Dennis watched as French joined in with his new brethren. His eyes now looked like all the others . . . stained a deep, uniform red due to bloodshot. All discernable trace of humanity was gone. Ana screamed and grabbed onto the back of Dennis’ shirt. He reached into one of the large rack lockboxes at the foot of his cot and handed her his gas mask. “Put this on!”
“What about you??!!” she shouted, her face full of tears.
“We’re in an armory! I have another one in there . . . NOW!”
She complied. A loud boom echoed behind them. Victoria and Doctor Miles were at an open doorway that lead to a stairwell.
“I hear the helicopter . . . let’s get to the roof!” Victoria yelled over the sound of the chaos.
Dennis screamed for Christian, who was now in an all-out sprint to the stairs. “Come on, man! Run!”
“I’m out! Oh, fuck, I’m out!!” Christian said and dropped the machine gun to the floor. He reached into the waistband of his pants and pulled out a black-finished handgun. They all had taken quite a bit of firepower from the armory and stored it . . . at the other end of the building. In Alvin’s room. There was no getting to it now. All they had was what they had on them. The bullets did nothing but drive them back for a second. If one was lucky enough, they’d stumble and fall for a mere moment or it would hit a weak spot on one of their legs, severing it. By and large, any weapon against these things was useless, unless it separated the heads from the spines or incinerated them.
They all ran to the stairs. Christian was the last one to reach them. He slammed the heavy metal door behind him and locked it. They had time, but not much. Once on the roof, the sight was terrible. The dead had swarmed the building al the way around. They were everywhere. A mass of them stretched out to at least one-hundred yards in every direction. They were all looking up . . . their dead hands clawing at the outside walls.
The survivors all stood on the roof, watching the approaching helicopter. “Where’s Christian?” Dennis said. They all looked around, but he was nowhere. From behind the elevated doorway that allowed access to the roof, Christian walked to the edge of the building with a large green cylinder over his shoulder.
“The hell is that?” Darin said. Christian knelt down and pulled something out on the large metal tube he balanced on his shoulder. He then flipped up a small sight on the end of it. An incredible boom escaped it, along with a cloud of smoke from both ends. The helicopter, now just thirty feet from the building, exploded into a giant hovering fireball and fell to earth. Before anyone could react, Christian pointed his handgun at them. In the other hand, he held Archie by the lip on the pot and dangled it off the roof.
“No, Christian, don’t!” Ana said. He cocked the gun and placed Archie at the edge of the roof. Placing one foot beside it, he smiled at them.
“Put your guns down. Dennis, lose the machete too,” Christian said. “I’ll kick this fucker off the roof and then we’re all screwed.”
“Baby, why are you doing this?” Ana said. She was still standing behind Dennis. No one had exited the burning heap of twisted metal that sent a pillar of smoke sailing into the field. The dead gathered around it, searching for whatever was inside. Those men in that chopper came to rescue all of them. Now, they were a barbecue.
“Shut up, you cunt. I should’ve tossed your barren, lying ass away when I had the chance. I got good with that rocket launcher, didn’t I? Found it a week ago. I’ve been goin’ out at night and practicing with it. Had to go out pretty far so no one would hear me . . . human or otherwise. But, don’t worry about me,” Christian said with a disjointed laugh. “Archie comes along with me now. I . . .” he stopped and looked up into the sky toward the sound of another helicopter approaching. “They sent TWO?!”
“Of course, Garner. I told them to send as many as they could. Always works best to send backup in case shit hits the fan. You sent those fucking zeds here, didn’t you?”
Christian took a playful bow. “Guilty as charged, Doctor. No different that herding cattle, really.” Darin took a step forward. Christian fired a round right in front of the doctor’s foot. “Stay back. I have another helicopter to shoot down.”
Behind Dennis, Ana lifted her leg up. Christian didn’t notice. He thought all the guns on the roof at their feet were all they had. The second he heard or saw anything, all he had to do was shoot. The roof was small. There was no way anyone could miss at that range. Keeping the handgun trained on his fellow survivors, he knelt down to pick up the rocket launcher. To Ana, it looked like he turned his head in slow motion. He might have only looked away for a second to his left to see the helicopter approaching in the distance, but when he did, Ana shoved Dennis aside as hard as she could. He tumbled and before Dennis Jackson hit the deck, Ana had put three bullets into Christian. She’d fired four. The first one hit right above his ribcage, the other hit the wrist holding the gun, the third one missed, striking the floor at Christian’s feet. The fourth bullet hit him in the side of his neck. He dropped both weapons and screamed. He brought his mangled hand to put pressure on the bleeding hole in his neck. He stumbled around the edge of the roof, his hand firmly pressed against his neck as the other arm hung like a sack of raw meat. Oozing in-between his fingers splayed to his neck was more blood than he’d ever seen before . . . and it was all his.
“Ehhhhh . . . you . . . bitch,” Christian said. He was talking like he was gargling syrup.
“I’m sorry, Christian. These are my friends. Your friends. Our new family. I won’t let you hurt them anymore. I won’t let you hurt me anymore.” Ana walked toward him with the gun still drawn. She had one bullet left if he decided to make a grab for it. All she needed was one. The hits she already made would certainly kill him in minutes. His white shirt underneath the camo jacket was now soaked in blood. Christian was walking in a pool of it.
Dennis picked himself up. “Your plan failed, buddy. I didn’t sleep last night. Saw you running around doing god-knows-what. I Called the General and asked for not just a chopper, but the cavalry. Whatever you planned to go, Garner, forget it.”
“Actually . . .” Christian mumbled, “this was much better.” He grabbed Archie and hurled himself off the roof. The armory wasn’t a tall building, only two stories, but what awaited him on the ground was a fate worse than death. Ana ran to the edge to see him fall with the potted plant in his arms. He was immediately surrounded by the crowd. She didn’t even see him hit the grass. He just fell into an ocean of them. A literal sea of death.
Ana watched as the man she still loved fall to a certain demise; and in his hands was the only thing that could have saved them if his plan played out to fruition. As the helicopter approached closer and the wind produced by the blades kicked up, Darin walked up to her and held her in his arms. She wept into them. “Archie?” she said in between sobs. The chopper was directly overhead now and her voice was cut off by the sound of its blades. They have more, Darin mouthed back with a smile. Three more helicopters were arriving in the far distance. They could all see the little indentations of them making their way past the horizon. This was okay with all of them. They only needed one helicopter now. When they boarded and the chopper began its re-ascent, they all looked down to see the infected smash through the door that lead to the roof. They swarmed the whole thing in seconds. They all stood, their eyes locked to the noisy machine flying away from the building. They stared at the helicopter as if they had no concept of what it was. Just a flying box with a hell of a lot of fresh food aboard. They were all aware of the chopper, but looked at it like a dog does a pizza box on the counter. All dead, deceased and half-rotted faces looked into the sky. Their eyes . . . how empty they were. Even as the helicopter sailed far enough to lose sight of the armory, the passengers all had their own feelings . . . but one thing was the same for all of them. They were free. They were all heading to a place that had the ability to end what had happened. Without the man, though . . . the one who knew the research better than anyone, all was lost. Dar
in Miles was the key to everything, and he was alive.
Darin pondered this as day gave way to afternoon. They were in the midst of darkening clouds and it had begun to rain. The open areas at the side of the chopper kicked some of the rain in, sprinkling Darin’s face with it. Hopefully, the rain will put out some of the fires in the cities. The fine spray of cold September sprinkles felt so new to him . . . as if he he’d never felt rain before.
And there, standing in the rain with his feet at the edge of an open helicopter, Darin Miles had the epiphany he had been hoping for.
“You okay, buddy!?” one of the pilots looked back at Darin and yelled over the sound of the wind outside.
“Yeah . . .” Darin whispered to himself. “I think I am now.”
PART IV
THE LAST STAND
CHAPTER 13
I
The large door hissed open to let the man inside. He was a General . . . and quite the decorated one. He extended a hand to the man they brought in that morning. He stayed seated, not returning the handshake. The General politely smiled and placed his hand back into his pocket. “Darin Miles, right?”
“Yes, sir . . . that’s me,” Darin said. He sat with his back slumped and his head pointed toward the floor. He looked like a defeated man. A ruined one. God knew what his eyes had seen. What kinds of things he had seen. He spoke slowly and without any kind of readable tone. The man than answered to Darin Miles sounded dry and hoarse . . . his eyes halfway open and his breathing shallow. “Forgive me for not getting up. I haven’t sat in a chair for almost a year. I’ve inherited a beautiful lack of social skills, but I am ready to get to work. Take me to your on-site disease center. Colonel Andrus told me you had one and that I would be working with your men. I don’t believe in wasting time. So . . . if you could . . . get the fuck on with it. Sir.”
“You will brief us first,” the General said as calmly as he could. “I understand that all of your boss’s notes are intact, as well as the records you kept in your facility. I know you’re anxious to get cracking, but what is more important to us right now is getting a brief from you. Your living area will be visited daily by a member of our personnel. She will dictate everything you say. You tell us everything as clearly as you can and we will give you access to anything you need. We do want to find a cure just as much as you do, Darin. But . . . if I may be harsh for a moment . . . you are not the only brilliant man in the world. Our people are capable of floating the boat until you get to run the lab. You are valuable and I thank God you’re here . . . your statement will be as effective as your presence. Now, please . . . what do you have?”
Darin sighed deeply, motioning for a glass of water from the cooler in the corner. The General gave it to him. Darin drank it slowly, staring at the cup with such a lost expression on his face. It was heartbreaking. The General felt a swell of sadness for him, despite the business at hand. After a short trance at the cold water in the little paper cup, Darin Miles spoke again. “I have Nathaniel’s emails to me, as well as Brian O’Reilly. I have Brian’s medical records. I can supply them to you anytime you need it. You can trace everything back to us with those materials.”
“Thanks, Darin. I know you have been through a lot. I can’t possibly imagine. Give your statement. Stay calm and focused. Take as long as it needs to be to make it concise and correct. We will build a report with all of this and you can review the brass in the report personally. We will end this with you here. I promise.”
II
Darin walked out of the interview on the second day. He was obviously rattled. The poor man’s face was red, he was covered in a nervous sweat and his hands were shaking. He didn’t understand why he had to do it. No matter how they explained it or how much they tried to rationalize it, there was only one task at hand. They needed to find a cure. Every second of every single day, more and more people were dying. Those things he helped create were finding survivors in the shadows, hidden in the darkest of places. They seep through the world now like rats, like termites through the floorboards, ready to destroy everything in sight. Soon, they will eat away the foundation and it was all coming down. If it hadn’t already. There was no time for sleep, as much as he wanted to. It was time to head to the lab and get working. God knew what the other guys there had done. It didn’t matter what the hell they had. They can fucking scrap it. Darin knew exactly what would work.
The others were still being briefed in a large soundproof conference room. There were no windows in there, so no one knew what the hell was going on inside. The first one out was Dennis. He walked out of the room like a captive man would after seeing the sun for the first time. His eyes were wide and wrapped in the soft sheen of tears. Darin watched from a distance as he looked around the room in a frenzy. A young, red-headed woman ran up to him. In her arms she held a baby wrapped in a thick, green army blanket. Another child ran behind her with his arms outstretched. Dennis fell to his knees as they rushed him. Darin looked away seconds before they all embraced each other. Dennis should have the moment with his family. A lump in his throat began to rise when he heard the crying echo behind him. He had never heard someone so happy that they were hysterical. A gentle tug on his pant leg made Darin turn around. It was a little boy with sandy blonde hair wafted in front of his face. He had a sticker of a purple heart on his Spider-Man shirt and one of the military guys there had given him an officer’s pin that he had stuck to his sleeve. Ryan. He looked just like his father.
“You’re the man who saved my daddy.”
The young woman walked up to him while Dennis still sat on the floor behind them, cradling the baby in his arms. He looked at Darin with the slightest of nods. His lips shook and he looked like he could barely see, but he smiled. Amanda walked up to him and without even a single word, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. He could feel her lips shaking. She held him tighter, planting another soft, gentle one on the other cheek. “He’s here because of all of you. You all looked out for him.”
“He’s here because of him. That is one hell of a strong man you have there. Never met a stronger person in my life. I mean that,” Darin said. Dennis laughed and screamed at the same time . . . that emotionally-exasperated sound one has when they’d just survived a war. He lay down on his back and held the baby up over him. The little one giggled and babbled something to his father, putting his arms out like he was flying. Maybe deep down inside the baby knew. He was aware of what was happening. Maybe he was flying. They looked like they both were . . . in some special, unseen and magical place only reserved for fathers and their infant sons.
Amanda took his hand and squeezed it. She didn’t need to say anything else. Her eyes said it all. He and the others had saved a family. So many were ruined by the events that Nathaniel and he caused. In that instant, it felt like the weight of the world lifted itself off of his shoulders. He did not directly cause this carnage, but he blamed himself for it. But here he was, watching a family come back together after so much hell . . . for the husband and the wife. The children. Something in the world could still come together. Seeing them gave him hope.
Amanda waited at the door and greeted Victoria and Ana as they came out. She smiled, cried and embraced them like they were the best friends she ever had. Perhaps they were.
Darin wanted to sleep. He had never been so tired in his entire life, but there was still so much to do. He quietly excused himself by nodding at Vic when she looked at him. She knew he had work to do . . .
. . . work to undo.
III
Ana Garner sat in a large, enclosed greenhouse area. There was no one in there but her. Strange, considering that there were over two-hundred people there, not counting the nearly five-hundred military personnel. She saw the President whisper to one of the Generals when she walked into the greenhouse. He must have cleared the area so she could have a moment. He always seemed like such a considerate man when she used to see him on TV. Ana sat among the enclosed greenhouse that was nearly
as big as a football field. She removed the deck of cards from her pocket and laid them out in front of her. The deck was missing the Ace of clubs. Christian always kept one in his wallet for luck. His father, for one reason or another, had a tattoo of one. When he fought in the Gulf War, he said that he got it done there for luck. He was a superstitious man. Believed that it kept him alive. Ana sat among the grass and dirt beneath her feet . . . the artificially implanted soil with the massive light lamps above. Somewhere, a machine clicked and sent a rush of air into her face.
“Wind machine . . .”
“Yes, it is,” a voice said behind her. She jumped and spilled the deck at her crossed legs. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man with the deep voice walked in front of her. It was the General. Teel. He was an older man, probably pushing fifty. Very well-built and physically imposing, he sat down across from her as she fumbled for the cards, her face turning red. “This place was built a long time ago and updated as the decades passed. This room has machines that control the light, precipitation . . . yes, it rains in here. Amazing, huh? Machines control the wind and our crops. This is where we do the smaller crops. Tomato plants, soybeans, potatoes, carrots, all the easy stuff. There are four more rooms like this. This facility is just a hair larger than the state of Rhode Island. Impressive, isn’t it?” he said. His voice bounced off the walls of the massive arena-sized room. Ana fixed her gaze up to the arched ceiling, lined with bright lights. It looked like a stadium.
The Zombie Letters Page 23
