The swarm drew steadily closer, at about twenty feet enough were falling that it caused a pile. It didn’t seem to matter how many barricades they had or how many bullets they sent flying at them. There was no stopping the tide of undead flowing towards them. Soon they were streaming around the house, pounding on the doors. The signal came that it was time to close the shutters and fall back inside.
The group in the living area dropped the heavy metal gate and fled the smoke-filled room. A group of twelve moved into the sniper’s nest in the tree. Five more stood on the walkway. The rest stood in three lines on the stairwell. Some began appearing at the top of the stairs and came into the room where Jeff had been steadily firing from the front window. They set to task reloading all the weapons that were dry. One man, Peter Cappelli, walked to the window and fired an RPG into the crowd. It had little effect.
Jeff let the other men assume his position at the window. He backed out of room and turned down the hall.
Those with vantages outside were continuously handed fresh weapons and continued to rain bullets down on the descending hoard. They also had the best view when the front door gave way and they began streaming into the building.
The group on the stairs immediately unloaded firing round after round into the crowd. The narrow hallway was quickly submerged in a dense fog making it difficult to see. Eyes watering, they continued firing over and over again. The line on the stairs fell one by one they were over taken, pulled into the throng. Those reloading soon found themselves firing themselves and in turn were overrun. When undead began spilling out of the window, several men remaining in the sniper’s nest scattered and fled into the woods.
8:53 PM Sunday, August 18th
East of Tipton Iowa
Gary rests his head against the dirt wall. He watched as the three ex Burger King Employees found their respective places around the basement, curled up, and went to sleep. For the second night in a row, Gary didn’t feel like sleeping. He sat alone, deep in thought, considering who these people were. Who these kids were that were holding them hostage, and what their motivations might be? His mind was swirling with a dozen different questions, both about the blockade, the farmhouse, the trap, the guns, and of course the potential murder of five of their friends. All these thoughts weighing heavily on his mind would not allow him to rest.
Gary was already awake, but everyone else’s head shot up when a scraping sound from behind the door started. Then a click and then the door opens. The light from a large fire outside fills the entryway. A girl with blonde pig tails and a red polka-dot dress walks down the stairs. She is flanked by three boys with guns.
“You have to stay here a while, make sure you’re not sick.” She states stopping in the doorway.
“I understand, you have to keep yourselves safe.” Gary said “But I assure you, none of us are sick, we’ve been traveling together for two days.
“The old woman was sick, you were with her.” The little girl said plainly.
“Delia? Delia wasn’t sick.” Gary argued.
“She was. She turned soon after you left the farmhouse. She attacked the young woman, bit her on the back of the head. Then the young man attacked the old woman, then the kitchen caught fire. Never saw the husband.”
“You were watching the whole time?” Nancy asked.
“Since before you arrived at the farmhouse.” She stated plainly.
“Are you in charge?” Gary asked.
“How long do we have to wait?” Nancy added.
“A day.” Then little girl said with a scowl.
“It takes a day to turn?” Gary asked.
“We don’t know. That was the timeframe she decided.”
“Who?” Gary pressed, but only received a dirty look as a response.
“Where did all of you come from? Are all your parents dead?” Nancy asked.
“We’re not from here. We were on a bus.”
“Where were you coming from?” Inquired Gary.
“You ask too many questions. Questions you don’t need answers to. Ben is going to bring you some food. You are going to stay back from the door. We don’t want to shoot you.”
“Okay.” Gary said.
As promised, Ben returned with four paper plates of food on an ornate silver serving tray. The two were in such contrast that it struck Gary as funny.
There was corn on the cob, obviously, along with four servings of steak, or what they presumed to be steak. In Gary’s case it was a very unevenly cooked piece of beef. One side was charred almost to the point of being ash, the other side was nearly raw. He made the best of it, though he couldn’t finish the raw part. They all ate in silence. They were all very hungry, they hadn’t eaten since leaving the farmhouse. Joel and Nancy both made off hand comments about the taste of the meat.
None of them really spoke for quite some time after dinner. They set the paper plates, and food ruminants by the front door. Joel broke the silence with the one question that had been weighing heavily on his mind.
“So, we just wait?” Joel asked.
“Unless you have another plan. Yea.” Gary responded.
9:40 PM
Poudre Valley camp
Captain Horn found himself handcuffed to a chair inside a large green tent. He sat in front of a row of uniformed soldiers. He assumed from what he had heard so far that they were the last remaining leaders of the United States armed forces. Possibly the last leaders of the United states government. There were representatives from Army, Navy and the Air force, no Marines could make it apparently.
When the helicopter touched down, he couldn’t see much about the surrounding area in the darkness. He knew they were in the mountains, a valley. The road was lined by army vehicles as far as the he could see in the darkness. He got the sense that there were a lot of people crammed into this little valley. A dozen armed soldiers were waiting outside the helicopter to welcome him with weapons drawn. He was ordered to his knees, which was excruciatingly painful, then handcuffed before escorting him into a large green tent. Inside he was met by another soldier, he thin and wore wire rim glasses.
“Welcome. My name is Sargent Pendleton, I am the senior medical officer, and I will be conducting your intake. “Would you please secure Captain Horn to the chair.” Horn looked down to the chair in question, it looks like it was bolted to the pavement just for him. There were fresh metal shavings around the legs.
“My apologies for the restraints. But you are a unique case, and we can’t take any chances. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course.” Horn replied taking his seat. “You look a bit young to be the chief medical officer.”
“Yes well, with the army decimated.” He sighed “There are only three left with medical experience. I happen to be the highest ranking.”
“Damn.” Was the only word that came to mind.
Another soldier entered and whispered something into Sgt. Pendleton’s ear. They both departed quickly without a word. Horn sat there alone, there was nothing in the tent other than the chair he was in, and two rows of chairs facing him. One single lantern at the entrance was the only illumination, and it was very dim inside the tent. Horn sat in the dark for several minutes. In that time, he considered that he may have made a mistake by contacting the army. It occurred to him that they might kill him. It occurred to him that they might dissect him and study him for years to come. Thankfully they didn’t leave him in the chair to contemplate his own demise for too long. A line of officers walked into the room, each of them studying Captain Horn as they did. They brought with them much better lighting. Several lamps were carried in and set around the room.
Horn waited and watched as they took their seats. Several of them continuously glanced over at Captain Horn, as if they believed that he would turn any moment. They proceeded with a battery of questions regarding the evening of the outbreak. Questions about his resurrection. Questions about how he survived.
Now they had retreated to the far corner of the tent a
nd were quietly discussing his unique situation. He was able to pick up small pieces of conversation through the whisper.
“Bites.”
“Scabbed over.”
“Samples.”
“Danger”
None of the comments he could hear made him feel particularly comfortable. Finally, they turned and walked back to the row of chairs. One man stepped in front of the others and addressed Captain Horn.
“Hello, and welcome. I hope your treatment has been… Tolerable.”
“It’s been fine. I understand you need to keep your people safe.”
“Absolutely. Thank you, Captain. “We are willing to entertain the possibility that you are fact immune. Your wounds are clearly old.” He paused and thought carefully about his next words. “That said we are going to need to run some tests and keep you quarantined from all other people. Your bodily fluids are still likely to be carrying a dangerous pathogen and we cannot risk infection spreading through the camp.”
“Understood sir.” Horn nodded. Horn instinctively attempted to raise his hand to salute, but found it was shackled to the chair.
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Sir.” Horn watched and nodded at each officer as they departed the tent. He was hoping that all they wanted was a blood sample. Maybe it would turn out that his blood could lead to a vaccine.
Sgt. Pendleton stayed behind after the room had cleared. One of the other medical officers is going to retrieve you and take you to a secondary location. Please remain seated until he arrives.”
“I will sit tight.” Captain Horn said a little sarcastically.
Horn was left in moderate darkness again. Only the single lantern at the entrance giving any light. It took about five minutes for the other medical officer to arrive. He didn’t speak when he first entered. He was a red headed kid that looked to be about twenty-five. He had a portable table in one hand, and in the other was a large yellow case. Horn could tell why the kid went medical. He didn’t have the look of a grunt. Matter of fact, the eyes and hair reminded him of that crazy doll from that stupid horror movie.
He held a mask out in his hand towards Captain Horn. The eyes gleaming at him over the surgical mask were full of fear and trepidation.
“I, I have orders to, to, to place a surgical mask over your mouth as well as a spit mask over that.” The young doctor stuttered.
“Proceed.” Horn said rolling his eyes.
“If you could please look to the floor.” He took a tentative step towards Captain Horn.
“Yes sir.” Horn complied looking down into his lap. The young man’s hands were shaking as he looped the mask around Horn’s ears. Horn honestly considered scaring the kid, but then thought it might be inappropriate. He pulled a spit mask over his head, when he opened his eyes, he was looking through a black mesh bag. The young soldier had retreated back to case on the floor. Horn noted that his hands were still shaking. Horn was thankful he decided not to scare the kid. Might have gotten himself shot.
Horn watched as the young doctor set up the portable table and proceeded to pull some equipment out of the yellow case including a large microscope. He placed several items onto a small silver tray and walked over to Captain Horn placing the tray on the ground next to the chair.
“I’m going to take some blood now.” The doctor said looking down at the trey.
“You sure about that?” Horn asked. The redheaded doctor looked at him with a puzzled look in his eyes. “You need to take a deep breath and calm down son.”
“I’m trying, it’s just. They told me you were infected.”
“Yes, sir I am. I was bit. But that was two days ago.”
“Two days?”
“Two days. If I was going to turn, it would have happened by now.” The doctor nodded and took a deep breath. “What’s you name son?”
“Doctor Charles Beckworth.”
“Charles huh? Tough luck.” Horn said with a half a smile.
“Why is that?” Dr. Beckworth asked.
“Well they got to call you Chuckie, don’t they?” The doctor’s eyes rolled, and he let out an exasperated sigh along with his answer.
“Yes.” He replied.
“Your hands still shaking their Doc?” Horn asked. The doctor lifted up his hands.
“No.” He said looking up in surprise.
“Well, what you waiting for? A written invitation?” Horn moved his arm towards him as much as his restraints allowed.
Doctor Beckworth took several vials of blood and walked them back over to his large yellow case. Horn watched as the doctor prepared a slide with a drop of blood. Watched with a dull fascination as the doctor put the slide under a microscope and examined the blood cells. He changed the magnification several times.
Doctor Beckworth turned and faced Captain Horn. He pulled the mask down from off of his face letting it dangle by the neck. He pinched his nose between his eyes for a moment thinking carefully how to craft his next words.
“Your blood carries the infection. But the virus does not invade your cells. Every other case the virus attacks all the other living cells. Your blood, or bodily fluids would certainly infect others should it be passed on.” The doctor motioned to the door. Several soldiers entered and stood behind Captain Horn
He waited for the hammer to fall. This was the end.
“We’ll be taking Captain Horn to medical. No contact.” The doctor motioned towards the door. One of the soldiers removed the restraint from the chair. The soldiers ushered Horn out of the tent quickly. There were numerous people milling around outside the tent. Apparently, word had spread quickly. They were all gaping at him, apparently wanting to get a good look at the infected guy. The immune guy.
Horn walked past, deliberately not making eye contact with any of them.
Sunday, 9:50 PM
Poudre Valley Camp
Andrea was dozing off in her quarantine tent, more from boredom than exhaustion. Though the tent was set up to accommodate twenty, she had the tent to herself throughout the duration of her stay. She came to the sad realization that there must not have been many survivors. This had spread very quickly overwhelming the city in a matter of hours. She had been deep in thought, considering all the loved ones that she’d probably never see again when her eyes became heavy. Soon she was drifting off to a nightmarish world where the undead were constantly chasing her. She was trying to run, but not making any progress. They were coming closer, and closer. Then they were on top of her and she tried to scream but it was too late.
She was startled awake when she realized that someone had entered her tent. She looked up to see a young Hispanic man holding a set of bed linens and a black gym bag.
“My name is Specialist Diaz. You’ve been cleared from quarantine. I’m here to escort you to your new home.”
“Oh wonderful. Sitting alone this tent for a full day is about enough to drive me insane.” She said with yawn. Specialist Diaz did not appear to be amused.
Outside the stuffy tent she was greeted with cool evening mountain air. She could hear the river running by and could just make out the canyon walls by the light of the camp. Which she noted to be very dim. They proceeded down the road a ways until stopped in front of her so abruptly that she ran into him. She craned her neck around him to see what he was stopping for. There was a soldier following another soldier that had a black bag over his head. Specialist Diaz waited for them to clear the area before proceeding.
Across the road the soldier jumped into the seat of a jeep and waited. Andrea followed jumping into the passenger seat. Andrea attempted to engage the soldier in small talk, but he wasn’t responding. Andrea took to looking out at the dark canyon. With the only light being emited from the headlights the canyon had an eerie feel to it.
They crossed a small bridge to a house. Andrea could see the flicker of candlelight inside.
“There are two other women inside the house. They will direct you to your sleeping quarters and escort you to the morning mee
ting.” The soldier stated.
“Oh. Okay.” Andrea said stepping out of the vehicle.
“Your bag and linens ma’am” Specialist Dias said nodding towards the pile in the back seat. Andrea reached back, grabbed the bag and the linens. She had no sooner pulled her hands free of the vehicle before Specialist Diaz put the Jeep in reverse and backed out onto the road. The red tail lights disappeared into the darkness in a matter of seconds. Andrea walked into the house. Both women were sitting next to a small lantern playing cards. A young blonde woman with curly shoulder length hair looked over at Andrea standing in the door.
“Thank God a third, now we can play some new games.” She said with a huge smile plastered across her face. Andrea smiled back. She honestly wasn’t expecting such a warm reception. It hadn’t been her experience since arriving here. “My name is Susie, and this is Taylor. Andrea noted that both of these women appeared to be around her age, she was figuring late twenties, or early thirties. Susie is a bubbly blonde with a shoulder length bob cut, Taylor is very thin and pale with straight dark hair.
“My name’s Andrea.” She said setting her bag and linens on a chair by the front door. By the time she walked into the living room they were already up and putting their arms around her. Andrea had never been much of a hugger, but today she welcomed the human contact.
“Where are you from Andrea?” Asked Taylor.
“Boulder.”
“Wow, that’s the farthest south that we’ve heard, the next furthest was Longmont. No one made it out of the Denver area that we were aware of.
“Must’ve gotten lucky.” Andrea said.
The Z Strain Page 22