Omega Pathogen: Mayhem

by Hicks Jr, J. G.

  Pausing from reloading their magazines, Jim, Jeremy, and Chris buckle in, then resume filling magazines and checking their firearms.

  Jeremy grabs a bottle of water and says, “Dad.” Looking toward his son, Jim sees the proffered bottle and positions both his hands, ready to catch. Jeremy tosses a bottle to his dad and then hands one to Chris before grabbing a third for himself. The three of them down half of their bottles on the first gulp.

  Jeremy, looking at Berk and Kayra, says, “You guys want a surprise?”

  “What is it?” Kayra asks as she and Berk both lean forward toward Jeremy. Reaching under his chest rig, Jeremy pulls out two deformed Kit-Kat candy bars, their plastic wrappers sweat-soaked but still sealed. He offers them to his younger half-brother and half-sister.

  Taking the candy from Jeremy with wide eyes and the mouths in the shape of an ‘O’, then wide smiles, Berk and Kayra both tear open their surprise and begin to gobble it down. “Thanks, Jeremy,” Berk says, followed immediately by Kayra, who echoes the sentiment.

  Returning their smiles, Jeremy says, “You’re welcome,” sits back and gulps down the rest of his water. Chris says to Jeremy, “Hey, grab the juice boxes, too.” Giving a nod, Jeremy moves some items around and retrieves from their supplies the case of juice boxes that Chris picked up. Ripping open the plastic, he then gives one to Berk and Kayra. Again, thanks are given to Jeremy, and this time Chris, as well, for the juice boxes.

  “Thanks, guys,” Jim says, looking at his older sons, to which he receives nods from both.

  “Where’s mine?” Arzu says with a grin and quick glance to the back of the MRAP at Jeremy and Chris, and then extends an open right hand.

  “No more candy bars, but you can have a juice box,” Jeremy says, handing one to Chris to pass forward to Arzu.

  “That’s good enough,” Arzu says as she grabs the box of fruit-flavored drink that Chris taps her with on the shoulder.

  Jim unbuckles from the front passenger seat, stands, and then steps up onto the platform for the turret. Unlocking it and pushing up the heavy door, Jim stands up through the opening and takes a 360-degree look around them.

  Seeing some numerous human shapes partially concealed in areas shaded from the glare of the mid-afternoon Texas sunlight, Jim doesn’t see any imminent threats, so he plops back down into the front passenger seat.

  Arzu sends a questioning glance at him. “Looks OK right now. I see a bunch of them hanging out in the shade,” he says, looking around the interior at their haphazardly stacked supplies. Standing back up, Jim moves to the rear of the MRAP while paying close attention to the floor. Finding what he hoped, Jim enlists Chris and Jeremy’s help. Pointing out the floor anchors, inset to prevent tripping, they begin arranging their supplies into the storage containers.

  Once most everything is separated in the containers, they close up the lids and then, using the ratchet straps, they secure the containers to the floor of the MRAP. Better organized and with more room to move about, Jim and his oldest two sons retake their seats and buckle in. “At least now you get organized,” Arzu says, with a sideways glance at her husband.

  His reply is a quick smile and an almost as quick flip of his middle left finger at his wife. Then, after a pause, and feeling the daggers being stared at him from Arzu, Jim gives a verbal reply of, “Yes, dear.” Giving a smile of her own, Arzu returns her full attention back to the road.

  “You got those gas cans; do we really need the extra container for fuel?” Arzu asks.

  “Yeah, I think we do, we don’t know how easy it’s going to be to get fuel when we need it,” Jim explains. “I think that we’ll be able to fasten the tank to the side of the MRAP over one of the rear fenders,” he continues.

  With a nod and “OK,” as a reply, Arzu continues to expertly wrestle the steering wheel of the roughly 16-ton behemoth.

  Although it seems longer, the trip to the Tractor Supply store is quick. Arzu has to maneuver the large vehicle around a few scattered cars on the roads, as well as bodies. Maintaining the same routine, Arzu approaches slowly while Jim scans the area with and without binoculars.

  “I can’t think of anything else we need from here other than the fuel storage tank, but if you guys see something we may need, speak up,” Jim instructs while they ready to exit the MRAP and head inside.

  Receiving thumbs-up from both, they move toward the back door of the vehicle and give each other a once-over buddy check. “Ready?” Jim asks. With affirmative nods from both, Jim unlocks and then swings open one of the double rear doors.

  Hitting the ground at a combat crouch, Jim moves slightly to the left. Jeremy is the next to exit and moves to the right. Chris hits the pavement third and swings the door closed, towards a waiting Arzu, who finishes closing and locking it.

  Chris then moves towards the middle of their formation, taking a position between his father and younger brother. “I’ll lead,” Jim says as he rises slightly and moves toward Chris.

  Giving Chris a touch on his left shoulder, Jim proudly notices Chris lower his rifle muzzle so not to be aiming at him. Seeing Chris swap positions with him, taking the left flank, Jim quietly asks, “Ready?” of both.

  Receiving “Good,” from both, Jim rises from his right knee to a crouch and heads toward the shattered glass of the store’s front entrance. Chris feels Jeremy touch his left shoulder as he moves in behind their dad. He rises after a quick check of their backsides and falls in behind Jeremy.

  Chapter 22

  Present

  Arzu watches Jim and her stepsons rise and then head into another dark building. She double-checks the lock and turns back to the front of the interior of the MRAP.

  Noticing Berk holding himself in the universal sign of kids when they have to pee, she asks Berk and Kayra the question she already knows the answer to. “Who needs to pee?”

  “Me,” they both reply.

  “OK, take off your seatbelts and go ahead,” Arzu directs them and then adds, “I’ll find some wipes for you, Kayra.”

  The young kids argue about who’s going to use the improvised toilet, while Arzu checks and digs around the supplies for the wipes.

  Berk, getting unbuckled faster, makes it to the toilet first and begins to go. Kayra stomps her foot and yells for him to hurry it up.

  Finding some wipes, Arzu rises from her bent-over position and notices a dark blue pickup truck coming in their direction from directly ahead. The truck stops around one hundred and fifty yards from the MRAP.

  Arzu grabs the binoculars and takes a closer look at the truck. With the sun reflecting off the windshield, she’s unable to see the any occupants. Watching for a few more long seconds and not seeing any movement, Arzu answers Kayra’s call for the wipes.

  Putting the binoculars on the dash, Arzu turns and assists Kayra. Keeping her attention between her two children and the pickup truck, Arzu prepares a meal of reconstituted macaroni and cheese.

  Once Berk and Kayra are back in their seats and eating, Arzu turns her attention to the pickup truck. Looking out the windshield again, Arzu becomes concerned when she doesn’t see the pickup.

  Retrieving the binoculars from the dash, she searches again, but doesn’t see it. Hearing the loud call of a bird behind and above her, Arzu turns and notices the open hatch to the turret.

  Deciding she’d rather have it closed, Arzu rises and steps up onto the platform. Looking out, she sees the truck parked off of the MRAP’s driver side. Confused on how it got so close, but knowing she’ll feel better locked inside, Arzu begins to close the hatch when she hears a man call out quietly, “Help me.”

  Immediately freezing, Arzu then slowly stands up through the opening again and looks around. She then sees a man, about sixty years old, backing away from near the MRAP’s driver side rear tire.

  Whispering, he says, “I have a hurt grandchild in the truck. Can you help me?”

  “What’s wrong?” she asks the older man.

  “His leg is broken, I think,”
the stranger replies.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do for a broken leg. My husband and my stepsons will be back in a minute. My husband is a paramedic. Just wait at your truck,” Arzu says and closes the hatch. Locking the hatch from inside, Arzu attempts to give Berk and Kayra a reassuring smile, and takes her seat behind the steering wheel. She watches the older man walk back to his pickup, turning his head back toward the MRAP, and searching the area with his eyes while on the way.

  Arzu picks up the radio and starts to call inside to Jim and the boys, but changes her mind and sets the radio back down. Looking over at the man again, she sees he’s stopped halfway between the pickup and MRAP, and making a motion with his hand like drinking, and then he makes a praying gesture with his hands.

  “Shit,” Arzu says, gets up out of the driver’s seat, and heads to the rear of the vehicle to grab some water for the man and his grandchild.

  Arzu looks to Berk and Kayra as she goes back up to the front of the MRAP. “I’m going to take the man some water. Lock the door when I close it.” Following their mother’s directions, both the youngsters race to be the first to hit the lock. Kayra, quicker than Berk this time, gets her hand to it first. Refusing to be totally defeated, Berk still gives his weight to the lock and they both push it down.

  Seeing the kids lock the door, Arzu turns to face the elderly man, and is surprised to see him sprint toward her. She’s hit by a swinging right hand almost as soon as she turns around. The impact to her left temple causes her vision to darken and bright flashes shoot in every direction at the same time.

  Arzu, weakened and stunned by the blow, drops the four bottles of water as her arms give out. She then falls back against the driver door of the MRAP and slides down to the warm pavement. Regaining her vision as her body begins to fight off unconsciousness, Arzu sees the man frantically yanking at the door handle.

  Pounding on the door, one second he pleads and begs nicely with Berk and Kayra to open the door. Then the next second he curses, threatens them and their mother if they don’t open the door. Regaining her equilibrium, Arzu begins to stand up, grasping at the front tire to assist her in her struggle.

  The man leans down and grabs her by the throat with both hands, yanking her to her feet. She can’t hear their cries, but she sees it on Berk and Kayra’s faces as they watch horrified through the driver’s door window.

  She looks back at the man as he gives her a shake and says, “Wake up, bitch.” He then releases his grip and points to the door. Removing a knife from behind his back and pointing it at her, he says, “Bitch, tell them to open the door or I’ll gut you right here in front of them.”

  Arzu looks up at the kids and then the man in front of her and says, “OK”. Clearing her throat and rubbing it with her left hand at the same time, she looks up at Berk and Kayra and says, “Kapıdan uzak dur, gozlerini ve kulaklarını kapat.”

  The kids look at her, cover their ears, and then disappear below the view of the window. Infuriated, the older man looks at her and then jumps up onto the step-side and looks inside. The man asks as he looks inside the MRAP, “What did you say? What gibberish language was that?” He then turns toward Arzu to find he has a large caliber revolver barrel aimed at his chest.

  “I told them move away from the door, close your eyes and cover your ears,” Arzu replies to the man as he slowly steps down from the door and she thumbs the hammer back on the .410/45 Colt.

  “It’s Turkish, you fucker,” she elaborates, squeezing the trigger and sending three pieces of lead into the old man’s chest. The impact of the buckshot at this close range doesn’t have time to spread out; it’s lethally effective nonetheless. The three pieces of lead enter his chest, two in his sternum and one slightly to the left. The rounds shatter his sternum and ribs, sending them, along with the lead shot, into his heart. The bone and lead shrapnel and the over-pressurization explode the man’s heart. He is literally dead before his body hits the pavement.

  Taking several attempts before she’s able to take a complete a breath, Arzu sees her hand shaking. She holsters the revolver on her right hip and places her sweatshirt back over it.

  She takes a few more deep breaths as she climbs up, shaking as she holds the assist bar to ascend onto the side. Looking in, she sees Berk and Kayra peek through the window.

  She gives a poor attempt at a smile and, pointing, asks them to unlock the door. Inside the MRAP, she’s greeted by the sound of Jim calling her over the radio. “Everything’s OK, now,” is all she’s able to get out as she sits, and her body continues to shake.

  She’s tapped on the arm and turns to see Berk handing her what’s left of his Kit-Kat. Kayra spikes a juice box with a straw and offers it to her mother. Taking the simple, but right now, hugely important, gifts from her children, Arzu shakily takes a bite and a sip.

  Chapter 23

  Present

  Jim and his sons make their way out of the Tractor Supply store, Jim and Jeremy carrying the large aluminum fuel storage tank, Chris providing security.

  Their foray into the store was uneventful this time. No salivating crazed infected were encountered.

  Happy they found what they were looking for, but concerned about the single gunshot outside, they make it to the back of the MRAP.

  Arzu, Berk, and Kayra greet them, and Arzu unlocks and opens the back doors. It’s evident to Jim, Chris, and Jeremy that Arzu and the kids have been crying, and are still fighting back tears. They are all shaking.

  “What happened?” Jim asks as he and Jeremy set the large tank on the ground. “He’s on the driver side.” Arzu says as she sits down on the nearest seat.

  Turning from Arzu, Jim and Jeremy walk to the driver side when they’re met by Chris on his return. “He’s not a threat anymore,” Chris reports.

  “OK, let’s load this thing and tie it down. We have a couple more places to go,” Jim says as he turns back around to the fuel tank.

  With the tank secured, Chris takes the wheel this time and follows the directions of Jim to their next stop.

  “He tried to take the MRAP and our stuff,” Arzu says as she absentmindedly twists the juice box around in her hands.

  Jim sits beside her and takes her in his arms, wanting to say the right things like, you did what you had to do, honey. I know how you feel. But he knows nothing needs to be said. She knows.

  Making their way back to the feeder road running beside I-10, and then heading east, Jim directs Chris to turn south on Mason Road. Throughout their drive they dodge vehicles and corpses in and around the roads.

  A few other moving vehicles are seen at various distances, none close enough to see the occupants, each heading to varying points on the compass.

  As they approach their next destination, damage to both homes and buildings are sporadic and vary in degrees. Following his dad’s directions, Chris turns the MRAP again and sees their next stop straight ahead.

  Coming to a stop in front of the firearms store, they see the front windows and glass from the frames of the doorway are all shattered. Behind the nearly empty frames, a large roll-down security gate blocks their entry to the store.

  Attached to the security gating is a tow strap used for one vehicle to tow another. Attached to the other end is a large bumper, apparently ripped off some large truck.

  “Looks like someone had the same idea you had, Dad,” Jeremy points out.

  “Yeah, but it looks like they didn’t get in,” Chris counters.

  “Back us up to the front door, Chris,” Jim says as he steps away from the driver’s seat and heads to the back of the vehicle. He and Jeremy check their weapons and look out the back window as the MRAP is turned around.

  Once given the signal by his dad to stop, Chris keeps an eye to their front, left, and right, also taking peeks at the rear-view camera to see the progress being made.

  Jim and Jeremy hop out. With heads on a swivel, they attach one end of the large chain to the MRAP, and walk the other end to the front entra
nce.

  Carefully looking inside for infected or someone defending the firearms store, and seeing neither, Jim connects the end of the chain to the roll-down gate.

  “Copy me, Chris?” Jim asks and receives a reply quickly back, “I copy you,” from Chris. “We’re hooked up to the gate. We’ll get clear and then I’ll tell you when to pull the gate,” Jim instructs.

  “Standing by,” Chris responds.

  Jim and Jeremy each take a position to the either side of the entrance. Looking at Jeremy and receiving a thumbs-up, Jim radios Chris.

  Chris puts the transmission in drive and gives the accelerator a steady press of his foot. He moves the MRAP forward and waits to feel the big vehicle strain.

  “That’s good. Stop, Chris,” comes over the radio. Looking to his right and slightly down, Chris sees the heavy-gauge security door is halfway out of its tracks.

  Knowing he needs to take the tension off the chain, Chris slowly backs up. Jim and Jeremy unhook both ends and place the chain in the rear of the armored truck.

  Arzu approaches Chris and tells him, “Go with your dad, Chris. I’m OK.” Giving her a nod and attempting a comforting smile, Chris rises and heads past her and out the rear of the MRAP to join his dad and brother.

  “We can’t go crazy in here,” Jim starts off, and then explains his statement by pointing out to collect what they may need, but stressing the need for speed. Understanding their priorities, they stack up at the doorway and make entry.

  After carefully checking places someone or something could hide, they call the interior secure. They begin to collect firearms, ammo, and other items of need and place them in large duffle bags from a display.

  Remembering the infecteds’ seeming agitation and attraction to loud noises, Jim keeps an eye out for, and collects, several suppressors for their AR-15s. He’s also able to locate three extended barrels, threaded to accept a suppressor for Glock 17s.