“Oh crap,” said Tex.
The screen showed pictures of fighter jets firing on the mountain. A scene followed of soldiers fighting against machine gun toting terrorists. The terrorists fired rocket launchers at aircraft while chanting and celebrating at the sight of a falling fighter jet. Mike pointed at the television.
“That’s what I’m going to do.”
“What?” asked Tex.
“I’m joining the Army and I’m going to kick me some terrorist ass.”
Tex looked confused, then she laughed. “You’re drunk as hell, kid.”
“You’ll laugh out the other side of your face the next time you see me.” Mike finished his last drink, planted a kiss on her full lips, and left the bar. Tex stood dumbfounded, looking at the closed door.
Chapter Nineteen: Miriam
Miriam walked for what felt like hours through trees and high grass. Often she walked to the side, along the grassy areas of trails. She wore no shoes and when walking down the center of known paths, she hurt the bottom of her feet as she stepped on pebbles and jagged rocks. Ahead, she heard traffic and walked in that direction to flag down a car. Up ahead was a clearing and the outline of the road. A car zoomed by and gave her hope.
She walked to the road while performing a much-needed grooming service. She clawed through her hair to get more dirt out and stopped to take the time to wipe her face of grime. She performed a maneuver she witnessed her boss perform on several occasions, slapping wrinkles out of his suit.
At the road, she held up both hands and waved frantically. Two cars passed without slowing. She needed to change her strategy. Scaring drivers was a no-no. Miriam stood to the side and held a thumb out and smiled. Two cars went by without slowing. A third honked and sped up, shouting obscenities at her.
“Same to you, asshole!”
Stop it! You need these people.
Miriam took a deep breath. She waited for the next car and extended her arm into the hitchhiker pose. A small up-and-down motion followed. A small, red car flashed its headlights. It slowed and went past her and stopped at the edge of the road. Miriam ran toward the car. Her forty-eight years of life had taught her never to get into a stranger’s car. That thinking fled her as she ran the last few feet.
Looking into the car from the passenger side, she saw a blond teenage girl. Thank you, Jesus.
“Hello,” she said out of breath.
“Hey, need a lift?” asked the girl. “Hop in.”
“Thanks.” Miriam opened the passenger side door and sat. The girl drove down North Carolina State Highway 128. “Sorry about the dirt and all.”
“That’s okay. With all the strange shit going on around here, that’s nothing. Did you see those planes?”
The young woman looked excited. In this part of the country it must be strange to see so many planes, unless it is an air show.
“Yeah, I saw them.”
“The way they fired into those mountains, I bet they’re after terrorists. They must be using our mountains like they do back in Pakistani and Asghanistan. Damn fuckers! Do you think they got them?”
Miriam smiled at her years and naiveté. She then pointed to her outfit.
“No shit!” Her eyes grew wide. “You were in that mess back there? How did you get over here?”
“A long sad story.” Miriam gave another smile and thought it best to change the subject. “Where are you headed?”
“The campgrounds,” the girl’s look was one of confusion. Miriam needed to be clearer.
“Which of the campgrounds are you headed to?”
“Oh, sorry.” She laughed. “Mount Mitchell State Park Campgrounds. It’s just up ahead. I’m Jodi, by the way.”
“Hello, Jodi. Thanks for the ride. I’m Miriam, Miriam Roster.”
Judging by her wardrobe, Miriam deduced she was a local. Maybe a college freshmen, but no older. Jodi wore cutoff blue jeans with a white tank top. She hid her smile, thinking about Lil Abner and Daisy Mae. The only difference, this young lady had a tattoo. Miriam saw something like the tail of a snake going up her right shoulder and under her tank top. Maybe she had more.
“Hey, Miriam. What happened to you out there?”
Miriam swallowed hard. “Do you have a cell phone by chance?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t work out here. No repeaters.” Jodi grinned.
“Oh, my. There are payphones at the campgrounds, aren’t there?”
“I saw a couple outside. I assume they work.”
Miriam nodded. Jodi drove the short distance to the campgrounds. When she moved to get out of the car, she revealed a trash stamp on her lower back. Miriam shook her head, the youth did strange things in her opinion. She set her mind to business and rushed to the phones, but none of them had a dial tone. She frantically looked around and saw cars at a building behind her. She ran over to the building, bursting through the doors. Heads turned around to look at her in her dirty and torn suit. She looked as if newly buried in dirt and raised from the grave.
“I need help. Can anyone help me?”
She faced a group of seated weekend warriors. A division of the North Carolina National Guard made of old men and eager young boys on their weekend training program. Miriam stared at them in desperation. None of them moved. Jodi walked in and all eyes shifted to the young, tanned female next to the horror before them.
“Is anyone going to help us?” asked Jodi.
Immediately the men rose and clamored to help Jodi.
“Not me, her.”
“Take her to the back and get her cleaned up, Roscoe,” said an older soldier.
“I need a,” said Miriam. She struggled to get the words out. The last words came out harder, throatier, “phone. Excuse me, the dust is getting to me. Do you have a working phone I could use? It’s very important.” She coughed.
“Sure, sure, sure,” said the oldest soldier. “You go and clean up. The phone can wait.”
“I need to use the phone first,” insisted Miriam, coughing. “I work for the President and I have to get a message back to Washington D.C. quickly.”
“Roscoe, take her in the back to the washroom.” He ignored any further pleas from Miriam and turned his attention to the lovely Jodi. “And you? How may I help you, young lady?” he smacked his old lips.
Jodi nodded to Miriam who reluctantly followed Roscoe to the back. Jodi then turned to the soldier, “I need a map of the area and a soda if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Excuse me,” said a woman who walked through the door. “Where are your bathroom facilities?”
“That way, Ma’am,” said Walter. “Roscoe, take these with you.”
“Much obliged,” said the woman. She shuffled off with two teens and a little girl. Roscoe waited and escorted them to the back with Miriam.
“Uh-hem,” said Jodi, “a map.”
“No trouble, little lady. I’m Walter, battalion leader of the fighting 44. Welcome to our group meeting. Joshua, go get the little lady a soda, would you?”
“Yes, sir,” said a young boy of seventeen.
“You wouldn’t by chance be here to join up would you?” asked an eager Walter.
“No, I’m a student at North Carolina State.”
Suddenly, an eerie sound came from the back. All eyes turned to see where the sound came from. Down the hall they looked. A shadowy figure came into view. Jodi and the others gulped, something felt wrong, malevolent. The odd sounds grew louder and truly came from the being.
“Jodi,” it said slowly, harshly, metallically. “Come, Jodi.”
The men turned to Jodi. She braved a step forward toward the figure. First one step, then another. She took each step with a tremble. When she neared the shadowed figure, her eyes looked to its right and she saw Roscoe. Her hand went to her mouth to stifle her scream. Roscoe lay dead on the floor near the figure, his chest open, a discarded arm lay nearby, and a portion of his neck was missing.
Jodi took a step back. As she did, the figure came out of
the shadows and rushed at her. It was Miriam—or what remained of Miriam. She wore her tattered suit covered in dirt. Her hair was dirty and wild and her arms were straight out, grabbing for the young girl. Jodi screamed and moved at the last minute and Miriam went past her to Walter. The man hadn’t moved and simply contorted his face in horror.
Miriam lunged at him, knocking him to the floor.
Miriam tore into Walter, tearing chunks of flesh from the man and devouring them. Walter lay beneath her, screaming and furiously batting at her at first, then he succumbed and slumped. Miriam ate with no resistance.
The others were shocked, looking in horror, not believing their eyes. They then screamed and ran, all save one teen that launched at Miriam as if he were a missile. The boy tried wrestling her off and was bitten for his trouble. He moaned in pain while Miriam went back to feasting on Walter. Her face was a bloody mess. Her hands, painted red with Walter’s blood, told the tale, she was ravenous and he aimed to satisfy her need.
The boy gave up all efforts at helping, screaming and crying, shouting at her to stop through his tears. She paid him no mind and ate. The boy got to his feet and made a mad dash for the exit, gripping his side.
Jodi stayed glued to the wall, watching Miriam devour the old man. Miriam was strong, powerful, snapping joints as if they were twigs, devouring every morsel of flesh she saw.
While Miriam continued feeding, Jodi whimpered against the wall, afraid to move or scream out for help. No one stayed. Screams would be useless at this point. She turned from the gruesome sight to gaze upon Roscoe on the floor. The youth lay still, blood pooling around him. As she watched, his eyes flew open. A strangled gurgle escaped her lips. Roscoe turned. His eyes grew wide in recognition, his face a dull gray.
“Help me,” the low strange sound came from him. “Help me.”
Jodi looked. He was alive. She moved in to offer aid. “Roscoe? Roscoe?”
“Help me.”
Closer she came. She leaned down to stretch out a shaky hand to feel his pulse. Roscoe lunged at her with his mouth.
She screamed and jerked back. Like a cat, Roscoe was upright on his feet. Jodi ran for the exit. Running for her life, she screamed and jumped over the feeding Miriam and ran for the exit. Roscoe never followed. She could only assume he stayed behind to make a meal of poor Walter.
Jodi ran through the doors screaming her head off. Ahead, she saw men running to the building across the street. She ran after them, no longer screaming. She made it to the door and burst through, locking the door behind her.
She breathed heavily, looking around at soldiers, breathing even harder. “Zombies, zombies, zombies! Oh shit! What the fuck, just happened?” even knowing, she couldn’t believe it.
“Shit!” Sergeant Moore said. He breathed so rapidly, he was in danger of passing out from hyperventilating.
“What the hell was that?” she asked.
Jodi looked around at the panting soldiers. Some bent to catch their breath, while others gathered around a radio. A soldier frantically screamed into a microphone, trying to make contact with the outside world. No one had an idea of what happened or what to do about it. She saw guns behind two soldiers in a cabinet. She ran to them, pushing the men aside. She tugged at the handles, the cabinet wouldn’t open. “Awwww! Open damn you!”
Sergeant Moore recovered. He pulled out the key. He walked past the men, shoving them aside like weaklings. “Pierce, Bester, look alive, damn you.” He opened the cabinet. Jodi lunged and grabbed a rifle. She opened it to check for ammo and pulled the cartridge. She slapped it back in and looked at Moore with determination.
“All right,” exclaimed Moore, “that’s what I’m talking about. Pierce! Bester! Load up!” The two privates tried as hard as they could, they could not match the Sergeant’s will. Jodi saw them shaking.
She read the name tag, Pierce, and looked at him, a boy of possibly twenty years. She took the rifle from him and checked it herself. Pulling the clip and replacing it. She turned off the safety and gave it back to him.
“You can shoot, can’t you?” she asked.
“Y-y-yes. Marksman level two,” said Pierce.
“You are going to need it.”
“How can you be so calm?” he asked in a low voice to keep the Sergeant from hearing.
Jodi leaned into him, speaking softly. “I’m not. All I know is that I am not dying today. I will kill any fucker that tries to take me out, including you.”
Her wink gave him strength. “Girls with guns, every man’s fantasy.”
“Listen up,” shouted Sergeant Moore. “I don’t know what the hell we saw—”
“Zombies,” said Jodi.
“Maybe, maybe not, but I know a bullet in its head will stop it. We are soldiers, National Guardsmen of the proud state of North Carolina, we don’t play, we execute. Hooah!”
“Hooah!” they replied.
“Saddle Up! Move Out!”
Sergeant Moore took the lead. He left the building as a squad of five armed soldiers and Jodi. They crept toward the building and at the door, stopped to gather courage. Moore counted them down. He grabbed the handle and jerked the door open. Pierce and Bester went through; guns pointed forward, itchy trigger fingers ready.
The others followed and all stared at what was left of Walter. Half of the man was gone, that which remained, slowly disappeared into the mouths of Miriam and Roscoe. They made strange gurgling noises as they sopped the man’s life blood.
Half the soldiers turned from the sight. Training for battle was different from actual battle and this, far different and beyond the realm of possibilities. No one could blame a small amount of squeamishness.
Moore aimed at Roscoe and fired. Roscoe shook. He looked at Moore with bright-red eyes and howled. Miriam howled as well, then returned to her meal. Moore fired into Roscoe’s chest. Roscoe howled and got to his feet. With a howl, he ran at Moore, mouth wide open. Sergeant Moore wasn’t alone, everyone fired into Roscoe. A stray shot hit his head and he fell, inches from his target.
Miriam howled and ran to the back. Everyone fired as she fled. She dashed around a corner and was fast out of sight. They stood, looking at Roscoe and Walter.
“You don’t suppose,” said Pierce.
“Yeah, I do,” said Moore. “A couple shots to the head for each, just to be sure.”
Jodi remained still, unsure what he meant. The others aimed at the bodies and put slugs in each of their heads. “How do you know?” she looked at Sergeant Moore for an explanation.
“Zombie movies. They look like zombies to me.”
“And a shot to the head takes them out?” she asked.
Moore sighed, “time will tell. Come on, let’s get the woman and then we can try calling this in. I don’t know how the hell I am going to explain this one.”
“Are they actual zombies?” asked Bester.
“Pretend it’s a video game and shoot to kill. Is that good enough for you?”
Bester and the others nodded.
The soldiers moved through the bodies to the back. Jodi saw that she was alone and quickly followed. The hallway where she saw Roscoe lying on the floor was empty. A pool of blood lay where his body had recently rested. She looked at the stain and moved on to keep up with the rest.
They went around a corner and saw bloody handprints on the wall. Around a second corner they saw more of the prints. Moore had his men back him up as he kicked in a bathroom door. They went forward with Jodi behind them. Each stall was kicked in. The last stall, after being kicked in, revealed its contents. A dead and bloody soldier lay crumpled around the toilet. As they watched, the body moved. Three of the soldiers fired into the body and stilled the corpse.
“Damn,” said Sergeant Moore. “That was Johnson. Damn shame.”
“The room’s clean,” said Jodi.
“What?”
“The room,” she said, “other than the body, the room is clean. No prints on the walls, nothing on the floor. Clean.”
&
nbsp; They looked about and agreed with her words. One of their number looked to the ceiling and saw a vent. Before he could move, something burst through with a howl and was on him. The soldier screamed as he rolled on the floor, the zombie rolling and biting with him.
“Get it!” Moore ordered.
The soldiers and Jodi opened fire on the rolling pile. The pile came to a stop against the wall. Carefully they approached, both bodies were immobile. Moore aimed his weapon and shot each in the head.
Pierce winced. “Sergeant?”
“No choice, son, shoot them in the head. Anyone bitten gets the same. Clear!”
“Clear, sir!” they replied.
“Damn shame.” Moore walked out.
Jodi gave a look to the vent before following.
The small force made their way down a hall near a conference room. Moore opened the door to a darkened room. He fumbled for the light switch, unable to find it. He cautiously entered and advanced along the wall in search of the elusive switch. He found it, but it didn’t work.
“Shit.”
He wiped his brow and preceded forward, feeling the butt of the gun of the soldier behind him in his back. The conference room was a large rectangular room with a long center table of oak with seating for twenty. From his position, he could see half the table. He stopped.
“Hello,” a soft voice of only a few years said.
“Hello,” said another with the strange metallic undertone.
Zombie Invasion Page 14
