.

  Garrick stepped further outside when he heard Jack’s voice return to the line. “What’s going on, Jack?” he asked.

  “There’s an exodus going into effect in about four hours. I have to work the lines checking people. Things are pretty bad here. I’m not sure what we’ll see or run into.”

  “Then what?” Garrick asked.

  “I don’t know. But I do know this. If things get so bad that I don’t see a fighting chance, I will be there. I’m giving Saul this number. I need you to be his lifeline back to his wife if he gets stuck and I can’t help him.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “And Garrick, don’t let my wife or Irma leave your fortress. You have that place locked tight.”

  “They won’t leave.”

  “Watch them.”

  “With everything I am. And Jack. Be safe. Get here.”

  Garrick ended the call. He held on to the phone and stayed outside for a few moments. The weather was great, sky clear. On his property, far from civilization it was so quiet, so peaceful, it was hard to imagine twenty miles away was a world lost to chaos.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Washington, DC

  Lance read the report and despite what the information conveyed, he had a hard time believing all that was happening. The soldiers taken into custody in Texas, infected. But they weren’t exterminated, which was a mistake. Two of them escaped.

  Dr. Saul Klein called it the Faberge effect. One turns into two, they hit two and so on and so forth. Based on an old shampoo commercial but how true the old quirky commercial conveyed not only word of mouth, but infection by mouth.

  Problem was the infected were taking out more than two. Each infected before being destroyed would bite at least one person and scratch many others.

  Those hundred or so infected down in Texas, how many did they infect? How many of their victims were clueless to what they caught? Just like those at the CDC who were infected, they ran amuck with the virus.

  The Specialist down in Atlanta who was deemed fine was different. He was hope for those bitten because he started to get well. But that changed. He got loose and they still hadn’t found him; but he was responsible for over forty infected.

  Fort Bragg.

  San Diego.

  Atlanta.

  Dallas.

  Seattle.

  Lawrence, Kansas.

  Those were the main locations reported within the United States. Lance knew it had grown beyond that and he was waiting for the reports to come in.

  At least he believed the problem started and stopped in Washington with Colonel Manning.

  He believed that until he found out differently. Apparently an aide was on hand when the President was attacked. He tried to help but was scratched in the process. The aide didn’t think about it until he became ill. He tucked himself away until the scheduled press conference for the evening when the Vice President would address the nation and try to instill calm while telling them more about this virus.

  Lance and Don heard the chaos, shots and screams before they got to the press room. Inste
ad of a briefing before the conference, it was pandemonium.

  One of the CIA agents in the room …. having been bitten himself, told how the aide stumbled in, walked to the Vice president and bit him.

  Agents on hand rushed to help the Vice President, and the aide attacked them as well. They shot the aide, but not in the head, and the he kept lunged into the audience and went after a reporter from Fox news.

  By the time Lance arrived, the chaos was in full bloom. Those with deadly bite wounds rose up almost immediately and turned on others.

  .

  A group of undead gathered around the remains of the vice president’s body, pulled on his limbs and insides as if searching for a hidden treasure.

  Others were occupied with those who were down and snarling, lifted their heads at the annoyance of the bullets.

  “Aim for the fucking head,” Lance ordered. “Quit wasting shots.”

  And the General, Secretary of Health, along with the remaining and injured CIA man shot and destroyed all they could.

  Once the situation calmed down, Lance ordered Don to see if any of the injured had escaped and to notify the guards on the premises. He told this to him just before he calmly turned and shot the injured CIA agent in the head.

  Don backed up fearful. “He wasn’t one of them.”

  “He would be. Did you see how many bites he had?” Lance checked his weapon. “And I swear to God Donny, if it happens to me and you don’t put a goddamn bullet in my head, you’re the first person I am eating. Now we have to go. You head that way...” Lance pointed. “I’ll back out this way to see if anyone escaped.”

  Don, visually shaken, nodded and raced from the room. He slipped several times on the blood slicked floor.

  Lance started to leave as well. He stopped briefly to check out the room to make sure no one stirred. They didn’t.

  He realized the ‘would-be’ conference had done just the opposite when he saw a bloodied reporter on television news, standing in front of the White House, the reporter in disarray was shaking and out of breath. “That footage was raw and disturbing,” he said. “But it holds the truth about this virus that has hit several of our cities including Atlanta. I came for answers today. More than words that video of the massacre at the press conference says it all. But, I left the White House. I was lucky to escape with my life and only a few minor injuries.” I’m waiting now to get more information.

  Lance reached up, turning off the TV as the Anchorwoman stated, “Well be showing that footage of the conference again in ….”

  Rubbing his eyes, Lance took a moment to calm down and think. He had to come up with a plan.

  Calm was out the window.

  Covering up was out the window.

  The news had broken and broke big time.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Atlantic Ocean

  The Captain was asleep and the First Officer in the control summoned Doctor Chase to read the health bulletin. After all, it more than likely dealt with him.

  Chase didn’t mind being roused from bed, he wasn’t sleeping and he was shocked at the bulletin.

  It didn’t come from the CDC or WHO, it came from the Pentagon. It stated that all vessels that had left port from Europe were to report any personnel who exhibited the following symptoms.

  High fever

  Delirium

  Rage

  Bite wound or scratch that does not heal.

  And the list presented three or four physical characteristics as well. Personnel who exhibited the symptoms were to be placed in high security quarantine.

  ‘Report these individuals to receive further instructions’ the bulletin said.

  Upon reading, Chase turned to the officer and returned the bulletin. “Get the Captain. Tell her she needs to report that Seaman Nelson is possibly infected with this.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell her I am going to check on Nelson and will return with my findings.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chase paused in the door. “I mean it. Now.” Without waiting for further argument, Chase made his way quickly to the medical quarters.

  Nelson was the only patient they had in sick bay and a Corpsman was on duty, watching the patient for any further signs of deterioration.

  Chase hoped that he would walk into sick bay, see Nelson and there would be some improvement. The bulletin was unclear about what they were dealing with and he couldn’t take the chance of a highly contiguous virus being unchecked in a closed in vessel such as a submarine.

  He entered sick bay and it was dark except for the light that came from the corpsman’s desk in the back of the room.

  It was quiet, too quiet and something didn’t feel right.

  Chase stepped quietly to the third bunk.

  “What the hell?” he gasped outward at the empty bunk. The IV laid on the bunk, but no blood, no Nelson.

  “Corpsman.” Chase called, moving quickly to the back.

  As he drew closer he could see the Corpsman. His head was down on the desk.

  “Son of a bitch, he’s sleeping.” He quickened his stride and something slippery caught his foot as he neared the desk. Chase slid a good foot before he caught his balance. “Corpsman!”

  The Corpsman slowly sat up straight.

  “Corpsman, our patient is missing. Did you fall …”

  Chase was about to ask if the corpsman fell asleep, but the words never came.

  The corpsman turned to Chase and as he did, the huge gaping hole that took up half his throat, left him with no neck support and the Corpsman’s head flopped to the side.

  “Oh my God.” Chase backed up.

  The Corpsman opened his mouth wide, but there was no noise. Standing, the corpsman’s head hung, attached to him by the few remaining ligaments. It was a pathetic sight as he reached outward, but the Corpsman was unable to focus on what he was reaching for.

  Chase’s thought was to run. Get the hell out. Secure the sick bay doors.

  He was prepared to do so and rushed back a single step before he was stopped further and could go no further.

  Chase never saw what he backed into or what got him.

  Feeling the searing pain in his skull, Chase cried out in agony and the last thing to go through his mind was the realization that Nelson’s teeth were deep in his neck.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  May 12th

  “Okay, you’re good. Move on,” Jack instructed the car with two occupants. Six lanes of highway, all of them outbound from Atlanta, and traffic was backed up as far as the eye could see.

  It as getting tiresome, he had been at it for days. Checking the cars, asking question, scanning for body temperatures. He had come across many that were fevered and had to be isolated.

  The reality of the situation was evident as the military carried gas cans, water and food for the vehicle passengers. Some people shut off their cars and waited on the side of the road. Some opted to move their vehicles and take available mass transportation. But one choice seemed to be unanimous. Get out of the city.

  Reports had reached Jack that the virus was out of control in Atlanta, and in fact in several cities. But nationwide the military seemed to be doing a great job of keeping the homeland secure and the infected areas contained.

  An elderly couple pulled up to Jack’s check point. “Ma'am, sir. How are you?”

  The man, driving, nodded. “We’re fine.”

  “Any encounters with the infected?” Jack asked.

  The man and woman exchanged glances and then the man answered. “Yes. Our Neighbor. We got away.”

  “Any bites or scratches. Injuries of any kind?” Jack questioned.

  Both shook their heads.

  They looked fine, coloring good. Perhaps a bit frazzled and Jack raised the temperature scanner. They were normal. “You’re good folks, you can go through.”

  “Ya might …” The man pointed backwards. “Wanna send some men back there. Looks like commotion is building. Gotta lot of people
in this sun.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you.”

  Jack raised his head to peer down the long line of traffic to see what the man was referring. He could hear commotion, arguing. He knew he had men back there and was going to send a few more back when he heard a woman scream not a few feet from him.

  “No!” she cried out. “She’s not sick!”

  The woman’s cry out was deep and the emotions of it cut through Jack. As the next car pulled to him. He held his hand up and moved to where the woman screamed. Why was she so emotional?

  She had gotten from her car and was struggling with a soldier who was reaching in the back seat. “What’s going on?” Jack asked.

  “Sarge,” the young soldier turned. “The baby is sick. Fevered.”

  “No. No!” The woman argued. “She’s not. She’s teething. I swear. We weren’t around anyone sick.”

  There was a distinct tug of war over that child. The mother fought diligently to keep the baby in the seat, while the soldier tired to take the small child.

  Jack stepped in. “Hold up,” he said to the soldier. He whistled and signaled for someone to take his post then he turned to the young man. “Harris.” He viewed the name tag. “I’ll take over here. Why don’t you head to the back line of cars to see if our men need some help with the commotion?”

  “Yes, Sarge.” Harris nodded and walked off.

  “She’s teething,” the mother persuaded

  Jack gave a calming look to the mother. “I’m just gonna look at her, okay?”

  “She’s not sick.”

  “You said that.” Jack leaned into the back of the car. The infant girl cooed and smiled at him. She wasn’t older than seven months. Jack ran his hand over her head, felt her arms. He then pulled the skin under her eyes and gave a visual exam. “All right.” Jack stepped back. “Go ahead. You’re good.”

  “Thank you.” Surprising Jack, the young mother tip toed up and kissed him on the cheek. “She’s fine. Thank you.” Hurriedly she got in the driver door.