THE ELIMINATORS
Volume Two
Jacqueline Druga
The Eliminators Volume Two - Jacqueline Druga
The Eliminators Series - Copyright 2019, 2020 by Jacqueline Druga
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Thank you to Paula, Connie N, and Al for all your help! And also to Fred, for encouraging this series.
Cover Designer – Tairelei
https://www.facebook.com/Tairelei/
FLAMING SAFFRONS LOG
March 8
Day 325
Entry: Rachel
I can't believe it's been over three hundred days of procrastinating on these logs. But if I want to get technical, it has really only been about two-fifty, that's how long we have officially been Eliminators.
Team Name, The Flaming Saffrons … thank you Kasper.
I'd like to say I am first to make an entry because I am the creative one of the group, after all I did invent the winning potato chip flavor for Bado chips. A lot of good that did, considering the world went to shit the day after the big unveiling. I do owe the potato chip contest for meeting my team. We all met in the Bahamas. Barry and Rigs were there for vacation. Kasper was working at the airport; Sandy was celebrating her divorce and I was celebrating the win of a lifetime.
But that's not the purpose of these logs, is it?
We always thought they were stupid.
Liz, or rather formally known as Congresswoman Liz Nazinski, the original leader of the Eliminator movement, told us they were for the future, the history for generations to read. Like letters from the civil war. No social media, no pictures, just word of mouth to convey the story.
What we did, where we went, if anyone lost their lives we were supposed to write about them.
We were busy, we never stopped, one city or town to the next like a traveling lounge band. Who had time? And to memorialize the lost member. Our team, the Flaming Saffrons had a rotating spot. The core group stayed the same, that last spot was what we called the red shirt, because they always died.
We never really got to know that sixth spot. The person we lost wasn't someone we'd be able to spew forth a wonderful obituary over.
Until Kasper.
Our core team has been broken.
Kasper saved my life and in doing so lost his.
Kasper was awesome. He was funny, outspoken, young, enthusiastic and related everything to a zombie book, movie, TV show or game.
He was my friend.
He's not gone. Yes, he turned, but I know something is still there. He … is still in there. My last moment with Kasper before we left for this leg of the journey, had me second guessing about all the stiffs we put down.
Maybe he is the reason I wanted to start writing in this thing. Him and the fact we have begun a new leg. A new phase of being Eliminators.
But our job will still be the same. Rid the word of the risen dead and return it to the living.
One by one until they are all gone.
In the beginning I was naïve. I thought it would be easy and done with fast.
I was wrong.
We have been Eliminators for nine months.
And I remember the first day as if it were yesterday.
No, I remember every day vividly. How can I not?
End of log for me. Any more and I’ll get motion sickness from writing this while moving or sad over Kasper. I don’t do sad very well.
I think to get me through, I’ll just think back to the good days.
ONE – TRAINING DAY
Nine Months Earlier
May 14 – Day 27
Robinson Township, PA
What was Rigs doing? He really didn’t have an ambition to be an Eliminator. To him it was a branch of the military listed under the guise of a different name. Rigs was already in the military, he didn’t need to sign up.
They had arrived and taken over the Pittsburgh International Airport twenty-two days earlier. He was content there, living with the other thirty people who escaped the Bahamas on Barry Bick’s private plane. They were alive and safe. In fact, Rigs made it his mission to start setting up for long term survival. The airport was far removed from the city and protected by a fence. Yet there he was at the training center all because Barry, who was already pushing seventy, wanted to sign up. Of course, Rachel and Kasper were raising their hands and may well have been saying, ‘Pick me, pick me,’ when Congresswoman Liz came to recruit.
It was as if Rachel and Kasper had been training for it.
After all, every day for three weeks they had left the airport, honing their skills against the dead, hating everything about the infected.
Whereas Rigs just wanted to move on, survive, hope the infected died off … for good.
Liz came to the airport and was such a politician. Pittsburgh, home of Romero Zombies was surviving better than any other city.
On the outskirts of the city, it was different.
The training center for Eliminators was located in Robinson, PA at the Army National Guard center. Oddly, Rigs had been there ten years earlier.
The plan was to train everyone intensely for a week and then send them out. That was the gist of what Rigs knew.
He didn’t know how many people were in the auditorium, there were a few people behind Rigs as he stepped up to the registration table where two people took names. Rachel and Kasper were before him and Barry.
He swore Rachel and Kasper took longer than anyone else.
When they were asked if they had any weapons, both of them just started pulling weapons from their belts, their legs, under their pants, Rigs hadn’t even noticed what they carried.
They didn’t have to turn them in, they did however have to put them in a backpack as best as they could.
The handle of her short sword, poked out of Rachel’s bag.
“Name?” the woman asked.
“Um … Rigs.”
“Is that your first or last name.”
“I’m sorry. Jeremiah Rigs.”
“And you’re with the two people before you?” she asked.
“And him.” He pointed to Barry.
“Almost a full team.”
“How many are on a team?” Rigs asked.
“Six. You’ll be assigned the other two.”
Rigs prepared to tell her about Sandy, how she would be going with them. After all, she was a doctor. But Rigs didn’t know where exactly they were going to be eliminating. For all he knew it was around the city and they’d just go home for the night.
“Any weapons?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Did you see those two before me?”
After getting his welcome folder, he walked into the auditorium and he and Barry sat next to Rachel and Kasper. They picked the first row and that didn’t surprise him at all.
The auditorium had about forty people in there, all ages, shapes and sizes.
Kasper leaned over Barry to speak to Rigs. “Pretty exciting isn’t it?”
Rigs replied, “yeah,” less than enthusiastically.
“See, Rach, I knew he’d eventually do his part.”
“What … exactly does that mean?” Rigs asked. “You said that a couple days ago, Rach. I was doing my part. I was getting the airport ready for long term survival.”
“I know,” Rachel said. “I just think, someone fit and healthy like you should be out eliminating these things with us.”
“You can’t save the world,” said Rigs.
“We can try.”
Her
attention was drawn away from Rigs when a Colonel stepped on to the stage. He wore camouflage, but Rigs knew his rank right away.
“Thank you all for coming, my name is Colonel James. I and three others are working with Congresswoman Liz on this initiative and feel we have the makings of something that will eventually move beyond the tri-state area,” he said. “If you can, save any questions for later.”
Rigs knew it. He shifted his eyes to his left and sure enough, Rachel was lowering her hand.
“Welcome to the Eliminators,” the colonel said. “Basically our plan is a four step survival process with three types of teams. Sweep, Eliminators, Cleanup and the fourth step is relocating survivors. We plan on focusing on small towns and containable urban areas. Right now, we are gathering survivors in larger locations. This is a temporary move. The sweep teams are already out there. They consist of military and other volunteers. They enter a town, it is a massive sweep, removal of survivors and execution of the infected on a large scale by whatever means necessary. Then it is on you. The Eliminators. One team will be sent into one location to pick off the remaining infected and mark locations that are viable. Once you have finished, the cleanup team comes in and preps the area for residential living.”
Rigs kept looking at Rachel and Kasper, along with Barry to see if they were actually listening. Not only did they linger on every word, they were mesmerized.
The colonel continued, “Training will be quick, hard, and tough. I encourage you to give your team a name, build comradery. You will need it out there. We will supply the tools you need to do your job. Right now, we have four Eliminator teams out there, and hopefully we can make seven teams out of this. We encourage you to recruit as we are looking for people to enlist. I know that’s not much, but everything you need to know is in the packet you received at the door. Before we move on, divide you up and move into the assessment and training areas, I ask that anyone who has reconsidered, leave now. Don’t waste my time.”
Rigs looked behind him to see if anyone left, when he turned back around he noticed Rachel, Kasper and Barry looking at him, as if waiting for him to get up. “What?” he whispered.
“Great,” The colonel said. “Sergeant Edwards, Sergeant Mason, Captain Perry and I will each take ten of you.” As he said that, two men and one woman stepped onto stage. “They will answer any questions you have. I assure you each of these individuals are very well experienced in fighting the dead and will be very helpful.”
The colonel proceeded to count off and point, directing each group with the instructor. Rigs and the others were the first ones assigned and the first to leave the auditorium.
TWO – THE PEN
They were led across a parking lot toward a huge metal building that looked like an enclosed hanger.
Each group of ten was led toward a different door.
The closer Rigs drew to the building the more he heard it. The sound of moans and squeals.
He stopped walking and stared at the gray structure.
“What is it?” Rachel asked him.
“They’re in there. I hear them. What if this is a trap?”
“Dude!” Kasper said with worried excitement. “What if they are turning us to make more to train people?”
“Stop,” Rachel said. “Why would they do that?” But Rigs knew she wasn’t taking any chances, she slid her backpack from her shoulder and reached inside.
The instructor noticed this. “Ma’am what are you doing?”
“There are stiffs in there,” Rachel said. “By the sound of them, they’re runners, they’re fast ones.”
He tilted his head and looked at her curiously. “Yeah, you’re right. But you’re also safe. You’ll get a chance to use those weapons during assessment.”
Rachel replaced the pack on her shoulder.
The instructor stopped at a metal door. “I haven’t given my name. I’m Sergeant Edwards. You can call me Sarge or Sledge. Most call me Sledge.”
Kasper swung a point to Rigs. “I think he is a Sarge, too.”
“You serve?” Sledge asked.
“Sixteen years, Army Reserves,” Rigs answered.
“That’s why he’s not a Captain or General,” Kasper said. “You can’t get big promotions when you’re only part time.”
“Great,” Sledge said, obviously dismissing Kasper. “I’m expecting great things from you Sarge.”
Kasper laughed, then quickly stopped when Rigs shot him a glance.
Sledge grabbed the door handle. “It’s not gonna smell pretty.” He pulled and slid it open.
Rachel and Kasper were the only ones, aside from Sledge, who didn’t really react.
Even Barry flinched. Rigs like the others gagged and coughed, outwardly grunting sounds of disgust.
But he got it together when he realized how embarrassed the others looked. He was supposed to be part of this tough team, he didn’t want to portray he was put off by a sickening smell.
And it smelled.
Death, rotten eggs and some sort of wet dog odor filled the air.
The room reminded him of some sort of apocalyptic movie, ‘fight to the death’ arena on a smaller scale.
They were led inside and put safely behind a chain link fence. On the other side of the fence was a large open area, blood stained and dirty. Across from that was another fence. It was like a rodeo for zombies. Eight pens, each with a dead inside, the gate waiting to be opened to release them. Rigs could see behind them was a holding area where more of them waited.
The second the dead saw the group, they went nuts, clawing and clamoring.
Sledge clapped his hands together once. “Right here is where I am going to assess your skills with these things. There are no right or wrong techniques. No one is expecting you to be experts or great killers. These dead are your training dead. They are muzzled to protect from bites and hands covered to protect from scratches. Even though they pose little threat … yes, …” He pointed to Kasper. “You have a question and state your name.”
“Kasper,” he said. “My question is how did you get their mouths covered without getting bit?”
“We got them when they were slow, it was easier,” Sledge said. “Okay, first assessment. Who here, at one time, has read a zombie book or seen a zombie tv show or movie?”
Everyone raised their hands. Including Rigs.
“Good. Good. Anyone care to tell me what you know now that is totally different from the fictional accounts?” Sledge asked.
Kasper raised his hands. “The flies. Dude, they never show how many flies are on them.” Kasper looked around acknowledging the agreements he got. “I mean seriously, they blanket them.”
“That’s good. Anyone else?” Sledge asked.
“Doors,” Rachel answered. “In the movies they never open doors. They open doors, run up stairs, down stairs. I don’t know what the movies were thinking.”
A man from the back of the room spoke up. “They don’t really eat you, they tear you apart.”
Kasper looked back at him. “Not true dude, a lot of them eat. Their bellies get all big. You never seen it? Yeah, sometimes the belly splits.”
“Or,” Rachel added. “Really gross is when gravity takes over and it just kind of sludges out between their legs like bad soft serve ice cream.”
A few people groaned.
Sledge stepped to him. “How do you … how do you two know this?”
Rigs answered. “They’re out there … a lot. Every day. Learning them.”
“Cool.” Sledge stepped back. “Okay. Raise your hand if you have never killed one.”
Hating to do so, Rigs raised his hand. It was him and one other woman in the back of the room.
Barry shook his head. “That’s not true, you killed one.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did,” Rachel said. “The Bugsy Burger worker stiff. You killed him on the escalator.”
Rigs chuckled. “I kicked him, Rach, he flew backwards and cracked his skull.
That hardly counts as a kill.”
“A kill is a kill,” Rachel said.
“Yeah.” Rigs nodded sarcastically.
“The idea behind this …” Sledge grabbed the fence. “Is we put you in the pen, open a gate, you can choose how many you want to try. Weapon of choice. And I see how you handle them. If you get in trouble. I’m here and so are my soldiers over there.” He pointed to the two soldiers behind another fence. “So, let’s not wait. Who wants to go first?”
Of course, Kasper and Rachel raised their hands, but Sledge picked another person. A pretty fit man in his thirties.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Charles.”
Out of the blue and to Rigs, totally ridiculous timing, Kasper started softly singing the theme song to an old 1980s sitcom.
“Charles in charge of our days and our nights …”
“How do you even know that?” asked Rigs.
Kasper shrugged. “Sorry. Go on Charles. I apologize.”
Sledge opened up the pen gate. “Weapon of choice?”
Charles set down his backpack and pulled out his weapon. “Crowbar.”
“How many have you taken out?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t count. A couple dozen.”
Rigs watched as Sledge nodded impressed and kept thinking the guy was just showing off.
“There’s ten in the pen,” Sledge said. “How many you want?”
“I’ll take two.”
Rigs thought he was thinking it when he said, ‘Show off’, but clearly it was audible because Barry nudged him and gave that fatherly scolding look.
“Sorry,” Rigs whispered.
Charles took his place center of the pen, holding his crowbar ready. Rigs eyes shifted to Rachel who bit her nails out of nervousness for a man she didn’t know.
“Open it up. Two!” Sledge ordered.
The gate opened and the first of the dead raced toward Charles with the other slightly distracted by the soldier that released him.
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