Connor looks down at his watch and then back at me, a look of amazement washed over his face, “I just lost track of time. Natalie and I have been up all night talking.”
“Oh, sorry if I bothered something intimate,” I say backing away.
“Oh not at all,” Natalie smiled, “we were actually entertaining ourselves with ridiculous theories about the Omega Virus.”
“Sounds…interesting,” I say confused.
“I know it sounds insane,” Connor says, reading the look on my face, “but you know what it helps pass the time. Now what do you say we go and get that food? I’m starving.”
I nod, not knowing what to say to either of them. Connor and I leave Natalie to watch over the others as we sneak out of the barracks and head back to the mess hall. I draw my sword before we enter the eatery. Connor enters first, I follow right behind him after taking one last look around at our surroundings.
“Where did you leave the food?” Connor asks.
“Right…here,” I say walking next to Connor and realizing the pot of canned goods missing, “I swear I put it down right around here.”
“Well this isn’t good,” Connor says frantically, “tell me again where you saw that shadow.”
“Right out these windows,” I say turning my back to him, pointing at the doors. I feel a hard clunk on the back of my head, I fall to my knees before another hard thump knocks me out.
I awake sometime later with an extreme throbbing pain in my head. My arms are chained together above my head, my feet still firmly planted on the ground as I look beside me and see Connor still unconscious.
“Oh come on, not again,” I moan. I turn myself around, trying to figure out where we are being held.
“You are being held in the armory,” a voice calls out from the shadows.
“How did you know?” the words stagger out of my mouth.
“You were looking around,” a man walks out of the shadows, he looks slightly familiar.
It takes me a moment staring at his face before I recognize him from the painting in the mess hall, “I’ve seen your painting in the hallway leading to the mess hall.”
“That’s right boy,” the man says, his voice deep and raspy like someone who smoked cigars most of his life.
“What are you going to do with us?” I ask.
“It depends on how much you’re willing to cooperate,” he says lifting a rather large knife of a shelf in front of him.
“We’re willing to do whatever it takes,” I say.
“Ugh,” Connor grunts as his eyes open slowly, “what? What happened?”
“Great, you’re both awake,” the man says taking a few steps toward us, “it’s only sporting when everyone is participating.”
“Participating in what?” Connor asks in a slurred voice.
“Why the Q and A portion of our day,” the man says with a wide grin.
“Before anything happens to us I think you should know that we aren’t alone here,” I say.
“Yes, I know. I believe you were all camping out in the barracks last night,” the man answers.
“You seem to know a lot about us,” Connor says, the slurring fading away, “what more is there for us to answer?”
“You could tell me who sent you here!” He yells, driving his knife through the shelf. “Was it Kissner or was it Quinn?”
“No one sent us here,” I protest.
“Yeah we only came here because it seemed safe,” Connor added.
“Liars,” he spits.
“No, honest,” I cry out.
“Then what made you think this place would be safe?” He growls.
“Sir, I trained here as a boy,” Connor barks, “It was the first place I called home.”
“Is that so? Then you’re telling me you are a military man too?” he questions.
“Sir, Yes sir,” Connor call out “Active until my wife’s death sir.”
“Sorry about your loss soldier,” the man says, “but that isn’t enough for me to release you.”
“Why would you think President Quinn would send us here?” I ask.
“Why would you think I meant President Quinn boy? Got something to hide?” the man growls.
“No but like I told you, I saw the paintings. Kissner is the name of the General, the one a few paintings away from President Quinn,” I explain, “come to think of it between the two paintings there were ones of the Vice President and Secretary of Defense. Both of those paintings had giant red Xs across them, any explanation about that?”
“Oh I added the Xs,” the man admits, “the day I got word of their deaths.”
“What is your name?” Connor asks.
“I am Master Sargent Erik Summers, well former Master Sargent anyway. I doubt the title still holds after I shot at a superior officer,” He laughs.
“Sargent Summers,” I start.
“That’s Master Sargent boy,” He yells.
“I’m sorry, Master Sargent,” I fix myself, “but I think things might go smoother if you cut us down and we all talk about this rationally.”
“I can’t do that. Because I know as soon as I cut you down you’ll cross me,” Eric says, “they always cross me.”
“No sir, I give you my word that we won’t cross you,” I plead.
“He’s right Master Sargent,” Connor chimes in, “we are just trying to keep you alive.”
“What are you going on about boy?” Eric asks.
“The others waiting for us in the barracks are all armed, and they will come looking for us if we are gone too long. Now you seem like an understanding guy and I’m sure we could help each other out,” Connor reasons.
The Master Sargent scowls at both of us, the gears in his churning as he analyses us, debating with himself. “If I let you down, and you betray me, I will kill you. And I’m not talking about a fast kill, I’m talking a slow tortuous death. Understood?”
We both nod. He takes one last look at us before unlocking each of our locks.
I rub my wrists when he frees me, “Where is my sword?”
“It’s safe,” Eric says, “you’ll get it back when I know I can trust you.”
“Do you want to go back to the barracks and talk?” Connor asks, “We could introduce you to the rest of our group.”
“You mean out number me,” Eric hisses.
“I mean showing a sign of faith, from both side,” Connor answers.
“Fine,” Eric sighs, “but if I feel ganged up on at any point…” he runs his index finger under his throat.
“Understood,” Connor and I say in harmony.
I watch Eric grab my sword from behind the shelves and slide it onto my back. I feel a jealous rage inside me, like he had just slept with my wife. He leads us out of the armory and back to the barracks. Connor and I walk through the doors, the others watch as we step aside revealing Eric.
“Who’s this?” Natalie questions.
“A survivor,” I say, “The same as us.”
“But he is military. The last time we trusted military we all nearly died,” Matthew says, noticing the faded army greens the Master Sargent is wearing.
“I am former military,” Connor growls, “don’t forget that.” Matthew backs down.
“Does he have a name?” Penelope asks.
“Ma’am I am Master Sargent Eric Summers,” he replies.
“Nice to meet you Master Sargent,” Jeremy says moving in closer, “just so we make no mistake, have you ever had any connection with a Lieutenant Mason Daily?”
“No sir,” Eric replies, “Former military?”
“Something like that,” Connor laughs, “see the short version is Doctor Fairfield here was one of the scientists who worked on the Omega Virus.”
“SERUM,” Jeremy interrupts.
“Sorry, Serum,” Connor clarifies, “He was ordered by his superiors to work on an antivirus. When we talked him into scrapping his work, Mason went crazy, saying he had orders to make sure Jeremy finished. He tried to kill
us, but instead Natalie killed him.”
“Do you know who gave orders to the Lieutenant?” Eric asks Jeremy.
“Not sure,” Jeremy answers, “but he said it came from someone up top.”
“Kissner!” Eric growls.
“Who?” Kennedy asks.
“General Paul Kissner. He was formerly a three star General, but he gained his fourth star a week before the virus hit,” Eric explains, “Matter of fact this very base had a ceremony for him. President Quinn was here as well, honoring the newly promoted General.”
“Wait. Were they both here when the Virus hit?” Connor asked.
“Yes, actually they gave the orders for the nuclear strike in the court yard,” Eric replies.
“They knew,” Jeremy gasps.
“What do you mean?” Fanny asks.
“The President and the General had to have known that the virus was going to hit. How many promotion ceremonies does this fort see on a regular basis?” Jeremy asks.
“Usually we see a few, but never a General. That is usually reserved for a Senate hearing. But Kissner asked for his ceremony to be here,” Eric said.
“That does seem rather strange,” Kennedy says.
“That’s also the day I crossed out the Defense Secretary and Vice President’s paintings,” Eric groaned.
“They were left in D.C. weren’t they,” I ask.
“Yes,” Eric says bowing his head, “They were among the first confirmed dead.”
“But what possible motive could the President have in killing millions of people,” Matthew asks.
“What is the only motive for doing anything?” Connor says, “Power.”
“It does seem plausible,” Eric says, “I mean during this time of crisis it’s not like the President will be asked to step down anytime soon.”
“But what good is power if you have no one to lord it over?” Natalie asks.
“He does have people,” I say, “look how easy Mason was controlled, just because he was ordered.”
“It’s really quite genius,” Jeremy says, “I mean he basically took out anyone who would oppose him, while those closest to him, willing to obey his commands have been given shelter inside bunkers.”
“But what if it’s not President Quinn,” Natalie asks.
“What do you mean? It has to be him, he’s top of the food chain,” Penelope argues.
“Unless someone else is pulling his strings,” Natalie replies with a grin.
“Kissner,” Eric says punching his fist through the wall of the cave.
“But is there any logical way of stopping them?” Kennedy asks.
“There is a group of resistance fighters who make their base one of the smaller keys, just off of Florida,” Eric says, “I’ve been in radio contact with them sporadically.”
“Wait, resistance fighters? Like they knew President Quinn was evil already?” Fanny asks.
“No. They are more like a last resort, protection team,” Eric replies.
“Any way for us to contact them and figure out a plan to stop all of this?” I ask.
“Not currently,” Eric sighs, “There communications went down the other day, most likely ran out of power. But they will be coming ashore late December to replenish their supplies. There is a hidden bunker in Miami where they stock up.”
“That’s where we are headed,” Kennedy says.
“After blowing up a bunker in New York, then killing one of their men in D.C. the Miami bunker seemed to be our best bet. We were told there was no personnel there,” Connor explains.
“You guys sure get around,” Eric jokes, “But yes, technically the bunker is empty. Like I was saying it’s really more of a docking station. Smaller than most but still stocked with plenty of supplies and completely impenetrable to attack.”
“Do you know how to get in?” Natalie asks.
“Yes, I have been there several times,” Eric nods.
“What about the resistance, will they help us?” I ask.
“We may have to coerce them more then I’d like, but yes I believe they will,” Eric answers.
“Alright, then we continue on,” Connor says, “tomorrow morning.”
We all agree. Eric even shows me and Connor where he stashed our supply of food. The day continued on slowly, part of my brain continued to wonder if we were really going to be able to take down what’s rest of the government.
Chapter 21
December 20th, 2037
It’s been a little over two months since we were last able to stop for more than a few hours. South Carolina and Alabama were what Jeremy described as a ‘hot zone’. A strong southern breeze the day the Virus hit has seemed to help cultivate the South with more Zombies then we normally come across. We have been tested more time than we ever have. Jeremy has learned quickly to defend himself, or at least how to get out of our way as we fought. Eric has been useful, especially when it comes to fighting. His military training far succeeds what Connor was trained to do. Unfortunately, he has also been something of a loose cannon, rushing into the next fight sometimes before his last fight is even over. He almost got Fanny killed with his reckless behavior. Kennedy has started to talk to me again, mostly little things, but it’s a start. We made it to the bunker a few days ago, part of me has been slightly worried that we missed the resistance because of our late arrival, but Eric assures me that they haven’t been there yet. The dust and dirt built up in the bunker seems to help his assessment. The bunker is smaller than then last few that we had come across. With only about a half a dozen rooms, most housing food and water leaving us with two livable rooms. The main room sports a brown microfiber couch and a few tables. A small ham radio sits on the larger table. The second is the bedroom, with two bunk beds on either side of the room. A small lamp sits on an end table between the two beds. Dust and dirt have built up around all the furniture in the bunker, the amount shows that this place has been abandoned for quite a long time.
“This place is a piece of shit,” Eric scoffs wiping his finger across the dirt on an empty table.
“I suppose you’d rather be back outside with the Zombies?” Natalie mocks.
Eric growls at Natalie’s remark before walking away.
“Perhaps we should get some rest,” Kennedy speaks up trying to quell their conflict.
“Should we do shifts or do you think we have the luxury of just passing out?” Connor asks.
“There are no luxuries,” Eric reminds.
“Agreed,” I say, “Fanny, Eric, Matthew, and Jeremy why don’t you get some sleep soon. We’ll shift switch in five hours.” I look down at my watch, just slightly after one.
“So the rest of us are just on watch?” Natalie asks, “Aren’t we safe in this bunker?”
“Yes. At least we should be,” I reply, “but still if the resistance comes, I’d like to have people awake to greet them.”
The others agree with me. We wish the others a good sleep, even though none of us could possibly sleep well. The few of us who have remained up have begun drifting off in the main room. Connor is resting his back firmly against the wall in front of me, his head bent backward the top square against the wall. I can see his eyes fluttering as he fights to stay awake. Natalie is sitting beside him, the rhythmic sound of her running a sharpening stone up and down her machete echoes throughout the room. Kennedy is studying a medical book Jeremy gave her before leaving the D.C. bunker. She has been on the same page for a lot longer than normal with her head slinked down over the book. Penelope is resting with me on the couch. She is sprawled out lengthwise, her head resting on my lap allowing me to stroke her deep red hair. I have my journal resting on the arm of the couch but I have very little will to write.
“I can barely keep my eyes open,” Connor yawns.
“That’s ok, I think Kennedy and Penelope are both asleep,” I respond.
There is a silence, Natalie removes the stone from the blade and the room is peaceful.
“I can’t remember the last t
ime it was this quiet,” Connor says groggily.
“Me either,” I smile.
“I don’t like it when it’s quiet,” Natalie says checking her blade at eye level, “That’s when all the weird shit happens.”
“Oh come on, we are in a safe house,” I laugh.
The walls begin to shake, the floor rumbles under our feet. Penelope and Kennedy both open their eyes in horror.
“What’s going on?” Penelope asks
“It’s fine, were just having an earthquake,” Connor says.
“In Florida?” I question.
“Do you have a better idea?” Connor asks.
The others rush into the room before I can answer. They each look distraught.
“Please tell me that isn’t what I think it was,” Matthew groans.
“Do you think General Kissner would know that we are here?” I ask Eric.
“With your recent activities, it’s possible,” Eric replies.
“Not to mention they probably hacked into the security cameras,” Jeremy states, “they were probably tracking us through each state.”
“That or we have a traitor in our midst,” Matthew suggests.
“What are you saying?” Eric growls.
“I’m saying we know nothing about you except you are military, and the military is knocking on our door,” Matthew argues.
“Hey, I have just as much to lose as you,” Eric hisses, grabbing Matthew by the scruff of his shirt and pulling him close.
“Yeah and more to gain if you turn on us,” Matthew spits.
“Calm down both of you,” Fanny cries.
“Fanny’s right, both of you are acting like children,” Natalie scoffs.
“Worse than children,” Kennedy corrects, “The child is acting more like an adult than you.”
“Hey?” Fanny cries.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Kennedy apologizes.
“ENOUGH!” I yell getting everyone’s attention. “Each one of you has to stop this. We are not here to fight each other, we are here to fight President Quinn and Kissner. But if we can’t all work together then we might as well just put our guns to our head and pull the trigger. Because we are dead otherwise.”
“Damian’s right,” Connor agrees, “We have to look at the big picture here. A couple of months ago none of us knew any of the others, but fate brought us together and team work is our biggest asset, if we can get over our insecurities.”
Omega Virus (Book 1): Surviving the Horror Page 19