by JE Gurley
“It’s them,” Reed shouted. He hopped up and down on the ice in his glee. If not for his injured leg, Brad would have joined him in his Snoopy dance.
“They need lights,” Lester said.
No one had thought of that, assuming the landing would be in daylight. There was no time to rig electric lights.
“Set some diesel drums on fire,” Hughes suggested.
Brad had a better idea. He hobbled to the jeep and trailer they had used to haul away the corpses and cranked it. Thankfully, it was an automatic and had no clutch to negotiate with his injured leg. He yelled at Hughes, “Take the tractor to one end and leave the headlights shining. At least they’ll know where the runway is and how long it is.”
Hughes rushed to the tractor they had used to remove the Otter. Everybody else stood just outside the door of the cafeteria in the pool of light cast by the open door. The jet flew over the base almost low enough to read the letters on its dove-white wings. It circled twice as the two men raced to opposite ends of the runway. Brad watched as the big jet slowly descended, his heart was racing.
The jet touched down a hundred feet beyond the Hughes’ tractor. The brakes screamed and the reversed engines howled as the pilot fought to stop the jet on the slushy runway. Brad watched the jet loom larger as it approached. For a brief moment, he thought it was going to overshoot the runway and crash into him. He held his nerve to give the pilot some idea of how close to the end he was coming. Finally, it came to rest less than twenty yards away. It turned and slowly taxied toward the buildings. Before the engines died, the door opened and men jumped down and spread out along the sides of the jet. They remained there as three men approached across the field. Brad pulled up in the jeep and limped out with the others to greet them.
“I thought there was just one man,” an officer said. “Which one of you is Doctor Malosi?”
Brad barked out a sharp laugh. “Malosi’s dead. The bastard tried to kill us.” He held out the Android phone. “This is what you came for.”
Another man, a civilian wearing a Stetson, spoke up. “That’s it?”
Brad recognized the accent of a fellow American, but before he could reply, Bain pushed forward. “Val Marino? Is that you?”
Marino stepped forward for a better look. As he recognized Bain, a big smile swept over his face. “Ian Bain! What are you doing here? I thought you were in England.”
“I wish I were,” Bain replied. “I was at Amundsen-Scott.” He waved his hand. “We’re all that’s left. Did anyone from McMurdo reach Australia or New Zealand?”
Val shook his head. “No one.”
“Then they’re all dead too. We’re it.”
Brad handed the Android to Val. “This is what you came for, but we’d like a lift back.”
“Certainly. We’ll refuel, search the lab for any pertinent papers, and leave tomorrow.” He turned to the officer. “Right, Captain Healy?”
“Affirmative,” Healy replied. He waved his men forward. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
From the darkness, a zombie appeared a few feet away from Healy. At Brad’s yell of warning, Healy spun, drew his pistol, and shot the zombie in the head. The creature tumbled forward and collapsed.
“We thought we got them all. He must have been outside the base and followed the jeep in,” Brad said. “Sorry about that.”
Healy replaced his pistol and looked at Brad. “No problem.” He turned to his men. “Sweep the camp. I want every damn building cleared before we refuel.” He joined his men looking immeasurably pleased that he had finally gotten to shoot a zombie.
As the two groups mingled and walked back to the cafeteria, Brad felt Liz slip her arm around his waist and squeeze him. The weight of authority fell from him like chains of bondage, making him feel lighter than he had in weeks. Now, someone else could make the decisions and take the responsibility for their safety. He knew more hard work lay in front of them, but his days of giving orders and devoting himself to the welfare of others was over. Now, he wanted only to devote himself to pleasing Liz.
“We made it,” she whispered in his ear. Her steps seemed lighter too.
“We were the lucky ones,” he replied, “and I’m the luckiest of them all.”
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Acknowledgement
I would like to thank all my fans who demanded a sequel for Ice Station Zombie. I was happy to comply. I wish to dedicate this novel to you and to my wonderful wife, Kim, from whom all blessings flow. She allows me to kill for a living, even if it is only in my imagination.
J E Gurley
October 3, 2012
I have decided to begin chronicling what I see around me. Everything has been leaving me with a sense of impending dread. I know that something is happening in the world out there, and the paranoid side of me has an inkling as to what it is. I know if I tell anyone I know what I suspect is going on, they will at least laugh at me, and at most, think I’m crazy.
This all started with those crazy attacks I heard about on the news: The ones where the assailants started chewing on their victims. The media blamed some drug called bath salts. I wonder when a drug allowed the user only to get taken down with a head shot. There have been a few more such attacks since then, and other weird events have been cropping up. I have to keep vigilant. I have a family to think about. Maybe I am losing it a bit. I casually mentioned things to David over dinner, but he shrugged it off. Way to be supportive to your wife. Jerk.
I don’t even think I can put it to paper what I suspect is going on out there. I pray this will all blow over, and then I can have a good laugh over my silliness, but I really doubt that will come to pass. This afternoon, I sat on the floor playing with Ethan, Benjamin, and Samantha. I look at their face and refuse to believe any harm can come to them. They aren’t even two years old. My triplets will be kept safe. This I vow. I watch them laughing and learning in all they do, and I hope I can keep my word to them.
October 10, 2012
I know I’m not insane. There have been more “bath salt” attacks. Even the news anchor had trouble reporting the drug angle with a straight face. As of yet, I don’t think I would call it an epidemic, but I am wary. I have started formulating a plan. I will not be caught unaware. I think I have some kind of idea as to how I can muddle through this, but it will take time and money, neither of which I have in great supply. Maybe if I contact some friends... Whom do I have who will believe me? This whole thing even writing it out sounds incredibly farfetched. I suppose I will have to sleep on it, though I don’t know if it will look better tomorrow. On the way home from work, I stopped at the grocery store. Most of what I got was canned goods. When David asked me about it, I told him everything was on sale. Even the canned apple juice. He gave me an odd look as I put everything away. We really don’t have a lot of storage in our house. I suspect that by the time this all blows over, or blows up, I may look like a bit of a hoarder.
This afternoon, Ethan called me to him. I wish he would learn to call me “mama.” His insistence that I am actually, “Aiiee,” is a little unnerving. He gave me such a hug, and tried to bite me. I really need to get him out of this biting phase. Benjamin has far too many teeth marks on his arms.
Tomorrow, I will suck it up and call An. I feel that out of all of my friends, she is the one who will listen. She always jokes about what she would do if these things ever happened. Don’t they say that in every joke, there is a kernel of truth?
October 11, 2012
An is completely on board! Turns out, she’s been following the news just as obsessively as I have. Thank God! I don’t know what I would have done if she’d laughed at me. Now all we have to do is start working on our plan. I feel that we are on the verge of an outbreak. I am talking about a real Romero type walking dead disaster. I will not allow my family to be hurt by this. So, after speaking with An, we have a plan for our survival. We are going to pool our
resources and get out before it all gets rough.
We will begin stockpiling resources now. An tells me she actually owns a rifle with a scope. I’m glad she couldn’t see my face over the phone when I heard that. I never pegged her for a hunter, but apparently, she used to hunt with her father when she lived in Calgary, and kept her gun when she came to Toronto. This is good. I don’t know if there’s time for me to get such a weapon. The gun laws are very strict here. However, I can easily get a couple of machetes as secondary weapons. Tomorrow, I will head to the camping store and pick up some more supplies. So far, I have bought the children snowsuits in several sizes, as well as warm outfits. I hope we don’t stay up there long enough actually to need them all.
I will write down our plan thus far, at least, so I can keep it all straight in my head: We will purchase a plot of land as far north as we believe we can go. Once we have it, we find a company that builds small houses on trailers. We will buy two of them and have them delivered to our plot of land, and have them outfitted with solar panels. Around this land, we will have a ten-foot tall chain link fence with a secure, locked gate erected. This way, we are in the wilderness, with no people around. No people means no dead walking around us. As it is very cold, it will deter people from joining us, and in the winter, the dead will (hopefully) freeze. I suggested we have a shed or two on this land that we can plug into our trailers, and we can use these with windows on the roofs and space heaters as makeshift greenhouses to grow food. She’s down with this plan. Now I need to get David on board.
October 14, 2012
I have most of what I feel we need now. Between myself and An, we are extremely prepared. Her part time job in the bookstore has gotten us a wealth of information by way of survival manuals and just entertainment reading. I had another thought today that she whole-heartedly agrees with. I suggested we buy two gorals. We can keep them for milk and cheese, and unlike their close cousin, the mountain goat, they can easily survive where we are going. I have gotten the machetes, long johns for everyone, a hand pump filter unit in case the water is bad, purification tablets as an extra precaution, haydite slabs, seeds for fruits, nutrient packs, vegetables, herbs, several small troughs and cubes to plant in; as well as the necessary tubing and flat-packed shelving units, and lights for our indoor garden. We have decided to use hydroponics, as it seems easiest to do in a small space, and the tundra landscape is inhospitable to most edible plants.
I also found our plot of land. It is absolutely perfect. It’s located not far from Edehon Lake in Nunavut. It will take us a while to drive, but I have already started filling a few canisters with gas, just in case. Since it is barren land with no one around for miles, I was able to get it at a cheap price. So far, David has not noticed what I have been up to, I really need to talk to him. I hope he doesn’t completely flip out. What gives me a glimmer of hope is that even he is noticing the increasing occurrences of these attacks.
An has put in an order for our trailers. The whole logic behind them is that if things get dicey, we can hitch them to our cars and take them farther. This way, we don’t lose all our supplies or our home. If anything, I wish to keep our kids lives as stable as possible in spite of everything that is going on.
Things we didn’t think of came to me as I was mentally compiling lists: I don’t know how long we’ll be stuck out there. Each trailer is 177 square feet. They sleep between one to four people. The main area is a kitchenette and eating space, where the table folds into the wall so there is walking room. Behind this, is a bedroom and small bathroom. There is a sleeping loft with a queen size bed. With this set up, there is a danger of cabin fever. I need to revise some packing lists to ensure we have things to keep us entertained. This is also about our mental health as well as physical survival. I think I should add board games and movies. Just because there is no cable, and satellite television may be a thing of the past, we can still watch movies on laptops.
October 15, 2012
I am in major trouble now. David has found out about everything. I knew I should have kept him in the loop about every purchase, plan, and idea I have been having, yet he was so dismissive about all the attacks. He laughed every time I brought up the word “zombie.” I just kept saying “later, later” to myself. Well, there is no later. Later is now, and my husband is pissed. I don’t know what I’m going to do about this. He needs to come with me. The kids need to come with me. I can’t push this off until he gets used to the idea. The time is rapidly approaching for us to pack up and get the hell out of here. But David is so angry, I don’t know how I’m going to convince him that I’m right.
In spite of our attempts to be quiet, I know the kids heard us fighting. I came into the family room, and Benjamin toddled up to me and hugged me around the knees. He seemed very upset. I hugged him and told him that everything was going to be okay. He gave me kisses and didn’t seem to want to let go. I sincerely hope I can keep this promise to him.
An
I’m not much of a writer. Yeah, if you want some marketing/advertising/fundraising copy or academic papers, I’ll do it, but a diary? It’ll be fucked up. These survivalist books and shit say ‘oh, keep a journal and daily log of your life; it’ll help your mental condition.’ Well, I say it’s going to show how fucked up I am! I know that Ali has one going, but she’s actually a writer, and I was not really blessed with those kind of creative juices. I don’t even know how she will remember to write in it. So, I’ll keep some kind of log of stuff I’m up to or have seen, but I don’t know why anyone would want to read it, nor, morbidly, am I sure anyone will be ALIVE to read it! Zombies are rising. There’s more important shit to worry about. I am glad that Ali noticed the warning signs too. I don’t think it’d be good for me or my ‘mental condition’ to be alone when the world goes to hell.
October 16, 2012
David came home today looking more distressed than I have ever seen him. He just came up to me and held me tight. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that he should never have doubted me when I said I knew what was going on.
He and his coworker, Jonathon, had gone out for a business lunch together. On the way back to the car, David says a man approached them. He described him as pale and he walked in an odd sort of shuffle. Jonathon went up to him to see if he was all right. There was something seriously wrong with him. The man grabbed Jonathon as if he were trying to get his attention, and bit his arm right through his coat and shirt. David ran to help his friend, but Jonathon screamed for David to run. He struggled with his assailant, who then grabbed him by the throat and tore it out with his teeth. David said that his blood was everywhere. There was nothing he could do for him. My husband ran for his car and drove home as quickly as he could.
I am stunned. I knew that we would lose people we cared about in the oncoming days. I just didn’t expect it so soon, or so brutally. David feels responsible. He feels he should have done something to save him, but he was unarmed. I don’t know what he could have done. As Jonathon had already been bitten, he would have only saved him until he fell prey to the virus and reanimated. As it is, he’s probably out there now hungering for flesh.
My resolve to leave is firmer than ever. Even more so now that David is solidly on board with the plan. After seeing someone he’s known for years die so horribly, he agrees that our family must be spared this fate.
I realized that I was forgetting one major detail while I was making my plans. David pointed it out to me as we were talking. What are we going to do about our dog? I can’t in good conscience leave him alone to be ripped apart or eaten, nor can we leave him to starve either. We’ll just have to take him. Dogs lived for centuries off table scraps. I’m sure Sebastian can do the same. He’d probably like it more than dog food anyway.
October 17, 2012
I picked up our travel maps from CAA today. It would be fairly useless to drive off into the wilderness with no notion of where we were going. The woman behind the counter gave me a look that was part: “you’r
e crazy” and part: “I think you may be on to something here.” I just gave her a smile that I hope conveyed friendly sanity. Tonight, we have dinner at my parents’ house. I’m going to tell them what’s going on. This will be their last chance to come with us. I think we’re leaving before the week is out.
October 17, 2012 (supplemental)
My parents totally freaked out. Well, that’s actually an understatement. I think they may want me committed or something. David as well. My brother Loren seemed to be listening, but I don’t really know. It seems to be so difficult for him to go against anything my parents say, He’s always been their ‘yes man’, even when it goes against everything he believes in. It has always bothered me about him. But if he’s okay with it, there’s nothing I can do. I wish that at least in this instance, I could change his mind. My parents however, refused to hear anything I had to say, even going so far as to forbid me from taking their children to some “frozen wasteland.” I won’t hear any of it. All I saw as I looked around their home was how indefensible it all was: Greenhouse windows in the kitchen. Flimsy wooden fence around the big backyard. Sliding glass doors in both the family room and kitchen. I suppose they could hole themselves up in the basement “bunker” as my dad calls it. They do have a separate kitchen down there. I worry for them. However, unless I chloroform them and forcibly drag them along with us, I don’t know what to do. As we left, I gave my brother our coordinates in Nunavut and the key to our home. At least our house in Toronto is safer than my parents.’ Our windows are ten feet off the ground. If he boards up the basement, he might make it.