Stopping about ten feet from the rear of the MRAP, Jim stands at the ready. Unfortunately, both of the infected exit at the same time and are side-by-side as they quickly approach him.
Jim changes the position of the Halligan bar, and jabs the attacker on the left as hard as he can in the face. The infected that just had his nose broken, and several teeth removed from his upper and lower jaw, stumbles backward and then falls to the pavement. As soon as Jim sees the one he jabbed in the face falter backwards, he doesn’t wait for it to fall before he repositions the Halligan tool and swings it like a bat.
With the tapered pick-end leading the way, the tool impacts the second infected man in the left temple, and penetrates six inches, nearly up to the wedge. Falling to the right, the Halligan is pulled along with its victim’s momentum for a second, before it’s pulled free with sucking and a slight crunching noise, as the fragments of skull are again displaced by the spike’s exit. From the one now on the pavement with a hole in its left temple, Jim quickly shifts his focus to the first infected with the rearranged nose and removed teeth.
The first of the infected is just getting to a crouching position; Jim swings the Halligan down on top of its head, ending its momentum and releasing its bowels. The infected falls face-first to the pavement, further rearranging its face.
Quickly looking around for more infected that may have heard any noise of the encounter, Jim wipes off the bloodied end of the Halligan bar on the infected that received the spike through his head.
Jim checks the interior of the MRAP from the rear entrance. Seeing no more occupants, he closes the doors as quietly as possible. He swiftly moves around the closed driver side door, stepping onto the built-in footsteps, glancing inside. Seeing the front compartment is clear, Jim tries and finds the door unlocked.
Constantly looking around, feeling as though he’s being snuck up on, he pulls the door open and slides into the driver seat. Happily discovering the MRAP vehicle hasn’t had the ignition system altered and still starts without a key, Jim turns the start switch to the pre-start position to warm the glow plugs.
“Fuck, yeah!” Jim nearly yells out when he sees the fuel gauge is at a half tank. Seeming to take forever, the glow plug warming light finally goes out, indicating that they’ve warmed enough to attempt to start.
Turning the switch fully, the engine starts immediately, bringing a laugh from Jim. Out of his peripheral vision, Jim notices movement. Turning to the movement on his right, he sees a mass of infected humans emerging from the front entrance of the hospital. Jim likens the scene to angry ants pouring out of an anthill to attack an intruder.
Slamming the transmission into drive, and nearly simultaneously stomping his foot on the accelerator, he whips the steering wheel to the left to avoid colliding with an abandoned pickup truck; Jim slams into three infected.
Regaining control of his direction of travel, Jim makes another left turn, looping around past the family’s Pathfinder idling in the lot, and heads home.
Chapter 9
Present
Arzu, Chris, and Jeremy maintain their vigil, staring out through any little space available in the boarded-up windows. After an eternity of waiting, they hear the sound of a tractor-trailer growing louder. The sound of the powerful engine roaring brings them all to the closest window, in the direction of the noise.
From the east of the home, approaching from their right, they see a huge, flat black truck approaching. They see the red and blue emergency lights come on and then hear a loud electric honk, followed by the sound of Jim.
“Get ready to open the outside garage door when I tell you. Use the remote control and keep the garage door to the house closed,” Jim’s voice starts lower, grows louder, and then fades a little as the monstrous truck passes by. The family rapidly prepares for Jim’s arrival. Arzu directs Jeremy to get ready to open the garage door, and she and Chris check over their firearms.
Chris swaps weapons with Jeremy, since he’ll need to operate the garage remote and won’t be able to aim as efficiently with the shotgun. Jeremy accepts the Judge .410/.45 Colt revolver without a word; he understands the logic without it needing to be spoken.
Arzu, armed with an AK-47, places it at her shoulder but keeps the muzzle toward the floor. “Everyone ready for your crazy father?” she asks with a smile. “Was that the police?” Berk asks, descending the stairs and stopping at the makeshift barricade. “It was a fire truck,” Kayra offers her opinion.
“Both of you, please go back upstairs to the spare bedroom and wait for me now, please,” Arzu asks, in a tone that leaves no doubt to either child that it's an order. Both reply, “OK” and turn and return to the room. Looking out the window again, Arzu sees infected people by the tens, maybe a few hundred. Unable to keep up the pace of the vehicle, the still give a futile pursuit in its direction.
About ten minutes later, which seems like hours, they hear the sound of the truck again. The truck is approaching from the same direction, from the right of the house. Arzu watches as the truck slows and angles its trajectory towards the front lawns of the houses to the side of their home. For a brief moment, Arzu thinks Jim is hurt and going to collide with one of the houses nearby, or with theirs.
The monstrous vehicle straightens its path as it continues to plow through front yards. The click of the speaker sounds and then Jim yells, “Open it, now.” Arzu watches as the flat black behemoth with ‘SWAT’ emblazoned on its side drives past, no, through their front yard and drives over one of their two sapling trees like it was an overgrown weed.
She looks over and sees Jeremy with the garage remote, grasping the deadbolt lock with his left hand, and the revolver in his right. Both he and Chris are leaning toward the door like loaded springs, waiting for their father to call for them to open the door or ask for help.
Outside, coming from the area she guesses is the garage, Arzu hears sounds of grinding metal and what sounds and feels like a tree slamming into the roof. An instant later the sound of the engine goes quiet. Then they all jump at the sound of three knocks at the door, the sound of the garage door closing, and then Jim’s voice from the other side, “Anyone home?”
There’s an audible exhalation from all three standing at the door, Jeremy unlocks the door and opens it. “Damn, Dad, I pissed my pants!” Chris says.
“Uh . . . I’m going to wipe my ass and then come back and get you to tell me what that thing is that you ran into the house with,” Jeremy says, relieved to see his dad.
Arzu puts her hand on Chris’s shoulder as a signal to let her pass. Chris moves to the side; she proceeds by until she is face to face with Jim. “Where is my car?” she asks with a tear tracing down her right cheek.
Arzu then punches Jim with a quick jab to his right bicep and then wraps her left arm around his neck and squeezes him tightly. Jeremy steps around to her right and takes the rifle from her right hand and she then places it around Jim, squeezing with both.
With a voice trembling from emotion, Arzu tells Jim, “You are so stupid. I love you very much but you are so stupid.”
“I can’t breathe very well, honey,” Jim says with a hint of strain to his voice. Releasing him from her embrace, Arzu asks again, “Where’s my car?”
“Look, I can go back and get it later. I have to anyway because I found some stuff we need and it’s all in the back of the car.”
“What is that thing you drove here?” Chris asks as he looks around Arzu to his dad.
With a large smile, Jim says, “Well, come upstairs and have a look out the window. I couldn’t pass it up.”
Kayra calls out from the top of the stairs, “I want to see, too.”
“Me, too,” Berk chimes in, standing one step above her. Arzu, Jim, Jeremy, and Chris climb the stairs, reaching their makeshift barricade; they remove some furniture and other items to facilitate a path. Jim bends and gives Berk and Kayra hugs. Both kids fan at their wrinkled noses and face. Jim stares at them with a confused expression.
“You smell like a clean toilet, Dad,” Berk blurts out, in the honest way that only young children can. “What are you talking about, Berk?” Jim asks, while beginning to stand.
Arzu emits a slight chuckle and explains, “Jim, you smell like some kind of cleaner, like chlorine or something. I noticed earlier, but was glad to see you and pissed about my car, so I forgot to ask.”
“Oh. Yeah, I stopped at the convenience store on the way back to make sure I was clean after I, um, was near the sick people. I also wiped down the inside of the MRAP with the wipes, too.”
“The M what?” Chris asks.
“It stands for Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected. It’s basically an armored truck, but with thicker armor and tapered underbelly to deflect blasts.”
“Well, come on and let’s check it out!” Jeremy says and starts up the stairs, passing the others. “Hold on, Jeremy. We need to block up the stairs again first,” Jim reminds.
After a brief few moments, the obstructions are back in place and they continue up-stairs to Kayra’s room for a better look.
Chapter 10
Present
Looking down from her window, they can see the top and part of the driver’s side of the MRAP in front of the garage. “It’s got a gun turret?” Jeremy asks with excitement in his voice.
“Well, yes and no, Jeremy,” Jim starts to explain. “It has a turret, but not a mounted weapon. The turret is good to give a higher field of view and does open, providing a good firing position. It has a few things we can use; a few more weapons and a grenade launcher.”
Both Chris and Jeremy turn their heads to face their father in an instant, both with large smiles. “No, guys; not that kind of grenade launcher. Well, it can fire the ones that explode, and others, but this one only has canisters that contain OC gas, Oleoresin Capsicum. That’s pepper spray in a grenade.”
“That’s still some cool shit,” Chris says quietly and looks to Jeremy, both grinning at each other. “What if those things get inside or on top of it?” Arzu asks, looking down at some of the infected beginning to amble around the neighborhood again after being driven away earlier by the massive truck.
“I locked all but the driver’s door, so it should be fine; it’s possible they could get inside, but so far we haven’t seen any of them have that kind of mental capacity. If they do climb on top of it, it’s too far away from where the roof extends for them to make it if they jump.”
“I’m going to clean up some more. After that, do you guys want to eat?” Jim asks, turning away from the window. The rest of the family follows and affirms their hunger as well.
During the family dinner on the second floor landing, Jim gives a very edited version of his trip outside. Arzu reluctantly admits that she sees the clear logic of the need for the MRAP instead of the Pathfinder. He gives his thoughts on how he thinks the SWAT team responded to the hospital to help the overtaxed police try to maintain order. But they, too, were apparently overrun.
Jim gives them all as much information and instruction on the armored vehicle as he knows. So when they do find themselves inside, moving about and operating it should flow a little more easily.
Jim hadn’t used the type of MRAP outside; he had ridden in and driven much older ones during part of his time in Iraq. Those he had most experience with were older South African versions. Jim did have a few tours of some of the newer U.S. military versions, when crossing paths on some of the bases and with some military friends he’d made. He occasionally got to operate portions of the systems and drive as well.
“So, has the plan changed?” Arzu asks.
“No, not really, honey; only for the good, anyway. We now have much more room for supplies and won’t be as cramped. We’re not going to be exactly driving around in a tank, but the protection we’ve gained having this is immeasurable”.
“How can we drive that beast off-road? It’s huge,” Chris says.
“It’s true it’s a beast, it’s also got four-wheel-drive, so that’s going to help a lot. Like I said, though, it is very top heavy and can tip easily. Tomorrow we’ll check things out and see about finally getting to some of the stores in the area.”
“We should all try to get some rest,” Arzu says.
“Since when did we start going to sleep when it is still daylight?” Jim questions.
“Since we’ve all become exhausted by worry and lack of sleep. Did you look at yourself in the mirror, Jim? You look like shit.”
“Babe, you know how to say the things that warm my heart,” Jim replies. “You’re right, though; we need to get some rest whenever we can. Chris and Jeremy, I’ll take the first watch. I have some things I want to think about and do some planning.”
With that, the family goes to their new normal sleeping areas. Jim stands, and both knees pop and crack in protest. The same noises are heard when he stretches his back.
Since the sun has passed its zenith, more of the infected take to the streets and yards, and enter houses through shattered windows, looking for food. Looking toward the northwest, Jim sees ominous grey-black clouds approaching. He’s curious as to what the infected will do during a storm.
Making his rounds on the second floor, he goes through scenarios in his mind and tries to plan for eventualities. He peeks out the windows from time to time to check the status of the storm system.
The sky turns black, not from the approaching storm system, but from the earth’s rotation. In the distance, Jim can hear faint rumbling of thunder. As he walks toward the back of the home, he hears Jeremy whisper his name.
Jim relates his estimation of even more infected in the area, and asks Jeremy to try to see how they react to the storm. He knows they feel cold; he’s seen them huddle together for warmth or curl up on their own. He’s wondering if they’ll fear the lightning or the thunder. Exhausted, Jim decides to try and rest. The thoughts racing through his mind seem to make sleep unattainable.
Suddenly Jim wakes, startled by an unknown noise. He’s immediately relieved when he identifies the sounds as his family talking, and opening and heating water to reconstitute the freeze-dried breakfast.
Jim saunters out of the game room on his way to the bathroom, stopping near the gathering of his loved ones. He gives his ‘good mornings’ and leans down and kisses Arzu on her cheek.
“I love you, but please go brush your teeth, honey.”
Jim obeys the request and continues on to the bathroom. After finishing, he joins his family for breakfast. They try to talk about ‘normal’ things until Berk and Kayra are finished with their food and leave to go play in the spare room.
The conversation then turns to more serious topics. Jim listens as Jeremy and Chris describe their observations of the infected last night, during the storm and after.
Chris had relieved Jeremy after the storm had stopped, and then only the cooler temperatures remained. Jeremy reports that the infected seemed to be frightened when there was a flash of lightning or the clap of thunder, but their fear immediately turned to anger. They looked for the source of the noise and chased in the direction they thought it came from.
He wasn’t able to hear due to the distance from the window and the noise of the rain, but Jeremy thinks they did their normal growling as well. Other than being startled and then incensed by the noise, they did try to avoid the cold rain by seeking shelter in the broken homes and under porches.
Jim listens as he sips his instant black coffee. He begins to lay out the plan for the day. “We’re going to do some training today. It’s impossible to have any target practice, but I think we’re all good as far as that goes.”
“What do you want to do, Dad?” Chris asks. “We need to train on small team tactics. We’re going to be going into stores and other buildings, looking for supplies, and we need to make sure we have our shit together.” Jim answers.
Chapter 11
Siberia, USSR 1974
At the ground level of the remote facility, the soldiers do as ordered by Colonel Aza
rov, securing the helicopter’s large rotors with ropes tied to spikes and driven into the frozen earth. They hide it, attempting to prevent cold damage by covering it with white camouflage sheeting.
Other soldiers are quickly setting up camp in the large hangar: unfolding cots, setting up heaters, and stocking food stores transferred from the helicopters. Down at the lowest level of the facility, in the damp and cold, Colonel Azarov, Doctor Kosktov, and several other scientists remain outside the prisoner holding area.
They watch and record everything inside, using video recorders and taking notes. Alexi, the prisoner who hurriedly scaled the bars of the nearest cell, still lies atop, the only movement being his back rising and falling from respiration while lying prone.
It’s been several hours since he escaped the carnage below. His chest is becoming more painful, his sternum and the front portion of his ribs are pressed against the hard metal cell bars. He’s too terrified to attempt to reposition.
Below him on the cold and blood-smeared concrete floor lie the men who had become his friends in the seemingly endless time they’d been held here by the state. Only two are still alive now. All but one has been massacred by two of their own.
One of the two that had somehow been changed into crazed animals by their captors, viciously unleashing death on them all, squats in a corner. The other of the lunatics is dead, along with all but one of the other prisoners. The remaining prisoner lies against the cell wall, slumped over, and periodically takes a desperate gasp of breath.
The slumped-over man doesn’t seem to have long to live; it surprises Alexi he’s continued so long. His body is filled with holes from bites and hands ripping flesh away. Beside the sickly smell of iron from the spilled blood, the rank odor of loosed bowels is heavy in the air as well.
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