Pandora 2: Death is not an Option

by McCrohan, Richard

  Africa was now an almost human-free zone. The rate of human to zombie was now ten thousand to one. What the zombies didn’t kill, disease and tribal killings took.

  In South and Central America, the big cities were almost given over to the zombies. Towns and regions were governed locally, and anyone entering was shot on site. They felt it more prudent to be careful and alive than humanitarian and dead.

  The United States and Canada were using a similar version of the Australian “Operation Pied Piper” that Europe was using. In rural areas, they used sound trucks to lure the undead to farmland, and then they bombed them there. However, in the urban areas, they would airlift the sound truck in by Chinook helicopter and place it onto one of the highways in the middle of the city. These would then be used to draw in zombies until the freeway was mobbed with undead. Then incendiary smart bombs would be guided in and reduce the undead to ashes. This, combined with the “base-jumping tactic” already in use, was proving to be a big success.

  The biggest and greatest victory was the United States and Great Britain’s joint success in finding a cure for the Pandora virus. Scientists working together in the two countries were able to crack the secret to the alien virus. It was actually a prion-based disease. The alien protein had used its own unique DNA that was attached. The protein attacked the prions in the brain, causing them to become diseased and replicate. The DNA part would, at the same time, take over and then replace parts of humans’ DNA. The prions would cause brain damage to the frontal lobes and cerebral cortex. The DNA taking over the body would kill its host and then wait for the alien DNA to reactivate the dead body. It wasn’t a total control event, as the alien virus couldn’t reanimate every part, and after a time that body succumbed to everything that happens to dead bodies: they decay. However, this process was very much slowed down. The brain was there basically to guide the host body around to walk, see, hear, and, most importantly, infect other humans and spread. Even the zombies’ voice was used almost as a “mating call” to let others know their prey was near.

  While this cure couldn’t help anyone who was already a zombie (after all, dead is dead), if given to a bite victim before any major organ or brain damage occurred, it would stop the Pandora virus from working. The scientists found a way to break the DNA strands from the prion proteins. They were codependent on each other, and when the death-causing alien DNA was separated and killed, the prions, now having no other function, “turned off” and became dormant. This was a huge success. If the spread of Pandora stopped and there was no chance of any new zombies being turned, the dealings with the rest of the undead would be much easier.

  Production of this cure was immediate and massive. Every country in the world was given the cure. For the most part, the leaders did the right thing and put their resources into developing the vaccine.

  At last, a light at the end of the tunnel. However, to get to that light, you actually had to make it through the tunnel alive.

  15

  Dawn had begun. The sun was just starting to peek its face over the horizon. It was going to be another hot day. There was a little moisture in the air still, but that would burn off in a couple of hours. Dill was sitting at the open door of the office for a shipping company. He had just finished stripping down his rifle, cleaning it, and then reassembling it again. Rube, who was sitting next to him, had done that earlier and was now honing the blade of his KA-BAR combat knife. Rube found the rhythmic whetting of the blade soothing. Comfort in repetition.

  “So,” Ruben began, “what do you think?”

  “’Bout what?” Dill answered, slapping the magazine back in place.

  “Our new wards,” Rube continued.

  “They’re not our wards,” Dill scoffed.

  “The hell they’re not,” Rube said, glancing at his best friend and comrade in arms. “The minute we saved their lives, they became our wards.”

  Dill took a big breath and blew it out. “Yeah,” he said, “I know.”

  “You think they’ll be able to keep up?”

  Pursing his lips and absently scratching his beard, Dill said, “Well, Steve looks to be in good shape. He’ll be okay. Luke, though, could afford to miss a couple of meals.”

  Rube snorted out a chuckle.

  “I think he’ll do all right, though,” Dill continued.

  “I’m not so sure about the old guy,” noted Rube.

  “Max?” Dill said. “Yeah, he’s seen his best a couple of wars ago…but he’s got balls, though. He’ll make it, if he doesn’t have a fucking heart attack first.”

  “I hear that,” Rube said with half a grin. “How ’bout the lady?”

  “I dunno. Maybe yes, maybe no. She’s apparently kept up so far. We’ll see.”

  “I really don’t want to be dragging their asses all over south Florida,” Rube said.

  Dill put the rifle up to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel. Satisfied, he put it in his lap and turned to his friend. “Maybe it’s time to look for some transportation.”

  Rube rested his head back against the concrete wall. Taking a breath and letting it out, he said. “Yeah, I guess so. I’d rather hoof it…a lot quieter that way, but I imagine commandeering a car would make the whole process a bit easier on everyone.”

  “Yep,” said Dill. “I saw a couple vans at the loading dock of this place. I’m going to go back in and see if there are keys hanging somewhere and check them out.”

  “Roger that,” Rube said, sheathing his knife. “I’ll go back and wake our new crew.”

  Both of the ex-SEALs went inside. Dill searched the office, finding a few sets of keys. He then went out to see if any of the vans would start. Rube went back to a larger room that looked as though it was a lounge for the drivers. There were chairs and couches as well as a small office refrigerator and coffeemaker. Both of the latter were now useless. The four people they were speaking about were sprawled out still asleep—except for Max. He was putting on his shoes. Glancing up as Rube came in, he said offhandedly, “I never could sleep past six o’clock.”

  Rube smiled and nodded. “Okay gang,” he called out. “Wakey, wakey. New day, new adventure.”

  Everyone started to stir. They all reacted with varying degrees of wakefulness. Max was already out the door; Steve stood, stretched, and then followed Max. Luke sat on the edge of the couch, looking a little befuddled. Smiling up at Rube, he said, “Morning.”

  “Rise and shine, Sunny Jim,” said Rube laughing. “A new dawn awaits.”

  Laughing softly to himself, Luke rubbed his face vigorously with both hands and stood. “Places to go, things to do, zombies to kill,” Luke mumbled as he passed Rube.

  He slapped Luke on the back as he left. “That’s the old spirit.”

  Ana was up on one elbow on the couch in the far corner. She looked at Rube sourly. “You’re awfully fucking happy so early in the damn morning.”

  “What can I say?” Rube shrugged. “I’m a people person.”

  “Great,” she huffed.

  “Come on,” Rube said as he started walking out. “Let’s chow down and see if we can get us a ride.”

  “Finally, you’re making sense,” Ana said as she threw off a ratty blanket that she had draped over her.

  They all gathered in the large warehouse portion of the business. Unfortunately, all they stored there were office supplies. Rube put a ream of copy paper into a metal trashcan and lit it. They boiled water that they obtained from the water cooler, and Rube produced a can of Folgers coffee, with which he made them all good and strong “cowboy” coffee. Dill walked in a little later, smiling. He had found a small delivery van they used for local calls. After dining on canned baked beans and crackers, they were ready to roll.

  “I siphoned gas from all the other vans, so we have a full tank,” Dill mentioned as they were packing up.

  Rube was driving with Dill riding shotgun. The rest piled in the back and made themselves comfortable on the boxes stacked inside. As they were climbi
ng in, the beans had already started to work their magic. As they hauled Max aboard, the sudden exertion caused him to let rip a loud fart. Unfortunately, Ana was standing behind him, next in line, and she caught a face full. For the entire first fifteen minutes of the drive, she cursed him up and down while everyone else was rolling on the floor in laughter.

  As the group settled in and quieted during the ride (except for the occasional snicker, which drew Ana’s dagger stare), Dill turned and said to the group, “The turnoff for Alligator Alley is up ahead. I don’t see any undead near, so we’ll stop here for a second. I’ll go and reconnoiter up ahead.”

  Rube pulled off to the shoulder. Dill got out and trotted up ahead. Rube said, “If you want to stretch your legs, now’s a good time to do so.”

  They all got out and worked the kinks out. Some bottles of water were passed out, and they took this opportunity to hydrate themselves. Luke munched on a stale protein bar. Max walked over to Rube and started asking him about SEAL training. He was reluctant at first, but Max’s age and enthusiasm prevailed. Plus, he had been a Marine in Vietnam.

  Dill was about two thousand feet ahead. Crouching down behind a large Chevy Suburban, he watched as two zombies reached into the shattered driver’s-side window of a Mini Cooper and came back with pieces of flesh, which they immediately shoved into their gore-splattered mouths. So intent were they on consuming their meal, they never noticed Dill sidle up behind them with his KA-BAR combat knife at his side. One of the ghouls, a woman in a filthy, gore-soaked pantsuit and with long, matted, blond hair that was stuck to her skull, had stuck her head inside the window and was chewing on the dead driver’s face. Her companion, a thin man in a ripped, gray suit, was trying to stick his arm past her for a piece of the driver. Silently moving behind the suited zombie, Dill drove the knife through his temple. When he fell, he banged into the female ghoul. As she was pulling her head back out of the car, Dill stepped up and shoved the blade into the base of her skull. She collapsed, half in and half out of the automobile.

  Wiping the blade on the zombie’s pants, Dill stood up and sheathed his knife. He had just started walking again when he heard a strange sound. At first, he thought it was a feral cat. The third time he wasn’t so sure. He took a couple of steps toward a clear part of the road, and then he heard a scraping sound. From around the front of an old station wagon came a little boy in blue pajamas. He couldn’t have been more than six years old. His parents probably tried to escape the city at night and dressed him for bed, hoping that he’d sleep through the ordeal. He imagined that they must have been stuck in the huge traffic jam and either someone turned or they fled the car and were attacked. The catlike noise he was hearing was the small boy’s hissing growl. His little face was pale, almost white. The dull, milky-eyed stare was aimed right at Dill. There was just a torn, shredded sleeve where his right arm should have been. The little zombie bared his teeth at Dill as he started shuffling forward. It broke his heart, as he could see a spray of freckles on his waxy cheeks and the gap where his front teeth were missing, never to grow in again.

  Shaking his head, Dill said softly, “Oh no, come on. This is just too fucking much.”

  As the impish creature came at him, he put his foot against its chest and pushed. The little zombie fell on his back. Hissing even louder, he got back up.

  “Please, just stay down.”

  As the zombie again came at Dill, he pushed him down one more time. When he started to rise again, a sudden anger surged through the ex-Navy SEAL. Not at the boy but at the entire situation he was forced to be in. Dill stepped forward and slammed the butt of his rifle down on the zombie’s skull. Once. Twice. Now he lay still. Dill turned abruptly and walked away. If he stared at that little boy any longer, he would break down.

  Reaching the turnoff for the road that would take them all the way to Naples and the west coast, he stopped. Taking a small pair of folding binoculars from his harness, he looked all the way down the highway. To his vast relief, it looked clear of any zombies. He walked over to look down from the overpass. There was a large number of undead roaming around below. Looking around, he spotted two ramps leading from the turnpike down to the streets below. If we don’t cause too much noise, he thought, we could get through without drawing them up here. He nodded his head. Maybe this will work.

  Dill jogged easily back to the waiting group. He informed them of their good luck in having a clear road ahead of them.

  Rube, who was watching him, noticed something was off. “You run into any zombies along the way?”

  “Nah.” Dill shrugged, hesitating slightly.

  “You sure?” Rube pressed.

  Dill looked at him, annoyed. “I said I’m good. I just want to grab a water and chill for a sec. It’s hot as hell today.”

  Rube put his hand up. “Okay, I’m cool.”

  There was a long silence as everyone sipped the water and looked at his or her feet uncomfortably.

  Dill and Rube were leaning on the van together, sipping water and staring off into space. Wanting to break the mood, Rube smiled slightly and said to Dill, “Hey. Remember that guy Dale back in Kandahar? Big blond dude?”

  Looking down at the ground, Dill started to smile. Then he chuckled, “Yeah, Dale. Dale Saunders. Wow! That was a real wild man. Had the spotter…What was his name? Jeff something…Kandinsky. Jeff Kandinsky.”

  “A spotter?” questioned Luke.

  Dill was still looking down and smiling as he reminisced. “Dale was our main shooter there.” He looked up. “Sniper. Jeff would be the lookout and cover his six. They were always together.” Dill tapped Rube’s arm with the back of his hand. “Remember? We called them Chip and Dale. Like those cartoon characters.”

  Rube was chuckling now also. A big grin was on his face. “Oh yeah.” He laughed. “Dale was nuts, man. But funny. Oh, shit.”

  “Remember when our team caught that Taliban leader?” asked Dill.

  Rube was rolling in laughter now. Everyone was listening raptly to the story.

  “What happened?” Max asked, smiling.

  “Well,” started Dill, now laughing heartily himself, “like I said, old Dale was a wild man. We’re holding this joker, waiting for a bird to bring in this spook so he could take him off our hands and in for interrogation. But while we’re waiting, Dale goes in to see if he can get anything out of him. Ha-ha. The guy won’t budge. A real hard-ass. He spits at Dale, calls him and his mother every name in the book.” Dill is laughing hard now. “And some that never even made it to the book. So Dale walks back out, and he’s royally pissed. Just then, we see the bird coming in with the CIA spook aboard, and we run over to greet him when he lands. Ha-ha. All except Dale. While we’re all by the landing zone making nice to James Bond, Dale strips off all his clothes, puts a canvas sack over his head, and goes back in and beats the shit out of the terrorist fuck.

  “We all get back, Dale’s with us now, and we open the door so the CIA could take their man, and he’s lying there groaning, all beat to shit. ‘What the hell is this?’ the spook starts yelling. ‘No one’s supposed to touch this guy but us! I want to know who did this, yada, yada, yada.’ Well, we all figured it out, but we said, ‘I don’t know. I guess he fell off his chair.’ Well, the CIA ain’t buying any of this shit, and they line us up and ask Mr. Taliban, ‘Who did this to you?’ He just screams out, ‘I don’t know, his head was covered.’ ‘Well, what rank was he?’ ‘I don’t know; he was naked.’ I’m telling you, we’re all pissing ourselves trying not to laugh. So the spook, exasperated, says, ‘You don’t remember anything about him?’ Taliban thinks for a second and says, ‘Yes, yes, wait…he was circumcised.’ I’m ready to lose it right there when Dale yells out, ‘Wait, we need to do a lineup like on those cop shows.’ Dale steps over to him, drops his pants, and waves his junk in his face. We all run over and do the same thing. Waving them around his face yelling, ‘Does this look familiar?’”

  Laughing so hard that he can barely stand, Rube sputter
ed out, “I swear to God, I think Dale actually slapped him on the nose with his johnson.”

  By now everyone is laughing hysterically, even Ana.

  “Oh, man,” said Dill, wiping his eyes. “Oh, man, like I said, Dale was a wild man. Ohhh shit.”

  Still chuckling, everyone got ready and prepared to mount up again.

  “Hey, Dill,” Ana asked, “whatever happened to Dale?”

  Dill looked at her. Then, getting ready to take over the driving, he said softly, “Nothing. About a month later, he stepped on an IED, and it blew him in two. He died in my arms trying to stuff his guts back in.” He took a long, slow breath. “He was a wild man, though.”

  Regina and Malik sat in her SUV inside of the garage. “I have half a tank of gas,” she noted. “That should be enough.”

  “Once we meet everyone at the rendezvous point, we’ll see how transportation works out,” added Malik.

  “I hope they all made it,” said Regina forlornly.

  “Me too,” said Malik. “We couldn’t see what was going on in the restaurant, but it sounded like pure chaos.”

  “I wonder if they know we’re alive,” Regina said. “Think they’ll wait?”

  Malik sat still for a second and then nodded his head. “Yes, I think they will.”

  She started the vehicle up. They had done that last night. Took a few times, but it finally started. They ran it for about a half hour to juice up the battery.

  “All right,” she said, “open the garage doors, and let’s get going.”

  Malik got out, walked to the doors, and grabbed the manual override. He pulled it, walked over, and reached down for the handle. Right before he lifted, he thought he heard some scratching sounds. Oh shit, he thought. It’s now or never.

  Grabbing the handle with both hands, he squatted down and swiftly raised the door all the way up. Two very surprised zombies were standing outside. They watched the door go up with puzzled looks. That ended when they noticed Malik. These two, one a middle-aged man in jeans and a Daytona Speedway T-shirt, and the other an older woman with the side of her face missing, seemed freshly turned. As Malik ran back and jumped into the SUV, they ran after him. The man almost caught Malik, but he was just a second too late. He alternated pulling on the handle and smashing his face into the passenger-side window. He would widely open his jaws as he hit the window, seemingly trying to bite his way through the glass. Soon the window was a mass of blood and broken teeth. The woman running behind him spied Regina sitting behind the wheel and, turning, jumped on the hood of the vehicle. Pulling herself forward with the two windshield wipers, she started beating on the windshield, growling and snarling.