by David Spell
Jimmy was devastated. As bad as it was, though, he knew he was able to process it more quickly because he was there when she passed. After being home for a year, Jones needed to get a job. His degree was in Criminal Justice so he applied to the Alabama Highway Patrol and became a State Trooper. Jimmy became known as one of the best in the state at finding contraband in the cars he stopped.
His drug interdiction efforts turned up hundreds of kilos of cocaine, meth, and other drugs and put a significant dent in the cartel pipeline that ran through Alabama. After five years with the State Patrol, Jimmy decided to take his talent to another level and applied with the Drug Enforcement Agency. That was when he had come to the attention of Rebecca Johnson.
“I think we just knock on the door and talk to them. We'll tell them what we've been telling everybody else. A batch of tainted drugs got sent out and the company asked us to retrieve them before the people took them and got sick,” Jimmy said.
“Or turn into zombies,” added Alejandro. He was the youngest member of the Atlanta CDC Enforcement teams at thirty-one years of age. Estrada had grown up in East Los Angeles. Unlike most of his friends, he had grown up with both of his parents. His dad was a laborer and his mother cleaned houses but he had always had everything he needed. His parents loved him, disciplined him, and encouraged him to follow his dreams.
He joined the army when he graduated from high school and became a Military Police Officer. After five years in the army, Alejandro took his discharge and became a Los Angeles Police Officer. He worked for the police department for seven years, with the last two as part of the Joint Gang Task Force. This task force was staffed by the LAPD, the Los Angeles Sheriffs Office (LASO), the FBI, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), and the DEA.
Alejandro’s plan had always been to work for a federal agency. Even though he did not have a college degree, his military service and his time with the LAPD allowed him to apply with the DEA. It took a little bit of work, but Rebecca was able to convince Estrada to come work for the new CDC Enforcement Branch.
“Yeah, maybe we’ll leave out that part about the zombies. Some of these people might want to take their medicine and try out that zombie lifestyle,” said Marco.
The GPS let them know that they were pulling up to their address. As with many other parts of Atlanta, there had been substantial revitalization done over the years in this neighborhood. It was only a few blocks from Grant Park and the Atlanta Zoo.
The house that they were parked in front of was bigger than most of the other ones on the street. The only car in the driveway was an older Honda Civic that had seen better days. The gray frame house sat on a corner lot. They saw that it had a screen porch on the front and a screen porch on the back.
“Me and Estrada will go to the front,” Jimmy said. “We don’t want to spook them with your big muscles, Marco. Why don’t you watch the back, just in case.”
“Sounds good,” Marco replied.
The three men got out of the Suburban and slipped their black, kevlar lined jackets on. They were marked “POLICE” on the back and had the sewn-on badges on the front. Jimmy also had his ID packet in his front pocket if the resident wanted to see it.
Jones and Estrada started for the front door. Connolly walked slowly around the left side of the house. The driveway went about halfway down the length of the house. As he walked by the parked Civic, he felt the hood. It was slightly warm, like it had been there an hour or two.
None of the men had their pistols out. They weren’t expecting any trouble. They had conducted four of these medicine pickups over the last few days. Up to this point, none of the people had used the medicine yet. The men knew what could happen, however, if the people had consumed any of the drugs, so they moved cautiously.
Jimmy walked up the four wooden steps and knocked on the screen door. Estrada stayed down in the yard and near the corner of the house where he could cover both Jones and Connolly. The door leading into the house was closed. There was no doorbell that Jones could see. He doubted the people in the house could hear him knocking on the screen door so he pulled on it. It didn’t move. He looked and saw that it was latched from the inside.
When Marco got to the rear of the house, next to the rear screened porch, his nose picked up something rotten. It smelled like it was coming from next to him on the porch. Then he heard something scraping on the floor. He could not see into the porch because the bottom half was framed with plywood and the rear porch, like the front one, was raised off the ground. There were another four steps that led up to it.
From the front of the house, Connolly heard Jimmy shouting and trying to get the occupant’s attention. “Police officers! Can you please come to the door? We just need to talk to you for a minute.” Marco could also hear him banging on the front screen door.
The scraping sound on the porch got louder next to Marco. The bad smell also got stronger as he rounded the rear of the house and started up the steps to see what he could see on the rear porch. It smells like a dead animal, he thought. Something was growling inside the porch. What kind of animal makes that noise?
As Marco’s head got up high enough to see into the porch, the screen door exploded outwards, hitting him in the face. Three people rushed through the doorway and threw themselves onto him. The four bodies fell down the steps and Connolly landed hard on his back. He saw two bloody black faces and a bloody white face on top of him. Their mouthes were opening and closing and they were growling at him.
The hard fall knocked the breath out of him, but the adrenaline kicked in as Marco started fighting for his life. He rolled to his left, trying to roll the people off of him. He felt something grabbing or biting at the left side of his neck. He managed to shove two of the people to the side with his right arm and grab his pistol.
Estrada saw that Jones was not getting any response from the front of the house. Marco had turned the corner at the rear of the house and he could no longer see him.
“Hey, Marco, you ok?”
A loud slamming sound came from the rear of the house, followed by what sounded like something or someone big hitting the ground. Alejandro drew his pistol and started running down the side of the house. “Jimmy, I think Marco’s in trouble,” he yelled.
As he got closer, Estrada heard, “Help!” A gunshot was followed by a muffled scream.
When Estrada rounded the corner of the house, he saw a white female falling backwards. Her face and clothes were bloody. She had on green scrubs like a doctor or a nurse might wear. Marco’s shot had hit her in the nose. He was still on the ground with a black male and a black female on top of him and chewing on his neck. Blood was spurting everywhere. With his last bit of strength, Marco was trying raise his pistol but his arm fell lifeless to the ground.
Alejandro had his pistol pointed at the attackers but he didn’t want to shoot Marco. He kicked the male in the ribs in an effort to get him to turn loose. The male quickly released his hold on Connolly’s throat and lunged at Estrada, sinking his teeth into his right leg above the knee.
The female also let go of Marco and launched herself at the new victim. Estrada fired three shots at her. The first two hit her in the top of the head and the third hit her in the back. She dropped at Alejandro's feet.
The pain in his leg was intense but he knew that if he fell down he might suffer the same fate that Marco did. He slammed his gun down several times against the male’s head trying to make him let go. He was about to try and shoot the guy when he felt an arm around his waist supporting him.
“I’m here,” said a voice behind him. There was a gunshot and a blast of heat on his leg, but the pain began to subside. Jimmy’s shot at point-blank range blew off the top of the male’s head. Jimmy kicked him in the side to finish getting him off of Alejandro.
Jimmy didn’t know how bad Estrada was hurt, but he was having trouble standing on his own. Jones could see that Connolly appeared to be dead. His throat and jugular had been ripped open.
“Let’s get back to
the truck. We’ll be safe there until we can get some backup,” Jimmy said. He supported Alejandro as they walked down the driveway.
“Marco, we have to get Marco,” Estrada gasped, looking back at his friend.
“I’ll come back for him, man. Let me get you to the front first.”
Jimmy wanted to see how bad Estrada’s wound was. He could very likely be going into shock. And what would he do if Alejandro had been infected with the virus?
At the Suburban, Jones helped his teammate into the backseat. He pulled out his serrated Spyderco knife and started cutting Estrada’s pants up to the knee. The serrations on the knife let him cut through the kevlar pants leg pretty easily. Jone’s examined Estrada’s right leg closely. There was no blood and no puncture wounds. The skin was purple and blue from where the attacker had been biting down but the kevlar had done its job.
Jimmy grabbed his phone and called his team leader, Eddie Marshall. Sirens sounded in the distance and started getting closer.
Southeast Atlanta, Thursday, 1230 hours
McCain’s Silverado was speeding towards Team Two’s location. Eddie managed to get a call through to Jimmy and had gotten the grim update. Chuck called Rebecca and let her know what had happened. She was at an intelligence meeting involving the Department of Homeland Security and the FBI in downtown Atlanta. After McCain’s call, she had quickly excused herself and started to the scene.
Johnson called the Atlanta Police dispatch. She identified herself and was able to get them to patch her through to the sergeant who was responding to the 911 call of “Shots Fired.” She told him that CDC Enforcement was dealing with a situation that fell under the jurisdiction of the DHS.
Of course, like most cops, the Atlanta sergeant and all of his officers wanted to be in the middle of the action. Rebecca was able to convince him that for now, the best thing that he and his offers could do was to block the streets off and not let anybody else in or out. He reluctantly agreed and ordered his officers to set up roadblocks, shutting down the streets around the house.
Chuck stopped at the APD cruiser a block from the scene and showed his ID to the officer. The young officer waved them through. “Listen, Eddie,” McCain said, “when we get there, I'm just one of the guys. This is your team. I'll do whatever you need me to do.”
“Thanks, man. Jimmy says that Estrada is ok. The bite didn't puncture the skin. He also said that those things that got Marco came out of the back of the house and the house hasn’t been cleared yet. He thinks there may be more people or…more zombies inside.”
Chuck saw Team Two’s black Suburban and pulled in behind it. Jimmy walked over. He had a sad expression on his face. “They got Marco, Eddie,” he choked. “Those things killed Marco.”
Eddie put a hand on Jones’ shoulder. “It’s going to be ok, Jimmy. Good job getting Estrada out of there. Where's he at?”
Jones motioned at the Suburban and Marshall walked over to check on him.
A gray Chevrolet Impala came racing down the street after getting waved through by the APD. It parked behind Chuck’s Silverado. Rebecca jumped out and ran up to the men. She was dressed for a meeting, wearing black slacks and a red top. She put on her duty belt containing her pistol as she walked up to the men.
Jones gave a quick summary for Chuck and Rebecca. He had his emotions under control and he sounded every bit the Marine officer that he had been.
“Marco is still lying behind the house. I didn’t want to move him until you gave the ok. The crime scene is the entire area around where he’s at, including the residence. The house still needs to be cleared. I don’t know if we have any more victims or if we have any more zombies inside.”
“Jimmy, do you have any idea if any more of the infected escaped out of the house?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t know, ma’am. I didn't see anything leave but I don’t really know.”
If one or two or more of those things had gotten loose in this neighborhood, Johnson thought, we’re going to have an even bigger disaster on our hands.
“You want your rifle, Jimmy?" Chuck asked. "Me and Eddie just picked them up.”
Jimmy and Chuck got their newly suppressed rifles out of the Silverado. McCain inserted a thirty round magazine into the gun and charged it. He set the selector to “Safe.” He slipped two extra magazines into his right hand cargo pocket. Chuck put on his kevlar jacket. Jimmy prepared his rifle and they both put the slings over their heads. The rifles hung across their chests.
While they were getting their equipment ready, Rebecca called the Clean Up Team supervisors. She said that both teams needed to respond. She also placed a call to the Assistant Director at the CDC and to her other boss at the CIA in Washington. With a dead agent, everybody up the chain of command needed to be notified. But this wasn’t a dead intelligence officer. It was a dead police officer. An officer whom she had recruited.
Death notifications were handled very differently at the CIA. She was going to handle this one herself. Johnson would have to call Marco’s family in New York and tell them that their son was dead.
Her last phone call was to the FBI. She was going to need help with this investigation. They were not in rural Georgia. They were in the middle of a residential area in Atlanta and there were likely to be a lot of witnesses. Most of the Atlanta office of the FBI were aware of the bio-terror threat that the CDC and other agencies were working on.
Eddie joined the two men and suited up as well. “How do you want to handle it, Eddie?” Chuck asked. Rebecca walked back up to the men. Chuck could see that she was struggling with her emotions. Maybe he would get a chance to talk with her later.
“Chuck, Jimmy, and me will clear the house,” said Marshall. “It sounds like the rear door is already open, so let’s go in that way. Estrada said he can cover the front door while we’re inside, just in case anything tries to get out that way.”
Eddie looked at Rebecca. “Ma’am, would you mind covering the back while we’re inside? Just make sure nothing sneaks in behind us or gets past us and escapes.”
“Got it,” said Johnson.
CHAPTER FIVE
A Tough Loss
Southeast Atlanta, Thursday, 1245 hours
Eddie, Jimmy, Chuck, and Rebecca moved towards the rear of the house. Alejandro’s leg was still really sore but he forced himself to walk on it. He covered the front of the residence with his pistol at the low ready. Having a mission gave him something to focus on besides seeing Marco killed in front of his eyes.
When they got to the rear of the house, everyone paused to look at the carnage. Connolly lay on his back, eyes open, and covered in blood. The three bloody zombie bodies lay around him. When Rebecca saw Marco, she almost lost it. She knew she needed to focus but it wasn’t going to be easy.
There was a tree near where the four bodies were lying. It was fifteen feet from the back door and it would provide her with good cover. The tree would also shield her from having to look at her dead officer.
Marshall, Jones, and McCain moved slowly up the steps onto the back porch. She saw them pause to look at something on the porch and then continue into the house. Her Glock was pointed in the direction of the house but the muzzle was down. Rebecca heard something to her right, clothes rustling, something scraping the ground. The noise came from where the bodies were laying. She slowly eased around the tree to see what was making the noise.
Marco was on his feet and shuffling slowly towards her. His mouth was opening and closing. Johnson swung her pistol towards him.
“Oh, God, no!” she said. “Please, no! Marco, stop. You have to stop, Marco. I don’t want to have to shoot you.”
Johnson started backing up. A exposed root from the tree she had been hiding behind caught her left foot and she fell to the ground, landing on her back. Marco increased his pace and his mouth got faster as it opened and closed. He was almost to where she had fallen.
From the ground, Rebecca squeezed off a shot that hit Connolly under the chin. It snapp
ed his head back and he fell back to the ground. Johnson got to her feet, trembling. She took a couple of steps toward the dead officer as Chuck, Jimmy, and Eddie came running outside to see about the shot.
Rebecca collapsed to the ground. Her eyes were watering but she couldn’t cry here. Not in front of her men. Chuck rushed over and helped her to her feet.
“What happened? Are you ok?”
The tears were running down her face. “Marco turned into one of those things. I had to shoot him. I’m so sorry, Eddie, but I had to shoot him,” Johnson said.
Estrada rounded the corner of the house, moving slowly on his bad leg, pistol extended in front of him.
“What happened?” he asked.
Shouts came from up the street, near where the police were blocking the road.
“Police, stop! Get down on the ground!” the voices yelled.
The bang of a gunshot echoed loudly. Then another shot, and another came from the same direction. The team could hear more yelling from the APD officers.
“This just went public,” Chuck answered.
Southeast Atlanta, Thursday, 1730 hours
The search of the house had revealed two more bodies. The first one was on the back porch and looked like an elderly black male. The body was badly chewed up. The three zombies that had jumped Marco had been eating the man when the officer had walked up. Another mostly eaten victim was found in one of the bedrooms.
The Clean Up Team found documents that showed the house was being used as an adult rehabilitation center. Adults with disabilities or elderly adults stayed there while they rehabbed. The black male and the black female in the backyard were not elderly so it was possible that they had mental disabilities. The virus had played no favorites and had turned them into killers. Neither of these two had any injuries, other than the gunshots, so they were probably infected by their medicine.