by Tim Yingling
No hands went up this time. I expected it to happen. Now, I had to convince them.
“Listen, this is rather important. I need help because I am going to try to convince Stone he is wrong for what he is doing. Him keeping us here is going to get us killed. We are on a limited supply of ammo, food, and water. He needs to be taught that fighting the zombies the way he is will only get more people killed. I need one of those fuckers” – I pointed to the walls of the hanger – “out there to prove it. I need two of you to help me. This is for your benefit as well as mine. I am taking off in the morning to go to my family. Hopefully, this will convince Stone that keeping us as a mass group is a bad idea. So, I ask again, but I won’t make any of you do it. Can I get two volunteers?”
Again, no hands went up. One of my soldiers, Specialist Varner, did have a question.
“How did you get lucky enough to be able to leave, SSG?”
“Besides you all, only CSM Perez knows I’m leaving. I’m going to sneak out early in the morning.”
The faces looking at me told me they wanted to go, too. I didn’t want to take them. That would defeat the purpose of me doing what I was doing. A large crowd is a bad mistake. I didn’t need the movies to tell me that. It was better if people moved in small groups. Less likely to make a lot of noise and attract the enemy.
“I have no problem with you guys doing the same,” I said. “I will cover for you until I leave. But leaving as a group is a bad idea.”
For the first time in over two weeks, I finally saw happiness on my soldier’s faces. It was something I wouldn’t feel for a long time to come, that I knew.
“How did you plan on catching one of those things?” Varner asked.
“Easily. Do you hear that?” I pointed to the walls again. We heard the groans of the zombies outside. Along with the groans, there was banging on the sheer walls. The zombies tried to find a way inside. “I don’t know how many are out there. But they are right on the wall. I need one person to come with me to grab one of them. I need the second volunteer to stand at the door and let us back in. This shouldn’t take more than a minute.” I turned to point at a chain fall behind me. “We’ll take it over to that and secure it.”
Light dawned on Varner’s face. I had one volunteer. Now I just needed one at the door. I looked at my men to see who would do it. I didn’t have to look at them, though.
“I’ll do it,” a female said from behind me.
I turned to look at Specialist Katelyne Rice. She had no emotion on her face.
Okay was all I said to her.
As I turned back to Varner, she said, “I have one condition on the matter.”
“What would that be?” Varner and I were standing up to go to the side door of the hanger. We didn’t move just yet.
“You have to take me with you when you leave in the morning.”
I should take a minute here to let you know a thing or two about Rice. She is someone Damien warns every new soldier in the Battalion about. The reason behind it is because she has a reputation of being a promiscuous person, to put it in a light term. To not use a light term, she wants to fuck a lot of guys. A couple of months ago, one of her NCOs found a book in her hooch containing a list of guy’s names. The title of the list was “TO FUCK.” I couldn’t make this up even if I tried. It was a list of about twenty guys in the Battalion. More than half the list was crossed off. Eight of the top ten were among those crossings. The number two person wasn’t. I was number two, apparently.
I personally have no problem with her. I talked with her on a few occasions. I kind of have to as she’s one of the cooks. I don’t necessarily believe in rumors. I do believe everyone has the right to live their lives whichever way they want to. If Rice wants to fuck every man alive, then good for her. It doesn’t affect me because I wouldn’t do it. I am happily married.
All I said to her was, “Deal.”
The three of us walked over to the side door. Nobody looked in our direction. Everybody was doing their own thing.
We stood at the door before getting started. I took a look around to see if anyone was going to stop us. No one would. Most people were asleep. Others were conversing with their friends. It was now or never to get it done.
“Okay, Kate. Pop the door and immediately close it behind us. When you hear banging on the door, open it.” As an afterthought, I added, “If we ain’t back in two minutes, cut sling and go back to your business.”
“Roger,” she said.
I turned to Varner and asked, “Are you ready?”
Varner nodded. I, in turn, nodded toward Rice. She stepped forward, placing both hands on the push bar. Varner and I steadied ourselves to move quickly.
It didn’t take us but five seconds to accomplish the mission. In truth, I thought it was going to take the full two minutes I allowed for our survival. But the shorter time worked in our favor.
As soon as Rice opened the door, I spotted one of the zombies. It just so happened to be a former soldier at that. I didn’t know who he was, but I’m sure someone in the hanger would.
The retrieval of said zombie was easy. It (that’s how I think of them now, things) stood to the right of the door as I went out. It seemed to be in a state of dementia because it continued to walk into the wall. It wasn’t until I noticed the two-inch hole that I figured out why, and I’ll get to that soon.
I also figured out they can’t smell us. This came about because the zombie didn’t know we were even there until I grabbed its arm. It turned its head in my direction at the touch. All visuals and some books say once one becomes a zombie they start to decay. Looking into the dead eyes of this zombie, I can tell you it’s not the case. They look the same, it’s just they have lifeless eyes. They also lose all vocal functions except for grunts and screams (another thing you will find out about).
Varner finally stepped forward when the zombie reached for me with its other arm. Varner snatched the arm in mid-swing. The thing tried to snap at both of us. It didn’t get within the length of its shoulders. We had its arms stretched too far.
We wrestled the thing into the hanger. One thing I did find out that I didn’t know before: they can’t hear us, but they sure as hell can hear each other. I did say they heard the plane earlier, but that was a louder noise. As for humans in general, they can’t hear us because we make less noise. The louder noises they can hear. I don’t know how it is, but the way I found out was simple. The other zombies didn’t hear us open the door. They only turned when the captured zombie gave off a strange horse barking noise. It was piercing to my ears. The other zombies turned in the direction of the bark. Once they laid eyes on Varner and me they also barked in our direction. They're slow, mulling walk was not enough effort to get to us. We were back in the door before Rice could close it.
Surprisingly, none of the soldiers took notice to us marching a zombie through the hanger. It wasn’t until we were at the chain fall that someone noticed. The one person was General Stone.
“What the fuck is this?” he blurted out as we were securing the zombie.
I paid no mind to his outbreak at first. My only concern, for the time being, was making sure the zombie wouldn’t get away. I did, however, notice a small crowd gathering around us. It was a mix between the brass and soldiers.
Once the zombie was secure, I said to Varner and Rice, “You two take off. I’ll handle the fallout.” As they left, I said to Rice, “Make sure you’re ready. It will be early.”
She nodded before leaving.
I turned to look for Stone. It didn’t take long. He was right behind me. When I spoke, it had to be louder than usual due to the things barks.
“There’re some things you need to know about the zombies before you make a decision to fight them again,” I said.
“And you thought bringing one of The Horde in here would be a good idea?” he asked. Before I could answer, Stone turned to his CSM. “Take this soldier’s weapons and secure him. He is now considered under arrest. He will b
e –”
“Sir,” Damien said, stepping up. He waited until Stone looked at him before he continued. “SSG Yames said he had some information. I think we should hear him out.”
“I don’t give a shit what you think,” Stone said. The fire in his voice could burn a city to the ground. He turned back to his CSM. “CSM Owens, do it.”
CSM Owens shook his head. “I agree with CSM Perez. I think you should listen.”
Stone looked defeated. But he pressed on. He asked three more people to do his bidding. All three said they wouldn’t do it. All the while, I stood my ground waiting for him to listen to me.
Finally, he looked at me. He was still pissed, but he said, “I guess you can go ahead. But if I don’t like what I hear, then you know what will happen.”
I already had everything I wanted to say planned out in my head. The first thing I said visibly hurt Stone. I didn’t care. The safety of the men and women in the hanger was my only concern.
“Everything you think you know is horseshit. All you will do if you stay on this course of action will get people killed. Everything we have learned from movies, TV, books, and comic books is wrong. We can’t kill these things by simply shooting them, let alone in the head. They won’t stop.”
“Why do you say that?” Stone asked. He was calming down a little.
“Allow me to demonstrate.” I turned around and said to everyone in front of the zombie, “Move behind me.” It took a few minutes, but it got done. Everybody was cramped in behind me.
I pulled my pistol and put a round through the back of the zombie. The only thing it did was shift a little and let out another bark. It stopped barking when everyone got out of its eyesight but began again with the loud report and the pressure on its back. The next place I fired at was its head. Its head tilted forward for a second but popped back up. It let out another bark. Each bark was followed by a sequence of heavy bangs on the siding. I believe I was starting to realize what each bark meant.
“I just proved two things there, sir,” I said while holstering my pistol.
“And that would be?”
“Well, three, but I’ll get to the third in a second. The first being we can’t kill them with guns. The second is they communicate amongst themselves. Just listen to those sons-of-bitches outside.” I stopped talking for them to listen. The only noises were that of shuffling feet inside the hanger being drowned out by the barks and bangs from outside the hanger.
Stone didn’t wait too long. “And the third?”
“The zombies –”
“Stop calling them zombies. They are called The Horde.”
“No.” Shocked faces emerged from my response. I didn’t care, as usual. I continued on as if he never said anything. “The zombies only have two major outside senses left and a minor third. They can only feel and see. They do hear, but the noise has to be loud enough. We make small noises and they wouldn’t even know we were there unless they see or feel us. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it is the case.”
It wasn’t Stone who asked the next question. He was still too shocked I told him no. It was one of the few Captains we had left.
“How do you know they mainly use those two?”
“Well, when one other person and I went out to capture this thing, it didn’t hear us open the door, and it was standing within two feet of it. Now, here we are; I am one foot behind it as I speak and it doesn’t even know I’m here. Let’s not forget we haven’t been able to clean ourselves for several days. We’re all pretty rank, and yet it hasn’t noticed our smell.”
“Maybe it’s just because he doesn’t like the smell,” someone yelled from the back.
Stone turned his head a little to the left to stifle the growing laughter. It worked to an extent. He turned back when he was satisfied with the level of laughter. He didn’t have to raise his voice anymore, the barks from outside were dying down. “You said something about their eyesight. What do you know about it?”
“That’s the most interesting aspect of these things. Aside from the fact it is damn near impossible to kill them. Take a look at this.”
I turned to the thing, placing my hands next to its ears. I then inched them forward, slowly. When my hands were at the spot where a normal person’s peripheral was, I stopped.
Without taking my eyes off the back of the zombie’s head, or moving my hands, I said, “As you can tell, he hasn’t seen me yet.” I moved my hands forward. It wasn’t until my hands were completely in front of its head that the zombie barked again, subsequently followed by more barks outside.
“I get your point,” Stone shouted.
I took my hands away as the zombie tried to bite me. What I saw when I turned around was surprising. A look of awe was etched in everyone’s face. Everyone except Stone’s. His face told me to get to my point.
“Those are not the only things you need to know.”
“I’m not surprised there’s more,” Stone said with a non-humorous chuckle. “Give us everything.”
“No more interruptions?”
“No more.”
“No matter what I do?”
“Yes, no matter what you do.”
“Good.” I turned to a specialist standing close by. “Give me your ’chete.”
The soldier handed over his machete. I took a look at the blade, flicking my thumb across the sharp edge. I already knew the machete was going to do what I needed it to do; I just wanted to put on a show. I wanted the others to make sure they could see what I was doing.
Then, without any hint of what I was actually going to do, I whirled around to my right. The machete was an attachment of my left arm. It stayed level with my shoulder as I spun. The sharpness of the blade didn’t matter much on the soft, meaty flesh of the thing chained up. The blade first became buried in its neck, getting stuck a little over halfway through. I switched hands on the hilt, then drove my right forearm into the dull side of the machete to get it to go through the rest of the way. From the first instance of the blade driving into its neck, the zombie began to scream. Some would think, and I know a lot of the personnel in the hanger would think this as well, that once I made it through the spinal cord the thing would stop screaming. It didn’t. It actually got louder and more intense. The barks became more frequent. In turn, the banging on the sides of the hanger became fiercer. Still, none of the soldiers were worried about the situation. It was like they all believed I could be their one and only protector ever since I stood up to Stone.
The head didn’t pop off so much as it just rolled off the body. A lot of the soldiers told me (after everything was over and done with) that they were disappointed. I wasn’t. I had a point to get across.
The head rolled to the front, still barking its screams. The body, since it didn’t have a head to move it, slumped down still being held up by the chains. Another thing everyone wanted to see was blood geysering from the neck. They were again disappointed. The little blood that did come out only flowed like an upside-down faucet. Barely any made it to the floor, only droplets did. Most of the blood began to stain the zombie’s ACUs. The only blood that stained the concrete floor was from my forearm. Truth be told, I didn’t even know I was cut, let alone needing stitches until later.
I walked around the hanging body to retrieve the head. Stone asked as I walked, “What’s the point of this?”
It was Damien who answered as I bent down to pick up the head. “Sir, SSG Yames just proved their heads don’t need their bodies to function. Hell, they don’t even need their brains.”
I picked the head up as delicately as I could. I still wasn’t aware of the cut on my arm, but that’s beside the point. I didn’t want to get any of the thing’s blood on me. Who knew what would happen then. I didn’t, and I sure as hell didn’t want to find out.
I walked with the head held out in front of me to the nearest table as Stone asked again, “What’s the point? I still don’t see it.”
This time it was me who answered. It had to be. �
��The point is, and always has been, that we can’t kill them with the weapons we have. We have to use the oldest weapon known to man to kill them. That being fire. At least, I think that will do it.”
I didn’t place the head directly on the table. My next experiment would have devastating consequences if I did it wrong. I motioned a soldier over to pick up a six-inch deep metal bin and place it on the table. The thing went inside. It seemed Varner knew what I was doing. He brought over a five-gallon fuel can and poured a little gas over the head. I didn’t wait for anyone to interrupt me. I had a book of matches from one of the MREs. Once the match was lit, I dropped it into the bin.
At first, the screams intensified again. After a few seconds, they began to die down. After a full minute, they were gone. I let the fire burn for another minute after. The only noises anyone heard were the banging on the sides of the hanger and the crackle of the dying fire. My eyes were on Stone. Everyone else’s eyes were on the bin.
When I thought the thing had enough, I poured some water on it. The head sizzled and smoldered. Smoke rose from the bin. The smell of the smoke was rancid. It was like standing outside a slaughterhouse. I could see in the bin. What I saw I had to show everyone. I didn’t want to touch the thing with my hands now; and stupid me, I left my gloves with my kit. I had no other choice but to grab the sides of the bin.
The bin wasn’t as hot as I thought it would be. That’s not to say the son-of-a-bitch was cold either. It only burned my hands a little, but not enough for me not to pick it up.
I got a good look inside the bin, as well as a fresh burst of the smell. I was happy with the first. Not so much with the second.
“I need everyone to back up,” I said. When I dumped the contents of the bin I didn’t want anyone to come into contact with the water or gas.
Everybody but one did as I told them. Stone stood his ground. That man didn’t like being outsmarted by someone lower ranking than him. I did not sympathize. I am a firm believer that if someone knows more than me, I will (and have) taken their advice. No one person knows everything.