When the Future Ended (The Zombie Terror War Series Book 1)

by David Spell

  Elizabeth was not an outdoors person. She hated bugs, snakes, and pretty much everything that could be found in a forest. Part of the training that Chuck had put her through, thankfully, involved situations exactly like this.

  “Why do we have to train in the forest?” she had grumbled, as he had her working on her field craft in the thick woods surrounding the Northeast Georgia Technical College just a couple of weeks earlier.

  “We’ve got to be ready for any contingency,” he patiently told her. “It’s just going to be the two of us. We might have to abandon our vehicle and a thick forest is a great place for us to hide, but tough for Zs to maneuver through.”

  The idea of abandoning their truck had not even occurred to her. Fortunately for her, it had occurred to Chuck, she thought, as she ran through the thick undergrowth, still unnerved at the sound of so many growling zombies behind her. She had no idea where she was supposed to go, hoping that she wasn’t lost and that her husband would be able to find her. The idea of being separated from him in the thick forest almost sent her into a panic attack.

  After sprinting hard for a few minutes, Beth stopped, weapon at the ready, scanning the area around her like Chuck had taught her. The sound of someone running in her direction startled her and she instinctively moved behind a large pine tree for cover, raising her rifle to eye level.

  McCain broke into view running hard thirty feet to her left. Elizabeth stepped out from behind the tree and waved, not wanting to yell, for fear of alerting any nearby Zs. Chuck saw her and hurried over, panting. Concern was etched across his face.

  “Where do we go now?” Beth asked quietly, a tremor in her voice.

  “Let’s keep moving,” he whispered. “They aren’t far behind me. Let’s keep running in a straight line for a while and then we’ll make a sharp turn, one way or the other, and try to lose them. You’ve got point, I’m right behind you.”

  The sound of branches cracking and teeth snapping together reached them simultaneously. These zombies were making good time through the forest, McCain realized, shaking his head.

  “Go!” he mouthed, turning to face the Zs closing in on them.

  Beth started running deeper into the forest, fear gripping her insides. Several shots rang out from Chuck’s rifle causing Elizabeth to run even faster. After several minutes of sprinting, she slowed her stride and began walking, staring at every shadow, waiting for something to jump out at her. The heavy brush, the overhanging trees blocking the light, intensified her terror, not knowing where the next zombie might be hiding. Something moved behind her and she spun around, her finger on the trigger of her rifle. Chuck had caught up, momentary relief sweeping over her.

  Almost as soon as Beth had sprinted away, several Zs appeared, coming straight for him. These were recently infected and quick. He didn’t want to shoot for fear of giving away their position, providing the zombies a noise to key in on. These were much too close, however, and his Colt came up. Chuck pulled the trigger seven times, dropping six Zs. He didn’t wait for any more of their friends, rushing to join Beth.

  McCain normally liked to keep ten or fifteen yards between team members on a patrol. When he caught up with Elizabeth, however, he could see that she was nearing her breaking point. She hadn’t spent enough time in the woods to understand that the forest could be her friend. The relief was evident on her face when she realized that he was staying close to her while they kept pushing forward through the undergrowth.

  The Zs were still pursuing them but the terrain was finally slowing them down. Chuck also hoped that the many smells of the wild would confuse their nostrils. The virus intensified the infected’s sense of smell, but hopefully, they would all be dealing with sensory overload.

  After a few hundred yards the woods started opening up, the brush not nearly as thick, letting them know they were coming to civilization once again. A long building loomed ahead, visible through the thinning trees. They cautiously approached the edge of the forest, knowing they didn’t have long to linger, the growls behind them slowly getting closer.

  “It looks like a hotel,” Elizabeth whispered.

  The U-shaped parking lot in front of them wrapped around the two-story building and was half-full of vehicles. Beth and Chuck were on one end of the long structure. The sign in the parking lot identified it as the ‘Biltmore Lodge.’

  Two hundred yards to their left, another building, this one a single-story, sat facing them. A sign on top of that facility identified it as the ‘Smokey Mountain Inn.’ A group of figures stood motionless near the front entrance next to a large bus parked directly in front of the inn.

  “Yeah, it does,” Chuck agreed, raising his rifle and scoping the area with his optics. “‘Smokey Mountain Tours’ is what’s written on the bus and all those Zs are senior citizens. They just went out for a day of sightseeing and ended up as zombies.”

  The presence of the infected, both in front and behind them, limited their options. McCain had felt a flicker of hope when he’d seen all the cars in the parking lot, thinking they could grab one and keep going. That idea was out with Zs almost surrounding them. The other option would take them to their right, behind the big lodge in front of them. That way was safer, allowing them to use the woods for concealment. The sounds of the pursuers from their rear let them know it was time to move.

  “Let’s circle around the lodge, using the woods for cover. Maybe there’s a car on the far side that we can take. I’ll go first,” the CDC officer said, softly. “Stay close.”

  Elizabeth took him literally, staying much closer to Chuck than she was supposed to be. He had trained her to maintain a safe distance between them so that they could protect each other and wouldn’t both be targets at the same time. At this point, though, she didn’t care. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight again.

  Running blind through the thick forest had been terrifying and knowing there were so many zombies close behind them motivated her to stay near her husband. He set off, moving quickly, around behind the Biltmore Lodge. They stayed inside the tree line, the growls of the pursuing infected lessening but never ceasing, to her dismay.

  Beth wondered if they should try to get inside the lodge. It looked like a beautiful place and maybe they could hide there and figure out what to do next. She was about to tap Chuck and make that suggestion when zombie sounds suddenly rang out, this time from in front of them.

  They had just reached a position where they could see the other end of the long building. At least ten vehicles were parked near the side door, one of them a white stretch Hummer limousine. The doors of the limo were standing open and several infected came crawling out, bloody flesh hanging from their mouths. A group of over thirty Zs must have smelled or heard the couple and started shuffling towards Chuck and Beth’s position in the tree line.

  What made these zombies unique was that they were all dressed for a wedding. The bride’s long white dress, now ripped apart and covered with blood, and the groom’s gore-coated tux identified them. The others were evidently wedding party members or family and friends. These people had clearly been infected for a while and moved slowly, their dead bodies already well into the decaying process. They growled in unison, moving in the direction of what they hoped was an easy meal.

  Suddenly, the zombies pursuing them broke out of the woods where Chuck and Beth had been just a few minutes earlier. They did not appear to have acquired the couple’s scent because part of the group went around the front of the lodge while others shuffled around the rear towards where they were hiding.

  “Plan B,” said McCain. “Come on.”

  Chuck spun around and started sprinting deeper into the woods, Elizabeth staying right behind him. I didn’t even get to ask him what Plan B is, she thought.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  New Enemies, New Friends

  Buckhead, Atlanta, Saturday, 1130 hours

  Jorge Quintero was riding shotgun in the white, full-size GMC van as his driver, Julio, pulled up in front o
f their headquarters, the Peachtree Summit Luxury Condominiums. The black Ford F-150 pickup and the gray Toyota Tacoma pickup pulled in right behind the GMC, five cartel soldiers climbing out of the bed of the Ford and six exiting the Toyota. The group of Latino and African-American gangsters approached the back doors of the van. They left the boxes of confiscated supplies in the trucks, much more interested in the cargo that was contained in the van.

  Quintero exited, holding his captured National Guard M4 rifle. The soldiers waited at the rear of the van until he gave them the nod. Pedro, a cartel member who had been serving a life sentence in a Mexican maximum-security prison for several murders, pulled open the back doors, grinning wickedly at what he saw inside. Their cargo of nine young women sat huddled against the far end of the van, terror etched on their faces.

  The body of Mario lay just inside the cargo compartment of the van, blood having pooled around him. Seeing his soldier’s corpse sent a wave of anger through Jorge. One of the defenders had managed to get a couple of rounds off before Pedro had shot the old man in the head. Quintero had ordered that the dead soldier be tossed into the back of the van with their prisoners.

  Most of the girls were in shock at what they had just witnessed. A few them were crying softly. There were even a few defiant looks, Quintero noticed. Good, he thought. Those were the fun ones. He always enjoyed breaking the spirit of the women who weren’t smart enough to know that they were beaten and that they now belonged to him and his men.

  “Vamonos!” Jorge ordered, but none of the girls moved.

  The assistant cartel leader motioned to his men to climb in and drag the young women out. The captives all resisted, several screaming loudly, as they were pulled forcefully by the arm or hair out of the van. An athletic looking, early-twenties white girl backed into the corner of the vehicle. When one of the soldiers reached for her she launched herself at him, firing finger jabs at his eyes, a knee to his groin, and then ridge hand strikes to his throat.

  The Mexican fell to the floor of the van clutching his testicles and his throat, groaning and coughing. The wild-eyed girl jumped over her attacker and rushed towards the open rear doors of the van. Jorge, watching from outside, sighed and shook his head. He raised his rifle and sent a full-auto burst of 5.56mm bullets into the young woman’s chest, slamming her back against the inside of the vehicle, blood splattering the white walls of the van.

  Quintero motioned to one of the other soldiers to go and help the downed man. The sight of their companion getting bested by a girl had all of the cartel members laughing. One of the black gangsters grabbed the dead woman by the legs and dragged her out of the van, dumping her onto the pavement. Her head bounced with a sickening thud.

  Jorge was disappointed that he’d had to kill the young woman. She was one of the prettiest of the group and he had claimed her, planning to rape her as soon as they got back to the base. At the same time, killing the girl accomplished two things. It let the other eight prisoners know that rebellion would not be tolerated. It also eliminated a potential ringleader who might try to organize an escape.

  “Get them inside and help them get comfortable,” he told his soldiers with a knowing smile. “After you get finished, come back and unload the supplies that we captured.”

  The gang members laughed lustily and dragged the wailing women inside the high-rise apartment building. Jorge understood that having these fresh prisoners around kept his men motivated and eager to continue their conquest of the city. This morning’s foray had targeted a large Methodist church a few miles down the road.

  Over twenty people had been barricaded inside the large structure, thinking that their only threats were the zombies still roaming the area. Quintero’s men had forced their way into the church and engaged in a short shootout with the defenders. An older black man had fired just as Mario had rushed in. He always wanted to be the first guy in, Jorge remembered. It cost him today, as the church member had put two rounds of .45 ACP hollow points into the Mexican’s sternum, the big bullets destroying the soldiers heart and killing him instantly.

  Pedro was behind Mario, carrying an M-16. He fired a long burst into the black man and several other armed defenders. Thankfully, none of the other survivors in the church could shoot accurately. Carlos was grazed by a round to his right shoulder, but he had just kept fighting. Quintero knew that nothing except death would keep Carlos from enjoying one of their newest prisoners.

  The initial gunfire cut down three men and two women. One of the men and one of the women were still alive as Jorge walked over to them and fired single shots into their heads from his Colt Python. When they searched the educational wing of the church, thirteen females of varying ages were found huddled in a classroom. Quintero was still furious over the death of Mario and he turned his M4 on the group, cutting down four of the older ladies. The nine younger women began to scream and cry.

  Pedro located three teenage boys hiding in a supply closet. Without hesitation, he triggered his M-16, blowing them apart. Jorge had the girls searched and led the weeping prisoners out to the van. The church kitchen was well stocked and the food, along with the defender’s weapons, were secured in the back of the Ford pickup.

  After the captives were dragged inside their HQ, Quintero got on the elevator to report to Tony the Tiger. All in all, it had been a successful mission. They had captured a large quantity of food and several additional weapons. The new women for the soldiers to play with were always welcome. Losing Mario, however, was a tough blow. Jorge hoped that the reinforcements that Corona had requested arrived soon.

  Centers for Disease Control Compound, East of Atlanta, Saturday, 1155 hours

  After their meeting, Eddie gave Shaun Taylor and the DC team the bad news that they didn’t have any spare rooms or RVs for them to bunk in. They could, however, sleep on the floor of the CDC’s office, storeroom, dining hall, or anywhere else they could find floor space. All of the men were combat veterans and took it in stride, just glad not to be sleeping out in the elements. Dry and reasonably warm was better than cold and wet any day of the week.

  While his teammates were getting settled, Jay walked over to the dining room, hoping to find a cup of coffee and maybe something to eat. The food selection was limited but Mexican rice and refried beans sounded pretty good and the coffee was hot. After thanking the young woman behind the counter for his food, Walker turned to look for an open table.

  Score! he thought. That good-looking woman he’d seen earlier was sitting by herself. The CDC officer made his way across the room and stopped in front of her table.

  “Hi,” he said, pleasantly. “Mind if I join you?”

  The brunette had been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t noticed the muscular man approach her table. Jay’s voice startled her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, Dr. Edwards,” Jay read her name off of her white lab coat.

  Nicole laughed to cover her embarrassment. “I was just lost in my own little world.”

  She motioned to the seat across from her. “I’m done with lunch and was about to go back to work but have a seat, Agent…?”

  “Walker, Jay Walker,” he smiled.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Walker. I saw that you were on the helicopter with Dr. Bae-yong.”

  “That’s right, but please call me Jay. We were her escort to make sure that she got here safely. We work out of the DC office, but it sounds like we’re going to be here for a few days.”

  “Really? Are you and your men going to be a part of the security force here?”

  She is gorgeous, Jay realized. Dr. Edwards was a little taller than him, but who wasn’t? She had long, wavy brown hair and a beautiful figure. Her light brown eyes, though, were sad, almost lifeless.

  “No, we’re working on a special mission with the guys from here.” Knowing that he couldn’t talk about the assignment he shifted gears. “I’m sorry for being nosy, but is your first name Nicole?”

  Edwards gave a surprised smile.
“And how did you guess that?”

  “You created the solution that all the agents were issued that kills the virus on contact, right?”

  Pleased that this stranger was familiar with her research, she nodded enthusiastically. “Well, my team did most of the work, but I was so happy that we were able to contribute something for you guys in the field. I feel protective towards all of our enforcement agents. You and your teammates are the tip of the spear and y’all put your lives on the line every day.

  “I only wish we could find a breakthrough for a vaccine or a cure for the virus,” she sighed. “Hopefully, now that Dr. Bae-yong is here, we can put our heads together and figure it out.”

  Jay nodded. “It’s nice to be able to thank you in person, Dr. Edwards. We’ve used your solution a number of times when, well, let’s just we’ve had some up close and personal encounters.”

  The epidemiologist’s face lit up. “You’re very welcome and please call me Nicole. How long have you worked for the CDC, Jay?”

  “Just a couple of years, since they started the enforcement unit. I was one of the original recruits. I’d been in the Navy and was thinking about retiring after twenty-two years. I wasn’t sure what I was getting into when I took this job. I just knew that I was tired of living in the deserts of the Middle East.”

  “Do you have a family back in Washington?”

  Walker shook his head. “The Navy was my family. My parents are both dead. I was married, very briefly, many years ago. What about you?”

  Nicole looked away, the sadness returning to her eyes. “I’m from Texas. My parents and my brother live in Dallas. As far as I know, they’re OK. I’ve only been in Georgia for the four years that I’ve been with the CDC. Have you worked with the agents from our office before? Do you know Chuck McCain?”