Extinction Level Event (Book 1): Extinction Level Event

by Jones, K. J.

  “What about estrogen?” asked Chris.

  Phebe hadn’t pressed the lever to speak. Matt hadn’t finished.

  Peter answered, “That would make really emotional zombies. They wouldn’t be violent unless we called them the c-word.”

  “C-word?”

  “I have to be careful. There’s a woman behind me within striking distance of my head.”

  “Yeah. They don’t like that word.”

  “It’s like the teeth,” Matt continued. “The virus evolved to alter humans to spread itself, as viruses do. Since humans were a dead-end species for lyssaviruses, R140 has mutated to make humans a vector. A spreader of the cells. Over.”

  “Ask him,” said Peter, “if that means it has to be man-made.”

  Phebe pressed the lever and repeated his question.

  “I have no idea how microbiologists would achieve it,” responded Matt. “But I am not a microbiologist, so I don’t really know. Over.”

  Phebe said, “Not necessarily. Of all the mass extinctions in Earth’s history, we only know the cause for very few of them. It’s like six percent or sixteen percent, I can’t remember which. Environmental change and meteor strikes are identifiable in the geological record. But that’s it. What caused the rest? Over.”

  “So you’re hypothesizing,” said Matt, “that a virus can overflow into multiple genus? No, not even. Jesus, I can’t remember nomenclature. Is this phylum? Over.”

  “You understand any of that?” Chris asked Peter.

  “Weirdly, I kind of do. I was awake for high school biology.”

  “Mammalian is a class,” responded Phebe. “What if a virus can infect an entire class? Over.”

  “Then we are in deeper shit than we thought. Over.”

  “If influenza can mutate from birds to humans, that’s outside of the mammalian class. Viruses are capable of making big jumps then. Over.”

  Matt didn’t respond.

  The guys upfront sat silent. Peter drove through the cleared path in the abandoned and wrecked vehicles. Mullen stared at her, frowning.

  “Anyone? Over,” she asked.

  Peter said, “You just doomed us all.”

  “Well … I didn’t make the virus. Don’t kill the messenger.”

  “I’m not convinced it’s natural,” said Peter. “It’s too diabolic. Too efficient. How can nature do that?”

  “It’s called evolution,” she responded. “Natural selection. But then it must come from somewhere else. We don’t have the evolution.”

  Matt said, “It would have to evolve somewhere. Over.”

  “Yes. Over.”

  “It couldn’t be here. Unless the twenty-twelve bath salts epidemic wasn’t actually entirely bath salts. The tox report of the Miami cannibal showed he had nothing but marijuana in his system. He acted like these people. The media even called him a zombie. There were cases of people biting other people all over the world. Acting very similar to these infected people. Over.”

  “Maybe bath salts was another cover. Over.”

  “It definitely existed. It’s a cathinone. They are definitely real. Over.”

  “But what if all the bath salts users weren’t on it? And that was the start of R140. Like the Miami cannibal you mentioned. Over.”

  “Then I hate the government. Over.”

  The guys up front cheered.

  “Finally,” said Peter.

  “Apple pie doc sees the light,” said Chris.

  She shook her head at them. “That’s what you guys are getting out of this?”

  “Hey, sweetheart,” said Peter. “You just declared the end of the world. At least we get red, white, and blue Eagle Scout turned to the Darkside.”

  6.

  Whoever had removed vehicles to clear the way had stopped. The cars packed the road so tight only a motorcycle could get through. Matt relayed a route. A road that was further east and ran through quiet, treed suburbia. They headed east to reach it and found the clearing again.

  “What the hell is this?” Peter stopped the Suburban.

  The obstruction wasn’t accidental. A bus stood across the road. Delivery trucks flanked it. The passage blocked, even by means of the sidewalk.

  “You gotta be kidding me,” Peter muttered. He hit the steering wheel.

  “This looks fucked, Sul,” said Chris.

  “You think?”

  “What is it?” Phebe asked.

  “Somebody put up a roadblock,” said Peter. “Which means somebody is here. Which means they are probably going to try to jack us.”

  “We’re in the shit.” Chris popped his AR mag and checked the bullets. “At least we get to shoot normal men who fall down when they get shot. We trained for that.”

  “That would be the upside of this.” Peter’s fingers rapped on the dashboard. “To go back, takes longer. No clear path. We have to move vehicles. These would be the assholes that made the route through.”

  He turned to the two in the back. “You are going to the Jimmy. Gather you people together. Chris, radio Jimbo. He’s staying back.”

  Phebe and Mullen hurried to the Jimmy. Matt and Mazy were out and ducked behind their doors for cover, guns ready. The Jimmy was a two-door. Jimbo raised the passenger seat to let the civilians into the backseat.

  “Hi, y’all,” high as a kite Syanna greeted from the far back. “Want a cookie? I want a cookie.”

  “How do you feel?” Phebe asked.

  “Aw, Pheebs, I missed you so much. Oh. My. God. These poos won’t even play My Eye Spies with me. No games at all. They’re all poopy faced serious.”

  “Wow,” said Mullen. “Could I have some of what she’s on.”

  “Glad you’re not in pain, Sye,” Phebe said.

  “Come back here, Pheebs.”

  “Ah, no.”

  “C’mon c’mon c’mon.”

  “Hey,” Jimbo reprimanded. “What did we say about the badgering?”

  “He’s so mean. I used to like you, Jimbo Conway, well, sort of. But now I hate you.”

  “I can live with that, Syanna. Just shut up.”

  “You have changed, Jimbo. I don’t like the new you.”

  Jimbo said to Phebe, “She hasn’t shut up since she woke up. Matt won’t give her anything more to knock her ass out.”

  “Hey, Mullen,” Phebe said. “Why don’t you go back there with her? You can talk at each other.”

  “Ha ha ha,” responded Mullen.

  “Nuh,” said Jimbo. “They’ll both scream then.”

  Phebe laughed, at Mullen’s expense.

  Crest fallen, Mullen slumped, arms crossed.

  Outside, the others went into combat attack mode. Holding their ARs to their shoulders. They walked with knees bent and footsteps purposeful. The snipers did not take the high ground but followed sync with the others.

  A man appeared on top of the bus. He wore military fatigues.

  The delivery trucks moved behind the bus, revealing military Humvee turtlebacks. Equipped with .50-caliber machine guns.

  “Hello,” the man called down. “Welcome. You pull those triggers at me and my friends will shoot the fuck out of that GMC Jimmy. I see you got people in it.”

  Men aimed guns from the rooftops of the neighboring buildings. It was a turkey shoot positioning.

  Peter and the rest aimed in every direction at the new hostiles.

  “Put down the assault rifles, kids,” the man commanded. “And those nifty sniper rifles.”

  Surrounded and outgunned, they had no choice. Peter signaled for them to put down the rifles. They all reluctantly did so.

  “And the sidearms.”

  They did so, scowling at the man.

  “Now, down on your knees with your hands behind your heads. You cops should know the routine.”

  They slowly obeyed.

  “Further down. Face on the ground.”

  They didn’t move fast enough. A shot hit the pavement next to Peter’s knee. They went face down.

  J
imbo got behind the wheel. He looked behind to see if it was clear.

  “Are you going to leave them?” Phebe demanded.

  “Shit.” His face racked with indecision.

  “What’s poopy upset about?” came from the back.

  “Not now, Syanna,” Phebe reprimanded.

  “Ooh. Tough girl Yankee. Tough Yankee.”

  Jimbo yelled, “Shut the fuck up!”

  Phebe said, “If we leave, they’ll shoot them.”

  “I know!” He sighed. “If we stay, we are leverage against them. Shit!”

  With the group submitting, men in military fatigues came out. They kicked away the weapons and searched the group on the ground.

  More men moved towards the Jimmy, rifles raised.

  “Out,” they commanded.

  Jimbo raised his hands.

  They tried the doors.

  “Open the fuck up,” one yelled.

  With a sigh, Jimbo hit the unlock button. The two whipped open the doors.

  “Out.”

  “Out now.”

  “Move it.”

  “Move.”

  They kept yelling simultaneous commands at them as they moved fast as they could. It caused fear and disorientation for the civilians. The fatigued man shoved Jimbo and Phebe against the side of the Jimmy. Mullen received the same on the other side. The man patted down Jimbo, taking off him his police issue sidearms, a folding knife, and a gun holstered at his ankle. Phebe noticed a large bandage appear under the man’s sleeve cuff.

  It came her turn. But once taking the 9 mm off her, the frisking hands wandered to other places that couldn’t contain a weapon.

  “Hey,” Jimbo yelled. “Get your hands off her!”

  The man laughed as he backed away. He said into the radio, “We got a young female back here. A kid and another cop.”

  The other guy opened the back of the Jimmy.

  “Who the hell are you?” Syanna demanded.

  “Got out!”

  “I can’t, you idiot.”

  “Get the fuck out!”

  “Get a life.”

  Jimbo said, “She’s injured. She can’t stand.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” roaming hands soldier asked.

  “Car accident. Broken leg.”

  “She bit?”

  “Negative. Only broken bones.”

  “Are you?” asked Phebe.

  “Fuck you, bitch.” He hit her in the back. She yelped in pain as she fell.

  “Hey!” Jimbo roared. “What the hell, man?”

  Roaming hands backed off, aiming the rifle at them.

  “Phebe,” Jimbo said. “You all right? Don’t say shit.”

  “Got that.” She felt like crying as she forced herself to stand. The pain radiated out from her back, worse than her face swelling.

  When Peter tried to stand. He heard enough of what was happening at the Jimmy to get the picture. A swift kick in his side. The point of a rifle pushed into the small of his neck.

  “You the badass?” The man from the top of the bus was now in front of them. “What’s your name?”

  The point pushed harder. “Sullivan.”

  “Hello, Sullivan. I’m Reynolds. Lieutenant Reynolds. You’ll call me ‘sir.’” He squatted down. His finger lifted Peter’s t-shirt sleeve. “Oh, but you already know that, don’t you?” He stood and yelled, “Hey, boys, we got a Seventy-fifth Ranger here.”

  “Let me guess,” Peter said from the ground. “You’re pussy National Guard.”

  “Oh. Insulting us from the ground. That takes some balls, Sullivan.”

  Reynolds picked up an assault rifle kicked away from Peter. “Damn. What the hell is this? Looks like a gun from the future, huh, guys?” His men chuckled. “This yours, smartass?”

  The point of the rifle shoved harder into the back of Peter’s neck. “Answer,” his guard ordered.

  “It’s mine.”

  “What is it?” Reynolds asked, turning it over in his hands to check it out.

  The point pushed again.

  “An F200 tactical,” Peter said.

  “Where’s it from?” Reynolds asked.

  “Belgium.”

  “This is sweet ass. It got fully auto? Need that against zombies. Fuck accuracy. Death blossom the fuckers.”

  The point pushed. “Answer, asshole.”

  Peter said, “Yes. It has fully auto.”

  “Wow. Sweet ass rifle. Nice. I’ll take that. What’s the rest?”

  “HK four-sixteens,” one of his men said. “Semi-auto only.”

  “Take ‘em if you want. Who else do we got here? How about pink faced big guy? Man, you look like you want to rip my arms out, big man?”

  “Tell your punks to drop their guns and I’ll give it a go,” said Chris.

  “Ooh, another ballsy smart ass. Let me guess, you’re a Ranger, too? How many we got of you?” Reynolds gaze rested on Mazy. “But you aren’t, sweetheart. Unless equal rights hit the Rangers without my knowing.” He squatted down to her. “Hello, police officer …? What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Baptiste.”

  “What’s your first name?”

  “Gloria.”

  “Hmm. Gloria Baptiste. Named for, like, a grandma or something?”

  “My parents loved All in the Family reruns.”

  “Oh, funny. Or sick. I’m not sure which. Naming a black girl after a racist show. I like Nick at Nite too. Let her sit up. Get a good look at her.”

  A foot tapped her side to tell her to sit up.

  “Ooh, you are one nice looking woman, Gloria. We could have some fun together.”

  “You’d have to kill me first.”

  “Or … how about if I kill them instead? Shoot the badass.”

  “No,” Mazy yelled.

  “Belay that order. Will you behave like a good girl?”

  “Let them go and I will.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  At gun point, Jimbo, Phebe, and Mullen marched.

  “There’s a chick in the back of the Jimmy with a broken leg. And fucking mouth on her you wouldn’t believe. She even cursed my mother.”

  “Did that hurt your feelings?” Reynolds asked.

  “No, sir. She’s hot, sir. A mixed girl.”

  “A mixed hot girl with a mouth on her. A black girl. A Mexican. And whatever he is, Hispanic or Indian or something. And a redneck. A Yankee. This is one PC group.” Lt. Reynolds moved to Phebe. “My God, what happened to you, darling? Did one of these assholes do that to your face?”

  Matt moved. A rifle stuck in his back. “Stay the fuck down.”

  “Did that one beat you up? I could have him shot for you.”

  “None of them did this,” Phebe said.

  “Which one’s your boyfriend, darling?”

  “I don’t have one. Because I have hepatitis C and it is contagious. It’s real bad. No cure.”

  Reynolds’s face came close to hers. “That’s okay, darling.” He pulled his collar away. A bandage seeped with blood in a distinct human teeth elliptical pattern. “I’m bitten. There’s no cure for that either.”

  “Are all of you bitten?”

  “Smart girl. Yes, darling.”

  With his cheek pressed to the pavement, Peter closed his eyes in dread. These men had nothing to lose. Dead men walking. His mind raced on what to do.

  “I like that Suburban. We’ll take that. Get the other heaps off the road. Except, get that girl out. No need to waste attractive females in a world come to have that so rare. At least ones not running around, foaming at the mouth.”

  His men chuckled.

  “Tie these assholes up.”

  Zip ties came out. Peter felt his arms yanked to his back and the plastic zip tie go around his wrists. He would have seized the opportunity, but his guard continued to push the muzzle of an M4 rifle into his neck. One false move and his spine would be severed. A bullet faster than anything he could effectively achieve.

  Boots on t
he back of the other guys’ necks as they were zip tied. Except for Chris, who got a muzzle shoved into his back, just in case.

  “Not the kid,” Reynolds said, as one of his men moved to zip tie standing Mullen. “Look at him. He’s no threat. Lyons would like him.”

  His men laughed.

  “A little ass fucking of a boy would improve his mood.”

  “Sully?” Mullen whined.

  “Zip the black girl. She looks tough. Hands in front, so she can use them.” He winked at her. “Stand her up.”

  Jimbo moved towards her. The soldier kicked him behind the knees. He went down. A knock to the back of his head with the butt of a rifle. He fell face down onto the pavement.

  Syanna’s voice yelled, “Put me down. Asshole, put me down. Matty!”

  One of them carried her. He swaddled her tight in a blanket, so she couldn’t free her arms. The scratches on the man’s face told the story.

  “Aw now, she does have a pretty face, doesn’t she?” Reynolds said.

  “Go to Hell!”

  “Fiery little Southern belle, we got here, boys.”

  They zip tied Phebe’s hands in front of her and shoved her next to Mazy. Mullen then shoved into her shoulder; zip tied the same way. Jimbo was zip tied on the ground.

  The Jimmy’s engine started up. A soldier drove it off to the abandoned vehicles. The sound of the engine cut off and the other two SUV engines cranked up. The Suburban reversed to let the Beast pass it. Then drove up and put it into park.

  Phebe looked down to Peter’s face. His blue eyes looked up at her. He mouthed, “Don’t worry.” She scowled in confusion.

  “Shoot these assholes,” Reynolds ordered. “Put the others in my new Suburban.”

  “L-T,” a voice yelled from the top of a building. “Gunship.”

  “Shit,” Reynolds said. “Move the bus.”

  Activity erupted around them.

  As soon as the guns left Peter, he rolled on to his back and arms. He kicked his long legs out in a circle, the leverage of which helped him jump up to his feet. He kicked a rifle out of a guy’s hands, turned and kicked the guy in the jaw. The guy fell on the blacktop. Peter knelt on the guy’s shoulders, the head between his knees, and twisted. The guy’s neck broke.

  Chris stood up, knocked a running guy on to his ass with his shoulder. He then kicked him in the face.

  Jimbo worked on getting his hands under his butt.