Apocalypsis Immortuos | Book 1 | Syndrome

by de Hoogh, Marco

  “Be careful, Steve!” Breanne yelled after him.

  The two women followed after the boy. They just made it to the open area near the main gate when the first soldiers started trickling in. The majority of the soldiers were still milling around the vehicles, which were parked outside the main camp.

  The spirits of most of the soldiers appeared to be high. They entered the camp in twos and threes, clapping each other on backs, smiling and joking. Several leered at Tammy as they walked by.

  She was used to that, so ignored it with cool indifference.

  Not all soldiers were in good spirits though. Some looked stunned. Others looked troubled.

  “There’s Mike and his guys!” Steve said, his face lighting up.

  “How did it go? Shoot first and ask questions later?” Breanne ventured as they got close enough.

  Mike shrugged. “BB and I were pack mules all day.” “We had to run supplies and ammo to the main force from our supply truck. Didn’t see much. Never had to shoot my gun.”

  “Thank god for that or you woulda shot one of our own!” Abi pushed past the two men and hugged each of the three civilians. “I didn’t have to do much either, just hang out with a radio”

  She turned serious for a second. “What I saw though... it wasn’t pretty.”

  The threesome moved on, but not before promising to come visit later.

  Tammy had seen the next familiar face in the crowd of soldiers. Garcia made a beeline for them as soon as he got through the gate.

  “Can we talk? In your tent?” He asked the three civilians. Without waiting for an answer, he started towards the tents. Breanne and Tammy exchanged a concerned look. With a shrug they turned to follow the soldier. Steve had already caught up to the man.

  GARCIA ZIPPED UP THE door when they were inside. He walked around the tent for a few moments, lost in thought. He noted the supplies with a small nod before turning to Tammy and her friends.

  “Brown is gone.” He said with an anguished look. Tammy took a step forward but was forestalled when Garcia raised his hand.

  Garcia struggled with his emotions for several moments. The soldier groaned with the effort, clenching his fists as the others looked on with concern. He punched his own thigh, his eyes shut tight. He took several quick, powerful breaths and finally managed to master his emotions.

  “He was a fucking hero.” Garcia stated with vehemence. He took another deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.

  “But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

  “Ok... What’s going on, Esteban?” Breanne asked hesitantly.

  “Y’all need to get out of here.” He said, then continued before anybody could say anything.

  “These guys are being held together by a silk thread. Most of them know that they’re dying. We lost some of our leadership today. Now we got barely anybody left to keep the rest in line, and most of those guys probably don’t care anymore either.”

  He sighed. Then looked up with a serious expression.

  “Today was a tough one. No support... We lost a bunch of guys. They had to fight for their lives today. They really got into it...” Garcia’s stare was far away.

  “It was a real battle. Those guys saw some real shit. And they saw some of their friends die.”

  Garcia returned to the present and looked at the threesome in front of him. “They will be looking for something now. A release. I can tell.” He paused and his face became impassive. “I can feel it too.”

  “Some of them will want to drink. Or smoke up. And before you say anything; hell, yes we got that stuff here.” He paused to take a breath. His hand grabbed his gut unconsciously. Tammy and her two companions were silent and waited for him to continue.

  “They’re mostly good people. But they’re going to let go. They’re going to want to party, or fuck,” –he looked at each of them as he said this– “or fight. ... Or all of the above.”

  “It’s not going to be safe for you guys to stay.”

  Tammy contemplated Garcia’s words. Breanne looked ready to fight, her fists clenching and unclenching. Steve had blanched and looked ready to run.

  “So, what do we do?” Tammy’s face betrayed little of her anxiety. The reporter in her had resurfaced. Either that, or she takes shelter in the newscaster persona.

  A shot sounded somewhere in camp, followed by a yell and two more shots in quick succession.

  The newscaster persona cracked briefly then, showing a flicker of fear underneath the brave mask. Tammy quickly recovered though. “How do we get out of here, Esteban.” She asked.

  Garcia hadn’t thought that far ahead. He grimaced as an apparent cramp lanced through his chest. Then shook his head.

  “If we can get you guys to the motor pool, then you should be good to go. Any of you drove a Humvee before?” He met blank stares but grinned back.

  “It’s pretty much the same as driving any car. Heck, you don’t even need a key.” He reached into his pocket and dangled a key on a small chain from his hand.

  “I thought you just said we don’t need a key...” Breanne said with a frown.

  “Y’all will need a key to open the fence.” He said with some of the bravado he had displayed the nights before. He cracked a smile and winked at Steve. “I still got my street skills.”

  “Ok but how do we get to this Humvee?” Breanne asked.

  “Disguise.” Steve offered. He had walked over to the supplies and lifted an army jacket.

  The plan came together quickly. They would get changed into army gear and put their own clothes and supplies in the duffle bags. Then when it got dark, they would simply walk out. Garcia left but promised to return by sundown.

  From the sounds around them, things were already starting to get chaotic.

  TAMMY, BREANNE AND Steve had kept a low profile. They stayed in the tent and even kept the lamps unlit. And it had worked, as groups of soldiers passed by their tent without anybody thinking of checking inside. They did have a scare, when a single silhouette walked up to the side of their tent. The person stood facing the tent, rocking drunkenly from one side to the other. Much to Tammy’s relief, she heard him unzip his pants and saw the wet stain of piss darken the tent.

  It wasn’t until an hour later, that their plan fell apart. All three occupants froze and looked at each other with panicked expressions as several people had gathered at their tent entrance. Tammy could tell that it was not Garcia. She felt herself stiffening up and her eyes widen as the first person pushed through the doorway. The first figure stepped into the tent, as others pushed through the entrance behind him. His features became visible.

  It was BB. With Abby and Mike. Tammy let the breath go that she didn’t realize she had held.

  “Are you guys ok?” The concern was visible on Mike’s face, despite the dim interior of the tent.

  “No, we’re not ok. I just about shit my pants! Close the flap.” Breanne ordered as she put down a folding chair.

  Breanne was ready for a fight. Tammy realized.

  I need to be ready. Next time.

  Breanne quickly recapped their conversation with Garcia and the subsequent plan to the three radiomen. They all nodded their approval.

  “You guys are right. Things are getting crazy out there. Maybe we can help.” Mike stated.

  “Come with us.” Steve said softly.

  “What?” He turned to the youngster.

  “Why don’t you guys come with us?” Steve asked, more forcefully this time.

  “Uh. I don’t think we can, Steve. We got a job t–” BB started but was interrupted by Abi.

  “Fuck that! I say we saddle up with these guys and get the fuck out of here!”

  “Abby.” The disapproval in Mike’s voice was enough for Abby to lower her head.

  “Don’t use that kind of language in front of the boy. Also, I agree with you.”

  “Huh?” Both Abby and BB looked surprised.

  “Guys. Here are the facts. Things a
re out-of-control out there.” He lifted his index finger for all to see. As if to emphasize his point, several weapons were discharged somewhere in the camp, followed by yelling. Somebody was losing his shit out there.

  “Everybody is infected and knows it. They know what’s coming. Maybe even tonight.” He raised his middle finger, putting the two together like he was about to take an oath.

  “Also, did you guys not notice the number of undead coming this way? Like they know we’re here or something. We’d be sitting in a trap.” The thumb came up to make the shape of a gun. He twitched his thumb a couple of times, making ‘phew-phew’ sounds.

  “And the three of us seem to be immune.” Abi added.

  Mike’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He frowned as he thought about it, then he slowly nodded. He cast a sideways glance at BB, who also nodded his head.

  “BB Any objections?”

  “No boss. I’m with you and Abby. All the way.” BB replied.

  They sat tight for the next hour as the sun crept lower towards the treetops along the horizon. The wind blew through the camp, carrying sounds with it. They were blinded to whatever was happening outside of their tent, but they could hear things. Some of these things were deeply disturbing. They heard music coming from at least a couple of locations, which would not be disturbing if it wasn’t accompanied by the yelling of people, the sounds of fighting, the grunts and sighs of pleasure as soldiers were copulating, and the occasional scream of fear or pain.

  Tammy pushed to the edge of her seat when she suddenly heard a woman screaming repeatedly, accompanied by the sounds of several men hooting and hollering. Out of the corner of her eye she saw both Mike and Abi rise up from their chairs in alarm. They had heard it too. They all knew what was happening to some poor woman out there... After a tense moment, both soldiers sank back into their seats.

  The worst sound was the gunshots. Tammy felt herself flinch at every one of them. Some of those bullets sounded like they came close to their tent. She closed her eyes and swallowed, then looked around at her tent mates in the fading light. She wasn’t the only one affected by the sounds of chaos outside.

  Breanne walked around the tent like a caged animal. Steve sat on his cot and looked very small. Abi’s eyes were still wide, but not with innocent, perky spirit. Mike kept getting up and sitting down, clearly conflicted about what to do. BB surprised Tammy though. The lanky young man kept his composure. He did rest his hand on his utility belt, close to his sidearm though.

  Just then, BB put his hand on his sidearm and looked at the door. Tammy followed his gaze to see a person at the door.

  “IT’S ME. ESTEBAN.” They heard to their relief.

  Garcia entered the tent and seemed only slightly surprised to see the radiomen. He accepted their immunity to the syndrome with even less surprise.

  Tammy could see that he was struggling with the syndrome himself though. He took a couple of short breaths before he spoke.

  “Ok, it’s time to go. Stick together and move quick. Follow me all the way to the Humvee. It’s going to be a tight fit; with the goodies I threw in there. Who is driving?” BB raised his hand.

  “Ok, who’s riding shotgun? This time Mike raised his hand.

  “Good.” He tossed the key to Mike. “That will get you out of the gate.”

  He addressed the group. “You ready?” Only a couple of people nodded but that seemed enough.

  “I got no time for ceremony. You guys just... survive this.” Tammy could see him smile.

  “Why don’t you come with us too?” Breanne ventured. Steve nodded emphatically.

  “No way. I can’t do that.” He paused for a second.

  “I,” The tough soldier choked up a little before continuing. “I don’t want to die.”

  He looked up with a pained expression. “But I know. That I am dying.”

  Garcia swallowed hard.

  “Peters, Collins, Durant, Brown... Man, those guys gave their lives. Every one of them willingly laid down theirs, to help other people.” He shook his head and met Breanne’s eyes with a resigned look. “I intend to do the same.”

  Mike approached the soldier and put his hand on Garcia’s soldier. After a moment he spoke. “Get to our tent after this. Row A tent 4. The radio is all set up. We can stay in touch...”

  Garcia nodded. “Ok. Yeah, that sounds good.” He started towards the door. “Let’s go.”

  Seven soldiers exited the tent and walked down the lane towards the camp exit. One walked in front, clearly the leader. They were noticed by several people but left alone.

  As they got to the open area adjacent to the gate, a figure approached. The figure moved towards the group with intent. Without breaking stride, the leader of the group raised his sidearm and aimed. The figure kept coming. The soldier fired, sending a spray out of the back of the figure’s head, and nearly flipping the person over. The group quickly continued, leaving through the gate, and travelling towards the parked vehicles.

  Several sets of eyes tracked their movement from the darkened interior of the headquarter building. One person started to move.

  “Let them go.” A raspy voice commanded from the darkness.

  After a moment of hesitation, the person turned to resume his original position.

  Chapter Forty

  Patrick

  October 31, 6:15 P.M.

  Word spread at the Ren that the radio was finally operational. Just about all residents of the school made their way to the media room after supper that evening, anxious to hear from other survivors. Anxious for any news from the outside world. Wanting more than anything to hear that everything was going to be ok.

  Nobody felt this need more than Patrick. That’s what he thought, anyway. He was the wealthiest person in the room, being semi-retired by the age of thirty-one. He missed his old lifestyle tremendously.

  Being a millionaire afforded him time to spend on

  ... well, whatever the fuck I wanted!

  He didn’t spend a lot of his time at home. He would always be taking Rosa off on some excursion or another. Either that, or he’d be out there with the boys. The boys were an exclusive group of five guys all around the same age. They would be off to catch sporting events or concerts across the world, or trips to go skiing or mountain biking, or just letting go and hitting the casinos and strip clubs in Las Vegas or Bangkok.

  Guess I won’t be doing any of that stuff anytime soon. Say farewell to the good life... He thought ruefully. And what a good life it had been. Patrick had not gone lacking for anything his heart desired since his early twenties, Only the best for Mister Bentley.

  Even when ‘slumming’ it. If you could call his three-million-dollar mansion a slum, that is. Their kitchen staff had the strictest instructions to only prepare the best and often rarest dishes. Thinking about those fine meals made Patrick’s mouth water and his stomach churn. The food at the school had done nothing more than give him indigestion from the moment he got here.

  Rosa interrupted his mini daydream. She bumped into him as people were jockeying for position. He glanced at her in annoyance. She looked back at him wide-eyed, so he quickly smiled and put his hand around her waist.

  There was no way to stay angry at a woman so fine. He had already caught pretty much all the other men of the group ogling his wife. Which was something that filled him with satisfaction.

  That’s right. She is all mine. And yes, she fucks as good as she looks.

  His hand slipped down to her ass. Man, does she ever have great curves! Pat, you’ve outdone yourself.

  A combination of Rosa pulling his hand back to her waist, and movement near the radio broke his reverie. He let go of Rosa and stepped a bit closer, so he could see.

  Emily had control of the radio, being most familiar with the military unit. She spent the first ten minutes instructing Joe and Jack on the use of it. The crowd was growing impatient by that point.

  “Get on with it already, dad!” Christine called out from the back
of the room, to a murmur of agreement. Joe cast an annoyed look at his daughter and turned back to the radio with a slight shake of his head. They started scanning radio bands accompanied by the sounds of static.

  It went painfully slow to the inexperienced, and the impatience only grew.

  Patrick was both impatient and inexperienced. His experience was with the internet, not radio. In his opinion, radio was generations removed from this day and age on the evolutionary scale.

  Patrick crept closer and tried to see what the radio operators were doing. Looking over Joe’s shoulder, he could see Emily turn a knob, and saying ‘CQ, CQ, CQ. Romeo Echo November One, listening, over.’ She would wait for about ten seconds, listening to her headset, before repeating the process once more. If she got no response that second time, she would move the dial to the next frequency.

  Following Emily’s hand, Patrick noted that the numbers corresponding to the dial consisted of six numbers. Every frequency change only bumped the number by ten.

  Patrick poked Joe in the back. “Hey, Joe.” He whispered. Joe turned away from the radio to face Patrick. The big man seemed put off by the interruption but let Patrick know he could ask his question with a ‘uh-huh?’

  Patrick didn’t want to piss the guy off, but curiosity got the better of him. “What’s with the numbers? How many stations does she have to scan before she reaches the end of the dial?” He kept his voice low so as not to interfere with Emily.

  Joe licked his lips and turned back to the radio with a longing look before turning back to Patrick with a bit of a frown.

  “Alright.” He said with a sigh.

  It’s not like you’re doing anything, asshole. This guy was literally giving Patrick a headache.

  “Are you familiar with FM radio. Like in your car?” Joe started.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that radio range goes from about 88 to 108. Most stations stick to one more digit after the decimal.”

  “Hmm. Like that rock station 91.2.”

  Joe nodded. “But the signal actually goes to two more digits. So, 91.2 is actually 91,200.”