What followed next seemed to happen in slow motion. The doctor felt like she was standing inside a bell tower as the immediate world around her was falling apart. The beast that was the former Sarah Mitchell roared with the force of an oversized megaphone, and its shrill scream burst several window panes in the hospital. Splinters flew around everywhere. Margaret Pelletier pressed both hands against her ears, but she lost her balance and crashed hard onto the corridor floor. She could only perceive the situation in disjointed images while the massive noise slowly faded. The sounds of her environment were sharply muted in her now-diminished sense of hearing as if she were wearing foam ear plugs, and it was only her own breathing and the intense ringing in her head that now dominated her consciousness. Her ear drums had probably shattered, despite her precaution of firmly pressing her hands against her ears. Margaret had difficulty getting up off the floor, and she looked at her bloody hands, which had been cut by the glass shards on the floor. Shaking all over, she had to use all her strength to slowly get up on her feet. They had to move out of here. Margaret Pelletier looked around and saw Jimmy also lying on the floor. He was on his back and struggled to pull himself up into a sitting position.
“Jjimmyyy, wwwe neeed to get out of heeerrree...”
Her words echoed inside her numbed head like sounds uttered under water. She was staggering toward the private, when the undead Sarah Mitchell leaped out of its room and landed squarely atop the terrified young soldier. Completely helpless, his torso was pinned against the floor by the force of her jump, and her claw-like fingers greedily dug into his chest. The two humans had no chance against this creature since they were both injured and disoriented. Screaming with vile, delighted gluttony, the little beast sank its jaws into him and bit a chunk of flesh out of the horrified private’s throat. Its mouth and jawbone were grotesquely distorted and now resembled those of a dog or a hyena. Its gleaming teeth were long and razor-sharp, and yellowish strings of saliva dripped from them. Blood spurted out of Nelson’s throat, and it would be only seconds before he would miserably bleed to death. Each heartbeat pumped a jet of blood out of his throat, until all life had been drained from his body. Margaret Pelletier knew her time was up unless she acted right away. She was unarmed, and up to this point had never fought an undead creature, so she chose the only logical alternative: Flight.
The hospital exit was only ten yards away, but in her state of uncontrollable stumbling, reaching this area seemed to take years. She concentrated on her movements and did not turn around. Only a few more steps...
When the zombie child slammed into her back, the sheer force of the impact sent Margaret Pelletier staggering forwards. She was thrown against the entrance door, which flung open due to the collision, and she rolled just outside the door, painfully landing on her side in the grass. The doctor could barely move because of the intense pain. Half stupefied, she did manage to turn her body on her back with the remainder of her strength. She raised her head and looked up.
The child-beast stood triumphantly in front of her. It bent down and was ready for a final attack, once again with a distorted face and mouth opened wide. Margaret Pelletier knew these were the last moments of her life, and she started to pray. She prayed for William, her beloved husband, and for her son Josh. She silently apologized for never having freely expressed enough pride in what a fine young man he had grown to be. She prayed that both of her loved ones would survive all this madness together in good health.
The former Sarah Mitchell’s chest was now once more abnormally expanded to its extreme, inhuman limits. From such a close range, the intensity of its scream would probably cause Margaret’s head to explode. The lungs of the undead girl filled with the low, raspy sound of air, while the sound building in its throat steadily increased in volume. Dr. Pelletier’s cheeks were already vibrating due to the mounting pressure, and just when the screeching was about to approach its maximum volume, the child-beast’s head violently jerked backward. Rapidly followed by a loud BOOM, a large, round hole vividly burst into the creature’s forehead, and bones, hair and a projectile erupted from the back of its skull. With one last groan, little undead Sarah Mitchell’s eyes rolled upwards and the monster she had become fell on its back, collapsing like a wet sandbag to the ground.
Margaret Pelletier could not believe what was happening. Exhausted, she let her head fall back and it smacked hard against the grass beneath her. She managed to look in the direction of the parade grounds. The very last thing she perceived was a woman who stood up and shouldered her rifle at the other end of the grounds. Before she lost complete consciousness, Dr. Pelletier caught a glimpse of the dark-haired woman who had saved her life and was now rushing toward the perimeter wall of the base.
9Loss of Trust
“Before you start cussing a blue streak, please let me explain the situation.”
Ray sat down in a chair, leaned back and nodded. Even though time was short, he needed to know what Abbadon had meant. He was getting really tired of all these military commanders who only uttered hints and semi-truths, due to the regulations and traditions of an old world. If he just blurted out what he was thinking, Ray would probably not be allowed to leave this aircraft carrier at all. He bit his tongue so hard that he could taste his own blood.
“The reason you were selected as the pilot for this mission is not only because your wife is at Sanctuary,” Dixon began. “We have already made two attempts to reach it.”
“Obviously these did not go well,” Ray remarked.
“We sent two teams in helicopters to Sanctuary. We have not yet received any signs of life from them. We did not just lose two Blackhawks, but also four pilots.”
“So who gives a damn about an alcoholic ex-pilot of Augusta Airline then, isn't that what you are saying, General?”
“I don’t expect you to understand these decisions. I can only tell you that I am also just following orders.”
“Did Pelletier know about these other failed rescue attempts?”
“Yes, he knew about them.”
Ray shook his head in disgust. The master sergeant was not only sending him and Scott on this suicidal mission–he even allowed his own son to go along.
Dixon seemed to be able to read Ray’s thoughts. “Please consider that Master Sergeant Pelletier is also part of the chain of command and just following orders like the rest of us.”
“Is my ex-wife actually at Sanctuary?”
“As far as we know? Yes.”
“I thought you had an informer there. When did you last talk to him?”
“That was quite a while ago.”
“When did you get the photo of her?”
Dixon hesitated. “It’s about three weeks old.”
Ray shook his head again. Nothing surprised him anymore.
“Let me sum this up, General. You’re sheltering a man on this aircraft carrier who claims to have worked for a corporation responsible for creating the catastrophe out there. However, since the man is willing to fully cooperate if his family is brought here from the Sanctuary survivors’ camp, you sent two rescue missions there, about two weeks ago. There has been no message from these people so far, which means that you did not just lose two helicopters, but also four pilots. So you’re stuck. As good men and military equipment are hard to come by in these difficult times, you discussed the best course of action with Master Sergeant Pelletier–whom you’ve been in contact with for God knows how long. By coincidence, there just happened to be a pilot at Fort Weeks, who was also searching for his ex-wife and his children. Really gives you some crazy ideas, doesn’t it?”
Dixon gave Ray a blank stare but did not say a word.
“So you show the pilot at Fort Weeks a picture of his ex-wife and claim that she is at this place called Sanctuary. Since you assume this man will do anything to find his family, you offer to support his little trip to Sanctuary–under the condition, of course, that he should do a small favor for you and bring back a few additional guests. So far, s
o good.” Ray stood up and paced back and forth in the room, before he continued.
“I can’t say I’m shocked by this plan. The military usually acts according to the motto ‘extraordinary situations call for extraordinary measures.’ I’m more concerned about something else: Normally, in this age of Guantanamo, the military establishment doesn’t negotiate for very long with suspects–let alone come to some sort of an agreement with them. Even in our so-called civilized society before the plague came along, torture and the death penalty were commonplace in many areas of the world, particularly here in the U.S. If Dr. Abbadon really knows about the origin of the virus—and more importantly how to fight it—then I’m wondering why the hell he’s not sitting butt-naked, bound and gagged on a chair in the most fetid below-deck compartment of this carrier, while a ripped, broad-shouldered guy named Chuck threatens to break every single bone in his body unless he tells us everything.”
The general wanted to reply, but Ray did not give him the chance. It was time to execute the final blow.
“I only have one logical explanation for this, General Dixon. The fact you’re closely cooperating with Abbadon instead of forcing the information out of him leads me to believe that you are involved in this story. Not you personally—as you said, both you and Pelletier are simply obeying orders. It’s the person in charge, who perfectly fits the description of the clients that Abbadon mentioned this morning. A man in his mid-sixties, incredibly rich and very interested in extending the last third of his life: The Vice-President.”
For a second the corners of Dixon’s mouth seemed to twitch, and a fleeting expression of concern crossed his face. It was just a tiny reaction, but Ray was sure he saw it. But when the general finally spoke, his voice was calm and collected.
“You will understand that I cannot comment on your strange theory. You may certainly believe what you want–this is still a country that offers freedom of thought and speech. I only care about what you plan to do now.”
“I’m going to fly to Fort Weeks with my men, and we’ll try to save what can be saved. I can’t predict what will happen afterwards. You can be damned sure of one thing, though: I don’t trust you, Pelletier, or that arrogant prick Abbadon. And I’m sure as hell not going to lift one fucking finger for anyone until I’ve spoken with the Vice President himself.” With these words Ray left the conference room and hurried back to the landing deck.
10Goliath
After the two soldiers started moving the gate mechanism, the heavy counterweights shifted and the large metal gate swung outward. Brown floored the accelerator of his Humvee and raced through the gate. The smoke of the burning undead in the fire pits limited his view, and the stench was atrocious. He curved to the left, behind the first row of fences.
The oversized alpha zombie already stood in front of the innermost fence of the base. Clark swallowed hard when he saw the zombie, but he nevertheless immediately pulled the trigger of the rear machine gun. The undead giant was attempting to pull one of the sharpened metal sheets out of the ground to finally open up access to the main gate, when the machine gun atop the Humvee opened fire with armor-piercing ammunition.
The zombie was surprised by the sudden pain of the bullets, fell on all fours behind the metal sheet and uttered a sinister roar. The first hit shredded a hand, and one of its fingers dissolved into a red fog. While firing at the zombie, the two soldiers speeded past the undead creature, so they would not readily provide a target for it.
As he lost sight of the attacker, Brown initiated an emergency braking maneuver and the Humvee abruptly stopped. Brown switched to reverse and stepped on the accelerator to a position where the alpha would be in front of their machine gun again. Instead, this action only tossed Clark around, and he lost his footing in the Humvee, slipped and fell to the floor while swearing loudly.
“Fucking shit, man, are you going crazy?”
Brown turned around to look at his comrade, while still backing up. He shrugged apologetically instead of concentrating on his driving. When he glanced forward again, he saw that the vehicle was dangerously close to the fences. He gritted his teeth and stomped on the brake pedal. They stopped only a foot away from the right metal wing of the main gate. Not a very good position to be in.
Meanwhile, the giant had jumped up again, finished its work on the metal sheet and tore it out of the ground. The creature held it like a shield in front of itself and angrily stomped toward the main gate. The final row of fences ought to have slowed it down for a while, but the armor-piercing projectiles had not just pierced its skin, but also torn so many holes into the fence that the monster could just run through them. Clark got up and fired his machine gun again, but he could not stop this extraordinary zombie. The alpha was making a swift move to ram them. Clark dropped into the inside of the vehicle and prepared for impact. The running giant hit the engine block with its full weight and threw the Humvee against the main gate with such force that the metal deformed in an intense groan. The tremendous impact bent the wing of the gate behind it with a loud clang, and then the first hinges broke. The mighty undead creature seemed to have underestimated its own speed and now dizzily staggered backward. It had reached its goal and opened a path into the army base. It uttered a victorious, blood-curdling scream so loud, it drowned out the clinking of tennis-ball-sized metal objects dropping in front of its feet.
“GRENADES! GET DOWN!” Petty Officer 1st Class Bourke yelled, after hurling three grenades from the tower next to the main gate that landed beside the zombie.
The soldiers around the open gate dove for cover. Only the undead creature was left standing, its uninterrupted roar continuing in front of the still spinning grenades. The subsequent explosion shredded its legs and large parts of its torso. Its triumphant roar now turned into a long, final howl of pain, as the detonation tore apart its body, as well as major sections of the main gate.
This tremendous threat was finally eliminated, but the survivors were now facing a much larger problem. The giant zombie had torn a swath of destruction through their defenses. A path had been opened for all the other undead, and now a huge mob of them swarmed into the base. The fire pits and the sharpened metal barriers might have decreased their numbers, but while many maimed and burning undead lay on the ground, countless others simply stepped over them and approached Fort Weeks.
Master Sergeant Pelletier frowned when he saw this incredible army of undead coming closer. Now the real fight was getting started.
11No Way Out
A sharp pain in his right temple was the first thing Chad Petersen noticed when he regained consciousness. He felt cold, hard metal through the fabric of his uniform and soon realized he was lying on his belly.
Where the fuck am I? What happened?
Chad tried to open his eyes, but he was having problems doing this. Something was sticking to his eyebrows and preventing him from opening his eyes. The acute headache was slowly fading, yet he could still feel the residual pain from it throbbing behind his temples. His left eye opened slowly and he carefully blinked, but the right one remained shut. Groaning slightly, he carefully moved his arms. He reached to touch his head and felt for his right eye. The soldier winced as the touch of his hand created intense pain there. The area felt warm and wet, which meant he was bleeding. Chad Petersen tried desperately to remember where he was and how he got into this situation, when he heard the whispering voice of his buddy Han Tsui.
“Oh shit, Chad, are you alright? I can’t move my goddamned foot because it‘s stuck–and the fucking Humvee won’t start either. Total pile of shit. Fucking shit, man.” Petersen could clearly hear the fear and despair in Tsui’s voice, even though his brain felt rather foggy. Just what the hell has happened to us?
It took several seconds, but then Private First Class Chad Petersen slowly started to recall the events. They had been outside Fort Weeks fleeing from the alpha zombie. While driving through the pitch-black forest, Tsui had veered off the road. They had been driving way too fast,
so he lost control of the vehicle and they ended up colliding with a large, sturdy tree. The impact of the collision had been so powerful that Chad was flung around the Humvee’s interior and must have hit his head. This was the only way he could explain his various injuries. Then something suddenly struck him. The alpha zombie. It had killed Mike. What should they do if this monster was still lurking about nearby?
“Han, how long have we been stopped here? Were you awake the whole time?” he whispered and tried to push himself forward as quietly as possible.
“I don’t remember exactly. I think I came to shortly before you did. I was worried you might have bought the farm. Do you think that beast is still out there somewhere?”
“I don’t really want to find out. We shouldn’t make any unnecessary noise.”
“They should be looking for us by now, don’t you think, Chad?”
“Sure, Han, they must be on the way already,” Petersen replied, even though he did not believe his own words. After the helicopter incident and the explosion, Fort Weeks probably had other things to worry about right now. Considering their situation, though, he did not have to reveal this bleak fact to Han.
Evolution Z (Book 3): Stage Three Page 4