Fred glanced down at Rachel. She was lying on the ground, softly groaning. As much as he wanted to check on her, there were more pressing matters. He stayed crouched and slowly pivoted in a full circle, peering through the spaces between the barn slats, looking for any other people.
After what seemed like an eternity, but in fact was only a minute, Fred crab-crawled over to Rachel. She looked up at him, her face contorted in pain.
“They shot me in the ass,” she whispered.
Fred grunted and looked at her backside. Blood was seeping through a small hole in her panties.
“Is there anyone else?” she whispered.
“I don’t think so,” he whispered back and then tapped her butt with a finger. “It’s a small hole, birdshot probably. Most of the blast was absorbed by that old barn wood, but you either have a pellet or a small piece of wood in your right cheek. You were lucky.”
“Yeah, lucky,” she muttered. She grimaced and bit her lip as Fred took a bandanna out of his pocket and pressed it against the wound. He then grabbed her hand and placed it on the bandanna.
“Keep pressure on it. I need to check around, but I’ll be back.”
“Be careful, Mister Big-Dick-Third-Bull.”
Fred scowled, but Rachel was undaunted and gave him a flirtatious wink. She then waved him off with her revolver. Fred reminded himself to chastise her about gun safety later before working his way out of the barn door.
He carefully made his way around the barn, scanning the area looking for others. The Malloy was a family of five; four adults and one kid. He found JR’s brother, Calvin, lying on the ground in the fetal position, a double-barrel shotgun lying on the ground a few feet away. There were two bullet holes in the chest. Even so, the man was still alive and breathing in ragged gasps.
Fred frowned and inspected his revolver a moment before focusing on the man. “Oh Lordy, do you see that?” he asked casually and pointed at the man’s chest. “My aim was off by almost an inch. I’m out of practice. Unacceptable, totally unacceptable.”
The man tried to respond, but only succeeded in coughing up blood. Fred knew it was futile to try to save him, or even getting him to talk, so he holstered his revolver, took out his knife, and buried it into the eye socket. He twisted the blade a couple of times to ensure there was enough destruction to the brain before checking the rest of the area.
When Fred walked back into the barn ten minutes later, Rachel had taken off the panties she’d been wearing and was inspecting them.
“This was my last pair of Victoria’s Secret,” she lamented. She then gazed at Fred and dangled the bloody panties off her index finger.
“I bet these remind you of taking your girlfriend’s virginity on prom night, am I right?” She giggled but quickly grimaced again and let out a string of expletives.
“Painful, huh?” Fred said.
Rachel gave him a withering stare. “Yes, it’s painful. Are we going to Weather and get Parsons to fix me up?” she asked.
“Yep,” Fred answered.
“Yep to Mount Weather or yep to prom night?” Rachel asked.
“Yep.”
Chapter 19 – Fort Detrick
Captain Justin Smithson did not have time to sit in Fort Detrick’s TOC chewing the fat with President Stark and the others—he had a military compound to protect. He dropped the handset while the president was gabbing on about something and headed topside.
When Fort Detrick was originally built, there was no concept of defense works in mind, other than some chain-link fencing and sentry posts at the entrances. A sprawl of several buildings located in Fredrick, Maryland, its original purpose was for communication, scientific research, and medical logistics. It was also the location to the Army’s medical research institute of infectious diseases. It housed the research centers for biological counter warfare. The acronyms of each entity were the USAMRIID, the USAMRDC, and the NBACC. At its height, the Detrick complex employed around eleven thousand people.
One day in late November, most of the personnel became infected within the time span of an hour. Chaos and death ensued. The place remained dormant and full of zeds until the Mount Weather people came in, cleaned the place up, and reactivated it.
Over the last couple of years, Justin had led the way on building defense works. The primary perimeter lined Porter Street and northwest along Freeman Drive where it went through the parking lot of the NBACC structure. It then circled around to Veterans Drive and back to Porter Street.
It was too large a perimeter for the scant amount of manpower he had on hand, so they’d built a series of bunkers around the inner perimeter. Some of them had overlapping fields of fire, but it was not complete and there were multiple blind spots. Justin armed himself with his old Marine-issued M4 and as many magazines as he could stuff in his web gear and cargo pants before jogging to the sandbagged bunker located outside of the administration building facing Porter Road. Stretch was in there, occasionally taking shots at zeds running by. She hit more than she missed, but several were getting by her. Justin wasted no time. He took the opening in the adjacent parapet beside Stretch, locked and loaded, and began picking off targets.
“They didn’t have much trouble breaching the outer perimeter,” Stretch shouted over the gunfire. “They definitely aren’t the old zeds.”
Justin grunted in agreement. The old zeds were too stupid to figure out how to climb over defense works. Back at the CDC in Atlanta, they finally figured out how to lay down and stack themselves so others could walk over them. Their outer defense works was a five-foot-high wall of sandbags and other assorted items. It was good enough for the old zeds, but these zeds were able to climb over it.
He watched as two of them tumbled over the wall, righted themselves, and then started ambling toward his position. He took quick aim and fired, but the moment he hit the first zed, the other one broke away and zigged off into another direction.
The QRF arrived precisely fifty minutes after the alarm was sounded. Justin quit shooting and watched in amusement as the deuce-and-a-half’s driver drove around in circles, allowing the soldiers in back to shoot zeds with little difficulty. It was all over an hour later.
After, Justin and Jeremiah rode around the entire compound and inspected the carnage.
“Over a hundred,” the first sergeant remarked.
“Yeah, more like two hundred,” Justin replied. “It’s going to be a hell of a mess to clean up.”
“Did anybody get hurt?” Jeremiah asked.
Justin shook his head. “We were lucky, I guess. Stretch was at the main post and was the first to spot them. She’d killed over a dozen before anyone else could respond.”
“Sounds like promotable material,” Jeremiah mused.
“In fact, I’ve been giving serious thought to that. Today was all I needed.” He looked around. “Stretch!” he yelled. Stretch came running up a moment later.
“Sir?” she asked.
“You’re promoted. You’re the second in command here until you screw it up,” Justin said. “We’ll do the formalities later. In the meantime, get a team to physically inspect each zed. We need a final count and physical descriptions.”
“Search them too, right, sir?” Stretch asked.
“Goes without saying,” Justin replied. “Bring all identifications and anything else of interest to me. Also, task someone to round up a camera and take photographs of each zed. Get going.”
Justin took a deep breath, organized his thoughts, and decided the first order of business was to personally visit each guard post to make sure his people were okay.
Chapter 20 – Aftermath
The all-clear was given at 1900 hours. We downsized the guard manpower, and then the president wanted an immediate meeting. Since Justin and Jeremiah were still at Fort Detrick, it fell on me to give the after-action report. I knew how it was going to go. I was going to be peppered with questions and I had only a small amount of information.
“Captain Smithson r
eports no casualties, no injuries, and approximately one hundred and eighty-seven zeds killed. There were more, but several escaped into the night. The fact that they took off when they realized they were being massacred is an indicator that these are fifteens,” I said and waited for any questions.
“Ammunition expended?” the VP asked.
“They’ve not yet had a chance to conduct an inventory, but I’m certain Captain Smithson will have that information before breakfast tomorrow.”
VP Rhinehart nodded and waved a finger in a circle, his way of motioning me to continue.
“First Sergeant Crumby stated the QRF is going to stage at Fort Detrick for the night in case there are any secondary attacks. They are going to recon the immediate area at first light tomorrow. If they don’t find anything, they’ll return to Mount Weather. Any questions?”
“Does anyone know where they came from?” The VP asked.
Despite William Rhinehart’s office, or maybe because of it, he did not do much of anything these days except sit in meetings and ask questions. In the past, I had thought it was ridiculous, a waste of oxygen, but then I noticed a tactic of the president. He let everyone else ask the questions and he would process the information derived from the answers given. It was a good tactic. I had been working on putting together a series of leadership classes for the students and I was going to use this tactic as a training tool.
“There were two of them who still had their wallets. Both had addresses in Baltimore. As you all know, the latest Intel on Baltimore indicates there are still several thousand zeds in the area.”
“So, they’re migrating,” Senator Duckworth said.
“It appears that way,” I replied. “But there is another possibility. Captain Smithson believes they were specifically targeting the NBACC building. If that’s true, this is not simply a case of zeds who are migrating in search of food.”
“How could they have the mental capacity to do that?” Senator Duckworth asked. “Let me be specific. How do they have the mental capacity to conduct a coordinated, mission-specific operation?”
“I do not know, Senator, but we could speculate and say these fifteens somehow know about the building, but the CDC came under a similar coordinated attack, and for that matter, back in Tennessee we were the focus of a coordinated attack.”
Rhinehart perked up. “Oh? I haven’t heard of this.”
“Me neither,” President Stark said.
I told them about a zed we’d nicknamed Big Bastard. We’d captured him in order to learn more about zed behavior. He escaped and somehow orchestrated a coordinated attack on our farm.
“Interesting,” Stark said when I had finished. “They’re still capable of thinking. Even the fourteens.”
“Some are basically brain dead, but some of them still have thought processes,” I said. “Doctor Parsons believes the pathogen has many strains and each strain can affect the brain in different ways.”
“So, how do they know about the labs?” Senator Duckworth asked. “Can they still read the signs?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe they’re reading the signs, maybe some of them used to work there and the memory is still intact, or maybe they are communicating telepathically.”
Rhinehart scoffed. “There you go with that theory again.”
My jaw muscles tightened. “Yes, Mister Vice President, there I go with that theory again, and as I’ve pointed out before, our anecdotal evidence is slowly but steadily turning into credible empirical data to support my theory.”
Rhinehart started to retort, but Bob cut him off.
“I must agree with our young director,” Duckworth said. “If they somehow know what is inside the NBACC building, there will be more attacks.” He paused a moment in thought. “Alright, I didn’t realize what I just said means they may know about Patient Eve and her baby. Are they trying to get to her for some reason?”
“Why would they want to get to her?” Rhinehart asked. “She’s not food. All they want is to feed.”
“So, if that is their goal, what is the reason? Rescue her, maybe?” President Stark mused. He turned to me, waiting for a response.
“I’m not sure, Mister President, but it is certainly possible. Remember when Melvin took his ex-wife out in the woods and killed her?”
“The zeds came out of the woods and carried her off,” he said. “Is there a corollary I’m not seeing?”
“Perhaps,” I replied. “Nobody knew what they did with the body until Fred found her. She’d been buried in a grave. I asked Melvin if he did it, and he assured me he didn’t. Think of that; the zeds buried one of their dead. What’s more, one or more zeds periodically visit her grave and leave stones on top of it.”
Stark arched an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Wait, you’re telling us the zeds buried a dead zed and they visit the grave and leave gifts?” Kate asked. She was normally quiet during meetings like these, preferring instead to listen and take notes for Stark.
“As unbelievable as it sounds, yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
They all stared at me in a mixture of confusion, incredulity, and disbelief.
“I have an idea of what y’all are thinking. That’s why Fred and I kept it to ourselves. At least, up until now. They can think again. They solve problems and work together. And, I am still a firm believer that the virus has somehow given them telepathy, at least on a basic level.”
“That’s a pretty farfetched amount of speculation, Gunderson,” Rhinehart remarked.
“Yes, it is,” I replied. “I could be wrong, but we should not underestimate them.” I fixed all of them with a stare. “I’ll speculate even further. They are fully aware of Patient Eve and her baby.”
Everyone was silent for a solid two minutes. Kate was typing something into her laptop. I happened to know she documented everything during Stark’s meetings. Finally, the president spoke.
“Alright, I think we generally understand the attack, but there are several unanswered questions. Zach, tomorrow, I want you to go up to Fort Detrick. See if you can learn more. Recon the area. Take anyone you need with you, but we can’t have the QRF traipsing around the countryside and out-of-pocket. That is not their purpose.”
Vice President Rhinehart cleared his throat. “The trial is starting tomorrow.”
The president’s jawline tightened. We had a recent meeting where he specifically ordered all of us to attend the trial in a show of support for the Mount Weather judicial process.
“The trial. Of course.” He drummed his fingers. “Your absence will not only be noted, it may fuel unwarranted rumors. Alright, Director Gunderson, attend the trial, but as soon as it is over, take care of this.”
“Understood,” I said.
“Zach?” Bob asked.
“Yes, Senator?”
“Count me in, if you don’t mind,” he said.
“Absolutely,” I said.
We discussed a few more things before I left the conference room. As soon as I walked out, Fred was standing there.
“Hey, Old Man, what are you doing here?” I asked.
“Rachel’s been shot.”
My jaw dropped. “What? How bad is it?”
“She took a small pellet to her right butt cheek. The doc tried to get it out without surgery and decided it’d be better just to leave it. She’ll be alright, providing she doesn’t get infected.”
I thought for a second. “She was at the CDC after it went bad. That means she’s been inoculated with every vaccine there is, including a tetanus shot, which lasts for ten years. She should be fine.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty tough,” Fred said.
“So, tell me about it,” I said.
“It was JR and Calvin Malloy. They snuck up on us while we were in the barn,” Fred said.
I nodded solemnly. Back almost two years ago now, we evicted the Malloys from Mount Weather. They relocated to a home on Winchester Road, which was only a few miles from Weather
. Fred was the person who discovered them. He was going to run them off, but he said they were so pitiful looking he went back to Weather, loaded his truck up with supplies, and brought it back to them.
“I wonder what they were up to?” I mused. “I mean, you’ve actually helped them out a time or two.”
Fred’s left shoulder moved slightly, his way of giving a shrug. “I thought I’d ride out to their place tomorrow and see what’s going on. You want to go?”
“I’d love to, but the trial starts in the morning and as soon as it’s over, I have to go to Fort Detrick. They had a zed attack.” I explained the circumstances to Fred.
“Alright,” he said. “I’m going to leave Rachel here and go check things out.”
“Why don’t you take Sammy?” I suggested. Fred stared, wondering if I was joking. “He’s sixteen now. It wasn’t so long ago when I was sixteen and I met a tough old cuss riding a horse. We did a lot together. Besides, he’s having a little bit of a problem with Serena. Maybe you can give him some good advice.”
Fred thought about it for a few seconds before responding with a small nod.
It was late when I got back to my room. Kelly was sitting up in bed reading a book. She smiled when I walked in.
“Hello, stranger,” she said.
“Hi, yourself,” I replied and began stripping out of my clothes. I got in bed and pulled the covers up.
“Tell me all about it,” she said.
I went over everything. I liked talking to Kelly. She was a good listener, easy to talk to, and always allowed me to vent when I needed to. When I’d finished, I took a deep breath.
“So, enough about me, how was your day?” I asked.
“School was pretty good. During our civics class, we took them to the conference room and explained the upcoming trial. Isidro promptly pointed out it didn’t look like a courtroom that he’d seen in the movies.”
Zombie Rules (Book 7): The Fifteens Page 12
