The Zombie Principle II

by David R Vosburgh

  “Move away from the door!” he shouted. The man looked up, panic filling his eyes, and nodded,

  Major Bradley waited a few seconds then gave the order to open fire. The shots found their mark as four infected crumbled down the stairs, landing on the tarmac in a twisted heap. They approached slowly looking for movement. They pumped a few rounds into the skulls of the infected just to make sure. The man pulled the door open, metal on metal echoing throughout the airstrip, and stood frozen on top of the landing.

  Captain Morris and Private Stevens began moving the bodies away from the bottom of the stairs. The Major needed to get inside the plane and fetch the weapons and Dr. Sanderson’s pills. And perhaps any remaining food that’s good. He looked up at the man standing on the landing. He was a portly man of about thirty-five with a ruddy face and glasses. His hair had just begun to thin. He wore a pair of oversized denim shorts and a short sleeve button down shirt.

  “You can come down now, it’s clear. That planes of no use to anyone now,” he said.

  The man carefully made his way down, holding on to the handrails for dear life.

  “Thanks,” he managed to say when he finally reached the bottom.

  “Major Charles Bradley,” the Major introduced himself.

  “Uh … Archibald Waxman,” he answered as the two men shook hands.

  “My friends call me Arch,” he continued on.

  “Well Arch,” the Major said, “I need to grab a few things from the plane, stick close to Captain Morris over there. Ok?”

  Arch nodded and moved over to the two men moving the dead bodies away from the plane.

  Major Bradley headed up the stairs as his walkie started to squawk.

  Stephen raised the walkie to his mouth and depressed the talk button as Corporal Sinclair steered the cargo truck south on Peterson Boulevard.

  “Major Bradley, come in,” he said.

  “Bradley, over.”

  “Major, it’s Stephen … we’re on our way to the airstrip, ETA …,” he paused because he had no idea exactly how far they were from their destination. He had been to the airstrip only once and he hadn’t driven there. Sinclair would probably know but he was up front all by himself. He figured, however, they weren’t that far away.

  “ETA unknown but we’re not far away … over,” he said.

  “Copy that. Do you still have Mr. Sharp with you? Over.”

  Malcolm looked up at the mention of his name with a somewhat curious look on his face. Like a school child who hears his name being discussed among a group of teachers, figuring he was in some kind of trouble.

  “That’s affirmative, over.”

  “Good. See you soon and be careful, over and out.”

  Stephen placed the walkie back on his belt and looked around the cargo area. The Walkers were engaged in their reunion. Overnight bags were strewn on the floor of the truck bed along with the cans of gas and the ammunition bag. The Sharps were both staring at him apparently waiting for some kind of answer to why Major Bradley was inquiring about Malcolm’s whereabouts. Nick stared out the back of the truck, scanning the area for any potential trouble. Lucy clung tightly to his arm. The man in the orange shirt looked as if he just realized he boarded the wrong city bus.

  Stephen decided to address the Sharps first.

  “The Major has a doctor with him who might be able to explain why your father was bitten but has not yet turned,” he said to Katie.

  They looked at each other, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

  Turning to the man in the orange shirt he introduced himself and the rest of the group, including Sinclair. As it turns out, Kim knew the man and their being together was no coincidence.

  “This is Terrance, the man who made that beautiful plaque in the garden,” she said. The kids took an immediate interest in the new passenger.

  “Terrance Cole,” the man said.

  “That was a very nice thing you did,” Lucy said.

  “Happy to do it,” he said looking at Kim in a way that made Stephen think the two of them had seen more of each other than Kim may have been letting on. That discussion, however, would have to wait. The truck seemed to be slowing down.

  Major Bradley had emerged from the plane carrying the canvass bag of weapons, the overnight bag Zoe brought on board, and Dr. Sanderson’s pills. With the threat moved on, everyone had left the control tower and were once again milling about the tarmac, waiting for Stephen. He called Captain Morris over.

  “Captain, I put some food in a bag and put in on one of the chairs in there. Go grab it and check around, see if there is anything else of use,” he ordered.

  Morris headed up the stairs as the Major walked past the heaping pile of infected, stopping next to Dr. Sanderson.

  “I believe these are yours,” he said handing over the package.

  Dr. Sanderson took the bag, looking down at it like it was about to say something to him.

  “Tell me again why we all haven’t popped one of these in our mouths,” asked the Major.

  “It still needs more testing,” he answered. The Major still felt like he was holding something back.

  Holly Sanderson, who knew her husband a hell of a lot better than he did, looked at him with the same concerned expression.

  “Well, I hope we can find someplace that you can do just that. It looks like, I’m afraid, that the base no longer offers that option,” he said.

  The awkward silence that followed was broken by the sound of squealing truck tires. Private Stevens leveled his weapon at the cargo truck that appeared from around the tower. He relaxed when he saw the smiling face of Corporal Sinclair at the wheel.

  The back of the cargo truck was now jammed packed. The Major sat up front with Corporal Sinclair, everyone else jumped in the back. Sixteen people plus travel bags, munitions bags, and gas cans. It started to stink. Everyone stared at the ground, or the canvass walls, or out the back. There would be time for introductions, right now everyone wanted to get as far away from the base as possible. But was there a safe place out there? Would it be a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire? And perhaps the solution to all their problems was right in front of them as Dr. Sanderson and Malcolm Sharpe sat next to each other, elbow to elbow, trying very hard not to look at each other.

  Sinclair made it safely out of the base and headed south on route twenty-one. Major Bradley pulled out a map of the area that he kept with him at all times. Always best to be prepared in case of an evacuation. He had no idea where they would go. Fall was just around the corner and then winter. It was best to head south for now. He had his head buried in the map when Sinclair elbowed him. Annoyed, the Major looked up.

  He didn’t have to be told why as the corporal slowed the truck down next to a bearded man holding a shotgun, wearing his trademark unhappy expression.

  Benton Worthington III sat in the back seat of a brand-new Cadillac Escalade, Gunner alongside him. The driver was a man Benton knew well and was a man he trusted. Trusted even more than he trusted Gunner. Gunner was a mercenary at heart, a potential loose cannon. But for now, he needed him. It was unusual for Benton to need anyone. This new world presented new challenges, even for the billionaire. They were headed back to the Colorado mountain complex and then to Fort Carson to find his doctor and reclaim what was rightfully his.

  188 Days Later

  Chapter 17

  Las Vegas

  It was getting more difficult to obtain a good night’s sleep. The nightmares were becoming more frequent and more intense. They had even followed him into the daytime. He started calling them “daymares”. Only to himself, of course. No one else knew about his … visions. He had lost blocks of time during the day and could only remember waking up in a cold sweat and the odd feeling he had dreamt something terrible or worse, done something terrible. It was starting to seriously affect his work.

  He sat up from his bed in room 312. Everyone got his or her own room, there were plenty of them, over 700. Most guests, as they jo
kingly referred to themselves, constrained themselves to the first few floors despite the fact the nicer rooms were on the upper floors. The elevators didn’t work anyway. It was just nice to have a bed to sleep in he told himself.

  There were no showers to take but a bucket of water was delivered every day to each room. It was used for bathing as well as drinking, whichever was needed more. He shuffled over to the window and looked out. Another sunny day. It was starting to warm up.

  “Must be nearly spring,” he thought.

  Dr. Sanderson shared this room with his wife Holly, but today like most days, she was up early and down in the kitchen helping put together the meals for the day. Zoe had her own room just down the hall. She was probably still sleeping having been up late working on the security systems. She was something of a computer whiz and the Major asked her if she could tie a few cameras to a computer monitor. Before the outbreak, it would have been an easy job but now she was constantly confronted with power issues, among others.

  A few generators were pulled together and used to charge up some car batteries that were then used to power the cameras and computer but the charges weren’t lasting as long as they had wanted and gas was getting harder to come by. The Major still thought it was worth the effort.

  He went to the door and opened it, the water bucket was just outside, as usual, he bent down, picked it up, and went back inside. After lifting the stopper, he poured some of the water into the bathroom sink, placing the remainder on the floor. He grabbed a bar of soap and swished it in the room temperature water, lathering his hands. He raised his hands and was about to apply the soap to his face when he looked at himself in the mirror. A man he hardly recognized stared back at him.

  Stephen couldn’t remember being this nervous. Even with everything that has happened over the last eight or nine months, his stomach was doing somersaults. The idea had come from one of his food and fuel runs. Passing a travel agency, his group spotted a couple infected inside the building. After dispensing with the zombies, he looked around the office for anything useful and his gaze fell upon a few scattered travel brochures for a Six Flags Amusement Park. He picked one up and his thoughts drifted back to the last normal thing he had done, and the first time he met Lucy.

  The trip obviously didn’t go as planned but the one good thing to come out of it was Lucy. Or more to the point, him and Lucy. He was aware of the true pointlessness of the act given the current situation but he decided to go ahead with it anyway. He had no idea what her reaction would be but he was completely unprepared for the reaction he received.

  When he asked her to marry him she burst out laughing, unable to control herself. He was left standing there with a ring he had “appropriated” from a local jewelry store and a dumbfounded expression on his face. After she had regained her composure she answered, “Of course I’ll marry you, you big dummy.”

  Confused and relieved at the same time he gave her the ring and smile. Nick was, of course, the Best Man. Lucy had asked Kim to be her Maid of Honor. Danielle would be the flower girl. They agreed to do it right away given the general uncertainty of the future.

  He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror in his room at the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino. He was fumbling with a tie he had found in a men’s clothing shop. He had also procured a navy-blue suit, a white dress shirt, and black dress shoes. The last thing that gets looted in a zombie apocalypse is fine men’s furnishings so he had his choice of apparel easily finding his size. He had just about positioned the tie as he wanted it when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” he yelled.

  Stephen heard the door open and then close. A few seconds later Nicholas Van Arden, best man and professional wise-ass, stood in the bathroom doorway along with Jason Walker, ring bearer. Nick had managed to find a suit as well but had accented it with Tommy Bahama tie adorned with hula girls in grass skirts. Jason looked handsome in his black slacks and oxford blue shirt.

  “If you don’t hurry up, I’ll marry her,” Nick said.

  Finally pleased with his tie, Stephen turned around and faced Nick in the doorway.

  “She’s way too smart for that,” Stephen answered.

  “You look alright,” Jason chimed in.

  “You two clean up nice as well,” Stephen said, noticing Nick’s tie for the first time and shaking his head as he pushed past them moving toward the bed where his suit jacket lay.

  He picked up the jacket and put it on and after a few minor adjustments looked at his Best Man and Ring Bearer.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Let’s do this before she comes to her senses,” Nick said.

  They turned and headed for the door as Jason unsuccessfully attempted to suppress a chuckle. Stephen stopped short of the door, ran back to the bed and lifted up the pillow on the left-hand side, removing the 9-millimeter handgun concealed there, and tucking it in a holster he had attached to his belt.

  They had agreed upon foregoing any real traditions given that these were hardly traditional times. There was going to be a ceremony and a best man and maid of honor but that was about it. No wedding dresses or tuxes. No wedding cakes or garter belts. No father of the Bride. No music or dancing. Just a simple ceremony followed by a reception.

  The one thing they did decide to do was hold the ceremony at a chapel. A real Vegas wedding. Neither were particularly religious and the current situation had done little to instill a sense of the almighty in either of them.

  The famous Little White Wedding Chapel on the northern end of the Las Vegas Strip was chosen. It provided, however, a small logistical challenge. They had cleared the area around the MGM Grand, barricaded all the entrances with the exception of the entrance facing the corner of Las Vegas Boulevard and Tropicana Avenue, and had constant patrols looking for infected or other survivors.

  The Chapel was roughly five and a half miles to the north on the Boulevard and not in an area that was deemed safe. Major Bradley went ahead with a small group to make sure it was clear and appropriately zombie free for a wedding.

  Kim Walker finished zipping up the back of Lucy’s simple cream-colored dress and took a step back. Lucy turned around and faced Kim, her maid of honor and her daughter Danielle, the flower girl.

  “Well?” She asked hesitantly.

  “Just Beautiful. Stephen’s a lucky man,” Kim answered.

  The dress, coincidentally enough, was left in one of the guest rooms and a perfect fit. A silver bracelet with a blue Topaz found in the casino’s gift shop adorned her left wrist. Her hair was pulled back slightly and held in place by a barrette borrowed from Kim. She told her it had been her mother’s and was quite old. Figuring she had it covered; something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, she felt ready.

  Danielle, holding a few flowers she had collected outside a few minutes ago, pulled one from her hand and reached up, pushing the stem behind Lucy’s left ear. Lucy helped her and after adjusting it looked in the mirror. It was the perfect final touch. She reached down and stroked the young girl’s hair.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Now you’re beautiful,” Danielle answered with a smile.

  “Do you think the guys are ready?” Lucy asked.

  “Probably not,” Danielle said.

  “Let’s go find out,” Lucy suggested.

  With gas being in short supply they decided to forgo another long-standing tradition; not seeing each other on the day of the wedding before the ceremony. They were taking the same cargo truck to the chapel. Not the most romantic method of transportation but times being what they were….

  Major Bradley was happy for the couple but not thrilled they wanted to get married better than 5 miles away from the hotel. There was any number of chapels and churches between here and there, including a small chapel in the MGM Grand itself. But, it would be a short ceremony and there had been very little trouble recently with infected or, for that matter, any other groups of survivors.

  After leavi
ng Fort Carson the Major’s initial plan was to find a secluded spot near the base, one that was easily defended, and attempt to contact anyone inside. No one ever answered. Several weeks passed and fall set in and the temperature started to drop. He decided to head further south and ride out the winter there.

  They drove south through Colorado into New Mexico, stopping whenever they could to fill up on supplies and pilfering as much gas as they could find. The roads were littered with abandoned cars and travel became slow and sometimes treacherous. It seemed that everyone else had the same idea but didn’t quite make it. The Major did not want to get trapped on a road where they would be sitting ducks for a horde of infected or a group of ill-intentioned survivors.

  He started to head in a westerly direction, hoping the roads would clear. As he crossed into Arizona he decided to check out Luke Air Force base just outside of Phoenix. It was unlikely that any base would have survived the outbreak if Fort Campbell had not, but it might be worth a try. The roads improved and they approached the base carefully. It was close enough to Phoenix and one thing they had learned was the larger cities had been the first to become overrun and therefore, the most dangerous after the outbreak.

  To the Major’s surprise, the city appeared deserted. A few infected could be spotted but nothing like he had expected. He figured that the human supply for the infected dried up quickly and they must have moved on by now, leaving only empty buildings and unfulfilled dreams behind. When he reached the AFB it was obvious that no help would be forthcoming. The base was nearly destroyed.

  The group was becoming anxious and wanted to find a place to settle down, even if only for a few days. So, they stopped near Wickenburg, Arizona, set up a camp, and set out gathering supplies. The stop gave Major Bradley an opportunity to think about their next move. He wanted a place to hole up for the winter. It needed to have access to supplies and be secure. The relative absence of infected in Phoenix focused his thoughts on the bigger cities in the southwest. Maybe Phoenix would be fine but then he thought about Las Vegas.