THE FIFTEENS
Zombie Rules Book 7
By David Achord
www.severedpress.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2020 David Achord. All rights reserved.
Journal Entry - June 1st, 9 A.Z.
We are approaching the first decade of the apocalypse, and to steal a line from an old classic—it is the best of times and it is the worst of times.
First, I can proudly say that Mount Weather and our nearby communities are thriving, all things considered. Our birth survival rate is exceeding expectations and our population continues to increase every year. We are now at a little over five hundred in the surrounding area. Our crop production and livestock management would be the envy of any small country. Nobody in our community is going hungry.
We have two fully functioning hydroelectric dams that provide more than enough electricity, and they were both built to last for hundreds of years. Thankfully, we have two master electricians living at Mount Weather who keep our power grid in working order.
Marcus Hook, our nearest sister community, is thriving as well. Its two leaders, Roscoe Sidebottom and Johnny G, have a laid back but well-organized operation. They are continuing to have success with diesel production, and we have successfully connected them to the hydroelectric power grid. They are also continuing an ongoing project of building a protective wall along I-95 with the goal of extending it all the way into Philadelphia. The southeast side is the coast, so it is hoped to enclose this area, make it a zed-free zone, and repopulate it. This could also possibly allow us to tap into vast resources located within the city which have been inaccessible due to the numerous zed hordes. With diesel and electricity, we can start using some of the industrial facilities again, and of course establish a safe port along with a seaworthy fleet.
This is an ambitious effort, and it would include the Philadelphia International Airport, along with the naval yard to the north of it. Our timeline predicts this can be achieved within the next five years, but it is also hoped the zed problem will have resolved itself by then.
Oak Ridge, the second-largest survivor community we know about, also continues to thrive. Their current population is close to five hundred, which is a respectable number to keep fed and healthy. They have declined our offer of diesel fuel because they have a nuclear plant to power everything and they have mastered the use of battery power. Almost every piece of machinery they have, whether it be a car or a bulldozer, are operated by rechargeable batteries. They share our love of country and the desire to rebuild the American society, but they have also made it clear that they consider themselves an autonomous entity.
Two scouting teams recently returned from Dayton and Cincinnati, Ohio. Both locations, once survivor settlements, are now abandoned, vacant of humans. They were once thriving, but they are lost now. The sabotaged vaccines we supplied them was the cause.
This same team, led by Gunnery Sergeant Joker Lutz, also took the initiative to check out Camp Perry, which was located north of Dayton. Camp Perry was once utilized for small arms and rifle training (among other things) and therefore it was hoped to locate much-needed ammunition. Unfortunately, it was a bust. The place had sustained severe damage. It appeared that an intense firefight took place which included either aerial or artillery bombardment. Suffice it to say, the who, what, how, and why it happened is lost to history and Camp Perry is in ruins.
This is a recurring story when it comes to military installations, most of which seems to have been targeted during the chaos that reigned when the world spiraled into the abyss.
In continuing with the “worst of times” theme, I’ll try to summarize what life is presently like:
We have now gone roughly nine years without anything being manufactured and are feeling the effects of it. Things we once took for granted, like shoes, tires, toilet paper, toothpaste, medicine, they’re all quickly becoming a rarity. We must rely on scavenging to replace these items or repurposing other items. We’d love to be able to start manufacturing items, but there are many obstacles to overcome.
Medicine—If anyone develops cancer or needs an organ transplant, their days are numbered. We simply don’t have the means to deal with major illnesses or injuries.
Satellites—We have depended on the satellites to be our eyes to the world. Currently, we only have access to six. As time goes on, we are unable to perform adequate signal maintenance. Their orbits decay, their programming develops glitches, and they ultimately go off-line.
Ammunition—We are facing critical shortages of ammunition. Cartridge casings can only be reloaded a finite number of times. One good note about Camp Perry. Joker’s team was able to recover over numerous rounds of expended cartridge casings. Like I mentioned, there were one or more firefights and brass was lying around everywhere. Cleaning, inspecting, and reloading will be an arduous task, but currently, we have no alternative.
The infrastructure of cities continues to deteriorate. Without man’s intervention, there is no preventive maintenance, no repairs, no TLC. Mother Nature is slowly but surely reclaiming it all. Everything from natural disasters to heavy rainfalls, an errant lightning strike; a scout team will go on a mission down a road and see a small pothole. Six months later, that same small pothole has grown exponentially into a gaping crag in the road. We have tried to compensate, but with dwindling resources and the ever-present threat of zeds, it is a difficult challenge.
The dynamic of Mount Weather and the surrounding communities of survivors is robust, cohesive. Any disagreements have been relatively minor in nature and almost all have resolved without further issue.
We have revamped the political system of the provisional government of the United States of America. Our districts have been reconfigured. Senators are no longer state senators; they now represent districts of survivors.
We’ve made repeated radio contact with survivor groups in seventeen different states. This is extremely encouraging and has allowed us to get a more accurate perspective of how many people are currently alive in America.
Still, we have a long way to go. In nine years, we’ve only established community relations in a five-hundred-mile radius.
And lastly, there has been an uprising of sorts. Nothing violent, but significant, nonetheless. A petition was started, and the overwhelming majority of the Mount Weather and surrounding communities have demanded a presidential election. After much deliberation, an election is set to be held in November.
As I am writing this, President Abe Stark is running unopposed, but there have been rumblings of discontent out there. There have been anonymous flyers distributed in communities accusing the current administration of being corrupt and running a dictatorship. I’ve also been named in at least one flyer as being a personal henchman of President Stark. Oh, and they did not stop there. They went on to call Kate, Stark’s mistress, all kinds of colorful names.
The mere fact that somebody has access to so much paper and a printer with good ink is impressive, but the rhetoric in the flyers is filled with distorted and exaggerated facts with outright lies thrown in here. Normally, I would have laughed it off, but there are people out there who are believing the nonsense. It is both concerning and troubling to many of us.
And finally, there are the zeds. Many have died off, and while that is a good thing, there are still a few million of them out there. What’s more, as I have noted in past journal entries, the zeds are continuing to display unusual behavioral patterns. Here is a short list:
Emotions—There have been recorded instances where zeds have displaye
d almost human emotions, like fear.
Teamwork—There have been multiple instances of zeds working in tandem rather than as a mindless horde. The attack on the CDC is but one example. This leads to my next item.
Cognition—When the plague first hit, it turned normal humans into mindless killers. They had almost no cognition above the primordial level. Now, we’ve seen multiple instances of more advanced thought processes.
Communication—The zeds have been observed communicating with each other through grunts and occasional gestures, but there have also been observed instances of what seems to be telepathic communication. Nobody can explain it. I certainly can’t. There is a lot of speculation about it. Some say it is merely the overactive imaginations of humans, while others believe the virus has somehow activated certain parts of the brain that allow this.
I will continue to keep a record of the events as time permits.
Faithfully submitted, Zach Gunderson – Director of Operations
Chapter 1 – Mission Briefings
I had a quick dinner and hustled over to the conference room. I was going to give three back-to-back mission briefings and I wanted to get set up before everyone came in and started distracting me. It was mostly a show and tell for the politicians and the other community leaders who lived around Mount Weather. Still, it was necessary.
My beautiful wife came in a few minutes later with the kids in tow and gave an apologetic smile.
“We had to take a potty break,” she said.
I chuckled and went back to synching my laptop to the whiteboard.
Little Frederick, who was going to be seven soon, plopped down in a chair beside me and watched me work. Kelly walked Macie over to a dry erase board, stood her on a chair, and handed her a marker. Macie stared at it a moment and then looked at me questioningly.
“What do you want me to draw, Daddy?” she asked.
“How about some flowers to brighten up the room?” I suggested.
Her face lit up and she began drawing. I was sure to catch some guff for letting her use one of the markers—we only had a limited number of them—but I didn’t care. Watching her draw flowers with a big grin on her face was more than worth it.
Kelly found a place to sit with Hardy on her lap. I focused back on my work but could not help smiling to myself. Despite how things were in the world, I often thought of myself as the luckiest man alive. But, as a parent, I’m often conflicted. How much do I shelter and protect my children from the horrors and atrocities that exist outside of the protection of Mount Weather? If I do, they won’t know how to survive once they are on their own. I guess it’s been a quandary for all parents going back to the days when mankind lived in caves. There was going to be a point in time where I would have to teach Macie about zeds and the lawlessness of the world beyond Mount Weather, but for now, she was going to draw flowers.
People started filtering in. I socialized, smiled, and conversed because that’s what I was expected to do. Personally, I would’ve rather been doing some night fishing or out hunting zeds.
The members of the scout teams came in next. All of them were cutting up and joking with each other. All except True—he didn’t joke around and I don’t think I ever saw him laugh.
President Stark walked in promptly at 1930 hours. Kate dutifully followed. He spent precisely five minutes engaging in small talk before taking his usual seat and giving me a slight head nod. I stood and addressed the audience.
“Hello, everyone. As you all know, we have three missions scheduled to begin tomorrow morning, so let’s get to it. The first mission briefing is Operation Lake City, which will be executed by Team Mad Dog.”
I was interrupted by some hoots and whistles from the other team members. Team Mad Dog was led by none other than Melvin “Mad Dog” Clark. He was wildly popular, due to his quick wits and zany behavior. I grinned and waited patiently until the cacophony died down before continuing.
“This will be the longest mission we’ve attempted in several years. Team Mad Dog will travel a tad under one thousand miles to Lake City’s ammunition plant, which is in Independence, Missouri. The primary purpose of this mission is to secure ammunition and any manufacturing equipment for ammunition. If they are successful, we are going to use the equipment to build our own ammunition manufacturing plant.”
There was assorted clapping and witty remarks, indicating everyone was in a good mood and excited for these missions. I clicked on the computer mouse and a photo popped up on the screen.
“This is an older satellite photo of Lake City. It’s about a year old. Unfortunately, we are unable to get an updated photo. However, as you can see, the plant appears dormant, unused. If luck is on our side, the plant is still intact. The biggest hope is there is an abundance of ammunition still at the facility.
“Alright, moving on to our second mission, Team Joker will be executing Operation Holston. This team will be led by Gunnery Sergeant Joker Lutz and his teammates will be Joe Fitzpatrick Senior and Joe Junior.” I looked up and saw confusion on a couple of faces. “You guys know them as Trader Joe and Little Joe. They currently live at Marcus Hook.”
“Oh, okay,” someone muttered. I looked over to see it was a man who happened to be sitting beside Riley. She saw me looking and rolled her eyes. I smiled.
“The Fitzpatricks originally lived in Bristol, so their knowledge of the area will be invaluable.”
I clicked on the mouse, which brought up the relevant satellite photo. “His team will be traveling to the Holston ammunition plant, located in Kingsport, Tennessee. Their primary mission is to locate and secure explosive materials and safely transport them back to Mount Weather. Before you ask, the answer is yes, this is also an older photograph. It’s a couple of years old, but it also shows a dormant facility. It is hoped the storage magazines have kept the explosives intact.”
“Don’t blow your asses up,” someone said which sparked more laughter.
“Our third mission, Team Flash, will be leading Operation Virginia Beach Two. They will be going back to the Richmond, Portsmouth and Virginia Beach area, which will include Fort Eustis and Norfolk Naval Base. Their primary mission is scouting, scavenging, and Intel gathering. As you all know, Flash, Erin, and Sully were living in Virginia Beach during the outbreak. They are intimately familiar with the area, so this will serve to their advantage.” I paused and clicked on the next slide.
“This is a series of recent satellite photos of Virginia Beach. The photos move westerly toward Norfolk and Portsmouth. Nothing much has changed, but then we go to a series of nighttime photographs.”
I clicked through a few slides and then stopped on one. “If you look close toward the upper left of the picture, you’ll see a couple of pinpricks of light. This is artificial light, which means there are survivors in the area.”
There was a little bit of murmuring among people in the audience, even though this information had been common knowledge for a few days.
“In addition to the usual scouting and scavenging duties, Team Flash is tasked with attempting to locate these survivors. It is believed it is only a small group of people who move around from place to place, but they stay primarily within the Portsmouth and Virginia Beach area.”
“Maybe Flash will find him a girlfriend,” someone in the audience quipped, which brought more laughter.
I smiled, but I couldn’t laugh. Flash was a good guy, but it didn’t seem like any of the single ladies around here thought of him as anything other than a friend. I also knew something that was only known to a couple of us. First Sergeant Crumby, Joker, Melvin, and I had put together an operational risk assessment for each mission. Short answer, it was determined that each mission needed at least twice the manpower, but due to many extenuating circumstances, the number was limited to three people each for Teams Joker and Flash, while Melvin’s team was going to have four members.
I wasn’t overly concerned with Joker and Melvin. They were tough and experienced, as were their team memb
ers. Joker was a Marine with ample combat experience. His two teammates, the father-son team commonly known as Trader Joe and Little Joe, were capable, and I happened to know Little Joe was an excellent shot, almost as good as his sister.
Melvin was a former Special Forces soldier who at one time had been considered for the Medal of Honor. Logan and Liam were burly men and were Pittsburgh cops back before. True was the quiet type, a former soldier as well, and he was mostly a loner who never displayed his emotions. His teammates swore by him and Melvin said he was a damn good friend. I pitied anyone who tried something against any of them.
Flash and his two team members were not tough, hardened veterans. Sure, they’d survived the apocalypse, but there was no military or police experience in their background. Plus, this was going to be the first mission in which Flash was a designated team leader. He was a good guy and capable, but I was worried his lack of experience might be a detriment if things went sideways.
I concluded the mission briefings and opened the floor for questions and answers. There were the usual superficial questions that were unnecessary and a waste of time. However, Doctor Salisbury stood and requested all teams to make an extra effort to locate medical supplies, especially catheters. This was met with a small round of applause, which was nice, but there were also a couple of snickers.
It was a poorly kept secret that Vice President Rhinehart was having prostate issues and sometimes he could not urinate and had to resort to the occasional use of a catheter. Some clown had even written a few disparaging remarks about it on the stalls in the men’s restrooms on the main floor.
“Alright, if there are no further questions, I believe we can quit for the night. Breakfast is at 0500 hours. The breakfast crew is scheduled to start an hour earlier than normal to accommodate us. My advice to the team members is arrive early and eat a hearty meal before leaving. We muster in front of the motor pool at 0600 hours.”
Zombie Rules (Book 7): The Fifteens Page 1
