by J. D. Demers
By late afternoon, we decided it was time to head back. Fish said the best idea was to move a small contingent out as soon as possible to start building the place up. Then we could move everyone else there, but he would discuss it later with the Lieutenant.
“You’re lucky, man,” Gonzales whispered over to me as Fish drove us back towards the city.
“Why’s that?” I asked suspiciously.
“You could have been bit, man,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure your buddy over there would have put one in you after he took care of the rhino-zombie.”
I just shrugged and looked out my window as we drove underneath the 95 overpass. He was right, of course. Fish wouldn’t think twice. He had already told me it was better to die as yourself than as some monster.
It was times like that I wanted to tell people about my possible immunity. My wound from where Dave had bitten me was as healed as it was going to get. Unfortunately, the teeth marks were clear as day, so I knew I couldn’t pass it off as an old war wound. But they would have to understand. I mean, I had gone a month without changing into a scab or a zombie. That had to mean I was immune.
I told myself that if the time was right later on that night, I would let Lt. Campbell and maybe even Fish know about my immunity. Campbell seemed the obvious choice. He was much more level-headed than Fish.
There was also another thing to consider. If I was immune, that meant other people may be as well. If that were the case, I could help save some lives before someone decided to do them a favor and put them out of their misery.
But if I were to randomly get bit, they most certainly wouldn’t give me the chance to plead my case. Fish would put a bullet in my head before I could manage to squeeze his name out.
My thoughts disappeared as my bladder started screaming at me. Seven cans of fruit punch were starting to take their toll. I should have taken a bathroom break before we left. We were still twenty minutes away from the Ace Hardware compound and I wasn’t sure if I could hold it that long.
The rest of the drive back was pretty boring. Fish and Jenna talked a lot about the opportunities Camp Holy offered for hunting and fishing. Gonzales bugged Jenna about hooking up with PFC Trent back at the compound. I interjected in the lighthearted conversation when I had something to say. Mostly, though, I just thought about taking a leak.
We pulled into the compound a couple of hours before sunset. Clouds were all but gone from the sky, which gave DJ, Gardner, and Preacher time to work on Big Red. DJ still wasn’t moving around very well, but he was not the sort to just sit down and give orders on the modifications.
They had already put up some panels on the side of the fire truck to protect the openings on the sides. DJ was using another welder to make an iron rod mesh to put over the window. Off to the side was a mockup of a large plow. I figured that was going on the front of the truck as soon as they finished the rest of Big Red.
After finally relieving myself, I cleaned up as much as I could with some scavenged baby wipes. Wipes were a prized possession when I was in the military.
Sunset was about an hour away when I finally got up the nerve up to talk to Campbell about the bite and my immunity to infection. At least, what I thought was immunity. I still wasn’t totally convinced. I found out he was on the roof of the building talking with Specialist Combs who was taking over guard duty for the night.
As I climbed the ladder, I could hear Daniel chastising DJ for over-working his shoulder. DJ told him he didn’t need a second mother. I think he was referring to his wife as the first one.
I pulled myself up on the rooftop. It was my first time on top of the building. The building seemed a lot smaller when you were up there. They had a neat little set up, though. Three chairs were in the middle along with a couple of small tables. I could see PFC Trent walking along the rooftop on the north side with a scoped M4. The Lieutenant and Combs were sitting in two of the three chairs. They were talking about the logistics of moving the group to Camp Holly when I approached.
“What’s up, Christian?” Combs asked with a slight nod in greeting.
Campbell turned partially around and nodded as well.
“Haven’t been up here,” I said, standing behind the empty chair. “Figured I would have to pull guard duty sometime before we leave. Thought I would check it out.”
I wasn’t sure how to start off the conversation with the Lieutenant. I wished I had waited until he came back down to ground level. There was nothing on the roof except the chairs and tables in front of me. The air-conditioning unit was in the back of the building instead of the roof. There were not even vents. There was no where I could take Campbell to discuss my dilemma with the infection.
“Well, if what Fish says is right,” Combs said, “we won’t be here long enough for you to have a guard shift.”
“It did sound pretty promising,” Campbell added.
“Yeah, I-” I started to say, until Trent cut me off.
“Sir?” he said in a raised voice. “I think there’s movement at the church.”
All three of us moved that way. Gardner grabbed a pair of binoculars and handed them to the Lieutenant.
I felt naked. All I had was my Glock strapped on my leg. That was stupid. Why would I need that on the roof? I should have grabbed the second AR-15 I had yet to use. At least it had a scope.
We made it to the edge and Campbell let out a sigh as he scanned the area.
“Where is… ahh, I see it. Just north of the church,” Campbell said.
Combs had his own scoped M4 and adjusted to where Campbell was now pointing.
“Looks like a single dead-head,” Combs snickered.
“Maybe,” Campbell said, lowering his binoculars. “Still, we should probably have a team check it out.”
“Want me to go put a squad together?” Combs asked. They formed small four man teams to deal with any zombies that wandered too close to the compound. It was smart not to let them build up too much. Zombies would attract other zombies if not dealt with swiftly.
“Yeah, get Gardner and Chad. I’ll go with you,” Campbell responded. “Christian, can you keep watch up here with Trent?”
“Sure,” I told him.
Combs handed me his M4 and the Lieutenant handed me the binoculars.
“Trent, keep in radio contact. Let us know if anymore show up,” Campbell ordered. He and Combs jogged over to the ladder in the back of the building.
I shouldered the M4 and started scanning the area north of the burned down church.
“Where is it?” I asked Trent.
“Not sure,” he responded. “Lost it.”
I kept looking around the north side of the rubble. Most of the walls were gone and there was still enough sunlight to get a good view of the area. I could hear Campbell below giving orders, though I couldn’t make out everything he was saying.
“On the left, near what’s left of the back wall,” Trent told me excitedly. Private Trent was a young man, probably only nineteen or twenty. My best guess was he was a mix of Caucasian and African American, with light brown skin and dark brown eyes. His face, like most around the camp, had a few days of stubble on it and his bushy, black curly hair could use a trim.
I moved the spy-glasses slowly. I’m not sure what their zoom was, but it was pretty decent. Moving too fast would have caused me to get disoriented on where I was looking.
The whole area was littered with burned down beams and cinder blocks which must have broken apart from the walls when the roof collapsed. What was left of the church made me think of one of the thousands of buildings that were partially destroyed in Europe during World War II.
Then I saw it. A head was poking around one of the crumbling walls. It seemed to be hesitating. I found that immediately odd. Zombies aren’t known for being sneaky or cautious.
As I stood there a little perplexed, I heard the front gate open and close. The Lieutenant and his squad were on the move. They were likely going to get up close and try to u
se the few silenced weapons Fish had machined oil filters for or go hand-to-hand. They were always careful not to use unsuppressed firearms around the compound for fear of attracting a hoard of zombies… or worse.
It then hit me. This wasn’t a zombie. The figure moved stealthily through the rubble, as if it was searching for something. My skin immediately began to crawl as the telltale signs of self-inflicted scars became visible as it moved further into the debris and closer to the compound.
“Scab,” I stated shakily.
“What?” Trent asked, as if he didn’t hear me correctly.
“It’s a scab,” I said a little more rushed, not wanting to lose sight of where the monster was going.
“Seriously?” he exclaimed. “Where?”
“It’s in the middle of the church,” I told him anxiously. “Tell him it’s a scab, not a zombie!”
I heard Trent start talking into his radio rapidly, transmitting the information. I didn’t listen too closely because I was concentrating on where the scab was.
It was prowling towards the center of the church. Suddenly, the scab seemed to see whatever it was looking for. I moved my sight picture towards the area it was now rapidly approaching. About twenty feet away was the funeral pyre where they had burned the body of little Kayla and the scab we had killed a few days before.
I moved the spy glasses back to the scab, which was just coming to the burned corpses. There was a look of rage on its face as it knelt down to the charred body of the other scab. It seemed to be sniffing around it.
“Did you hear me Christian?” a voice to my left said as he grabbed my shoulder.
I turned and looked at Trent. I must have zoned out while I was focused on the scab.
“Lieutenant Campbell wants to know where it’s at. They’re on the outer edge of the church now,” he said, hurriedly.
“Tell him it’s in the middle of the church, near where we put Kayla,” I responded as I lifted the binoculars up to track the scab once again. It took me a moment, but I was finally able to lock onto him again. He was closer now, and prowling towards one of the inner walls on the south side of the church. There was something nagging at me about this thing’s behavior. I relayed that to Trent so he could keep the Lieutenant informed.
The scab was staring at our compound. I couldn’t really read his facial expression, but his body language was telling me he was upset. It seemed like he was heaving. Things were slowly starting to make sense. I remember asking myself, Does it know the scab we had killed?
Suddenly, the scab reared back. A long, hollow and eerie howl followed, piercing the twilight air like the wail of a banshee. I had heard that awful sound before, though at the time I thought it may have been the cry of a dying wild pig.
I was at least a football field away from the creature and the shriek still sliced through the air. I couldn’t imagine how it sounded up close.
I quickly lowered the binoculars to see where Campbell and the rest of his group were. The cry of the scab must have startled them, because I could see them all taking cover behind an almost fully intact wall on the south side of the church.
I fumbled for the M4 that Combs had handed me. Even though the rules of the compound were to only use suppressed weapons, I felt that in the case of a scab, that rule didn’t count. Especially since the wail of the scab had just as much chance of drawing the dead here as any gunshot. If it were to scream out again…
Just as I lifted the scope up to my eye, a second, deeper screech came from the direction of the church. The tune was the same, but it definitely emanated from a second scab.
I first scanned the area where I had seen the scab last. He was no longer there. But the second wail was still cutting through the air. I scanned the church quickly and then moved to the tree line just north of the church.
There it was, another scab. The scope on the M4 wasn’t as good as the binoculars. All I could tell about this one was that he was much bigger. He looked like he could have been a football player in the NFL. He was a very dark-skinned African American who seemed to be almost naked, save for a pair of torn jeans. Just as I leveled my weapon at him, he stopped his horrifying shriek.
“Tell Campbell,” I said between nervous breaths, “there’s more than one!”
Chapter 21
Reprisal
April 22nd Twilight
I don’t recall how much I actually understood at the time, but I do know through the course of the next hour or so, it all came to me. It wasn’t a coincidence that the scabs showed up at the same time. They came there searching for a member of their pack. When they found out we had killed him, they wanted revenge.
Scabs are cunning bastards by themselves, not to mention hard to kill, even with decent firepower. The idea of multiple scabs was enough to make every hair on my body stand on end. Now, for the first time, we saw them working together and combining their predatory skills. We had no idea what we were up against.
I stood there on the rooftop with the large scab in the crosshairs of the M4 rifle I was holding. I wanted to shoot. I thought that it didn’t matter because of the attention the scabs were most likely creating with their terrifying shrieks. But then I hesitated. I wasn’t a scientist, engineer, or anything like that, but I knew that the speed of the bullet broke the sound barrier. The concussive blast could travel for miles. Their cries, though loud and horrible, would still be limited to the immediate area.
POW!
The bang from Trent’s M4 sent a shockwave of pain into my ear drums. I turned to him, shocked. He had taken a knee and was shooting into the demolished church.
“I’ll get ’em!” he yelled with confidence.
POW! POW!
I looked back toward the church. The first scab was running through the debris toward the tree line, puffs of dirt and pieces of cinder block were flying into the air as Trent emptied his magazine at the beast. If he hit him, I couldn’t tell.
I could barely make out the radio squawking over the pulsing and reverberation in my ears. Trent was busy reloading, so I picked it up.
“This is Christian!” I said.
“Who the fuck is shooting?” It was Fish, probably still inside the compound.
“Trent,” I replied. “We have two scabs near the church. Campbell and the others are outside the wire. I’m coming down!” I dropped the radio, strapped the M4 over my back, and ran to the ladder.
I could hear the LT on the radio as I descended, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Fish was waiting for me at the bottom with Jenna and Boomer. He was carrying his 308 and Jenna had her hunting rifle.
Off to the side, I saw DJ, Gonzales, and PFC Vanerka hustling the children and the rest of the women into the U-Haul. Leanne and Jada were both armed with rifles, standing near the back of the moving truck while Rachel helped the children climb in. Once everyone was loaded, they jumped in the back while DJ and Vanerka slid the door down. Gonzales ran to the driver’s side and jumped in. Vanerka soon followed suit in the passenger seat.
Preacher, Santa Claus and Private Manns were hustling toward the front gate. Everyone was accounted for, excluding the four outside the perimeter.
Trent, Manns and Vanerka were the three soldiers I had little contact with since we joined the Stallions. Usually, they were on guard duty or sleeping whenever I was around. Manns was short and stocky, though I was pretty sure it wasn’t entirely muscle underneath his jersey. From what I had heard, he was from Idaho and was really good with their communication equipment. Vanerka was a little taller than me, as skinny as Chad, and mostly kept to himself the few times I saw him around the camp. I had heard that his best friend committed suicide on the trip up here from Miami.
“Why didn’t anyone come get me?” Fish asked angrily as I hopped off the ladder rung.
“I thought Lieutenant Campbell would have told you,” I said, somewhat defensively.
He turned to Jenna. “Get up on the roof. Tell that piss brain to stop shooting. If, and I mean if, you get a
clear shot, take it.”
“Fish!” the radio chimed.
“This is Fish, go,” he said back into the transmitter.
“We’re almost to the gate. No sign of a scab yet,” Combs said over the speaker, breathing heavily.
Fish didn’t say anything to me, but turned around and started jogging toward the front gate. Boomer and I briskly followed him. I passed the U-Haul and saw DJ throw a set of keys to Gonzales who was rolling down the window. This must have been a plan they already set in place if they had to evacuate the compound.
DJ didn’t look so hot. He was moving slowly, and in obvious pain. He probably pushed himself too hard that day. Instead of getting some recovery time that night, he had been forced into action. I could see the bulge of bandages underneath his T-shirt, and his arm was nestled in a sling. The tough bastard was carrying his AK-47, though I was not sure how he was going to fire it with a restricted arm. He was climbing onto the back of Big Red, struggling with every step.
I took Specialist Comb’s M4 off my back as I jogged behind Fish. Santa, Private Manns, and Preacher were at the front gate, nervously listening to the radio. Manns was prepared to open it.
“Manns, you and Chuck get back to Big Red with DJ. Cover our eastern flank!” Fish ordered with such conviction both did not hesitate to follow.
So far, Trent ceased firing and nothing was coming from the roof top. That was both good and bad. It meant they didn’t see either of the scabs coming toward the compound, but it also meant they didn’t know where they were.
Fish tossed me the radio, which I barely snagged out of the air.
“Ask for their ETA!” he told me harshly. “Preacher, get ready to open the gate.”
I fumbled for the switch. “Combs, what’s your ETA?” I asked frantically.
“Now!” the radio called back.
Fish had his 308 pointed at the gate as Preacher struggled to get it open. Boomer was near Fish, wagging his tail in excitement, though I think he wasn’t sure why yet. I joined Fish and aimed my M4 through the now opening gate.