DUSK 2
Snipers fired at the undead below as Sam pulled the jeep close to the garage. The back windows were opened and Jack and Helen were blasting the ghouls closest to the vehicle. Several of the undead wandered into the path of the jeep only to be pulled under the wheels or thrown in the air. Sam cut the jeep’s speed and made a sharp turn, intending to keep close enough to the garage door for a timely escape.
A ghoul with wild hair and no skin on its face stepped in front of the jeep and Sam plowed over it, without seeing if it went under or flew away. Another zombie’s head exploded outside of his window. The incessant moaning was loud, constant, and unnerving. Sam did not know how the besieged had kept sane over the past days, nor did he know how much longer their sanity would last.
“They sure are taking their time,” Jack said. “You think they’re going to make us stay out here?”
“Just keep an eye on the zombies outside,” Sam said.
Something flew through the air; a cylinder shape, with smoke billowing from the end.
The bottle hit the ground, smashing into a fiery mess. The nearby ghouls scattered, cowering away from the one thing they feared. One of the ghouls had caught fire and was now running blindly away, other flesh eaters stepped away from the forsaken beast.
Another Molotov cocktail flew. Then another. And another. And yet another. The guards on the roof continued to shoot a hail of bullets and throw fire until the mob of undead outside was scattered and ruined.
The garage door opened, and the survivors inside greeted the outside with twenty guards, all armed with semiautomatic rifles, all blazing on the undead.
Whoever was left in charge did not want to simply make a path for the visitors to safely come inside, but eradicate the walking dead outside. To flatten the endless tides of monsters. To silence the tortured moaning. And they weren’t going to let a little thing like conserving ammunition stand in the way.
“Hold on!” Sam shouted, and front bumper at the doors.
Zombies around the jeep fell with gray matter spilling out of their opened skulls. Though the soldiers were recklessly dispatching the zombies, they were being damn sure to make every shot count.
Instead of firing at the horde outside, Jack and Helen braced themselves inside of the jeep.
A Molotov cocktail exploded too close to the jeep.
“Shit!” Sam shouted. “They’d damn well better not open on us when we get close!”
When the jeep was about twenty yards from the door, Sam could see a figure step out in front of the guards with a rifle over his shoulder. He shouted something, and six of the soldiers stopped firing and lit their torches.
From the commotion the troops on the ground were making, it was a miracle they weren’t mobbed by the rotting corpses outside. There was a large crowd of the flesh eaters moving towards the doors, and the fire was concentrating on them. The torch men would probably be able to hold them off, and while the mob was around the door, the troops on the roof would not throw fire around the jeep anymore.
As Sam plowed through the crowd of zombies, he was careful not to hit the torch men on the other end, and began to slow down. The undead flew in all directions as the jeep bowled over them. Sam hoped none of the ghouls would be hanging on to the jeep when they made it inside of the building.
When they broke through the mob of undead bodies, the torch men ran out of the way, thrusting their fire at any zombies who stepped too close. If they missed any the attacking undead were taken down by snipers.
The gunmen by the door way had moved to either side to create an opening for the jeep, and Sam drove straight through. The tires squealed on the pavement as Sam made his landing.
That could have gone much smoother, Sam thought.
“Everyone alright?” Sam said.
“Yeah,” Catherine said.
“Fine,” Helen answered.
“Never better,” Jack announced.
Sam stepped out of the jeep, and looked underneath. When he was satisfied that none of the undead had hitched a ride, Sam turned back and watched the torch men retreat inside of the building. The gunmen stepped back, but kept firing as two guards moved to close the door.
As the steel gate dropped shut, the gunmen behind it ceased firing, but the snipers upstairs maintained their offensive.
“Luke, go up and tell the snipers to stop firing!” a familiar voice shouted.
It was Captain Scott Hunter’s voice.
Hunter was about six feet and five inches tall, with wide shoulders, and a solid build. His shirt was tight and tucked in, and his hair was trimmed down to military standards. Hunter’s father had been in the military. Though he had died a few years before the dead started to walk, he had passed much of the tradition on to his son. Scott was now thirty-four years old, and had been in charge of internal defense and basic training before the evacuation.
Sam made his way over.
“Lt. Paterson!” Hunter shouted. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
You might not have, the way you had your men shooting at us out there, Sam thought.
“How’s the wife doing?” Catherine asked.
“She’s holding up. The baby’s doing fine too. We just felt him kick today.”
“That’s good.”
“Who’s in charge of security?” Sam asked.
“All that’s left are Franklin and myself,” Hunter said. “The general and the rest of the higher ups are either missing or confirmed dead.”
Great, Sam thought. Captain Hunter might not have been Sam’s favorite person on the base, but at least he had an idea of how to run things. Franklin was the elected executive of the colony, but he was only a face in front of everyone who actually kept things running. All Franklin did was give speeches, pass regulations on supply rations, and approve guard and gathering opperations. He was good at his job, but Sam did not trust him to make life or death decisions.
The gunfire from the roof stopped and the sound of hellfire was replaced by the moans of the undead and clawing and pounding as they tried to smash their way through the building’s walls, barred windows, and steel doors.
Hunter waved and called “Eric.”
A young blond soldier turned his attention to his commander.
“Show our visitors to the briefing room,” Hunter said, then turned his attention back to Sam and Catherine. “I’ll be with you after I make sure the base is secure.”
Hunter walked away, and gave instructions to a group of guards.
“Lieutenant!” Eric said.
There was surprise in the boy’s voice, but Sam was not sure if he had not expected to see members of the expedition team again, or if he had forgotten about them in the chaos of the last few days.
“Did you have any luck on your trip?” the boy asked.
“I’m alive,” Sam said.
The boy nodded.
“I’ll just show you to the war room.”
“Right.”
*
This compound resembled the one where Catherine had been staying. The floors creaked, the first story windows were boarded and barred, so the only light down stairs either leaked in from cracks in the defenses or came from the artificial glow of electric lamps. The top two stories were brighter simply because there was no need to barricade them. Just like the other compound, the tortured moans of the undead could be heard throughout the building. Friends and family members were huddled together wherever they could find the space, crowding most of the rooms, and even some of the hallways. Parents and guardians were comforting crying children. Couples of all ages held each other in chaste embraces. Some of the survivors noticed who was walking by and gaped at him as though he was walked on water, but most did not notice.
When Sam looked into the eyes of most of the survivors, he saw that they hope that had once burned in their eyes was now gone. They were all waiting for their inevitable deaths. Waiting to be torn out of their fortress. Waiting to be violently torn away from their loved ones. Waiting to be ripped apart. Waiting to hear desperate cries as their friends and families met the same fate. If they weren’t waiting for the undead outside, then they were waiting for their rations to disappear. Waiting for each and every one of the survivors inside to waste away, and turn into the same monsters who were clawing at the walls outside. By that time, the living would be too weak to fight the dead.
The survivors could not return to their home, which had once been an oasis of happiness and safety, but Sam wondered how much fuel the survivors had brought. If they had enough, they could travel south to less populated territory. Maybe they could make it to the mountains, which were only a few hundred miles away.
Ha, Sam thought. Only a few hundred miles. Might as well be across an Ocean.
Still there was farm land not far away. They could exterminate the undead population and settle somewhere remote. An eternity ago, when Sam was leading his troops to their doom, Zach had discovered a shotgun and some fresh ammunition. Though Sam had not thought about it before, there were other survivors out there, but they could have been the very same people who attacked the base. Aside from Helen, Sam had not met any friendly survivors outside of his home. For all he knew, everyone else in the world was worse than the undead.
Maybe escape was not such a good idea. No matter where they settled, over two-hundred people would be easy to spot. If they were going to survive, they were going to have to figure out a way to fight back.
When they reached the end of the third story hallway, just before the stairway which accessed the roof, Eric said “This is the war room. If you need anything just give me a holler. Everybody should be here in just a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Sam stood by the door as Catherine, Helen, and Jack filed into the room and took seats around a long table, leaving six empty chairs.
The war room did not bear any resemblance to what it’s name suggested. There were no maps or any planning equipment, and there was no furniture save for the table and chairs. Unlike the war room back home, this one was lit by an unboarded window instead of electric lighting. Because the sun was still out, the battery operated lamps were shut off.
Night would fall in two or three hours, so they would probably stay here until day break. Hunter and the others would want to know everything about the mission, but Sam did not know if he trusted them to keep the secret.
While the others sat, Sam stood by the window, staring out into the asphalt waste land. Beyond the sea of ravenous undead, the world looked calm and peaceful, even with the sight of overturned cars, burned ruins that had once been buildings, and trash which had covered the streets. Weeds grew through the channels of cracks in sidewalks, and some of the plant life climbed up the buildings.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the window.
Catherine’s eyes moved from Jack and Helen to Sam, and back. Jack and Helen sat next to each other, holding hands. Nobody spoke.
Muffled voices sounded in the hallway, accompanied by footfalls. Sam recognized Hunter’s voice, and as the voices grew louder, Sam caught bits of the conversation. One of the officers was amazed that Sam had come back alive, but the other did not seem surprised at all.
When the officers reached the doorway, Sam stood at attention.
“At ease,” Captain Hunter said.
The two officers who accompanied Hunter were Theodore Reese, and Daniel Harper. Sam had served with both men, and respected them. Behind them was Kyle Franklin, the Internal Executive of the colony who looked like he had been wearing the same black, pinstriped suit and red tie for the past month. There were purple circles under his eyes and his complexion was that of a dead eel.
“How is the other location fairing?” Franklin asked.
“We have enough rations to last another week and our medical staff has their hands tied. We’ve been conserving ammunition and trying to keep a low profile just in case anyone comes back, but those zombies clawing at our front door are a dead giveaway,” Catherine said.
“We’re short on medical supplies. Maybe if you could spare some, we could spare some rations for you.”
Catherine nodded and Franklin turned his attention to Sam, who leaned on the table.
“Sam, it’s good to see you alive. Did you bring back some good news?”
“The mission was a bust. The compound had been raided and destroyed by the time we arrived. There was only one survivor: Ms. Helen York.” Sam motioned to Helen. “If there was a cure, the enemy got a hold of it.”
“The enemy?” Hunter asked.
“Our initial assessment was wrong. The base had not been overpowered by the undead, but an organized militia.”
“Oh shit,” Harper said.
“They returned while we were still in the compound and only Zach, Paul, Jack, and I survived the initial encounter. We’d have took a few of them with us, but if Helen hadn’t shown up we’d be nothing but blood stains back there. We managed to destroy their main armories and assassinate their leader, so we gave them a black eye and bloody nose as payback. Unfortunately, Paul and Zach were killed in action.”
After exchanging a glance with Franklin, Hunter asked what was known about the assailants. Sam motioned to Helen.
“They’re heavily armed. I’d estimate their total population around three-thousand. They move from state to state, city to city, town to town, looking for populated compounds so they can steal the children and kill the adults. Boost their numbers In future generations. We dealt with them shortly before the attack and they’re insane. They believed their leader was the second coming of Christ or something.”
“You dealt with them before the attack?” Hunter asked.
“We had planned to trade food and medical supplies for mechanical parts and ammunition, but that’s not what they wanted. Apparently they knew that we were a science facility. They knew we were working on a cure for this plague and they wanted it for their own means.”
“I’ve always wondered is what caused this,” Franklin said.
“I’m a sniper, not a scientist.”
“You had to have picked up some chatter. Can you honestly tell me that you’re not curious?”
Sam was about to change the direction of the questioning, when Helen began talking. She’d thoroughly studied the notes on the cure so she would have some basic answers to make her cover story credible.
“A running theory was that there was some sort of airborne pathogen that remained dormant until the host’s death and attacks the brain when the change takes place. There are holes though.”
“Like how it sacked the entire world at once instead of spreading like a typical outbreak,” Jack added.
“Exactly. The other problem is that they never found anything in any of the living, undead, and dead test subjects. Instead of inoculating against some unknown contaminant, the cure is supposed to remain dormant until the change after death takes place.”
Good girl, Sam though.
“How does it do that?” Reese asked.
“I really don’t know. Again, I’m only a sniper.”
“How far along were they on the project? Was it ready for general distribution?” Hunter asked.
“It’s only in the testing stage. The only way to test the serum is to inject a living subject and kill him. We’d experimented on volunteers in the terminal ward with mixed results. Sometimes they would die from the injection and would not reanimate. Other times, they’d reanimate when they died of other causes but drop after a few minutes of walking. I’d been posted as a lab guard during a couple of early tests.”
“How old are you?” Hunter asked.
“Eighteen.”
Shaking his head, Hunter asked: “Do you think the people who attacked us were the same ones who sacked your compound?”
Helen shook her head.
“We wouldn’t be talking to any of you right now,” Sam said. “Trust me.”
“Maybe we should consider heading off west to somewhere less populated. Maybe keep going until we hit the mountains,” Franklin suggested.
“If we went, who knows what we’d run into,” Hunter said. “So far we seem to be the only humans left alive on the face of the planet who don’t want to kill everyone else and at least here we’re on familiar territory. We know where there are hiding places and where we can set up an ambush if we have to.”
“For now I agree,” Sam said. “We don’t know who hit us or where they are. For all we know they could be staking out our locations right now.”
*
After the briefing ended, Scott Hunter had wanted to take Helen up to the roof and see just how good of a sniper she was. Unfortunately, it was almost dark and everyone was tired. Sam said that the girl had taken out the driver of a pursuing vehicle from a near by building at nigh. In order to pull off that feat, the girl would have needed more than a keen eye and dead aim. It would have required intuition and tactical thinking that could only be gained by years of combat experience and training.
Helen had said she was eighteen and when he first saw her, Scott had guessed that she was no older than seventeen. Having years of experience meant that Helen had been out in the field before she was halfway through puberty. Scott thought of his child, who was two months shy of birth and wondered what kind of place would send children out into the open, where the undead and worse lurked.
Fighting the urge to punch a wall, Scott walked into his quarters.
“How’d your day go?” his wife asked.
“We have visitors.”
“I heard.”
Scott walked to the old sofa where Lucy laid on her back. When her husband was seated next to her, she rested her legs in his lap. Scott placed his right hand on his wife’s round belly, and ruffled her brown, curly hair with his left.
“How’s our little tyke doing?”
“Been kicking today.”
“Has he?”
“We don’t know if it’s a boy yet.”
Lucy moved her hand to Scott’s back and squeezed his shoulder.
“How’s Catherine?”
“Holding together. I think she’s glad to be away. They put her in charge at the other location.”
They sat in silence, not wanting to discuss their friends’ losses. Instead, Scott tilted his head back and rested his eyes.
*
The cramped conditions of this location matched the other perfectly, so there was only space for a few people to occupy private rooms. Almost everyone crowded the dimly lit hallways to the point where there was barely enough room to move around the building. As soon as Sam and Catherine had parted to notify family members of those who did not survive the expedition, Jack and Helen had made their way to the rooftop, where only a handful of snipers were posted, to enjoy some freedom and a sunset.
On their way, several of the huddling sardines greeted Jack and gave Helen strange stares. Some asked questions about the mission, to which Jack would politely answer or regurgitate one of the half truths Sam had ordered them to tell as cover.
When they reached the stairwell which led to the roof, two guards armed with shotguns stopped the sight seers.
“Hey Smith, glad to see you back.”
“Thanks.”
“You bring back any good news?”
“I’m sure you’ll hear about it in the morning. For now we’re wiped. Mind if we go up and enjoy the sunset?”
“Sure thing.”
Four guards, armed with M-16’s and hunting rifles sat at the edge of the rooftop, while a scrawny teen with a twenty-two sat alone at the other side. Jack took Helen’s hand and led her to an empty corner, facing the sun. The guards glanced at the newcomers, but did not pay attention for long.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Helen said, squeezing Jack’s hand.
“Those walls were built from scratch, even before I was born. There was nothing there when they started. Now there are just a few holes. We’ll rebuild.”
“I know.”
“It’s nice to not be out in the open.”
“It’s nice to have some leg room.”
Jack watched Helen’s smile grow dimmer in the fading daylight.