by David Achord
“I can’t see shit in this weather,” he growled. “Alright, back in the vehicles.”
Once he was back in, he grabbed the microphone. “We’re moving a hundred yards closer. Everyone stay alert.”
“Take it slow,” Justin said before sticking his head out of the hatch. Joker moved the vehicle closer and the rest dutifully followed. When he stopped again, Justin ducked his head in from the open hatch.
“Zach,” he said.
I joined him and stuck my head out. He pointed. The headlights were shining on no less than a dozen corpses strewn along the road. All of them had been eaten on extensively.
“Holy shit,” Flash said. I looked over to see he’d stuck his head up beside Joker. Bob somehow forced himself up between Justin and me.
“Yeah, ain’t that some shit,” Joker remarked.
Justin let out yet another long sigh, ducked back down, and got on the radio.
“Team One to all Teams, we’re going in. Prepare for hostile action.”
“Yeehaw,” Joker muttered and took his foot off of the brake.
We turned onto Jackson Road, which led to the main entrance. Joker accelerated, and with a rebel yell busted through the fence.
By prearranged plan, our people were divided into two main groups. The first group, led by Justin, was the entry group. The second team, led by First Sergeant Crumby, acted as our rear security.
The convoy halted and Justin ordered the teams to dismount. Everyone exited with a sense of purpose and formed up into their individual squads. It was only a matter of seconds before the doors burst open and several zeds came charging out.
These were freshly infected zombies. Therefore, their muscles were still intact for the most part. They were as strong as a normal human, maybe more so, and with the infection raging through them, they were fast as all get out.
We laid down disciplined fire, but the first thing I noticed was that some of them weren’t going down easily, even the ones sustaining headshots. Several times, one of them got to within a foot of one of us before finally going down.
“Double-taps to the head!” I shouted. “Shoot them twice!”
It took longer than it should have to kill them. When the last one went down, we took the time to check everyone and reloaded.
“Well, that was some shit, wasn’t it?” Joker said.
I caught Justin looking at me questioningly. “These seem to be a little tougher to kill.”
“You think?” Flash said.
Justin hastened a harsh glance at him. “How many are left?”
I did a quick count. “Twenty-one, but I don’t think we can rely on that number anymore.”
Justin turned toward everyone. “Alright, listen up. We’re going in. Stay tight, kill everything, and don’t stop with one headshot. Any questions?”
Everyone stared back in grim determination, but there were no questions. Justin gave the order and we moved into the building.
The place was huge and the lighting was barely adequate. There were pallets of products stacked everywhere, which made for a lot of hidey-holes for the zeds. When we first made entry, five of them immediately charged us. Everybody was overly hyped now, so we expended probably a hundred rounds of ammo needlessly.
“Alright, everyone, stay frosty,” Justin admonished. “Remember your fire discipline.”
It was a textbook room-clearing procedure, slow and steady. The zombies were playing games with us now. One or two would charge out from wherever they were hiding and while we were focused on them, five or six would charge from the opposite side of the building. And, there were far more than twenty-one.
They were fast. Faster than any zed I’d ever encountered. I heard a loud scream and looked over to see that one of them had successfully clamped down on Flash’s arm. Apparently, Flash was out of ammo. He started punching it in the face repeatedly, but nothing seemed to dissuade the monster from letting go.
“Hold still!” I yelled as I hurried to him. I grabbed a handful of the zed’s hair, aimed carefully, and put two rounds into its head. Only then did it let go and slumped to the floor.
“Thanks,” he said breathlessly. “It got me while I was reloading.”
We stood beside each other and chose our targets for another couple of minutes before there was a slight lull in action. I reloaded quickly and then motioned for him.
“Pull that jacket off and let me look at that arm,” I ordered.
He hesitated a moment, but laid down his assault rifle and worked his jacket off. I pulled his sleeve up and inspected it closely. I could see some indentions, but the skin wasn’t broken.
“He clamped down like a bulldog,” he said.
“Move your arm around, see if it’s broke.”
He did so and shook his head, indicating no breakage.
“You were lucky,” I said.
“Yeah,” he muttered, tugged his sleeve down, and hastily put his jacket back on.
“I’ve been vaccinated,” he declared. “Isn’t that enough?”
“They went over this in the training class. You get bit, you get put in quarantine. In this case, we handcuff you and strap a motorcycle helmet on you.”
“I know that,” he retorted.
I gave him a skeptical stare.
“Well, I’d forgotten that part, but I remember it now,” he replied with a little less arrogance now.
We resumed clearing out every little nook and cranny in between the pallets. They’d hide there, and as soon as we’d get close, they’d charge. Some of them were even hiding on top of pallets and would try to jump on top of us. Justin and I were constantly barking orders to keep our overly enthusiastic soldiers from charging ahead and separating themselves from the covering fire of their teams. When we reached the far end of the warehouse, we regrouped and assessed the damage.
“Conway’s injured,” Merritt reported. “He hasn’t been bit, but it looks like his collarbone may be broken.”
Justin and I hustled over to where Conway was sitting. He looked up as we approached.
“A big, overgrown zed was up on a stack of pallets and jumped on me,” he said.
“How is it?” I asked.
He tried to move his right arm and grimaced in pain. “Feels broke. I have terrible luck.” He pointed. “This is the arm that got broke a couple of years back.”
Justin pointed at one of the newer guys. “Get him back in his vehicle and guard him.”
“You got it,” he said.
“You got it, sir,” I admonished. “Captain Smithson worked hard for that rank, give him the respect he deserves.”
“Uh, yes, sir,” he said, duly chastened, and then helped Conway walk off.
While Justin was checking the troops, I grabbed Bob.
“We need to find Brumley. Walk with me and cover my back,” I said. I walked around the ground floor of the warehouse, pausing only long enough to look at the dead males. “Alright, c’mon,” I said and jogged back over to Justin. He saw me approaching and waited.
“Brumley isn’t among the dead,” I said, thought a moment, and pointed up.
The living quarters were upstairs. We’d not yet cleared any of the rooms. Justin nodded in understanding, radioed First Sergeant Crumby, and advised him to get the vehicle refueled and then start loading up with the goodies.
The living quarters used to be offices for the administrative personnel, with the last one being the president’s suite. That was Brumley’s personal quarters. Justin called a couple of teams over.
“We’re going to clear the living quarters,” he explained. “If they look like a zed, kill it, but we’re looking for survivors, especially Brumley.”
“Another thing,” I said. “If there is anyone up there all alone, and you can do it, take them alive.”
Justin looked over at me, wondering what I was thinking. “We need to somehow figure out how they became infected.”
He nodded. “Any questions?”
There was none and we headed u
p the steps, our boots clanging on each metal step, announcing our arrival. Our teams split off, Justin, Bob and I provided cover as each room was entered, and then we went to the end of the hall where Brumley’s suite was located.
The entrance was a heavy oak door and it was locked. I swapped weapons with Bob and started kicking. The door held firmly. The only thing being damaged was my foot. I stopped and caught my breath.
“Can you pick the lock?” Bob asked.
“I probably could, but my lock-picking tools are back at Mount Weather.”
He nodded in understanding. Justin scoffed and pointed at the walls on either side of the door.
“Looks like nothing more than drywall to me,” he said.
Before Bob or I could respond, Justin stepped back and launched a kick. The drywall was no match for his heavy boot and gave way easily. The problem was, the force of his kick propelled him forward. Not only did his boot go through the outer wall, it continued past the four inches of insulation and through the inner wall. It resulted in his leg getting hung up. Justin was stuck there, one leg stuck in the wall, struggling to maintain balance. I started laughing, which caused Bob to laugh as well.
“Are you two going to help me or what?” he growled.
Bob and I grabbed him and pulled him out. I bent down slightly and peered in. Justin squatted down beside me.
“No movement,” I said. “If there were any zeds in there, I think they would’ve attacked your foot.”
Justin nodded in agreement. We reached inside the hole he had created and started pulling the drywall apart. We made short work of the outer wall and took turns kicking in the rest of the inner wall until it was large enough to walk through at a crouch.
Our noses were immediately assailed by the odor. The place was filthy, with trash and plates of rotten, half-eaten food lying around.
Joker grunted. “It smells worse than a whore’s ass on a hot Saturday night in here.”
I glanced at him. Although I’d never taken a sniff of a whore’s ass, I did not doubt his assessment. We found Jackson T. Brumley cowering under his desk.
Chapter 16 – Jackson T. Brumley
“Get out from there!” I shouted.
Brumley gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look before he slowly crawled out. Once clear of the desk, he sat there on his fat behind, staring blankly. Everyone was quiet as they stared at him. He looked shell-shocked. He’d lost probably twenty or thirty pounds, and I don’t think he’d bathed in several days either. I squatted down in front of him.
“Yo, Brumley,” I said, snapping my fingers in his face. It took him several seconds before he recognized me. Sort of.
“Senator?” he asked.
“I’m Zach,” I said, correcting him, and then pointed at Bob. “He’s the senator.”
He looked back and forth at the both of us, and then focused on Flash. He pointed.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Oh, sure, point out the black guy,” Flash quipped.
It took several minutes and some soothing conversation before he finally came to his senses.
He looked accusingly at both Bob and me. “My people started getting sick within hours of being inoculated.”
“Could you describe the symptoms?” I asked.
“Fever, profuse sweating, disorientation, oh and did I mention the fuckers went crazy and started attacking each other?”
“Why aren’t you sick?” Bob asked.
“I don’t do needles and I don’t do vaccinations,” he retorted. “Everyone knows all of those childhood vaccinations caused kids to have autism.”
I started to correct him, but realized it was futile. The man had lost his wits.
“Where is your nephew?” I asked. Jackson’s number two in command was his nephew. He was a quiet, diminutive little man who looked like a younger twin of Brumley, but he was an intelligent man who ran the day-to-day operations of Dayton. He told me once he was a CPA in his past life, which made perfect sense.
Brumley answered my question by waving a hand around ambiguously. “He’s out there, somewhere.”
We tried to get more information out of him, but like I said, he’d lost his wits and mostly babbled. After several frustrating minutes, I gave up.
I started to give him a sympathetic pat on the back before standing, but then I remembered our previous conversation and his request for us to procure young girls for his sexual pleasure. I remembered my friend, Andie, and of the abuse she’d suffered at the hands of her uncle. I also remembered that time when I had guard duty with Savannah and the look of anguish on her face when those pieces of shit showed up. They’d degraded her, abused her, and robbed her of her dignity. I wondered how many girls Jackson T. Brumley had done that to.
I looked around as my fingers tickled the lock-blade knife sticking out of my pocket. Alas, too many witnesses.
“We’re done here,” I said to Justin.
We went downstairs and found First Sergeant Crumby barking orders at everyone and there was a sort of a chaotic symphony taking place. Someone had the forethought to hook a trailer up to the semi and it was being loaded with a forklift at one of the loading docks. Everyone else was hand-loading boxes of everything they could find like they’d discovered a lost treasure. I had to admit, I was impressed. When the first sergeant spotted us, he jogged over.
“All vehicles have been gassed up. I’d say another hour and we’ll be loaded up and ready to go.”
“Alright, when every vehicle is filled to the brim, we’re getting the hell out of here,” Justin said.
“Yeah, absolutely,” I said in agreement.
“What are we going to do with Brumley?” Bob asked.
I gave him a hard look. “Do you really want that pedophile living anywhere near Mount Weather?”
His jaw tightened, but after a moment he gave a grim, silent nod. While we were standing there, Cutter came jogging up.
“First Sergeant, we’ve found the arms room. There were only a few weapons left in there, but there’s a shitload of ammo. Maybe a thousand rounds of various calibers,” he said.
“Outstanding,” Jeremiah replied. “Get the word to everyone. Load up and make sure the vehicles are lined up in their proper order.”
I was about to add my two cents worth, but then I saw those two cop brothers walking up, and they were dragging a bound woman along the floor. She was nude from the waist up and it was obvious she was infected. She was wrapped securely in tape, including her mouth. One of the brothers, Liam, held up a roll of duct tape and gave a big grin.
“You said you wanted a live specimen, man, so here you go,” he said.
“What the hell?” Cutter drawled out slowly.
“We found her hiding in the damn mop closet,” Liam said with a laugh.
She was in her twenties, and even though she was infected, it was obvious she was once an attractive woman. She glared angrily at us all with blue eyes that the blackness had not yet overtaken.
“You did want one, right?” Liam asked again.
“Yes, absolutely,” I replied and looked around. “Okay, load her up in the Stryker.” I then motioned to First Sergeant Crumby, who stopped what he was doing and walked over to us.
“There’s a change of plans, guys. Sergeant Crumby, lead the caravan back to Mount Weather.” I then gestured at us. “We’re taking that woman to Fort Detrick.”
The first sergeant looked at me and then gave Justin a questioning stare. “Are you sure, sir? We don’t know the condition of that route and there may or may not be hostiles about.”
Justin gave me a look, looked out of the open bay doors at the falling sleet, and looked back at me.
“Zach, we need to stick to the plan.” He pointed outside. “Look at that sleet coming down, we don’t need to make any detours.”
“Normally, I would agree, but there is something more going on here. These people were infected after being given the vaccine. It is imperative we find out why.”
Jus
tin did not respond immediately, but looked outside again and shook his head. I spoke before he could.
“This is not an option, Captain,” I said. “If we kill her or let her go, our evidence is gone. If we carry her back to Mount Weather, the delay in getting her to Fort Detrick may be detrimental to finding out what went wrong.”
Both Jeremiah and Justin were giving me hard stares. Technically, there was a gray area in the chain-of-command. I did not outrank either of them, but they both knew I had the ear of the president and could make a stink of it if they went against me. I could see from their expressions they were thinking exactly that. But, I could also see both of them getting angry. Other people had stopped what they were doing and were now listening to our conversation. I knew what they were thinking. I was usurping their authority and I was doing it in front of everyone. I was not doing it intentionally, but I was growing impatient.
“Let’s take a walk,” I said to Justin under my breath. He followed me outside. It’d gotten colder, it seemed like. The sleet stung when it hit my face.
“Are we friends or not?” I asked him.
“I’d like to think so,” he replied evenly. “But, I’m in charge of this mission.”
“Yes, you are. You’re in charge of the military and tactical aspect. But, you have to understand how important this is.”
He put his hands on his hips, stared off into the dark, and let out a long, exasperated sigh. I tried another tact.
“Look, I’ll make this easy. I’ll take her to Detrick. The rest of you get on back to Weather.”
“Zach, you need to stick with the group,” Justin said.
“I’m taking the woman to Detrick,” I said with the tone in my voice belying my growing anger. “That’s not open for debate.”
