ZOMBIE BATTLE 5
Survive
Jacqueline Druga
Zombie Battle Book 5: Survive
By Jacqueline Druga
Copyright 2013 by Jacqueline Druga
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Thank you so very much to Dan C for all your help with this book.
Chapter One
Tsuen Wan, Hong Kong
May 14th
His arm was bleeding badly, but he just wanted to go home. His plans had been altered. Ken Chu was supposed to meet up with friends after he closed out his work at his desk at the bank. But all didn’t go as planned. He wondered where the warnings were, why the government or officials hadn’t released some sort of statement, telling people to stay off of the street.
There had been news of a sickness in Peru. A few cases were discovered in Germany and Italy, the biggest outbreak was in the United States. But last he checked, days earlier none had been reported in China. Certainly if there had been, there would have been news.
Ken had heard the commotion outside of his building for the last hour. Sirens, car tires screeching, people yelling. He figured it was another demonstration gone bad and didn’t think too much about it until he heard the sounds shouting and fighting just down from his cubicle. It had moved inside of his building, just as he was closing down shop for the day. He grabbed his bag, latched it. One person yelling soon became two, then three then a scream.
He raced outside of his cubicle to see what was happening and barely made it a step into the commotion when someone slammed into him knocking him back into the cubicle, sending the semi sturdy wall crumbling back.
A riot of some kind had erupted. That was the best Ken could comprehend, that and the fact that the mad man’s teeth had sunk deep into the flesh of his forearm.
He wouldn’t let go. He chomped down, pulling and gnawing like a vicious animal. It was painful, no doubt, but Ken had to break free. Using his canvas briefcase he hit his assailant several times until he released him and then Ken stumbled to stand and holding his arm sloppily ran for the stairs. So many people ran for the door, it was blocked.
Suddenly the sounds of sirens that he had ignored were much clearer and Ken raced toward a window to look out.
Had he been that absorbed, that focused, that ignorant that he didn’t see what was going on.
Four floors below on the street, it appeared as if people engaged in fighting. Massive amounts of people raced about the streets.
He peered down to his wound, it gushed uncontrollably and Ken knew he had to get help. The screams grew louder and knowing the staircase was out, he opted for the next logical thing.
The elevator.
He breathed out in relief as it opened the second he ran toward it. Luck was on his side, he thought. But it wasn’t. With all the strength he had left, he dove inside. On the floor, he caught his breath and turned. He didn’t even have time to stand when another jumped in the elevator. But he jumped on Ken.
Ken never saw his face, because his attacker’s mouth quickly buried to Ken’s neck and his teeth clamped down. Ken tried to fight, kicking and pulling, but it was useless.
He cried out in agony and for help but the elevator doors closed and no one heard him. No one cared. Truth was, the sickness had spread so quickly through Hong Kong … no one in the world even knew.
Chapter Two
May 17th
Chesapeake Bay, VA
General Greg Lance had led his country and the military as Secretary of Defense, but he didn’t lead the group of eight men from the rubble of the White House Bunker. He followed, CIA Director Wills, along with the Secretary of Health, Don Kraus. They had to leave the Bunker, communications were down and if they didn’t find a way to let the rest of the world know the United States was still alive and fighting, he feared what the rest of the world would do.
He was putting things in place at the White House, working with the CDC and the WHO on a cure or possibly one, when a mentally unstable submarine captain released her bay of trident missiles. Two hit D.C., the rest were wayward, with only one other one hitting a city.
A meteor landed in Peru bringing with it a deadly virus that spewed into the air. When the infection spread about the villages, hundreds of military and medical personnel moved to the site. Not realizing the germ was still alive, it still lingered and the longer the outside world was down, the more chance they stood of a slow infection.
A very slow infection.
Many of the hundreds brought the virus with them when they returned home. Sprinkled like salt on a meal, they spread across the country, and in turn spread the virus.
Last contact Lance had, they had secured a cure. Not antidote, but a cure for the earlier stages before death and reanimation occurred.
He had also sent out Jack Edwards in search of a recluse scientist who very well could have the means to a weapon to end the masses of walking dead, without destroying building or land.
That was the last he heard. Power went down in the bunker and the team suited up and headed out into the radioactive world.
A nightmare world.
The nuclear weapon did nothing to the undead that weren’t blasted to bits. Burned, charred, they crawled at them. Mouths agape, biting at air, arms falling from the bodies and jaws dropping off. It was a pathetic desecration of the human body.
They wanted to head north to where less of the infected roamed, but the heat was too intense and they changed course. Just about out of the city, they weakened and moved slow, trudging forward. The oxygen was just about gone and Wills was able to get out one radio call from his suit’s system. One call. It was for help. Who heard it, if anyone, remained to be seen.
Then they were overrun. A large massing of the undead came upon them. Lance and the others maneuvered clumsily in their suits, and while the undead didn’t move fast, they were more agile than Lance and the others.
He was toppled and fought a good fight. He saw Don buried beneath three of them as they pulled at his suit.
‘Dear God,” Lance thought. “This is it. This is how I die.”
The bloody, gaping, rotting mouth of the dead opened wide, gnawing at his face shield.
Years of battles, fighting wars and he was about to succumb to something beyond comprehension, beyond reality.
Lance closed his eyes.
At some point he passed out. More than likely when the oxygen emptied.
He woke to voices shouting and helicopter noise.
“Do you have a bite? Any bites? Scratches? Anything?”
“Negative.” Another responded.
“This one is clear.”
“I got a bite. Right here.”
“Take care of him now, before he reanimates.”
Was it him? Lance wondered and he opened his eyes in just enough time to see a soldier in combat uniform, careen a metal pipe like object down into the skull of Wills. Impaled with a single entry wound.
The head isn’t easy and Lance knew what it took for that soldier to do that. A lot of strength, it wasn’t or couldn’t have been as easy as it looked.
“General Lance sir.” Another soldier spoke loudly. “We’ll be landing shortly, sir.”
“Am I ok?” Lance asked.
“Yes, sir. You are all clear of any wounds, sir.”
Lance thought of Don. Immediately he thought of his coworker who fast became his friend. He shifted his eyes and saw Don sitting across the chopper, knees brought to his chest and head down. “Is
the Secretary of Health alright?”
“He’s fine, sir. Just shaken.”
“Where … where are we going?”
“We secured all the islands in Chesapeake Bay and are diligently working to clear all coastal islands up and down the east coast. They will be easier to contain. We need to land and need to get you into operations ASAP. “
Lance nodded. He understood. The soldier identified himself as a Captain and Lance tried to listen through the helicopter noise. He told Lance how even though the military tried to keep going and kept in touch with Dr. Klein in Cleveland, they were still at an international limbo since they lost communications with Lance in the bunker.
They started searching the DC area by air with no luck until they picked up a radio signal.
Grateful for a lot of things, one of which he was still alive, Lance used the final moments to sort through what all he had to do before being tossed into the throes of things.
It was a brilliant move to secure the islands. They were small, but most were only accessible by boat. They were safe havens so to speak. Amongst other things, Lance made a mental note to congratulate the person who thought of it.
But he knew upon settling, he had to get a hold of Cleveland and speak to Doctors Klein and Powers to see how things were with the antidote. Did they make more? Did it work? Had they distributed it?
Jack Edwards was top on his list. He was on the goose chance for Christopher Dodds and his magical melting weapon.
And last, he had to find a way to get in touch with the Prime Minister of England. Knowing full well what he would do if he were on the uninfected side of the world, Lance had to let Lucille Walker know that not only was he alive, but the United States was still there, still kicking, and still fighting like hell to beat the plague that fast took control of the country.
Chapter Three
Cleveland, Ohio
Everything was normal. Everything. Pulse, respiration, blood pressure … there was no indication whatsoever that the test patient wasn’t healthy and fine. Only Saul Klein’s gut instinct that he shouldn’t have followed Colonel Stilton’s request to test the antidote as an antiserum.
Tom Lewis was the lone volunteer of the serum. He had lost everything and everyone and the only request he made was for a bullet to his head should he be one of the undead.
Saul agreed.
Lewis didn’t die.
When Saul went to check on him, everything from the monitoring station on his vital signs were normal. But then he looked into the observation window and saw an empty bed.
Only for a moment.
The ‘slam’ of the hands against the glass startled Saul but not as much as the vision of Lewis.
He had transformed.
His eyes were a gray green, missing the pupil. His skin color was nearly white but blue veins were predominate and pulsed outwards. The inside of his mouth had deepened in color and Lewis slowly gnawed toward the window. He stopped, hit his hands again, locked eyes with Saul and gave an eerily sinister smile.
“My God,” Saul whispered. “What have I done?”
It was when Lewis moved his mouth in a gnawing motion again that Saul realized the young man wasn’t biting, he was speaking.
Reaching forward to press the ‘talk’ button on the exterior intercom system, Saul paused. His hands twitched and grew rigid about the same time a droplet of sweat rolled down his brow across his nose.
He wiped the sweat then pressed the button, “I’m sorry,” Saul said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
With the maddened glare on Lewis’ face, Saul expected a maddened response.
He didn’t get one.
“Am I dead?” Lewis asked.
Saul shook his head. “No, it has done something to you. Mutated you. I’m sorry.”
His words were rough and raspy, his breathing gurgled. “I volunteered.”
“How do you feel?” Saul asked.
“Angry. Very Angry. Not at anyone, just angry. I feel enraged.”
“I can end this for you.” Saul lowered his head some. “Just say the word.”
Lewis shook his head, it was almost uncontrolled. “No. I don’t know how much longer I will last. Breathing is hard. Put me somewhere to take them out. Let me take them out one by one. I bet I can walk among them.”
“I can’t authorize that.”
“Stilton can.”
After pursing his lips, Saul nodded slowly. “I’ll be back.”
He walked away from the observation room and down the hall. He had to find Stilton, not to talk about releasing Lewis into the wild to become the ultimate zombie fighting machine, but rather the adverse reaction to the serum.
Saul’s head pounded with each step. He wasn’t a stupid man, the sweating, the headache, the tightest and tremors in his hand. He was worried that his own cure was slow cooking its way like a poison through his veins.
After taking the stairs two flights up, Saul stopped in the hall.
He heard a baby crying.
A few more steps, the crying grew louder. It wasn’t a painful cry, more of a fussy one. And as he reached to knock on Stilton’s makeshift office, he realized where the crying came from.
“Come in,” Stilton replied to Saul’s knock.
Saul walked in. His eyes shifted to the throw back, hippy style man holding a baby.
“Dr. Klein, this is Doctor Christopher Dodds. I told you about him.” Stilton motioned to Dodds with his hands. “He has the weapon that can eliminate the large masses in one moment.”
“He’s holding a baby,” Saul said.
Clinging to the child, Dodds extended his other hand. “I promised Jack I would watch him until he returned.”
“Jack.” Saul whispered. “Jack went for my wife, grandson and his wife. He took your weapon.”
“Yes, have you heard from him?” Dodds asked.
“Not yet. I’m worried. My wife sounded desperate and that woman never sounds desperate under stress.”
Stilton interjected, “We’re trying now to get in touch with them. We’re trying to reach the pilot. Dr. Klein how is Lewis?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Saul said. “It isn’t good, Colonel. The serum was not intended to be an inoculation. It’s an antidote. It has horrible side effects. He transformed and while alive, looks like our infected. He is speaking, difficulty breathing, he rationalizes, but says he feels angry. Very angry. I’m afraid it can get worse. In fact, I’m afraid, that even the cure may not work.”
Stilton shook his head with a confused look. "What do you mean? You took the cure. You’re right here.”
“I am.” Saul held up his hand. “But the injection site, the bite site, it’s stiff, twitching. I have a headache. I’m worried.”
“If I may,” Dodds said. “Headache can be stress and you can just be having a reaction to the bite without coming down with the infection itself. When did you last run tests on your blood.”
“Yesterday.”
“Let’s take some more,” Dodds suggested.
“Doctor Powers can help me with that; you have a weapon to create.” Saul told Dodds. “Until we finish testing on myself and Lewis …” He faced Stilton. “No one else can receive the serum. We may be creating a whole new breed, a second wave worse than the reanimated.” Just as he finished his warning, he saw a cold, ghostly look creep over Stilton’s face. “What is it?”
Stilton placed his hands to his face and murmured. “I had faith.”
“I’m sorry,” Saul asked. “What does that mean?”
“It’s too late. I had faith that it would be a great inoculation, I believed it would work. I sent out serum.” Stilton’s fingers slid down his face. “It’s already been administered.”
Chapter Four
Avery County, North Carolina
If he could, Jack Edwards would break down. Fold to the ground and break. His insides crumbled and his gut wrenched in a painful heartbreaking twist.
What happened? What went wrong?
They were there, right there, not long after they received the call for help from his wife and Irma. Four people, one of which just a toddler … gone.
The Dodds pellet had worked beautifully, destroying every infected animal in the radius of the fortress. It turned them into red and black oozing mush. Skin melted.
Lil, Irma, the baby and Garrick’s brother Steve were in the safe room of the fortress. But when Jack and Garrick arrived they were nowhere to be found.
Outside amongst the remains, Jack signaled the chopper with a wave of his hand to make another sweep and then he radioed, “I need you to look for anything, any signs of people running. Over.”
Were they dead? Jack wondered. When he dropped the pellet to save his wife, did he inadvertently kill her? His soul cried out, and it took everything Jack had not to just lose it.
Garrick emerged from the fortress. “There are no signs of clothing within the remains. I checked the entire fortress up and down.”
Jack breathed out. He too, had noticed there wasn’t any clothing, but felt perhaps his wishful thinking jaded what he saw. “Then where are they?”
“Gone. Left.”
“I have the chopper circling.”
“I’m not sure they’ll be found. How long since they sent that distress call. An hour, two tops. Come here.” Garrick waved his hand for Jack to follow.
Jack did. He followed Garrick back into the house and to the safe room.
Garrick handed Jack the cell phone, the only thing remaining in the room of Lil and Irma. The Garrick crouched down to the floor. “I wasn’t even thinking.” He lifted the rug exposing a small wooden hatch. “The escape route.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “They went out there. Where does this go?”
“Just a small tunnel way that leads under the house to the back side of the property.”
Jack made a move to get into the hole.
“Dude, seriously, you are way too emotional and not thinking.” Garrick said. “Going down there isn’t finding them. They booked. The truck is gone. Somehow they got it and left. Our best bet is to get the chopper to drop us off where we can get transportation and supplies and we go looking for them. We try to think like they would and we go looking for them.”
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