by Brown, TW
“We came up the stairs and it just stared at us…the strangest thing I’d ever seen. We kept thinking it would start down the stairs after us. Hell, Doug even started calling to it, telling it that everything would be okay and that all its troubles would be over in a matter of seconds.” The man glanced at the body of the man Joel had killed second—the one who’d obviously been the source of the scream. “We were just a few steps from the top when the damn thing turned and walked away. None of us had ever seen anything like it.”
“Like what?” Joel felt his blood chill a few degrees. If he would’ve glanced down at the small patch of bare skin between his shirt sleeves and his gloves, he would’ve seen his skin pebble with goose flesh.
“It was like they were waiting for us…like a trap. We reached the top of the stairs and it was still just the one. All the doors looked like they were closed, but they weren’t. Not all the way at least. At least I’m pretty sure. God, please let that be true or it’s even worse—” The man’s tempo had started to speed up. And it was clear that he was verging on hysterics.
Joel smacked him with a firm backhand. The man didn’t appear to register the pain, but he swallowed once, and then continued much calmer.
“They came from all the rooms. It was like they heard some signal, because all the doors opened at damn near the same time and all of a sudden we had all these…” The man waved his arm to indicate the bodies scattered on the floor. “But these ones didn’t attack at first either. They just stepped out and seemed to be studying us. They just stood there, heads tilting one way, then the other.”
The man went silent again, and his eyes scanned the room, but this time, it looked as if he might really be seeing the carnage for what it was. His eyes lingered longest on the fallen bodies of his former comrades.
“They weren’t trying to attack us. Doug knelt down and tried to talk to the damn things…for real this time. It was like he couldn’t see their eyes…the horrible injuries that gave them away for what they were. Then he went to put his knife in his belt.”
This time, when the man went silent, Joel knew what he would be seeing. It was like a switch being thrown, he was willing to wager on it if he were a betting man.
“They just became…zombies. All that hesitation…all that bit about them being different? It vanished in the blink of an eye and that closest one threw itself on Doug. He never stood a chance.” The man shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. “Then they all just came at us. It was like trying to escape a wood chipper.”
“On your feet,” Joel finally said after giving the man a moment to gather himself.
Without waiting, Joel turned and headed down the stairs. He reached the door and glanced back to see that the man had indeed gotten to his feet and was now following him outside the house.
“We’re cutting it off early today,” Joel announced, and then marked the house as cleared.
“But it’s barely past midday,” one of his people argued. Joel didn’t look to see who, and didn’t care.
The group loaded into the transport truck and returned to the dam after the other two groups were also called in and told that the day was over. All the way back to the dam Joel thought about the child he’d encountered and then ran through everything he could remember about what had happened to his team. By the time he reached their base at the dam, he had at least a rudimentary solution.
Thirty minutes later, all personnel who ventured outside the perimeter were mustered in the auditorium of the visitor’s center. Joel had the one survivor of the group he’d been teamed with come forward and relate the events just as had been reported to him. Once that was finished, he stepped behind the podium and waited for the murmurs to die down.
“I think we can now make the leap that the youngsters who have been turned are just a little different,” Joel started and then went on to relate his own experience. “I want to make it clear that, from this point forward, any child zombie encountered is to be shot on sight. Anybody who can’t follow that order needs to have themselves reassigned right now.”
After waiting a few moments to see if anybody would take his offer of resigning their position, Joel continued, “The teams will now consist of five members each. That will reduce us to five teams. I want four teams out at a time working in the perimeter. The fifth team will be stationed at the main gate to act as support. All teams will have two designated radiomen. I want check-ins every quarter hour with a location. The team staying in reserve will update the map we have of this place with locations of all mobile units.”
When the meeting broke and everybody was told to be ready to move out at first light in the morning, Joel allowed himself to process everything. Zombies had been bad. Humans had proved to be a larger threat than he’d originally figured, and now…zombie children that appeared to have at least some form of limited cognition or reasoning power.
He hated to let that thought free in the cosmos since he knew it was usually answered with something even worse, but he could not help but think, What’s next?
***
Joel moved down the hallway. He stepped over the body that had rotted to the point where it appeared to have melded with the carpeted floor and paused at the door to his left. He could hear wet smacking sounds mixed in with the occasional mewl of what might be somebody in pain.
Taking a deep breath, Joel closed his fist and held it up to halt the individuals behind him. Continuing to hold his breath, he leaned just enough to see inside the room.
The fact that this side of the house faced the rising sun would be a blessing any other time. But now, it allowed him to see in graphic detail what had been making those horrible wet noises.
The man was naked. The back of his right leg was torn apart, but the wound was almost dry, indicating it was an old injury from early on in the zombie uprising no doubt.
From the looks of things, the man had been aware of his eventual fate and chosen to end it by putting a pistol in his mouth and blowing his brains all over the wall. Crowded around the corpse were at least twenty cats of various sizes. His eyes fixed on what had once been a large, silver Persian. It regarded him for just a few seconds before resuming in its attempt to pull away a piece of flesh from the dead man’s side. Its whiskers were dark with blood, and its teeth almost appeared black.
“Welcome to the Hungry Cat Buffet,” Joel muttered. “Your server will be the main course.”
He knew that cats were sort of famous for being considered heartless animals, and that it was popular to tell the stories of cat owners dying only to be found days later with their cats feeding on them. Personally, he didn’t see the problem. Survival is instinctive. Some creatures show a greater aptitude than others.
Another of the cats looked up at him. This one a Calico with patches of black, orange, yellow, and white all over. It opened its mouth and let loose with a loud mewling sound that matched what he’d heard just a moment ago. However, he also noticed that every single cat’s head popped up. Every set of eyes rolled his way and fixed on him as he stood in the doorway. A few of the cats closest to him began to slink his direction.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Joel said, fighting to keep the sudden shiver that ran down his spine from leaking out in his tone.
Behind him, the rest of the team were busy searching the other rooms. He’d been chosen to actually remain in the hallway as support, but was free to roam its length as long as he was available for anybody who might find a nasty surprise while they cleared the residence.
He was leaning against the wall when a flash of light caught him off guard and caused him to jump. He heard other members of the team curse or yelp at the same time as lights when on throughout the residence.
“Power’s on!” somebody yelled needlessly.
Something hissed and popped in what Joel had figured to be the master bedroom when he’d passed by its open door. There was a crackle, a pop, and then…a human voice.
“…we are based at the Hoover Dam. If you can w
ork, and are prepared to join us wholeheartedly, then come to one of our entry gates and submit to being checked by our medical staff. We are only accepting able bodies free of injury. Children under the age of fourteen are prohibited.” There was a pause, and then the recorded loop began again. “If you are within the sound of my voice and want not to simply survive, but to carve out a life for yourself, then consider joining us. We are based at the Hoover Dam…”
Joel smiled. He’d approved the basic script written and recorded by Debra. A few of the citizens had paled at the part about not accepting children when it had been announced. The meeting had been an eye-opener for many of the citizens.
“Tell me what purpose there is to admitting an infant?” Debra had risen from her seat and climbed to the podium when the first murmurs had flowed through the assembled crowd. “Can they labor? Scavenge? Patrol the perimeter?” She paused long enough to allow her words to sink in. “The answer is that they cannot. All they can do is drain our very finite resources.
“It’s the human thing to do,” somebody shouted.
“Is it really?” Debra stepped to the edge of the dais and planted her hands on her hips. “And which of you is willing to forgo their food or water each day? Who will offer to go without sleep in order to not only perform the necessary tasks involved with caring for a child, but also their duties required to ensure the safety and security of the community?”
A silence fell over the group and Debra smiled. “If you people don’t get beyond the way things were done in the past, I’m afraid you won’t last long in the new world. Make no mistake…things have changed.”
“All clear,” a voice said from behind his right shoulder, bringing his mind back to the present. Joel turned to see Debra wiping off the blade she held in her hand.
“Gather everybody up and meet me out front,” Joel replied. He patted the woman on the shoulder and headed down the stairs.
Once outside, he removed the scarf over the lower part of his face and allowed himself to breathe in some of the fresh air. This particular house was on a hill in the northeast corner of the neighborhood. It was the last house on what the signs called Stone Canyon Road and almost sat as a lone sentinel over the entire community.
This would be Joel’s home. He’d known it the moment he saw it. It was in the perfect location, offered an excellent view of this, their first established community. As an added bonus, it was on the edge closest to the dam in case a hasty retreat had to be enacted.
As Joel stood in the driveway, he watched the other team, led by Will, as they held their defensive positions in support of his team. As soon as he made eye contact with the man, Joel motioned him over.
“What’s the word, boss?” Will asked as he trotted over, the sounds of his various weapons jangling acting as a sort of synchronized soundtrack to his movements.
“Power came on inside,” Joel said, stepping aside to allow the man to look into the open door that revealed a well-lit entry hall.
“I’ll be damned,” Will breathed. “They actually got it done, and ahead of schedule, no less.”
“Our broadcast is coming across the radio loud and clear. Send a message back to the control room and let them know.”
Moments later, Debra and the rest of the team exited. It was almost at that exact same moment that everybody spotted the single flare fired from someplace to the west of them. Both teams shaded their eyes from the sun and watched the sputtering flare as it left a trail of smoke to mark its descent.
“H-h-hello?” the portable radio on both teams’ radio operators crackled to life at the same time, creating a surreal echo that made the voice seem to be coming from the actual desert landscape of this luxury home’s front yard.
Joel held up a hand and shook his head in the negative in response to the inquiring looks that begged the obvious question. Everybody made ready whatever weapon they favored for what might be an attack by a group of living beings.
“My name is Dustin Gollyhorn. My group has ten people and we are trying to make contact with the people based at the Hoover Dam. If you can read me, please respond.” There was a slight pause, and then a hastily added, “Over.”
Joel shook his head again. There was nothing but a soft hiss from the two portable radios for long enough that people began to relax when they crackled to life again.
“We are currently just west of the highway, across from a sign for something called the River Mountains Loop Trail parking lot. We have secured a single residence, and want to join you, but our people spotted a group enter the housing community across the highway several hours ago. To our knowledge, they have not yet left. We would rather not draw their attention as they looked heavily armed and very organized. They might be military.”
Again there was a pause, but this one was only for a moment. “Hell, they might be listening in, and one of my people says that now they would know we are here. We’re just regular folks. I was postman from Salem, Oregon for Pete’s sake. We just voted and are going to try and make a run for it. So, if you see a group of folks who look scared out of their wits with what looks like a small band of soldiers on their heels, please don’t shoot us. We’ll work real hard.”
There was another crackle, and the sounds of people arguing about the wisdom in all the information that the speaker had freely given was being debated rather heatedly. Then…nothing.
“I’m gonna make a silly-wild-ass-guess and say we were the possible military group that his people saw,” one of the radio operators chuckled. “I know the lot he’s talking about. It’s right across from us which would also make it more than likely that these yay-hoos are the ones who fired the flare.”
“Let’s get out to the road and make contact,” Joel announced. He saw more than a couple of surprised expressions.
The teams shouldered their weapons and headed out of the Lake Mead View neighborhood and to Highway 93. Just as they reached where the vehicles were parked outside the barricade of packed in cars and trucks, they spied a group of people moving at a jog through the scrub brush on the far side of a large paved lot.
Joel held up his hand and signaled the team to stop. All of a sudden, something didn’t feel right. As if she could read his thoughts, Debra moved up beside him and unslung the grenade launcher she carried.
“Why would these people fire a flare if they were so worried about us?” she whispered as if the people far in the distance might be just a few feet away.
And there it was, Joel thought.
Something had started to feel…off. He just couldn’t figure out what that might be. He pointed to two of his people now gathered around and looking all over like they were expecting an enemy to materialize out of thin air. “Get the trucks started.”
As soon as the pair slipped past and started across the four-wide barricade of assorted automobiles, Joel turned to the others. “Will, Debra, get to the .50 cals as soon as we break for it. Shoot anything that moves.” Each of them gave solemn nods. “Everybody else keep your head on a swivel. There is something fishy here.”
The sounds of the pair of modified deuce-and-a-half transport trucks shattered the quiet with their diesel grumblings. Without another word, Joel turned and started for the trucks. While he took the first few steps, he slowed as soon as some of his other companions began to scurry past.
He was starting to feel silly about his feelings that something was amiss. Everybody was just about across the vehicle wall. All that would remain would be for them to load into the trucks and roll out.
The single crack of a rifle made its way to his ears, barely discernible from the noise made by the two transports. Joel might’ve even been able to convince himself that he’d been imagining things…until the woman to his right sprawled flat on her face with a metallic thud. Her face bounced off the hood of a sports car that probably cost a few hundred thousand and was no more valuable than the late Seventies model station wagon that its front bumper was crushed into to prevent anything from being able to wi
ggle through. Joel grabbed her head by a handful of hair and jerked it up, although the dark pool already seeping from it made that totally unnecessary. There was a neat bullet hole through the woman’s forehead.
Another crack sounded, and another of his people, a man who’d reached the end of the automobile wall and had just put his feet on the road, staggered a step and then fell hard. This one landed on his side, making it easy for everybody to see that he’d also been shot in the head. This time, the dark, puckered hole visible an inch below his right eye.
“Sniper!” somebody yelled needlessly.
9
Killing
Joel threw himself forward and hit the ground hard enough to make him wince. He rolled twice and came up against the rear wheels of the nearest Deuce. The smells of the diesel were gaggingly strong and he held his breath as he pushed himself to his feet. Staying in a low crouch, he hurried to the passenger side door of the cab. It flew open just as he arrived and a hand was reaching over to help him up.
Joel was just up and settling into his seat when he felt something sting his right cheek at the same time that a warm, viscous liquid splashed his face. The driver slumped over and toppled his direction. The back of her skull was a mess from the exit wound of the bullet that had ended her. Realizing quick that he would now make a prime and easy target, Joel pushed himself out and away from the truck. Again he landed hard enough to feel serious pain and began to vow terrible vengeance on the perpetrators of this attack.
“Cover!” somebody yelled from just behind him.
Joel rolled his head to see a young man on his hands and knees shoving his body tight against the wheel well of the Deuce he’d just evacuated. The young man gave him a curt nod as he unslung a scoped rifle from his shoulder, checking it to ensure it was ready to fire. Stretching out on the ground, he inched over until he was looking underneath the transport truck. With a detached precision, the man eased his eye to the scope, adjusted slightly, and then squeezed the trigger. There was a booming report, but it hadn’t even faded when the man was ratcheting another round into the chamber, adjusting slightly, and then firing again.
