No Room In Hell (Book 2): 400 Miles To Graceland

by William Schlichter

  Popping a flare signals a retrieval boat. It speeds to the yacht. Gray fatigued sailors trade off with the assault team.

  Travis lowers his binoculars. Wind ripples his battle fatigues. The salt in the air leaves a taste in his mouth reminding him has yet to earn his sea legs.

  Lieutenant Browns marches to the edge of the air craft carrier saluting his superior before handing him a document. “They have prepared a meeting, sir. Your presence is required.”

  “I tire of meetings. I tire of finding civilian ships full of Vectors. We don’t do something soon and there won’t be anyone left to save.”

  “The troops are ready. Only the Navy wants to stay out on these boats.”

  Travis takes position behind his chair assuming parade rest while other officers enter the war room. Top brass from the Navy, Army, and Air Force file in. He expected at least one of them to be on the President’s cabinet. As it stands, he doesn’t know any of them. Nor has a single female officer been invited to this briefing.

  “Gentlemen. We’ve have much to cover, so we’ll forgo formalities as rank dictates to move forward,” the Army General says.

  Travis notes the Army General has been promoted to five stars. A rank only granted in time of war. The last known attempt to even promote a general to five star was in respect to General Norman Schwarzkopf and it was unsuccessful. Not even the Global terrorism war inspired such a rank. Now this man must be the leader of the entire remaining military. For once, someone has been able to suppress indifference.

  “There has been a restructuring of the United States political system. The remaining members of congress have voted a regime change. Until the American way of life is restored we operate as a Junta.”

  He quells the mumbles with a wave of his hand.

  “You’re tossing aside the Constitution,” an Army Major protests.

  “In time of war the Roman Republic would set aside personal freedom and give one man the power of absolute rule until the war was over. It was an effective system.”

  “Until Caesar refuses to abnegate his crown.”

  Travis wonders how long before this Major is shipped to the front lines.

  “Currently, the United States is a democracy. We must expel these invader—”

  “With all due respect, General, they are not invaders. They are our mothers, sons, sisters, aunts, our children,” Travis speaks out.

  “Colonel Travis, you have spent more time in the field than anyone in this room and dealt with the Vectors for nine months. We consider you an authority.”

  “You have plenty of men and women who have interacted with Vectors more than I have.” Travis was just as safe at Fort Wood as these men are on the Atlantic.

  “We already have an abundance of officers over enlisted men, but none with ten months with their boots on the ground,” says the General.

  Stationed on a walled military base where I sent civilians contractors to deal with the undead more than my own soldiers. I’m no expert. “Hiding being a fence for nine months isn’t experience.”

  The leaders have stayed hidden for ten months on the Atlantic Fleet. Travis hopes his words sting the men who forced him to abandon his daughter.

  “We have lost our focus, we’ll return to the Colonel and his necessity for being here. First, I am General Matt Powel appointed by the Senate to lead our combined armed forced.” He allows his statement to sink in. “We are beyond declaring marshal law to save our beloved country. It must be reclaimed by force. In order to do so, all survivors from now on are considered conscripts.”

  “Clarification General, every person we rescue is automatically drafted?”

  “Like there are no atheists in foxholes, there are no civilians in this war on the undead.”

  “Even children?”

  “Until this crisis has abated, adolescents will train only.” The General moves on before any protests surface. “Do we have current reports on the earthquake?”

  Travis knows he has been kept from information briefings. Most officers have been given fragments of what occurs on the mainland. But no one outside of this room has learned of any earthquake. Those surviving will receive no federal assistance or Red Cross as no such organizations exists.

  “The devastation might have been worse. Many gas and power companies had disconnected service as the plague worsened. Had cities like Memphis kept the gas on all the wooden structures would have burned. The damage remains extensive as aftershocks have not ceases.”

  “What are the magnitudes?” Travis asks. None of these men know his daughter ferreted away to safety. A safety now compromised if the earthquake damages the Cannon Dam.

  “Unconfirmed at this time, but the initial earthquake was eight-one.”

  “Looks like we got your people out just in time, Colonel,” General Powel says.

  Travis has no idea where the control inside him emanates from to not leap the table and beat the general bloody.

  “The number of civilian in the area means we are going to lose many living. We need to send recon,” Travis says.

  “You’re too valuable to for these search missions, Colonel.”

  “There is an overabundance of officers in this fleet and not enough enlisted to run missions. I’d be of more use getting my hands dirty.” Once back in mid-America I’d search for my daughter. I won’t abandon her again.

  “Those people are going to have to fend for themselves. We have made your plan, Colonel Travis, a priority. I have ordered the fleet off Key West Florida on your recommendation.”

  One of the officers Travis doesn’t know unrolls a map of the southern Florida peninsula on the table. “Travis if you will explain your proposal to us.”

  I borrowed this from Ethan. His ideas should be keeping Hannah safe of the earthquake didn’t damage the fence he built.

  “Thank you, Sir. Key West makes the best beachhead with it being an island. I have a three-pronged attack plan in place.” He uncaps a marker. “Two small platoons along with construction team land on Highway 1. They secure the bridge and build a checkpoint a mile out from the city. After the check point is complete the second platoon will move in toward the city securing what we will later build as the main entrance. Anyone wanting in the city will undergo a complete full body inspection before being allowed to enter.”

  He dots the West side of the island. “The first major landing will be here with a second here.” He dots the southernmost point of the island. The soldiers will line up and do a full march forward checking every block, building, room, closet and cabinet. Yes, gentlemen, every home every single cabinet. Eliminate any Vector with a headshot. The body to be drug into the street where a cleanup crew will gather and dispose of the bodies with fire. They’ll also escort any survives to the medical unit we will have first on the beach then in this hotel.”

  “You expect to find living.”

  “Any able-bodied adult without pertinent skills will be drafted, trained and added to the search team,” General Powel reminds the room of his order.

  “Why not start in Miami or another major city? We should take back the capital.”

  “We should start with farm lands and gather food stores. But that requires large open areas to fence in and patrol. With the ocean at our backs we have less chance of being overrun or losing the valuable ground we’ve gained to the undead. This is not like any military operation we’ve embarked on before. We don’t attack Vectors the way we would living insurgents.”

  The General nods, “This why Coronel Travis will lead the mission to take back our country.”

  GLASS TWO INCHES thick secures cubical cells. In the final chamber an ashen woman’s body slumps in a heap on the floor. Grayer than any undead epidermis Ethan’s encountered he ponders if the cure changed her.

  Dr. Ellsberg allowed Ethan into the chamber unaccompanied to win the trust of the experiment.

  He taps the glass.

  Nothing.

  So much for a cure.

  The ema
ciated girl twitches. Ethan’s arm points the gun before his brain transfers the command to do so finding comfort with his speed returning.

  Despite her dry and chapped lips, her eyes lacked the glazed cataracts of the undead. She adjusts the paper gown in a modest attempt to cover her private areas. Ethan’s natural inclination to respect her privacy hangs with him a moment until he notices the healed bite marks tracking up her right arm.

  “Do you understand me?” He taps the glass.

  Amanda pulls herself using the wall as a leaning post. She reaches up with her long arm fumbling to clasp the phone receiver from its cradle. It falls whacking the glass. Ethan snatches the phone on his side.

  She puts it to her ear. With a cough, her raspy voice lacks the moan-howl of the dead. “You’re not one of the doctors,” dry-throated she observes.

  “Biters are overrunning the camp. Are you bit?”

  “They tied me to a chair…” Tears should flow, if she wasn’t dehydrated. “I knew I was dead. They injected me with something.”

  “It kept you from turning.”

  “It destroyed all bacteria in my body.”

  “Do you need water?” Ethan asks.

  Moving as if her arm weighs fifty pounds, she points to the wall. “They filter the water…I drink, but without power to run the filter. it’s not pure.”

  How do I save a cure unable to leave a clean room? “What about the stuff in your body to digest food?”

  “Be glad you weren’t here days ago—it hit me hard. They’ve been introducing small amounts of germs to rebuild my immune system.”

  “What happens if I open the doors?” Ethan asks.

  “If I have enough built up immunity—I might live.”

  “You stay in this room and you die for sure.”

  “I should have died when I was bit. Whatever they did, I didn’t turn. But I don’t know if I’m the cure.”

  “If I find a way to open the door, do you want me to?” Put it on her. It should be her choice while she still has life to make it.

  Amanda nods.

  Ethan bursts through the door from the human laboratory cages to find Dr. Ellsberg ransacking a desk shoving papers and files into a duffle bag.

  “We should take all this research with us.” Dr. Ellsberg points to the chair by the door.

  “What about the girl?” Ethan wraps his gun belt around his waist.

  “All indications are she is immune to Vector bites. And has enough exposure to the germ-filled air to be safely released.

  “We take her,” Ethan checks each gun—fully loaded.

  Ellsberg hands him a keycard. “This will open her cell.”

  The key card gives Ethan access to the hall and the girl’s room. He opens the door exposing her to all the germs in the world.

  She uses the bed as a crutch. “Won’t get far without water.”

  Ethan unsnaps his canteen swilling as much as he can before pouring the rest on the floor. “Put your fingers in your ears.”

  She complies.

  Ethan uses his left index finger to close his right ear pumping two slugs into the wall mounted water dispenses. Liquid flows from the holes.

  Amanda stumbles to the water.

  He hands her his canteen. “Fill it and let’s go.”

  “You exposed me to the air. And I’m not dead.”

  “You’ve been breathing it for a while. The generator operating the air filtration system cut out.”

  She drinks.

  As she consumes more fluid, her skin pinks.

  Not yet a healthy hue, but better than the corpse-gray she had minutes ago. Ethan leads her back into the office where he left Dr. Ellsberg.

  When she spots the doctor, Amanda grabs an ink pen off the desk and stabs him in the stomach.

  Dr. Ellsberg’s shock prevents any reaction to the attack.

  Ethan grabs her, tossing her into a chair, but not before she punctures two more holes in the doctor.

  “I needed him.”

  “He did this to me,” she holds up her bite scarred arm.

  Ethan finds her evidence hard to dispute. He’s killed for less.

  Dr. Ellsberg collapses in the desk chair. “I think she hit something vital.” He covers one gushing hole with his hand.

  “You stay over there,” he scolds the girl. Ethan slides the file cabinet over to block the door. It won’t prevent a living person from entering, but the undead don’t fiddle too long with blocked doors unless they know something is inside they want to eat.

  “You don’t need me. She’s the key to a vaccine,” says Dr. Ellsberg.

  Ethan glances around the room. Regretting he ever embarked on this mission. Damn pride.

  The far wall contains a paper map of the United States. Radiating dots cover a dozen major cities. Scrolled in black sharpie are dates and times. Allowing for the time zone differences Ethan calculates the outbreak of undead occurred in fourteen major US cities within a half hour of each other.

  Flipping on a cell phone he waits for the chirping drum roll signaling its warming up.

  “Improbable, to have been…a natural epidemic,” Dr. Ellsberg admits, as blood pumps from the three holes.

  “It doesn’t excuse your testing on people. How many did you murder when the other vaccines didn’t work!?” Amanda screams at him.

  Ethan snaps a picture of the map before digging through the papers on the desk. “Is this all your research? It’s a lot of hard copy.”

  “We searched for a cure. No disease has fourteen patient zeroes at the same time. Those are just the American ones. Other cities around the word reported outbreaks within an hour either side of those times.”

  “A coordinated terrorist act. What’s it matter now?”

  Dr. Ellsberg’s breathing labors. “I don’t want to be one of those things.” He holds up a flash drive. “Everything is on this stick.”

  Ethan flips off the cell phone, returning it to the waterproof case along with the flash drive and military GPS.

  Dr. Ellsberg holds up a blood-covered key card. His breathing labors, “This area gives access to the exit door past the cells. You’ll find a motor pool.” Ellsberg coughs blood. “You tell my brother all I wanted to do was stop our inevitable extinction.”

  “When you are willing to do what you did to me, it proves humans have no right to go on.”

  “I don’t want to be one of those things,” Dr. Ellsberg begs.

  “I don’t know if this will be painless or not.” He takes hold of the man’s forehead.

  “Wait.” Ellsberg genuflects, leaving behind a bloody cross on his lab coat, “God forgive me.”

  Ethan slams the knife thought the ear canal puncturing the brain. He wipes the blade clean on a clear spot of lab coat.

  A door bolted with card key security blocks their escape.

  Amanda twists the handle and it pops open. “Electronic sealed doors unlock when the power goes out in case of fire. Unless they are medically special, like my cell.”

  No matter how many times Ethan’s encountered a group of undead feasting on a fallen body, it turns his stomach. He pushes the disgust from his thoughts. The first-round splatters more blood over the unfazed creatures. Engrossed in their duties, they ignore the noise. The second creature drops from a shot and now they turn their frenzy on its maker. Ethan dispatches two more. In quick rapid succession, three more fall. He spares the person being dined upon from returning from the dead with blow from his knife. Blood-covered key card dangles from the ring attached to his belt.

  Ethan cuts free the keyring. “Just in case.”

  Still human. He pushes down bile. Being sick means he’s still human. What about the woman?

  They open doors searching for an escape. In a janitorial supply closet, Amanda grabs a jacket. She zips it up over her paper gown. Drinking from the canteen brightens her complexion revealing she has tan lines from being outdoors. “Do I get a gun?”

  Ethan checks the clip in his Beretta, loading the mi
ssing rounds. “You’ve got eleven bullets. Make them count.”

  “Now I need a clothing store for some new clothes.”

  “I had a bad experience in mall with the undead, once.” Ethan smiles.

  “Lots of supplies,” she says.

  “I’ll find you a whole wardrobe once we get out of here.”

  “I won’t leave without knowing what happened to my companions. They brought three of us in here. I’ve got to know if my friends are dead.”

  “We’ll search for them on the way out, but the earthquakes brought down the outer walls. This place is overrun with biters. And every resident of Memphis is about to arrive.”

  Gunfire.

  At least the soldiers are still defending this place.

  They burst through a door marked EXIT.

  Ethan flings the cure behind him.

  A soldier remaining at his post greets them.

  Ethan would drop the Corporal, but the boy has his finger on the trigger allowing for final burst from his automatic.

  “Whoa! Easy, Sir.”

  “Don’t Sir me; I work for a living.” Ethan recalls his grandfather’s mantra. “Are you deserting your post, son?” Depending on his former level of patriotism, his words may sting the Corporal into assisting.

  “The military’s finished.”

  “Not an answer. But I might have one.” Keeping the woman behind him, he pulls her arm so the Corporal sees it. “She has healed Vector bites. They injected her with something. Her blood contains the cure.

  “There is no cure.”

  “Then explain her bites. They are healed and they are human.” Ethan needs the kid to lower the rifle slightly to pick him off.

  “It won’t do any good. Half of Memphis is burning from the aftershock and quake draws them. Without this compound—”

  “I have a base in…Northern Missouri near a hydroelectric dam. We’ve electricity, hot water, cattle, and walls.” Ethan’s never explained so much to anyone. “It’s far enough north the earthquake won’t have caused damage.”