Tales of the Decay

by James Barton

  She even executed some of the monsters at point blank range and the others would wander over to investigate, but never directly reacted to her presence. They would perk up at the noise and sometimes bump into her, but never did they intentionally touch her. She used up all her ammo except one round. She was saving that one.

  Despite the carnage, despite the mobs of people eating each other, the sky was brilliant. Beth walked through a horror show of atrocities, her legs moved on autopilot through the streets. Each step she felt stronger, she felt more powerful. She had a power that protected her, it was a power she could use to protect others.

  Beth walked along the docks. She saw that many of the boats were floating idly, tethered to the dock by only pieces of rope. At the end of the pier bobbed the small boat, “Mon Ange.” Beth pulled out the key and boarded. She untied it and fiddled with the controls until she got the engine idling. She backed it gently into the open waters. With the carnage behind her, she turned the key off. She kicked back the seat and peered into the sky. It was beautiful, almost vibrant. Things were going to change. That sickness spread nearly across the city in only a day from contact with a handful of people. Beth had the power to fight them, but could she also be the cause?

  Beth didn’t know which direction to go, all she knew was that she was going to fight. Maybe, with her power, she could …

  “See, I told you, you’re special,” the man said from the back row of seats.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up,” she responded. “Well, Mom always said I was special, I guess she was right.”

  “Are you going to sail the seven seas now?”

  “Seems like a good day to take on new skillsets. So, tell me, what do you get out of all this?” she asked, marveling at how calm she had become after all of the horror of the past few days.

  “Me? You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you? Although, I think Mona showed you the truth of all this. No matter how hard you push, in the end,” he said, “everyone will be tested.”

  “Is that so? Did you see how I can move through them with ease?”

  “I did. You are … quite the success.”

  Beth looked at the man, wondering how she could possibly hold such a conversation with someone who wasn’t really there. If he was really … her … then how could he know things that she did not? “You should know that I am going to do everything in my power to erase this disease from the face of the earth.”

  The man sighed heavily. “You know, it’s not a dis …”

  Beth raised the pistol and fired at him, and he vanished. It was her last bullet, probably a waste, but at this point, she didn’t give it a second thought. She wasn’t sure if he was a sickness-induced delusion or something more. Regardless, Beth was in control now and, for the first time ever, she wasn’t scared to be alone.

  The Broken Blockade

  Sergeant Amanda Black was an American security forces Airman stationed at a small base in England. She had signed up to be a hero. She wanted to shoot a fifty-caliber machine gun from a Humvee as it roared through the streets of some third-world warzone. She had, admittedly watched one too many movies and possibly been bullied in school, but nonetheless, she had turned herself from a scrawny 108-pound girl into a 120-pound athlete.

  She had successfully transformed into a soldier and then crashed hard into the realization that guarding the gate to a military base was not what she thought her life would be. There was no action, nothing that really made her feel any different than those cops sleeping at the mall. As she walked into her dorm, she wished for something more. If only she knew what she was asking for.

  She unbuttoned her blouse and threw it over her chair. On her small All-Mart brand plaster-wood desk sat a picture of her parents. It was a good picture of them, but a poor picture of her. She kept it on the desk as a reminder of how far she had come and who she was trying to impress. The room reflected the poor lighting coming from the overhead lamp; it had somehow filled with moths. It was terribly humid, and she flicked on the dehumidifier and began to climb into some more comfortable clothes. As she did, her computer booted up and she began to watch a few mindless online videos. After twelve hours of saying “Have a good one!” she wanted to just go brain-dead watching someone comment on a video game or something. Three videos and two Hot Pockets later she booted up her favorite game, Megaquest. She logged on and grouped up with her guildmates to defeat the pit-fiend of Nazgoth. She spoke to them in text chat, but never verbally. It was something a lot of people couldn’t understand. How could you consider people as your friends when you only knew them by names like Magus the necromancer? It was how she liked it, simple and straightforward. She stayed up too late that night and eventually crawled into bed. Her accomplishment of that day was having her online character, Allcia, killing the dreaded pit-fiend, but, unfortunately, the digital armor she wanted didn’t drop.

  Amanda got about four hours of sleep before her phone lit up and began playing the 8-bit Tetris theme. She sluggishly slapped at her phone and raised it to her face. The light blinded her, and she vaguely made out the word “Carter.” She snapped awake and pressed the answer button, it was rare for her boss to call.

  “Black, I need you here now,” he said without an introduction.

  “Sergeant Carter, what is going on? Today is my day off,”

  “I’ll explain when you get here, this is real world shit,” he said and hung up.

  Amanda was left holding her phone with a confused look on her face. She threw on her unwashed uniform and looked in the mirror, she was a mess. She wrapped her red hair into a bun and shrugged. “Good enough,” she said to herself.

  As Amanda stepped down to the ground level of the dorms, she looked around the parking lot as vehicles were lined up to leave. It seemed that almost everyone was being called in. One of the soldiers stepped past her and she called out to him.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” she asked.

  The soldier in thick black-rimmed glasses turned around. “I don’t know, I just know its real world,” he said and ran off.

  There were those words again, real world. They had spent so much time practicing for war and catastrophes that the words “real world” held a terrifying weight. It meant this wasn’t a simulation and it could have real consequences. Amanda was both excited and scared; it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She had no clue what it could be, but at least she could do something other than guarding a gate from civilians trying to use their grocery store.

  Amanda jumped into her old blue pickup. It had been a gift from her parents and it never gave her any trouble, so she didn’t care that it wasn’t flashy. She found it wasteful to spend money when it wasn’t necessary. The engine roared and spit out a puff of smoke. She reached over and adjusted the stereo to play her music. It was the only thing in the truck that wasn’t over ten years old.

  She pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the base, which was packed with vehicles and traffic jams everywhere. It was obvious that everyone on the base was awake and headed to their job. Whatever was happening, it was the most important thing she had ever seen. While she sat waiting for the light to turn green, a convoy of armored vehicles tore through the grass and transported groups of armed soldiers toward the front gate. She watched as they drove by and began to question what was going on. A horn blared behind her and she looked up to see the green light.

  As she drove through the base streets, she ran through so many scenarios in her head. She pulled into the parking lot just as she convinced herself that it was not possible to be aliens … probably. She got out and walked to the front door and started to ask Thompson at the front counter a question. Before she opened her mouth, he interrupted her.

  “Go straight into the auditorium. They’ll brief you there.”

  “Thanks, Thompson,” she said, slightly defeated.

  The whole building was filled with a dull roar of voices. As she turned the corner, she saw that the 400-seat aud
itorium was filled to capacity. People were lined up against the walls and she found a spot and leaned in. After asking others and receiving the same clueless story she just shut her mouth and waited for an official briefing.

  The lights dimmed and a high-ranking officer stepped onto the stage. She knew that she should know who he was, but she never really paid enough attention to that stuff.

  “Good morning, everyone. Listen closely, as the missions you will perform today are vital to the health and safety of everyone nearby. You will be split into smaller squads and you will protect the border of Ashbury. No person is to come in or out. There have been reports of terrorists attempting to transport biological weapons from Ashbury to the outside neighboring towns. If this agent were to be released outside of the town it could rapidly spread and cause a nationwide pandemic. No one is to go past the fencing, including military personnel. Individuals may be a carrier for the virus without showing signs. Lethal force has been authorized to stop any movement in our out. That again, includes us. Please form into lines to be given your weapons and convoy number,” the officer said and stepped off the stage, dodging a barrage of questions on his way out.

  Amanda started to operate on autopilot at that point. She was consumed with such a sense of confusion that the next few hours became a fog. Her training had taught her what to do, but not what to feel. She moved through the line and received her gear. She was loaded into a Humvee filled with confused faces. They were transported miles outside the city limits. A quickly erected guard tower had been raised across a web of barbed wire and silver fencing. There were still civilian construction workers reinforcing the fence. She found herself standing at the base of the tower, her gear weighing her down as the convoy sped off with the rest of the soldiers. Two other soldiers stood at her side, equally as lost. She glanced at them and she could only motion toward the tower.

  The first soldier was the same one she had encountered in the parking lot. He was a younger man with a standard build and black-rimmed glasses. The second man was probably in his early twenties based on his rank, but seemed to live at the gym. His uniform bulged where underneath he probably had the perfect upper body. It was the type of masculine body that would impress almost everyone, everyone except Amanda. Counter to traditional standards, she found it terribly unattractive.

  “What are we doing?” the soldier with the glasses said.

  Amanda looked over at his name tape. “Walker, I only know what I was told. We are keeping people from leaving until this terrorist is captured.”

  “Yo, you don’t really think it’s a terrorist, do you?” the other man chimed in.

  Amanda furrowed her brow, “I don’t question my orders and I suggest you do the same … Solosabaul?”

  “Solo.”

  “Sure. It sounds like we’re keeping something nasty from getting out. That is enough of a reason for me.”

  “Yeah, a’ight,” Solo said with disinterest.

  They watched the construction crew finish reinforcing the fencing as they stood watch in their 10x10 tower. Even the tower was sitting on the inside of the zone, something Amanda noticed right away. After a couple hours the construction crew waved goodbye to them and hopped in their work truck and headed off to one of the other sites. What they left behind was a twelve-foot-tall fence with coils of razor wire at the top. It seems they had somehow intertwined two sets of chain link fencing. It wasn’t pretty, but it would, at the very least, slow down anyone trying to pass through it.

  Two hours after the work crew departed, the sun was beginning to cut through the fog. A large van approached, driving parallel to the fence. Amanda could make out the shape of the vehicle, but not much else from this distance.

  “Fortress, Tower 41,” she spoke into the radio. It startled Solo, who had been napping in his folded arms.

  “Go ahead 41,” they replied.

  “Fortress, there is an unknown vehicle driving parallel to our position. Should I investigate?”

  “Negative, for the next few hours we will be sending vehicles to put road spikes and vehicular countermeasures around the perimeter.”

  Amanda looked at the other two with a slightly concerned look. “Copy.”

  The van personnel milled about in the tall grass and then left without saying a word. As the hours stretched into the late afternoon, they had received a boxed meal from a second van that stopped farther back and walked it to them. It was cold chicken parmesan and Amanda would have normally skipped it entirely, but something told her those meals might not be very consistent.

  “When are we getting off shift?” Walker asked. It came off whiney, but, of course, it was something that everyone had on their mind. Amanda was devoted and for the first time, well, ever, she felt this was genuinely important. Even though she couldn’t wait to get back to her room and relax.

  “Fortress, Tower 41,” she called in.

  “Go 41,” they replied in a garbled transmission.

  “When are the replacements coming by to relieve us?”

  There was a long pause. After nearly a minute passed, Amanda lifted the radio to repeat her message.

  “All teams, all teams, this is fortress. Your team has been created with three individuals and you will remain in place until the threat has been dealt with. The estimated time is unknown so please use the sleeping bag in your tower to maintain a rest rotation. Meals will be provided as possible. Fortress out.”

  Amanda looked at her two troops. Solo reached into the small box and pulled out a thin green sleeping bag. “You’re the boss,” he said.

  She was stunned. This wasn’t a drill and it wasn’t the 9-to-5 military she had been a part of for so long. This was real world.

  “We will take breaks and just hang tight; this could go on for a while.”

  Walker pulled the magazine out of his rifle and examined the brass rounds showing through. He gave her a look of confused defeat and slammed it into his weapon.

  Their long day faded into a fog-filled night with the moon barely showing. There was an eerie silence and their attempt at sleep was mostly a failure. So far, they had been guarding an empty field, filled with tall weeds that blew lazily in the wind. Amanda realized a sense of peace hidden behind her fears. For the first time, her work had a real purpose, at least one that she could relate to.

  That morning they had been met with MREs and new radio batteries. They had gone from actual box-meals to prepackaged meals. Their cumbersome packaging and slow water heater element helped pass the time as they ate pressure-sealed eggs and cinnamon candies. The morning had begun to dissolve the fog and their morale had dropped considerably.

  “Man, fuck this noise,” Solo said to himself. His outbursts were becoming increasingly common. His mood had taken a sharp plummet after his cell phone died earlier that night. There was something about a girlfriend or a wife, Amanda didn’t really pay much attention. Walker on the other hand had played a game on his phone until it died. After that he seemed to incessantly fiddle with his rifle.

  As their second day pressed on, they seemed to drift in and out of mental consciousness. The boredom wore them down and they attempted to have conversations to keep things alive, but their personalities didn’t make for the best talks. As they finished up their dinner, Walker had gone down to the ground level to use the bathroom. It was less of a room and more of a bush, but they didn’t have much choice at this point.

  Later, there was a sound that woke them all from their trance. After spending so much time in silence they noticed it right away. Everyone in the tower perked up immediately. A white van came barreling at its top speed from the distance. It violently bobbed up and down along the uneven ground.

  Amanda quickly grabbed the radio. “Fortress, this is Black. There is a civilian vehicle heading for our position at top speed. Please advise.”

  The vehicle continued to make ground quickly and everyone seemed to be on edge. “Black, fortress, you already have your orders. Prevent personnel from exiting the qu
arantine zone.”

  “Quarantine zone?” Walker asked.

  “Shit, we’re stuck guarding some crazy infected city. If we stay here, we are going to catch it or they are going to just nuke us all into fucking dust,” Solo shouted.

  “Just focus!” Amanda yelled out without thinking.

  The van struck the road spikes hidden in the grass and blew all four tires. The sound made Amanda jump. The driver swerved hard to the left and it caused the van to flip onto its side. It slid across the overgrown grass for a short distance and came to an undramatic halt. One tire still spun freely as the carcass of rubber clung to the inner wheel.

  “What just happened?” Walker whispered.

  “Fortress, fortress, 41. The civilian vehicle is down. I am requesting medical attention.”

  “You don’t get it do you?” Solo said smugly.

  “Will you stop with the conspiracy bullshit please.”

  “41, fortress. Your parameters are to prevent personnel from exiting, nothing more. Convince them to turn back or use lethal force. Do not come into physical contact with any outside entities,” the radio cackled.

  “But …”

  “Are we clear?”

  “Copy.”

  Solo looked over with a know-it-all grin.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Maybe later,” he replied sarcastically.

  In the following minutes they watched the van with an unnerving intensity. Solo fished a pair of camouflaged binoculars from the supply box.

  “Here boss,” he said while holding out the binoculars to her.

  There was some movement inside the van. After a few moments one of the doors opened slowly. It looked like more of a hatch, with the van on its side. Out of the vehicle climbed a woman in torn clothing. It was clear that the crash had left her bloody and injured. She climbed out and fell into the grass.