by David Spell
Grace didn’t know where to start. She had to shoot five more infected near the concession areas. Many hundreds of people had managed to get to one of the exits and get out. Many of these had even managed to get to their cars unscathed. Many others, though, had been bitten or ripped apart by the groups of zombies that seemed to now cover the area outside of the stadium.
A local reporter ran out of the gate that Grace had used to try and record the breaking news story. She and her cameraman set up in front of the student center. She had the microphone up to her mouth and was describing what was happening in Athens and what she had seen. The cameraman saw the big group of zombies coming up behind her and tried to get her to move.
“Just keep filming,” she ordered. This story could be her big break, she thought.
It was one of her last thoughts as seven infected pulled her to the ground and ripped her apart. The cameraman dropped his camera and tried to run. They caught him before he could go ten feet and killed him, too.
A group of thirty survivors were about to flee out the same gate and try to get away. Grace stepped in front of them and held up her hand.
“It’s not safe out there. There are big groups of those things killing people.”
“It’s not safe in here, either,” said a tall, slim man in his twenties. “They’re all over the stadium. I’m not going to stay in here. Out there, we can outrun them.”
A girl and another couple all nodded in agreement. Cunningham could smell the alcohol on their breaths. Normally, that would be a citation. Some of them were probably underage and drinking in the stadium was a big no-no. Now, that didn’t even register.
“I’m telling you, that’s a really bad idea. I can try and protect you in here. Out there, you’re on your own.”
The tall kid laughed at her. “I don’t need you to protect us. I can take care of myself.”
The two girls in the group didn’t look as confident now, as they were able to see some of what was going on between the stadium and the student center.
“Come on,” he urged. “The car’s only a few blocks away and then we’re safe.”
She didn’t try and stop them and the four took off running across the street. A large group of infected saw the four and started after them. Some of the zombies were running pretty fast. The four drunk students disappeared from sight with thirty or more zombies chasing them. The rest of the survivors looked at Grace with the hope that she would be able to keep them safe.
Now, they had been in the women’s restroom for forty minutes. Grace had counted twenty-seven people, both men and women. It was mostly students but there were two faculty members, some parents, and a few concessions workers. The restroom could be locked from the inside so this was a secure location, at least for the moment.
Cunningham had shot three more infected as she was herding the group inside. Now, she took a moment to change magazines in her pistol. She had two full mags and another with five bullets in it.
Her backup pistol, a 9mm Glock 26 had eleven rounds in it. She carried it inside a small holster in her ballistic vest. Grace leaned against the wall and lowered her herself to a sitting position on the floor.
Everyone was trying to call out on their cell phones. Grace gave her dispatcher an update and told her where they were. The girl on the other end of the police radio did not tell Officer Cunningham that they had lost contact with all but three of their officers. There was no promise of rescue. No assurance that backup was on the way. Just an acknowledgement from dispatch that they knew where she was.
Grace wondered if her parents were ok. They lived on the edge of town and her father was the pastor of the Athens AME Church. Grace still sang in the choir if she was off on Sunday.
A year earlier, she had found her dad in his study working on his sermon when she decided she couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to tell him. What was he going to say? Was he going to be angry with her?
“Hey, Daddy. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Baby, you know you can always talk to me. I knew something was on your mind but I didn’t want to push it. What’s troubling you?”
“I don’t want you to be mad at me, but I have something to tell you.”
“Grace, you can tell me anything. You know that.”
She paused a moment and then said, “I’m going to be a police officer. I start the academy next week and I’ll be working for the Campus Police Department.”
Reverend Cunningham exhaled. “That’s it? You had me worried, child. I didn’t know what you were going to say.”
“You aren’t upset?”
“Upset about what? I think you’ll do a great job. God’s going to use you there. You know, police officers are to be God’s agents of peace and justice and I think even your name is prophetic. You’re going to bring grace to a lot of people who need it.”
Grace wiped the tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Daddy. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. When I graduate from the police academy, I’d like for you to pin my badge on me.”
Cunningham stood up and embraced his daughter. “I’d be honored to do that, Officer Cunningham.”
“How long have you been with the police department?”
The question startled her. She looked up at the man. His blue eyes were clear and seemed to be free of fear. He was in good shape, probably in his forties, and he had easily lowered himself to the floor next to her.
“Just over a year,” she answered.
He nodded. “You’re doing a great job. This is a no-win situation but you got us in here where it’s safe. You made good shots on those three you killed as you were herding us in here.”
A woman came and sat next to the man. “This is my wife, Emily. I’m Kevin.”
“I’m Grace. It’s nice to meet you. And thank you for saying that. Are you military or law enforcement, by chance?”
Kevin’s eyes sparkled. “I’m in the National Guard. I’m one of the full-time guys who helps run it. I’ll stay out of your way, but if I can do anything to help you, let me know.”
“I’ll do that,” she smiled.
University of Georgia, 1630 hours
From their vantage point, Chuck and Eddie couldn’t see what was happening over at the stadium but the shots were steady and sounded like the shooter was coming their way. Loud growls and yells also filled the air from the same direction.
“CDC One to Air One,” McCain said into the radio.
“Air One to CDC One, wait one,” came the answer.
Chuck stared at the radio and looked at the men. “Seems like we might have priority on whoever else he’s talking to,” Jimmy commented.
“Team One Charlie to CDC One,” came Scotty’s voice over the radio.
“CDC One,” McCain answered.
“The pilot just made contact with the university police. There’s an officer with a group of people that are trying to make their escape from the stadium. They’re coming your way now. Estimated to be around thirty people being pursued by Zs. Try not to shoot the good guys.”
“!0-4, maybe you and your buddies up there can give us a little support and thin the herd out a little? And where are they escaping to? This area is covered in zombies.”
“The pilot told the dispatcher to tell them to meet up with you guys and you’ll get them to the extraction point. He said they’ll make a few trips until they can get everybody out,” Scotty answered.
“Ok. Give us some covering fire, Team One Charlie. We’re about to go out and get pics and DNA of al-Razi.”
Almost immediately they heard the Blackhawk hovering above them. The ripping sound of the mini-gun let them know that it was now or never. Chuck looked at Eddie and the rest of the team.
“Let’s get what need from that body and then escort these survivors back to the extraction point.”
“Then what?” Andy asked. “That helicopter can only take ten or twelve people at a time.”
Chuck nodded and shrugged.
Eddie said, “That’s why they pay us the big bucks. The main thing is to just get the people clear of here. He can set down a few miles away, off load, and then come back. In the meantime, we’ll get to work on our marksmanship.”
Andy smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
No Greater Love
University of Georgia, 1635 hours
The sounds from the stadium carried into the restroom where Grace was holed up with her group of survivors. There were screams, so many screams, growls, and the occasional gunshot. None of the gunshots were close but some of the growls and screams were. Every so often she would hear a helicopter. Were they a news chopper or people that could help?
There had been no answer the last several times that she had called her dispatcher. The battery in her radio was dead. She tried to call them on her cell phone but kept getting a recording. She saw that her phone battery was at ten percent. Finally, after twenty-something tries, someone answered.
“Dispatch, how can I help you?”
“Thank God! This is badge 985. We’re still locked in the bathroom inside the stadium. What’s going on out there?”
“Cunningham! I was hoping it was you. I’ve been trying to raise you on the radio.”
“My battery’s dead.”
“Ok, I think I have some good news. Things are really bad. I’ve lost contact with everyone that was at the stadium but you and Fletcher. She’s locked in one of the team rooms under the stadium with a few other survivors. I think she’s on the other side from where you’re at. She said there are zombies trying to break into their room.”
“I thought you said you had some good news?” Grace asked.
“I do. The CDC Response teams are on campus, near you. They have a helicopter and will get you and your group out. It’ll take a few trips by air but the alternative is, well, I don’t want to think about it. They’re near the Miller Learning Center, across from where you’re at. They’re at the exit closest to the student center and I’ve been told they’re expecting you. They’ll help get you to their extraction point. You just have to get over there to them.”
All eyes were on Grace as she disconnected the phone call. She smiled at the people who looked at her expectantly. At the same time, she blinked away tears at the thought of so many of her friends and fellow officers who had been lost today. She thought of Jennifer Fletcher, locked in a room underneath the stadium. She was one of Grace’s closest friends and she felt helpless that she couldn’t get to her. For now, though, this group of people was her responsibility.
“We’re getting out of here, “ she said. She explained to them what her dispatcher had told her, including the fact that it looked like most of the officers who had been in the stadium were unaccounted for. There were mixed reactions from the group. Most of the people seemed inclined to stay where they were.
“At least we’re safe in here.”
“Should we really go out there? Why don’t we just stay here until someone comes to rescue us?”
“Isn’t SWAT or the National Guard going to come and put a stop to this?”
Everyone was speaking at once and Grace wasn’t sure how she was going to convince anyone to leave.
An authoritative voice spoke from beside her breaking through the buzz of the conversation. “There’s no one coming for us. Not for a while, anyway. I’m in the National Guard,” Kevin said. “It’ll be at least twenty-four hours before they get here. And then it might be hours after that before they actually start doing something. In the meantime, the police are just going to put a perimeter around this and wait. The cops have already taken heavy losses today and they aren’t going to come rushing in.
“There was another attack earlier at the Georgia Square Mall, not far from here. I just saw it on the news on my phone. They lost a lot of police officers there, too. All the police departments are going to be very cautious. We’re on our own. Officer Cunningham has risked her life for us today and I’ll follow her lead.”
In the end, everyone said they would do whatever Grace suggested. The idea of being trapped for days in a restroom, hoping that they would be rescued, wasn’t very appealing.
Grace handed Kevin her backup pistol. “Thanks for helping me out with the group. I hate to ask you to do this, but would you feel comfortable helping me get these people out of here?”
He smiled at her and took the gun. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll feel better knowing that there are two of us providing security as we move. Just lead the way.”
The pistol was a Glock 26 and held eleven rounds of 9mm bullets. Kevin pointed the muzzle down, away from everyone, and did a quick press check of the slide to make sure a round was in the chamber. He slipped the pistol into his waistband and asked, “So, what’s the plan?”
“The CDC teams are supposed to be across the street. There’s a walkway that runs by the student center and they’re down there, maybe two or three hundred yards. I’ll go first, you bring up the rear?”
Kevin nodded at her. “Just like the good old days,” he said, still smiling.
She listened with her ear to the bathroom door and heard nothing. Maybe they had all wandered off to try and find some other people to eat. Grace nodded at Kevin and then unlocked the door and eased it open. A senior citizen zombie, clad in UGA colors, was standing there. His right arm had been ripped or chewed off at the elbow. He saw Cunningham, growled, raised his left arm, and reached for her. She shot him in the eye, spinning him around and sending him to the floor.
“Come on,” she urged, stepping out into the stadium and towards the gate. Two more infected came towards her. She rushed her first shot and missed, but her next two were good hits, dropping them.
As she ran through the gate, she could hear Kevin telling everyone to hurry, the authority evident in his voice. Two more were just outside the gate. These were both young guys, probably students, and were covered in blood and gore. Grace shot the first one in the face. She shot at the second one, hitting him in throat, but not stopping him. He lunged at her and she shot again, blasting a hole in his forehead.
Ahead, she saw a group of infected rushing up Sanford Drive and turn left past the student center. Right where they were going. Great. For the moment, at least, her group was safe. The last six zombies, though, turned towards her at the sound of the shots and came shuffling on an interception course with the survivors. She put herself between them and her group and started shooting when they were twenty feet away. Her first shot missed but then she slowed down and started making good head shots. The last one fell right in front of her, an older man whom she recognized as a school administrator.
A Blackhawk helicopter appeared overhead, hovering. It was so low she could see the pilot and co-pilot. She could see men leaning out of both sides. One of them held a rifle and the other was behind a machine gun. They both seemed to be looking for targets.
A gunshot came from just behind her. She waved the survivors on as another shot rang out. Grace saw that Kevin had put down two infected. He kept urging the people on. A few more zombies were following them but weren’t close enough yet to worry about.
Cunningham noticed that the door to the student center was propped open by a body. As they kept running, she saw that body get to its feet and begin walking towards her group. Three other zombies were coming their way. She stepped up, calmed her breathing, sighted in on the closest, and made a head shot. Kevin came up to help her and shot the second one.
Kevin saw a running zombie charging towards the rear of the group of survivors. He left Grace to go deal with that threat, making a head shot as both he and the zombie were moving. Grace shot at the third one in the group she was dealing with but her bullet only grazed the side of his head, taking off the zombie’s right ear. She adjusted her aim and the next round hit the creature just above the right eye. Cunningham saw the slide on her pistol locked open.
“Look out, officer!” someone yelled.
She turned just in time to see the g
uy who had been lying in the doorway reaching for her. He was only five feet away as she swung her pistol around, dropped the empty magazine, and reached for her last full one. Grace knew she was about to get bit but the zombie’s head suddenly exploded in a red mist and he fell to his back. Cunningham looked up at the helicopter. A man with a bushy beard was holding a rifle and gave her a thumbs up.
Grace and Kevin got the group running again. When they got to the corner of the student center and turned left, they saw at least fifty zombies in their path, directly between them and where they needed to go. Cunningham saw a group of men dressed in black burst out of the Miller Learning Center and start shooting into the crowd of infected. The helicopter swung around so the man with the machine gun could get it into action.
Cunningham realized that her people were in the line of fire. She directed them against the front wall of the Tate Center. The bricks would protect them from any stray shots.
The mini-gun began firing down into the crowd of zombies and hot, empty brass fell onto the sidewalk with a tinkling sound or landed on the survivors, burning their necks or arms. The CDC officers continued to add their own firepower and the zombies were dropping into piles on the sidewalk. Others, drawn to the sound, started to pour out of the stadium. The man with the beard began shooting these from the helicopter as fast as he could pull the trigger. They kept coming, however, and Grace and Kevin knew that they couldn’t stay where they were.
When the machine gun fell silent, Cunningham peeked back around the wall. The large group of infected had been destroyed. She stepped forward so the federal officers could see her.