by Sean Kidd
“Ty, those weren’t soldiers.”
“What do you mean they weren’t soldiers?”
Chevy’s hands tightened on my face, “I mean, the guy firing the gun had long hair, and he was wearing a white muscle shirt. They just murdered that girl, and if we don’t get out of here, they might murder us next.” Chevy grabbed my arm and started yanking me again, “We need to get back home and make a plan, before we find ourselves lying in the street next to that girl.”
CHAPTER 13
October 4th 3:30am
Bob held on as Miranda slapped her hands against his chest, “What do you mean, tried to eat him?” Bob leaned back so he could see her face, not letting go of her shoulders, “Sophie thought he was dead, but then he reacted to stimulus, and in the next second, Ted was being attacked. There’s nothing anyone of us could do Miranda. It happened so fast.”
“Where is he now, Bob? I want to see his body.”
“Jean-Luc and I put him on a gurney in the nurses’ station.”
Miranda’s voice began to rise, “No, Bob! Where’s the male who attacked him? I want to see his body!”
Bob escorted Miranda to pathology where Dr. Marcil had already started the autopsy. Without saying a word, and showing no sign of emotion, Miranda began assisting with the post.
“I was only asleep for a little while, when did this happen?” Miranda asked.
Dr. Marcil was removing the liver and placing it in a large hanging scale that looked like it was taken from a 1970’s grocery store vegetable aisle. Dr. Marcil noted the weight by Dictaphone and said, “Miranda, I don’t understand how any of this is possible. These organs appear to have been dead for hours and already show signs of decay. Based on the corpse temperature, I estimate the time of death to be five hours ago.”
Bob interrupted, “Come on Doc! You’re making a mistake! This guy was just fighting with us less than thirty minutes ago. Let me tell you, for a dead guy, he almost kicked my ass. So you tell me just how the hell is that possible?”
Miranda took over the conversation, “Are you saying that Ted was killed by a …………… Zombie? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. People don’t just come back to life after they’ve died.”
Bob and Miranda were completely focused on Dr. Marcil, looking for an answer. “I’m not saying he’s a zombie. This isn’t the movies. I’m merely stating that his cells appeared to have been somehow reanimated."
“Doctor, with all due respect, I have never heard of such a thing. This guy isn’t Frankenstein!”
Dr. Marcil motioned for Bob and Miranda to sit down, “There is something else I haven’t told you. Sophie and I were part of a team comprised of researchers across Canada studying animal disease, primarily Ebola. Under a controlled environment, we inoculated piglets with the Zaire Ebola Strain, the deadliest strain known to man. The piglets were held in the same room with some macaques, a type of monkey we prefer to use in laboratory experiments. The animals where each separated in wire cages, there was no direct contact between any of them. All the piglets died, but before they died, the monkeys began to show signs of the Ebola virus. We had just begun initial testing with ZMapp and tested it on the four monkeys. We were able to save two of them. The two that lived turned out to be perfectly normal, but with the two that died, we had some interesting findings.
Bob interrupted again, “Doctor, please don’t tell me the monkeys turned into zombies.”
Dr. Marcil rolled his eyes at Bob, “Of course not Colonel, that’s ludicrous. However, the blood work on the two deceased monkeys showed extraordinary cellular activity even after autopsies were done.”
Bob stood up angered, pointing at Dr. Marcil, “So what you’re saying is that you and Sophie decided to play God, just to see what would happen!”
Dr. Marcil paused for a moment, not wanting to aggravate Bob any further, “We thought we had found a cure for hundreds of diseases. It was hope in the shape of a mutated virus. Can you imagine the possibilities if we could reanimate healthy cells? We could fight diseases like cancer and AIDS with a single shot. The possibilities were endless, but unfortunately we could never reproduce the findings. It was a billion to one, that the mutated strain of Ebola gave us reanimation, and I’m afraid it’s lost forever.”
Bob charged over to Dr. Marcil close enough that their protective face shields were touching, “Well Doc, your billion to one just killed Ted!”
CHAPTER 14
October 4th 4:15am
Bob was in mid-lecture when he was distracted by a barrage of gunfire coming from the Ebola patient’s floor directly above them. Miranda released a gut-wrenching scream. Bob ran out of the room and straight for the stairway. He leaped up four steps at a time, until he crested the top landing. He stopped short of grabbing the door handle. He peered out of the metal door’s shoe box sized window. Bob could see the soldier who had saved Sophie, was now shooting into the room with the Ebola patients. Sophie was crouching behind him crying, and hanging onto the back of his suit. The soldier continued firing three-shot bursts from his M4 into the room. Bob grabbed the handle and slowly opened the door, trying to get Sophie’s attention.
“Colonel, get back! They’re alive!” the soldier shouted. What the hell was he talking about, of course they’re alive. Bob thought about it for a moment, but deep down inside, he knew exactly what the soldier meant. Bob peaked around the door and saw an agglomeration of blood and bodies. The patients were up, trying to get to the soldier. They walked slow, clumsy, and seemed to stare into nothing with their glazed over pupils and glowing blue eyes. Just outside the nurses’ station, there were five of those things kneeling about a body that was still wearing a yellow suit. They were ripping the suit to shreds and taking bites from the flesh. Their victim’s face had been completely eaten away, but Bob knew who it was when he saw the gold military crowns on the dead man’s shoulders.
“Jean-Luc…. No!”
Bob turned back to Sophie and the soldier who was still firing, “Can you make it to me?” The soldier, never looking away from the attacking patients nodded his head and led Sophie across the hall to the stairway door. Bob pulled Sophie out of harm’s way, “He’s dead, Bob! Jean-Luc is dead!”
“I know, Sophie! Get downstairs to pathology, we need to get Miranda and Dr. Marcil out of here. They need to know what’s going on up here!” Bob waved his arms at the soldier trying to get his attention over the gunfire, “We need to get out of here now! Follow me.” The soldier stepped from the hallway into the stairwell and fell to the floor, “They’ve got me!”
Bob could see that one of the patient’s hands was wrapped around the soldier’s ankle. The patient's head appeared from beyond the door and began biting at the soldier’s calf. The soldier screamed as the patient ripped through his protective suit and tore away at his flesh. Bob grabbed the soldier’s M4 and put a single round through the patient’s forehead, blasting away the back of his head.
“He bit me! He bit me!” the soldier screamed. Bob dragged the soldier down the stairs by his hand. Halfway down the stairs, Bob could feel that the soldier had gone unconscious. He looked back to see that the soldier was leaving a trail of arterial spray on the wall. By the time Bob reached the bottom step, the soldier was dead. Bob took a knee next the soldier, trying to catch his breath. He checked for the soldier’s pulse. He was gone. What happened here, Bob thought. He grabbed all three of the M4 magazines that were attached to the soldier’s belt. Bob put the butt of the M4 on the ground, to use as a make-shift crutch, to help his exhausted legs lift his body. He was almost back on his feet when the soldier’s corpse grabbed Bob’s suit. Both eyes popped open, and the corpse began growling. Bob kicked the corpse’s hand away and fell back on his ass. The corpse clawed at Bob’s boots and was trying to stand up. Bob spun the M4 around and put three rounds in the corpse’s chest. The shots didn’t seem to affect it. It kept coming, unfazed by the three 5.56 rounds that had just passed through its chest. Bob briefly froze with fe
ar, as the corpse made it onto its knees and sprang onto Bob’s chest. The sound of clacking marbles rang through Bob’s ears as the corpse was trying to eat him. Bob was able to get off three more shots, with the third traveling through the soldier's chin and out the back of his head. The soldier’s corpse collapsed dead on top of Bob. He pushed the body off his chest, and it rolled onto his legs. He kicked at the corpse furiously, like he had seen a large spider on his knee. Bob was trying to process everything that had just happened, when he heard a scream come from the door leading to pathology, now what?
“Bob, help!”
Bob jumped to his feet and ran down the long corridor toward pathology. He turned into the room to find Miranda on the autopsy table in the middle of a full grand mal seizure.
“Help! Hold her down! Hold her down! Get something in her mouth! Stabilize her neck!” Orders were being barked from every side of the table. Miranda arched her back in an extreme manner. Now the only part of her touching the cold stainless steel autopsy table were her heals and shoulders. Miranda arched her back up so high, that Bob was waiting to hear her spine crack.
“Get her down!” Bob yelled when he got to the table. Sophie and Dr. Marcil were pushing with all their weight to straighten the curve in Miranda’s back. Then, as fast as the seizure came on, it stopped. Bob clutched Miranda’s face and lightly shook her.
“Miranda! Miranda! Open your eyes.”
A yellow gloved hand caressed Bob’s arm. Bob followed the hand, up the arm to Sophie’s beautiful face, who was now staring at him, “She’s gone, Bob. I’m sorry.”
“What?” Bob yanked his hand away from Sophie “How?”
His head dropped, and he felt himself holding back a tear. He reached for Miranda’s clear plastic hood, unzipped it, and pulled it off from her head, “Why?” Bob cried out.
Sophie gave Bob a second, then she reached over and pulled up one of Miranda’s eyelids. The once brown eyes were already beginning to swirl with blue pigment, and a layer of gray had formed over her pupil.
“No, this can’t be happening!” Bob looked back at Sophie and Dr. Marcil, “Get away from her! Both of you!” Sophie reached for Bob’s hand again, and he pushed it away “Now!”
They both stepped back against the lab sink watching him. Bob shuffled backwards and checked the chamber of the M4, guaranteeing a round was ready. He slowly raised the rifle and keyed in on Miranda’s forehead.
“Bob, have you gone mad? What do you think you’re doing?” Sophie blurted out. Just then, Miranda’s body sat straight up on the table. Her eyes now completely cataract, she was growling with blood spilling down her chin from chewing on her own tongue. Sophie slid behind Dr. Marcil for protection. Miranda’s gurgled moans quickened, as she tried to get off the autopsy table to attack Bob.
Sophie heard Bob whisper, “I’m sorry,” followed by a loud bang!
CHAPTER 15
October 4th 1:00am
Eglin Air Force Base Commander Colonel Miguel Montoya was waiting at the end of the runway watching through his Humvee’s window as a light sprinkle of rain slowly gave way to a harvest moon. A voice crackled over the radio “Their on approach Colonel.”
The Colonel stepped out of the Humvee, straightened his shirt, and looked to the East. The Boeing C-32’s engines whined as they began their approach. Colonel Montoya took a deep breath trying to steady his nerves before his visitors arrived. Air Force Two’s tires squealed as they touched down on the rubber-coated asphalt of the runway. The plane’s mammoth engines went into reverse and stopped yards from the Colonel.
Colonel Montoya looked up at the blue and white Boeing and felt a sense of pride as he read the words, “The United States of America,” written along the Boeing’s fuselage. The 96th Maintenance Group’s EOR Crew snapped into action when the engines stopped. One group was setting up the jet way while another had already started checking for leaks and cracks in the fuselage. A third began inspecting the Boeing’s tires. The plane door opened, and an entourage of military personnel marched down the jet way. They lined up at attention, five by five on both sides of the walkway preparing to salute.
Two minutes had elapsed before anyone else stepped out. Colonel Montoya made his way toward the entourage who was still standing at full attention. The silence was broken by a command, “Present Arms!” The Colonel watched as the ten soldiers snapped their arms to their foreheads and held. He looked up to see Vice President Conroy and General Strong had already disembarked from the plane and were descending the stairs on the jet way. Both men gave a salute to the entourage as they passed. Colonel Montoya snapped to attention and gave a salute. General Strong returned a half-ass salute, “At ease Colonel.”
“Mr. Vice-President, General Strong. How was your flight?” General Strong ignored the question and got straight to business, “Colonel, the Vice President and I are here to see where we stand on Operation Thunder Storm.”
Colonel Montoya motioned for the men to head to the Humvee. “Gentlemen, we are ahead of schedule. My team has been in contact with every United States Base Commander in the world.”
The three men entered the vehicle and began driving as the Colonel continued to update the operation status. “Almost all of the bases have received the ZMapp and are now adding the bladders and finishing up the retrofitting on the Hercules.” The Vice President looked over at the Colonel from the passenger seat of the Humvee, “Hercules?”
The Humvee turned the corner, in front of them sat a black mammoth C-130 Hercules.
The Colonel lifted his hand to the airplane, “Yes, Mr. Vice President. The Lockheed C-130 Hercules is a four-engine turboprop aircraft capable of doing just about anything we want it to. We’ve set them up with a water bladder and an 18-inch spray nozzle. We can spray about 3,000 gallons of water in a little under thirty seconds with this baby. We help out the Forest Service with summer wild fires. Those boys like to call them Water Bombers, which is exactly what they’ll be doing with our ZMapp.”
“Ingenious!” The Vice President said as he stepped out of the Humvee, “When can we start?”
“We already have Mr. Vice President. Twenty-five hundred Hercules and most have completed the retrofitting. The bases closer to Montréal have already started spraying every water source within their flight radius. With laser guidance and mapping, every target will be hit without doubling up. All of Eglin’s C-130’s, except this last one, have lifted off and are already dosing reservoirs. This one was left here for you to inspect, and we’ll have her in the air in ten minutes. We’ve already hit everything from Texas to Tennessee. Before your arrival, I received a message from Colonel Morehouse at Ramstein AFB in Germany. He reports that they have just received the ZMapp and spraying should be commencing right about now. I can say without a doubt Mr. Vice President, this thing will be over before you’re back in D.C.
CHAPTER 16
October 11th 9:35pm
Chevy kept pulling on my arm and my feet seemed to be working on their own. My stomach was twisted with the thought of that girl lying there dead in the middle of the street. I kept thinking about her poor parents. Did she have any family, and if she did, where were they? Did they know she was murdered in cold blood, left in the street like a dead animal? Or were they dead too? Why would they gun her down like that?
Chevy stopped running and dropped to the ground, taking me with him, “Ty, get down and be quiet! I think I heard something!” We sat against our neighbor’s house behind a row of bushes, my mind swirling around all the unanswered questions. My head sickened by the stagnant air, that putrid odor filling my nostrils with every breath. I wished for a breeze to take it all away. My thought was broken by the sound of two men walking down the center of our street. We watched in silence as the two stopped next to Chevy’s truck, “Why the fuck are they looking at my truck?” Chevy grunted under his breath.
One of the men tried the driver-side door, while the other hopped in the bed of the pickup. I could almost make out what they were saying
, “It’s locked!”
“Try the slider on the back window.”
“It’s locked too.”
The male jumped out of the bed of the truck and tried the driver-side door, hoping it had magically become unlocked since his partner’s attempt. “Do you want to smash the window and hot wire it?” The first male gave the second a quizzical stare and asked, “Can you hot wire a truck?”
The second male’s head dropped, “No. I thought you could.” he said.
“How would I know? I’ve never hot-wired a car.” The first male shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know how either, but we sure would have been able to run a bunch of people down with those huge ass tires!” The two men lost interest as easily as they had found it and began walking away.
“Ty, those guys were trying to steal my truck!” While Chevy’s concern for his truck being stolen, began to infuriate him. I was focusing more on their discussion, “Chevy, they said your truck would be good for running over people! What the hell is going on here?”
Chevy, staring at the ground now, had snapped off a small branch from the bush that was covered in little red berries. He picked off one at a time and rolled it between his thumb and index finger until it squished into juice, “I’m not sure Ty, but I have a feeling something very bad has happened. We need to get to your Dad’s house. He’s got guns and survival gear. We both know he’s the man and if anyone knows what to do, it will be him!” I nodded my head in agreement. We watched as the car thieves disappeared into the night. Chevy and I needed to get back to our house to come up with a plan, “Do you see anyone else on the street?” Chevy panned the street twice, “I don’t see anything out there. I think we’re okay. So what’s the plan?” I thought about it for a moment, and it seemed pretty simple.