Apocalypse³
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Man’s Last Lullaby
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Over the Rainbow
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By Any Means Necessary
Dane Hatchell
This story is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Dane Hatchell
Cover Copyright © P.A. Douglas
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
From Severed PRESS
Other titles by the author:
Resurrection X: Zombie Evolution
A Gentleman’s Privilege: Zombies in the Old South
A Werewolf in our Midst
Apocalypse³
Club Dead: Zombie Isle
Dead Coup d'État
Dreaming of an Undead Christmas
It Came from Black Swamp
Lord of the Flies: A Zombie Story
Love Prevails: A Zombie Nightmare
Pheromone and Rotten
Red Rain
Soul Mates
The Garden of Fear
The Last Savior
The Turning of Dick Condon
Time and Tide: A Fractured Fairy Tale
Two Big Foot Tales
Two Demented Fish Tales
Zombies of Iwo Jima
Zombie God of the Jungle
Zombie’s Honor
Table of Contents
Man’s Last Lullaby 5
Over the Rainbow 25
By Any Means Necessary 48
Man’s Last Lullaby
Staff Sergeant Jarvis Reed joined the Army to flee the violent streets of New Orleans two years prior. Gang wars in the city practically guaranteed death at an early age. Now he found himself in Iran, in the Khuzestan Province, hunkered down and praying for his life.
The energy crisis had turned most of the large cities of the world into virtual containment camps, with martial law in place to keep order. Despite the civil unrest, those nations that still had organized armies made power grabs for the Earth’s remaining natural resources.
The United States had not been satisfied with the recent acquisition of the Iraqi oil fields and moved to include Iran’s before China or Russia could mobilize a challenge.
The world was on the brink of a war not one country could economically afford. At the same time, there was almost nothing left for any one of them to lose.
The world’s population pushed a little over nine billion. Without oil or other forms of energy people were going to die with or without war.
A blast overhead rattled Jarvis’ teeth. A flash of fear went through his mind over the safety of the other eight members of his squad. He looked behind expecting the worst, and was relieved to see the others alive and give him a ‘thumb-up.’
Bullets rained from an enemy machine gun positioned on the roof of a four-story apartment building. The squad’s mission was to secure the city. There was no way to advance until this obstacle became null and void.
He and his squad had taken cover behind a badly damaged restaurant. Jarvis considered breaking the squad into two groups and making a move, but the streets were wide open, and the risk too great. The safety of his men was his first concern, plus he needed everyone alive and fighting if they had any hope of completing this mission.
Jarvis formulated a plan, giving a hand signal he was going in, and motioned to the others to give him cover. He slapped a fresh clip into his XM10 assault rifle and kicked in the back door of the restaurant. The only way to take out the enemy was by surprise.
It was dark inside the large dining room. The smell of spoiled meat and rotten vegetables permeated the air. He squeezed off a few bursts from the rifle as he entered, dropped to one knee, and readied to fire again. The blasts echoed off stone floors and drifted into an eerie quiet. The room was empty except for tables and chairs that had been stacked up and pushed against one wall. He wondered if there was any edible food hidden away, but the rattle of gunfire brought him back to the mission at hand.
His squad returned fire, laying down cover for him to make his move. Jarvis darted to an empty window frame and checked both sides of the street. They were clear. His next goal was to make it to the apartment building on the other side.
He closed his eyes with his back to the door and said a brief prayer for God to be with him.
He jumped through the window and ran as fast as he could toward the apartment building. Machine gun fire rang overhead. His squad’s returning fire shattered the building’s façade and rained bits of stone down as he approached the front doors. Jarvis’ heart pounded in his chest but his mind didn’t waver from his objective. There was no time to think through every step of the way. Even the slightest hesitation could certainly get him killed.
He slammed his boot into the double doors of the entrance and felt his knee pop from overextension. The unlocked doors offered no resistance.
The foyer was empty and the dust on the floor indicated no one had come this way in some time. He was relieved. He had to act quickly and didn’t have the luxury of securing each floor before making his move to the top.
He ascended the first flight of stairs with minimal caution, ready to shoot first and identify later. Luckily, his only encounter was with a stack of empty boxes at the top of the stairs. With renewed confidence, he quickened his pace and hurried to the top floor.
“Alpha one to Alpha six,” Jarvis spoke into his radio and waited for a response.
“Alpha six, go ahead Alpha one,” came through his earpiece.
“On my mark, cease fire, and await further instructions,” he finished, and reloaded his rifle.
“Roger, Alpha one. Alpha six out.”
Jarvis moved slowly toward a door that led to an apartment that faced the front of the building. He tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. He eased the door open and took three steps in.
A spray of bullets flew through a broken window and slammed into the wall not two feet from his head. Jarvis immediately dropped to the floor, rolled to the side, and outside of the line of fire. The bullets were from his own squad returning fire to the enemy above.
“Alpha one to Alpha six. Keep your fire high. Repeat, keep your fire high. I’m under the target now. Cease fire on my mark.” He wondered how this mission would have continued had he taken a bullet.
The guns continued in constant roar. Jarvis crawled on his hands and knees over shards of glass and busted plaster until he rested under the window. He laid his rifle aside and removed the pin from a grenade, maintaining a death grip on the leaver.
He keyed his radio. “Cease fire, Alpha six, cease fire.”
“Roger Alpha one, cease fire,” the radio came back.
Ten seconds later his squad’s guns went silent. He positioned himself by the window and lobbed the grenade to the top of the roof.
The explosion chimed above the automatic gunfire, which immediately fell silent. Jarvis lobbed another grenade for good measure.
He slid to the floor and took a sip from his canteen to relieve the dryness in his mouth. There were no sounds coming from above, but he still had to confirm the mission was complete.
He left the room and went down a short hall to a window by the back of the building. Just outside, a fire escape ladder extended up to the roof.
With his rifle hanging from his shoulder, he opened the window, and climbed on the narrow metal rungs. He unholstered his pistol and climbed slowly up the ladder with it in his hand.
The tension of the mission lifted
from him like the weight of a thousand pounds when he reached the top and found the two enemies dead. Jarvis approached them with caution, afraid they might be wearing suicide vests as a last defense. This turned out to be another unfounded fear.
But he did find a surprise. The enemy that had him and his squad pinned back and fearing for their lives were just two young boys. Just children, he thought.
“Alpha one to Alpha six.”
“Alpha six, go ahead Alpha one.”
“Mission complete. Area is secure. I’m taking five before moving to the rendezvous point.” He poured some water from his canteen in his hand and rubbed it over his face. The water evaporated quickly and gave him some immediate relief from the heat. This whole scenario was strange and puzzling.
Recon had reported the city was empty. Two Army battalions were supposed to take this route for the main offensive. The first battalion met sporadic resistance and had to slow the advance to the point the second battalion caught up with them. The combined units numbered over twenty five hundred men. Each was supposed to pass through separately. Now they were bunched up and a day behind schedule.
Jarvis rose to his feet and stretched his arms and back to relive the tension from the morning’s battle. Ready to return to his squad, he turned to leave the roof, and faced a new threat. Rocket trails coming from the east streaked through the sky above.
He didn’t even make it to the fire escape when the first rocket crashed to the ground a hundred yards from him. The impact from the explosion was minimal, but an unusual amount of smoke came pouring from the crash site. More rockets fell to the ground, releasing clouds of green mist that intertwined through the city. Jarvis watched in fearful awe as the city below him fell under a blanket of green smoke.
Then it dawned on him. It wasn’t smoke. It was toxic gas. Jarvis quickly opened his pack and ripped out his mask from its plastic bag. In his haste to get the mask on his face, he fumbled and dropped it on the ground. He snatched it up quickly and tightened the straps in the back. A slight irritation in his nostrils gripped him with a fear that he was too late.
His team wasn’t prepared for this type of war. All chemical and biological weapons worldwide had been destroyed during President Obama’s fourth administration. The mask he wore was designed to filter irritants, but could do nothing for nerve gas or biological agents.
He slowly fell to his knees and looked out over the city. He didn’t even want to think about what the effects of the gas would feel like. The greenish mist moved just above the ground. He didn’t dare leave from the safety of the roof.
This had been a trap. The enemy abandoned the city and suckered the two battalions in. The insurgents re-entered the city to slow the troops and group them up. This was like shooting fish in a barrel.
Jarvis felt saliva building in his mouth. He began to swallow continuously. Fear numbed his mind and he broke into a cold sweat.
Vapor streams from U.S. hypersonic B-76 drone bombers marked the sky, heading to the east.
His lungs felt full of broken glass as he struggled to breathe. He pissed all over himself as the toxins blocked the electrical impulses from his brain to his bladder.
Miles away a blinding light flashed, and then a slowly growing mushroom cloud bloomed out of the ground
Jarvis stopped his struggle for air as paralysis from the nerve damage set in. This is how the world ends, his last thought faded to black.
* * *
Jasmine Jones was on the street, willing to trade her body to satisfy the most powerful of addictions. She was famished and in dire need to eat. She didn’t need food just for herself. She had two children and a mother who depended on her. The rations for the week were almost gone, and it would be three more days before the food trucks would be in the Ford Heights area of Chicago where she lived.
She didn’t mean to be irresponsible with her allotment of food. Her two kids were growing and eating more. She couldn’t stand to hear the children cry when their plates were empty and the pangs of hungry gnawed away. So she gave them just a little more food, and then just a little more, until now the food was almost gone.
It was well into the night and past curfew. However, she wasn’t concerned. The Military Police hadn’t made a patrol in the area in over a week. She was glad to see a good many people out and about tonight. It increased her chances to score some food. If she didn’t, there might not be anything to eat for dinner the next night.
She stood in her black silk dress and black leather high heel sandals and pretended to be waiting for someone. It was almost an hour before an older man in a bright blue shirt approached.
“Hi,” Jasmine was lost for words afterward. She had never made a proposition like this before.
The man gave her a discerning look over, and asked, “You buyin’ or sellin’?”
“I’m not buying or selling anything,” Jasmine’s heart fluttered and her face flushed. She then blurted, “I . . . I need food . . . I’ll spend the night with you if you can give me some food.”
The man looked into her eyes and then up and down her body. With a melody in his voice, he said, “Yes, honey. I’ve got food. I’ve got rib eye steaks, roast, rice and gravy, fried chicken and green beans, corn and mashed potatoes.”
Jasmine flashed. “Don’t fuck with me! I don’t need any shit! My kids are hungry and I need food.”
The man paused, “I’m sorry baby, I was just havin’ a little fun with you. Just rememberin’ better times. I’ve got an extra weeks supply of food you can have. My brother passed a month ago, and the government don’t know yet.”
A week’s supply of food was a lot more than Jasmine had hoped for. She didn’t want to have sex with this man, but she was eager to get it over with and bring the food home.
With the battery powered streetlights illuminating the way, the two walked arm in arm in silence toward the man’s house.
Jasmine felt they had been walking for an hour when she asked him, “How much farther?”
He said, “Just a little ways.”
Finally, they turned down a street he said was his. Several of the houses were dark but many had the faint glow of lights shining dimly within. They turned into his driveway. He opened the door and let her go in first.
The man stumbled though the darkness and turned on a lamp in the living room. Two plastic chairs and an old couch sparsely furnished the room.
“Why, I didn’t even ask you your name,” the man said.
“Jasmine. My name is Jasmine. Where’s the food,” she impatiently replied.
The man laughed. “Hold on, girl. The food’s in the kitchen. It ain’t goin’ nowhere. We got a little business to attend to first.”
Jasmine tossed her handbag on the couch and kicked off her sandals. She removed one strap of her dress from her shoulder when the man raised his hands.
“Not in here, honey. In the bedroom.” He pointed to a room down the hall. He led her into the room and turned on a lamp by the bed. “Go ahead and get undressed. I want to go wash up.” He left the room and closed the door.
The bedroom was small. There was barely enough room for the queen size bed and the two nightstands next to it. Jasmine undressed and pulled the bedspread over the exposed sheets. She didn’t want to share any disgusting things the sheets might harbor.
She heard a door opening and closing, and then voices. A pit of fear grew in her stomach. This was something she wasn’t expecting.
In a panic, she snatched up her dress and was almost to the bedroom door when it swung open.
“They all here now, honey,” he said with a big smile. “We goin’ to get this party started.” There were three others she counted behind him, but there could have been more she couldn’t see.
“No way. I’m out of here.” Jasmine tried in vain to push her way past him. She barely weighed over a hundred pounds, and this man topped two hundred easily.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her onto the bed. He dropped his pants to the fl
oor and told her to get ready.
He laid the full weight of his body on her. Jasmine screamed and dug her fingernails into the side of his face. The man let out a pissed off yelp of surprise.
As Jasmine attempted to roll off the bed, he grabbed her, and shoved her back down. She continued to struggle, and without warning, he slammed his fist full force into her face.
Jasmine saw stars as an intense heat washed over the left side of her head. Then, another wave of pain crashed into her, and the pain faded into total blackness.
She woke in the dimly lit room with an incredible ringing in her head. It took a minute to remember where she was. The pain from her lower body told what had happened while she was unconscious.
Jasmine laid face down on the bed, finding herself violated in the worst ways imaginable. She didn’t realize the bedspread was stuck to her face when she rolled on to her side. The crusty blood broke its bond and fresh pain stung her cheek. Jasmine sat on the side of the bed and pondered what to do.
A window in the bedroom led to the outside, but she didn’t know if she was in any condition to run. She didn’t even know if the men were still at the house. This could just be an abandoned house, and they could all be gone by now.
Jasmine put her feet on the floor and picked up her dress. Her knees were weak, she was bruised badly between her legs, and it hurt with each step. She slipped the dress on and walked to the bedroom door. She couldn’t hear anything as she listened for sounds on the other side. The ringing in her head made it harder to hear.
She slowly opened the door and took one light step at a time down the hall until reaching the living room. She was about to open the front door when she noticed a light coming from an adjoining room. It was the kitchen. There was a light on in the pantry, and there was food on the shelf.
She moved to the kitchen’s entrance and eased her head in. As she looked about, she saw a window next to a door that led to an outside patio. There were five men sitting around smoking and drinking in silence. Each looked high out of his mind on god knows what. These men had abused Jasmine in a horrific manner, and they were so stoned they probably wouldn’t even remember it the next day.
Apocalypse³ Page 1