by David Achord
He stared at me a moment and then nodded somberly.
Justin dressed and then the three of us went back to General Fosswell’s room. Everything was as I had left it. We laid out his blanketing on the floor and rolled the body up in it. The only guard on duty never woke up as we carried Fosswell outside and dumped him in the back of the deuce. When we were finished, the three of us went to the cafeteria.
Fred fixed us tea, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before even taking a sip. Fred nudged me an hour or two later as people started coming into the cafeteria. We sat at the back and waited patiently.
“The breakfast atmosphere here is a lot different from Weather,” Justin said under his breath.
He was right. Breakfast time at Mount Weather was a noisy affair because everyone was engaging in breezy conversation. Here at Fort Detrick, it was quiet, subdued. Nobody was smiling and only conversed in hushed voices.
Breakfast consisted of one egg and sausage patty each, and as much wheat porridge as you wanted. It wasn’t all that tasty, some butter or honey would have certainly helped, but it was better than starving.
I kept a running head count, and when everyone but two people were present, I nodded at Justin. He stood and walked to the front of the cafeteria. A few people noticed him, and there were some nudges and fingers pointed in his direction. Soon, the entire cafeteria became silent.
“Good morning, everyone,” Justin said. “As of now, I am taking charge of Fort Detrick. General Fosswell has been relieved of command.”
“I want to hear that from the general,” Shooter instantly said. There was a singular murmur of agreement.
“Then load your ass up on the deuce and ride back with us,” Justin retorted. “You can ride in the back with his body.”
Shooter paled when he realized what Justin said, looked around wildly, and then pointed in our direction.
“They did it!” he shouted.
All eyes turned toward us. I stood slowly and walked to the front of the cafeteria. This was on purpose. Now, most of the people were focused on Justin and me, not Fred, who was armed to the teeth with two pistols and multiple speed loaders. I think the quickest I ever reloaded a revolver with a speed loader was about three seconds. Fred could do it in the blink of an eye. So, I wasn’t worried about my personal safety, but I hoped to avoid any further bloodshed. When I got to the front, I stopped, turned, and spoke calmly, yet clearly, so everyone could hear me.
“I killed the general,” I said. “I’ll explain, if anyone is interested.”
There was a stunned silence and a long moment before anyone spoke.
“I would like an explanation,” Doctor Kincaid said, his voice cracking.
“As you know, the general claimed to have uncovered evidence that his son, Captain Harlan Fosswell Junior, was solely responsible for sabotaging the vaccines that infected the Ohio people. That was a false accusation. Through our investigation, we found that in fact it was General Fosswell who perpetrated the sabotage. His son assisted him, but it was definitely the general who was behind all of it. President Stark sent me up here for the purpose of informing General Fosswell with the findings of our investigation and to get his input. Last night, I was having a frank conversation with him when he retrieved a Beretta handgun. I had no option but to fire in self-defense.”
“So, you killed him,” Shooter stated.
“That is correct, Simon,” I replied.
“That’s bullshit,” he said.
“Your statement seems to imply that I should have offered to give him a manicure or something rather than defend myself. The man posed a threat to my life, and I reacted. I remember a time, let’s see, a few years ago back in Nolensville. You shot a man and made the same assertion of self-defense, correct?”
He stared hard at me a moment before looking away. A few years back, a gang confronted us while we were trying to retrieve medical equipment out of a hospital located in south Nashville. One of the gang members stated he recognized Shooter and his brother, and was about to tell us something when Shooter shot him. He later claimed the man had made a threatening move and shot him in self-defense. We went as far as to put Shooter on trial, but he was found not guilty. I think it was a story he wished everyone would forget about.
“What happens now?”
I looked around and found it was Andre who asked the question.
“Business as usual,” Justin said. “There will be some changes, like in a minute or two I’m going to change the thermostat settings to sixty-five degrees. But, for the most part, there will be nothing different in day-to-day operations. Are there any questions?”
An hour-long discussion ensued. As I suspected, the people living here were not happy. The death of Fosswell opened the spigot and there was a torrent of questions and criticisms. Justin handled it well, promising changes for the better. I also made a few promises, including increasing the amount of provisions, which was going to put a strain on our resources. While I listened, Fred made eye contact with me and gestured at the door. I gave him a micro and we made a silent exit.
“Look,” Fred said as we walked outside. He pointed toward Doctor Kincaid fast walking away from us. It wasn’t any problem for me to run and stop in front of him.
“I’m so glad I bumped into you,” I said as I stood in front of him and waited for Fred to amble up to us. He nervously looked over his shoulder at Fred’s approach. Fred seemed to have that effect on people.
“What do you want, Zach?” he asked.
“Let’s take a walk to the lab,” I answered and grabbed his forearm.
“Why?” he asked. “We answered all of your questions yesterday.”
“Yeah, well, we believe it would be for the best if we kill that zed you’re experimenting on,” I said.
He stopped suddenly. “We can’t kill her, Zach. It is imperative we keep her alive.”
I could tell by the look in his eye Fred was about to yank a knot in his ass, so I quickly spoke up.
“Alright, tell me why,” I demanded.
“Because, she’s pregnant.”
Both Fred and I fixed him with a hard, puzzled stare. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes, definitely,” Kincaid answered.
“Show us,” I demanded.
Kincaid swallowed. “Promise you won’t hurt her.”
“I’m not promising anything. Now, show us.”
Smeltzer had walked outside during this and watched tentatively while standing in the doorway, as if he were contemplating running back inside. At my beckoning, he reluctantly walked up to us, and the two of them led us to a section of the NBACC building I’d not visited before. It was similar to the other labs, but this one had a room that looked exactly like a jail cell. The room was a smaller version as one of the containment labs, but there was a concrete platform that served as a bed with one of those thin, foam mattresses on it, and a stainless-steel combination toilet with a sink.
The infected woman was sitting on the mattress. She was wearing a hospital gown, and they’d even put slippers on her feet. She sat silently, staring at us through lidded eyes.
“It is a bit difficult to notice, but she is in her second trimester. She won’t eat regular food, only raw meat, and she’s relearned how to drink from the sink.”
I looked over and saw a turd on the floor in the corner. I pointed at it. “She doesn’t seem to be potty trained.”
“Yes, we’ve been debating on how to teach her. We’ve not come up with an adequate solution yet,” Smeltzer said with a frown, but then he pointed. “Do you gentlemen notice anything unusual about her?”
Both Fred and I looked her over as she stared back.
“She seems calm,” I observed.
“We have her sedated,” Smeltzer answered. “We sneak it into the raw meat.”
“Does it work?” I asked.
“Somewhat,” he responded. “She’ll gnash at us sometimes, but we use welder’s gloves when handling her. We limit the dosage though,
so we won’t harm the fetus. After she gives birth, we plan on trying different types of opioids and other psychotropic drugs and testing her reaction.”
Kincaid read the expression on my face as I glanced at Fred. “I believe I know what you’re thinking.”
“You do, huh? Is your telepathy telling you there is no reason to find a way to treat these things?”
“I’m sure the both of you believe the only option is to kill anyone who is infected,” Kincaid replied. “But, what if we could find a way to manage their condition?”
“And then what? Do you guys think they could once again become functioning, productive members of society?” I waved a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a noble effort, but this isn’t like AIDS or polio, or hepatitis, or some other viral infection. Once you become infected with this virus, it’s game over.”
“There may be evidence to indicate otherwise,” Doctor Smeltzer contended. I got the impression he wanted us to ask him what the so-called evidence was so he could launch into a long diatribe.
“Gentlemen,” I said, holding back a smart-assed retort, “you should be concentrating on the production of the vaccine, not some type of care plan once someone becomes infected. And, for the record, there is nothing you doctors have shown me that proves you can cure someone who has become infected.” I pointed at the woman. “She’s proof you have no such cure, otherwise, she wouldn’t be crapping on the floor.”
Doctor Kincaid eyed the both of us, his eyes lingering on Fred’s pistols. “Gentlemen, we have been, and are continuing to successfully produce the vaccine. Now, it is time for us to explore the possible creation of a cure. Allowing this woman to give birth may advance our research by leaps and bounds.”
The other three readily nodded in agreement.
Justin and Stretch met us at the truck. There were a couple of others there, looking at Fosswell’s body, even though it was rolled up in a bedspread and you couldn’t see him.
“We’re done here, for now,” I said.
Justin nodded. “Everything is in place. Sergeant Siegenthaler here is going to be my number two. I’m not foreseeing any major problems. How are the doctors?”
“I think they’re fine,” I said. “We had a little talk with them and I think we’ve come to a tentative understanding.”
He nodded. “I’m heading over there now to have a little chat with them.”
We spoke for a few more minutes before shaking hands.
“Alright. I’ll see you in a few days,” I said.
He waved and walked away. I started to get in the truck, but Stretch stopped me.
“Have you talked to Cutter?” she asked.
“Sure, we talk frequently,” I said.
“I mean, has he said anything about the letter? You did give it to him, right?”
“Yeah, almost immediately after I got back. He took it, but he never said anything to me about it,” I said.
“Did he read it?” she asked.
“Not in front of me.”
“Did you read it?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” I said. “It was none of my business.”
She was fighting hard to hold it in, but I could see her eyes watering up. She nodded her head and then turned to catch up with Justin. Fred caught my attention and nodded toward the truck.
Chapter 38 – Back to Weather
We’d driven ten miles in utter silence, which was not unusual in the company of Fred McCoy. Even so, I felt like I needed to talk.
“None of those doctors seemed too terribly upset about Fosswell’s death, did they?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe they’re masters of controlling their emotions, like Vulcans,” I said.
That one elicited a slight smile. “Maybe,” he said.
“I don’t think they were in on it, but I think they knew more than they’re letting on. Especially Kincaid and Smeltzer. Those other two are just happy to be here.”
“Could be.”
“Do you think we should’ve killed her?” I asked, referring to the pregnant zombie woman.
“Probably.”
“Kincaid made a good point though. If that baby is born normal, it might be immune, and maybe actually lead to them finding a cure.”
I glanced at him and waited, but he offered no response now.
“You know, those four are kooky enough to have an ulterior motive.”
He glanced over at me. “Like what?” he asked.
“They might be allowing the birth to go through simply to see how that infected woman would react. You know, will she act like a mother or will she sink her teeth into her newborn child and eat it?”
Fred nodded slightly. “Hadn’t thought of that one.”
I waited for him to say more, but he lapsed again into silence.
“Well, your input has given me a lot to think about,” I deadpanned.
He glanced over at me again. “They knew what he did,” Fred said. “They had it figured out as soon as you brought that infected woman to them.”
“If that’s true, why did they not tell anyone?”
“Fosswell catered to them,” he replied. “Think about it. They had access to one of the best labs in the world and could do any kind of testing and experimenting they wanted. No oversight, no micromanaging, no regulations, no red tape. Three hots, cots, and bodyguards. They’re in heaven. The only thing they’re lacking is a couple of busty hookers visiting them every Saturday night.”
“Yeah, but I’m not going to forget it,” I declared. “There will be a reckoning.”
“We’ll all have a reckoning one day,” Fred said quietly.
I didn’t agree out loud, but he was right. It seemed like he was always right. Fred lapsed into silence again, but I wasn’t through.
“How’s that harem of zombie women you have?”
He waited several long seconds before responding. “I killed them.”
I looked at him incredulously. “You did?”
“I was fooling myself. They weren’t ever going to have a normal life. It was the best thing for them.” Another pause. “I killed the oldest one last. The look on her face…” He paused and cleared his throat. “I’d never seen such a look of heartbreak and sorrow.”
“Melvin told me he once saw a zed being chased by people and it looked to him like it was scared to death.”
“Mmm,” Fred said.
“Fear comes from the amygdala. I wonder if their brain is somehow healing.”
I started to say more, but I caught a look at Fred’s face before he turned his head and stared pointedly out of the window. I suddenly realized killing those zed women bothered him a lot more than he let on. I waited a few minutes before speaking.
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we never told anyone about them. Those docs would have probably insisted you impregnate them or something,” I said, hoping to lighten the mood.
Fred turned back to me with a frown.
“I’m curious about what the docs think about these zeds becoming afraid,” I said. “When we get back, I’m going send them an email and see what they think.”
“That pregnant woman, it isn’t going to matter,” Fred suddenly said. “I mean, I don’t know a whole lot about this zombie virus stuff, but I don’t think it’s going to matter if that baby is infected or normal.”
“We can always go back and kill it,” I suggested.
“Your call.”
I glanced over at him. “You don’t give a shit, do you?”
“Nope. Not anymore.”
He turned and focused out of the passenger window again. We’d traveled almost five miles and I thought he was done talking, but he spoke again. “Priss is pregnant.”
I glanced at him before focusing back on the road. “Which one?”
“The horse.” A long pause. “And Serena.”
“Serena?” I asked. Fred gave a micro. I sighed. “Well, shit, that figures. Does her mother know yet?”
“Don’t know. Sammy to
ld me just before we left yesterday. They might have broken the news by now.”
“So, Sammy’s going to be a father before he turns seventeen. Kelly’s pregnant, the zombie’s pregnant, Serena’s pregnant, and a horse is pregnant. Maybe we should throw a great big baby shower for all of them,” I said.
Fred’s only response was a grunt.
That was the extent of our conversation for the rest of the trip.
Chapter 39 – True’s Revenge
I spent two days watching them. I wanted to get to know their habits, figure a way to get them all at once, if I could. Otherwise, I was going to have to sneak around and pick them off one by one, and that could take months.
They ambushed us about a week ago, or more. I’m not sure exactly, the days have kind of been a blur for me. They got us good; they even had some hand grenades, or dynamite, or something. We probably deserved it. I had no doubt they were associated with someone we’d raided or killed in the past and they were out for revenge.
I was out of the fight before it even started. One of those grenades knocked me for a loop. I remembered walking from the docks to my RV, when suddenly I was being tossed in the air and then everything went dark.
When I came to, it was well past sundown, but the night was lit up because all our campers and RVs were on fire. I don’t know how long I was out, but I regained consciousness by the sound of someone screaming in agony. There was blood in my eyes, and although everything was still blurry, it didn’t take much to see a person being held down and getting their head cut off. The man doing the cutting held the head up with a big, evil grin. His companions cheered, and in the firelight, I could see it was Shane, Sandy’s brother. He was an arrogant, loudmouthed prick and I didn’t like him too much, but he was Sandy’s brother and Prairie’s uncle. The sight of him like that made me sick to my stomach.
Suddenly, someone shouted. “Hey, we got another live one!”
I saw other people turn toward me, including the man who’d decapitated Shane. He was a big dude, and the lighting from the fires made him look like an apparition. He was holding a large Bowie knife and he’d been sprayed with blood when he’d cut into Shane’s jugular. Looking up from the muddy ground, I saw the one who had discovered me. He was a punk-looking teenager with a face full of acne. He got to me first and started kicking me. I tried to block them, but he got a few headshots and almost knocked me unconscious again. I knew I had to do something or I was the next one who was going to lose their head.
