Apocalypsis Immortuos | Book 1 | Syndrome

by de Hoogh, Marco

  “On me!” He commanded, and the rest of the team made their way towards the front of the bus.

  As the bus navigated the corner, the team could see that this area had more undead. They clustered in twos and threes on front lawns. Emily was forced to run one over, as there was no place to maneuver on the small street. She slowed down to five miles an hour, but the bang of the impact was still quite large and prompted several sounds of alarm from the passengers. Thankfully, none of the tires hit the corpse and they rolled right over the undead. Emily saw the undead get into a sitting position through her side mirror as they drove away. It was unsettling, and Emily could not help shuddering slightly.

  “Next left. House is number 3410, fifth on the right side.” Garcia was all business. “Contacting the civilians now.”

  As Emily turned the last corner, the folks in the back were told to ‘Stay down!’ and ‘Keep quiet!’. The team had discovered days ago that getting the civilians low in their seats would hide them from undead eyes and at the same time open their own lines of sight. This allowed the team of soldiers to scan for targets.

  There were many targets.

  “This is a major Charlie Foxtrot!” Collins was the first one to say anything. Charlie Foxtrot being army talk for ‘cluster fuck’. Nobody disagreed with his assessment.

  The bus was heading directly towards a group of at least twenty undead. Here and there unmoving corpses were scattered around. Emily’s noted a couple of corpses in the middle of the street, at the feet of a group of zombies. They had gotten torn to pieces by this bunch.

  Emily shuddered as she could see the terrible damage these zombies had inflicted. One body lay on its side, facing the bus. The head was practically detached from the body, the face was gone – its eyes, nose and mouth all ripped away. An arm lay several feet away.

  The crowd of zombies started stepping over the corpse and towards the bus.

  Emily could tell that there were at least a dozen zombies approaching from various other directions, including from between the houses. This was, by far, the most undead any of the team had seen in one place.

  Garcia was on the phone with the civilians as the bus pulled up in front of their house. Emily saw that the garage door was wide open and devoid of vehicles. From earlier intel she knew that they were picking up two people. A mother and her son named Claire and Dale Moore. She wondered if Mister Moore and the rest of the family had made a run for it. Her pondering was interrupted by Garcia speaking forcefully into his phone.

  “Ma’am please calm down and listen. We are pulling up to your house right now. ... You need to calm down. We need you to go to your front door and– “

  He broke off and looked up suddenly, the rest of the team followed his gaze.

  The door to the house had been opened. The young man: Dale, stepped out, swinging a baseball bat. He knocked down a zombie at their door and kicked a second one in the belly, causing that one to stumble and fall backwards. He took several steps and beckoned. Behind him, a middle-aged lady appeared in the doorway. She held her own bat clutched tightly to her chest; her mouth stretched in a grimace of fear.

  They were making a run for it. The undead in the area started making their way towards the two immediately. Emily was shocked to see several zombies move faster. One practically came at a jog. They were not going to make it...

  “Damn it! No time to call out targets.” Peters motioned for his team to huddle up.

  “I will make a hole. Garcia, Collins next in the stack. Garcia go left, Collins right. Moyers form up on Garcia. Durant on Collins. Brown come out last – you’re on me. Hill, grab your rifle and hold the door. Take out the fast movers first.”

  Emily felt the tight grip of fear as she fumbled for her rifle.

  Peters pulled the handle, and without waiting for acknowledgement he burst out the door. His sidearm was up before he stepped on the sidewalk, and with two shots he dropped the undead directly in front of him as his team filed out behind him. They formed up as ordered. Emily stepped out last to the loud sound of semi automatic bursts of gunfire and the pop-pop sound of a single handgun.

  Emily placed herself on the first step leading into the bus. She watched the soldiers do what they were trained to do. About ten of the undead had been dropped already.

  Just about every zombie that was shot went down by the sheer force of the bullets. But if it were anything other than a brain-destroying head shot, the zombie would scramble back to its feet. She saw one of the monsters get shot center-mass with a burst of three shots and, continue to come at the soldiers as its guts spilled out.

  The team was fully surrounded on three sides, with the bus to their backs. Undead had started pounding on the opposite side of the bus and several panicked voices could be heard behind Emily.

  Peters was over half-way to the civilians when his pistol clicked empty. He did not have time to reload, so holstered the handgun and swung his M4 off his back. Brown was a few steps behind him.

  At that moment, Claire Moore screamed. A group of undead had bowled over Dale, and he was caught under a mass of flailing limbs and snapping teeth. Claire was standing a few feet away from the attack, still clutching her bat, her eyes locked on the massacre in front of her. She was paralysed by fear and shock.

  Peters and Brown picked up their speed, trying to drop approaching zombies as they moved. In the meantime, the rest of the team was holding their own.

  The men holding the flanks knew fire discipline. They would stagger their shots, so that their magazines would not go dry at the same time. Garcia was the first to click empty.

  “Changing!” He yelled, and Moyers increased his shot tempo.

  Garcia and Moyers were dealing with the majority of the undead. At least fifteen of them continued to advance on the two soldiers, and as Emily watched they steadily got closer until they were only a few feet from the men.

  Emily tried to pick off any undead coming around the ends of the bus, and thereby prevent the men from being flanked, but making headshots in the heat of battle was very difficult. She could see that Peters and Brown had reached the civilians and were attempting to take careful shots at the zombies that were still fully focused on Dale. Even from this distance, Emily could see the blood spurts from the pile of bodies.

  With another scream, Claire snapped out of her shock and swung her bat at the backs of the zombies attacking her son. It was too late though. Emily could see that the young man wasn’t struggling anymore. Peters and Brown started to pull Claire away.

  Durant and Collins had drifted out about fifteen feet from the bus and were steadily backing up as about eight undead started pressing in on them. The undead did not care about bullet wounds. Things were quickly turning into a bloody, gory mess. Only a true head shot would stop them, though. And more shots were going astray as the zombies closed in.

  Emily feared that their pocket was going to collapse soon.

  Peters had a hold of Claire’s elbow and was leading her back to the bus. There was a pile of bodies behind them, with Dale’s corpse somewhere underneath that pile. Behind that, Emily saw a zombie coming out of the open front door.

  The zombies must have made it inside their house. That’s why they ran for it! It became clear to Emily.

  The zombies on top of Dale had lost interest in their now deceased prey. Their focus turned to the retreating threesome and they started getting to their feet to give chase to their escaping quarry.

  A fleeting thought crossed Emily’s mind at that moment. These weren’t the traditional ‘eat the living’ kind of zombies that she had seen in the movies. These zombies only wanted to attack and kill, using teeth, fists and nails to do so. Once their prey had been killed, they quickly moved on to the next living person. It was utterly terrifying to Emily as there was no discernable motive or explanation. No need to feed – just a need to destroy. To kill.

  Snapping back to reality, Emily noticed that Brown had stepped up and taken Claire’s other arm in one hand, and
the two soldiers started dragging her back to the bus double time. Emily wished she could do more. She almost leaped out of the bus and started shooting along with the other soldiers, only to remember at the last moment that her order was to hold the door and provide support only.

  A second later, Bill Moyers needed a new magazine. “Changing!” he called and popped the empty mag as he dropped to a knee. Garcia went full-auto and sprayed the arms reaching for him.

  And then a terrible accident happened.

  Moyers took just a second to slam a new mag into his M4. He set his weapon to full auto and swung it to meet the enemies in front of him, but it was a fraction of a second too late.

  Just as he was about to hit the trigger, an undead fell on top of him, toppling him backwards. His gun slammed wide, spraying rounds towards the approaching Peters.

  Time seemed to slow down for Emily as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. She watched as the arc of bullets headed straight for their squad leader. Sound also fizzed out for Emily as she saw the bullets from Moyers’ spray hit Peters. Emily would never forget the impacts and the spray of blood and tissue each bullet caused. It oddly reminded her of the impacts of asteroids she used to see on television science shows.

  The first bullet entered just below just below Peters’ right ear and killed him instantly. His eyes bulged out and rolled up and he collapsed, even as the trail of bullets continued into his upper arm, side and thigh.

  The surreal moment ended, and time and sound came back for Emily.

  “MAN DOWN!” she screamed.

  She stepped forward, kicked the zombie off Moyers and dispatched it with a close-up head shot, taking no notice of the bits of bone, the blood and brain matter that splattered on her. She quickly turned to her left into the gap that the downed Moyers had left and started shooting.

  Brown had also acted quickly. He could see that Peters was gone and did not waste a moment. He fast marched the struggling woman towards the bus. They were now over halfway to safety.

  Emily’s support provided Moyers a chance to scramble to his feet and line up beside Emily and Garcia. The three of them shot several targets that were nearly within arm’s reach. The rest of the zombies heading their way were tripping over their felled undead brethren, which gave Garcia a moment. He took a quick glance at the situation. Their side was temporarily under control, but zombies were closing in from every other angle.

  He registered the fallen Peters but did not allow emotion to override his professionalism as a soldier.

  “Fall back!” He yelled out to the team.

  Durant and Collins started backing up to the bus, but the undead got too close to them. With a wild flail, an undead managed to push into Durant, causing the national guardsman to lose his balance. Collins had turned to his right to engage targets and missed the incident.

  By the time he swung left, Durant was engulfed by several undead.

  “Shit! Help!” Collins yelled.

  Brown swung his weapon left as he continued to lead the civilian to the bus and took several shots. He displayed amazing marksmanship, as his shots found the heads of two zombies.

  At the bus entrance, Moyers and Emily were picking off the last few zombies. Garcia turned and with several quick steps he took over the civilian. Brown immediately released the civilian and ran over to Durant and Collins.

  Garcia shoved the civilian into the bus, not even noticing her crash painfully into the steps, and turned to help his comrades.

  Between Brown and Collins, they were able to clear the undead off Durant. They dragged the injured man by his shoulder straps towards the bus, leaving a fresh trail of blood behind them.

  In the meantime, several zombies had piled up on the drivers’ side of the bus near the back, their focus on the people inside. One of the windows had spiderwebbed under the repeated assault of undead fists, causing some of the civilians to panic.

  Thankfully, a couple of cooler heads helped the panicking folks to the opposite side of the bus. Another civilian had come up to the front door and assisted Brown in pulling the unresponsive Durant into the bus. The rest of the team piled in quickly, and Emily leapt into the driver’s seat, as undead closed in on all sides of the bus.

  With a small jump, the bus leapt forward and started mowing down the undead in its path. The bus shook violently as multiple bodies were run over. Thankfully, it was over after a few seconds and the ride smoothed out.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Collins yelled at nobody in particular.

  “What the fuck, man. Those idiots should have sat tight! They fucked us up...” He slowly ran out of steam and after a moment of silence turned away to go see how Durant was doing.

  Brown and the civilian had gotten Durant further into the bus and had lain him in the center aisle. One of the other civilians had stepped forward and identified herself as a nurse. Another identified himself as a veterinary doctor and stepped up behind the nurse. The nurse was kneeling in the aisle, with Durant’s head in her hands. Emily couldn’t see what was happening with Durant but could see the thick trail of blood tracking in from the steps of the bus and down the aisle.

  So much blood! Emily could hardly believe her eyes. Too much blood...

  Moyers sat in the front row, staring straight ahead. He was bleeding freely from a gash in his cheek but did not appear to notice this. He rocked slightly in his seat. Emily saw a stone-faced Garcia approach.

  Garcia stood in front of the soldier and shook him by his shoulder to get his attention. Moyers turned his head slowly to look at the hand on his shoulder.

  “Bill. There’s a doctor back there. Go have him check you out.”

  Moyers blinked a few times in succession, then looked up at Garcia with a stunned expression.

  “I... I shot him – Sergeant Peters. I s-saw–” He shook as the moments played over in his minds’ eye.

  “On your feet, soldier.” Garcia did not feel the empathy but played the part. “Get that gash looked at.”

  Moyers complied, still muttering under his breath “I shot him...”

  Garcia sat down and looked out the front window. “The way clears up ahead. Go slow for a minute. Take a right up ahead at the lights and get us back to the main road.”

  Emily nodded affirmative, as Garcia reached for the radio.

  There was some radio traffic and various voices could be heard.

  “Break” Garcia spoke into the receiver. “Break”

  “Whiskey Alpha Romeo! This is Sierra two. How copy over.”

  “Sierra two, this is Whiskey Alpha Romeo. Copy four of five, over.” The voice on the other end replied.

  “Sierra two is mission abort and inbound to Kilo two-six with multiple injuries over.”

  A short pause before headquarters replied.

  “Negative Sierra two, Kilo two-six is compromised. Standby. Over.”

  Garcia’s eyes opened wide at that, and he sat in stunned silence, his mouth half open as if to speak.

  Emily had managed to get the bus back on to the main road by that point. She drove slowly, occasionally weaving to avoid obstacles, as she waited for instructions.

  “Sierra two. Proceed to supply staging location at the following coordinates.” The calm voice continued to rattle off coordinates. Garcia quickly copied the coordinates and was already reaching for his map book.

  “When the fuck were they going to fucking tell us!” He said through gritted teeth, as he frantically flipped through the map book.

  Collins had made his way over to the front of the bus as all this was going on. He waited in silence as the whole scene played out. Only speaking when Garcia finally noted his presence and looked up at him.

  “Durant didn’t make it.” Was all he said.

  Garcia stared steadfast at the map in front of him. He started to speak a couple of times, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

  “Fuck! What the fuck happened at the safe zone?! What the hell do they mean: ‘compromised’?! We are .
.. This is FUBAR.” He exclaimed.

  Garcia finally looked up from his maps, looked at Collins, then looked out the front windshield for a few seconds.

  Suddenly he punched the partition in front of him with a loud bang. He punched it again, his face screwed up in anger. Gasps and shocked noises could be heard coming from the back of the bus. He released a quick flurry of punches, the partition eventually cracking as one section ripped away from the pole it was attached to. Emily had not realized it, but she had punched the gas in response to his outburst.

  Emily guessed at what was going on in Garcia’s mind. He was now the highest-ranking soldier on the bus.

  Garcia’s punches flew.

  This was now Garcia’s squad. He was responsible.

  Punch.

  Peters got himself KIA.

  Punch.

  Durant was a goner, bled out in the back.

  Punch.

  The safe zone was fucked.

  Punch.

  We are fucked.

  He stopped punching. Breathing heavily, he put his head in his hands for a moment. Blood ran down his knuckles and into his hair. The voice on the radio could be heard several times, requesting confirmation of the order.

  Collins let him have his moment. He stood back, his hand unconsciously rubbing his belly. After a few seconds, he stepped in close and put a hand on Garcia’s shoulder.

  “Get yourself together, soldier.” He said, the inflection on his words revealing his compassion for the Corporal.

  Then the radio chirped again. “Sierra two how copy over.”

  Garcia closed his eyes for a second and re-focused himself.

  “Get those civvies calmed down.” He told Collins as he picked up the transmitter with a bloody hand and raised it up to his mouth to reply.

  “Whisky Alpha Romeo. This is Sierra two. We copy loud and clear. Coordinates received. WILCO. Over.”

  “Copy that Sierra two. Stay frosty out there. Whiskey Alpha Romeo out.” The disembodied voice finished.

  Bloody hell! We are right cocked-up. Emily thought as she slowed the bus back down.