by Glyn Gardner
SSgt Brown mentally cursed himself. Then the moaning started. Jackson continued to back up until him and SSgt Brown where shoulder to shoulder. “I could hear a bunch of them around that corner,” he whispered.
“Ok, we go back.”
The two turned in unison and ran south along the fence line. About three quarters of the way down the fence, they slowed. They could hear more moaning; this time coming from the south corner of the fence. Shit. SSgt Brown grabbed Jackson’s load bearing equipment. The trooper stopped.
Several ghouls rounded the corner. The two turned to return north. There were more shambling south towards them along the fence. Shit! They were trapped.
“Follow me,” ordered SSgt Brown. He ran west away from the fence. Several of the zombies moved to intercept them at walking pace, but were much slower than the living. When SSgt Brown thought they were far enough away, he turned back north.
“C’mon, pick it up.” He sprinted towards the highway, followed by Jackson. SSgt Brown snuck a peek over his shoulder. There were eight zombies about 100 meters behind them. He slowed, Jackson almost running him over.
“Ok, up the embankment, but slow. I don’t want to walk into a bunch of those things on the road.”
“Roger, boss.” The trooper began climbing the embankment. The hill was steep. They had to climb on their hands and knees. They reached the top and stopped, both soldiers breathing heavily. SSgt Brown looked down. The zombies had reached the bottom of the embankment. Panic gripped SSgt Brown.
He turned to run across the road, but stopped. He looked back down. The zombies weren’t climbing the slope. Several were trying, but fell over after a step or two. None of them seemed to be coordinated enough to climb the slope. He tapped Jackson on the shoulder. “Look at this,” he whispered.”
“No shit,” the young soldier whispered. “Zed can’t climb.”
“Who?” asked the NCO.
“Zed,” repeated the trooper. “Me and Anderson was talking about it. You know the Germans were Huns, the Japs were Nips, and Arabs are Habib. Everyone we fight we have to call them something. Well, “zombies” is kinda demoralizing you know? Some monster from when you was a kid. But Zed is a pussy. You ever know anyone get his ass kicked by Zed? Nope. Plus, like he said in that movie: Zed’s dead, honey. He ain’t scary. So we kinda started calling them Zed.”
“I can get used to that I guess,” replied the Sergeant. He chuckled to himself as he crawled to the road. The road was empty. The troopers stood in the middle of the road. “Where the fuck is everyone?” asked Jackson.
“Fuck if I know,” he replied.
“This is the interstate isn’t it?’
“Yup,” he said. He could see street light on in the distance. But, it was quiet. He couldn’t hear much moving, just jet engines and helicopters from the air force base. “We need to find a place to hole up for the night.”
“You wanna try clearing a building in the dark? I say we stay up here. They can only get to us from two directions,” suggested Jackson. As if on cue, the first drops of rain began to fall.
“God Damn it!” he cursed. “I hate when you’re right. I’ll take the point Sergeant.” He trotted to the opposite edge of the road, stopped and looked at SSgt Brown..
“Well, don’t just stand there Private. Pick us out a nice place to sleep tonight. I’d prefer something with room service, and maybe some gambling,” ordered Sgt Brown.
“Well, no guarantee about the room service,” replied Jackson. “But, I’m sure it’ll be a gamble.”
“Smart ass,” he mumbled. They slid down the north side of the embankment, being as quiet as possible. At the bottom Jackson headed for the road, head turning left and right as he walked. “Hey Sergeant,” he whispered.
“Yeah?” answered the NCO.
“I had a thought. You know how those things moan when they see us?
“Sure, I noticed.”
“You think they do that if they hear us? I mean if say we knocked on a door and they were inside. You think they’d moan.”
“Shit, I don’t know. Next door we come too, you knock on it.” They continued walking. They came to a small motel. The lights were on in the parking lot and some of the rooms. Jackson figured this was as good a place as any. He crept up to the first door, knocking on it quietly. He waited…nothing. He tried the knob. It was locked.
He moved to the next door, placing his ear to the door...Nothing. He knocked quietly. He jumped back at the sound of the moaning that bellowed from within the room. Then he could hear clawing at the door.
Sgt Brown laughed. “Guess that worked. How are your shorts?”
“Fuck Sergeant Brown!” he whispered. “That scared…”
“Shhh,” the NCO placed his index finger in front of his lips. “Listen.”
The moaning wasn’t only coming from behind the door anymore. It seemed to come from everywhere. “Sounds like Zed prairie dogs, Private.”
“Prairie dogs?” asked young trooper.
“You know how when prairie dogs sense danger, they bark at each other to spread the warning?” Jackson shook his head. “It’s like they’re warning each other that we’re here.”
“Yeah, but they ain’t looking to hide in a hole. They’re looking to eat us. More like dinner bellin’.”
“Point taken.”
They counted ten rooms that were occupied by clawing moaning zombie, including one at the front desk that couldn’t open the glass door. Jackson continued north. The next building was a fast food restaurant. The drive through window was open. Jackson wrapped on the glass. “Dinner, you fucks,” he called. The restaurant remained silent.
SSgt Brown looked around. He couldn’t see anything moving. “Hop in.” Jackson jumped up, and went through the window head first. SSgt Brown followed him in, shutting the window quietly behind him. The two cleared the front of the restaurant without incident. Jackson locked the glass door, and SSgt Brown locked the side door.
They moved into the kitchen area. They found a rack of buns that hadn’t been opened. Jackson ripped into the package and grabbed one. SSgt Brown opened the freezer and then the store room. The restaurant was empty. He found the back door and secured it. He could see that from the back of the restaurant he could not see any of the windows except the drive through window.
He went onto the refrigerator, and found some frozen hamburger patties. He grabbed a couple, and tossed one to Jackson. “Here this might make your sandwich taste better.”
Jackson caught it and bit off a bite of frozen patty. “Thanks,” he said; mouth full. The two of them sat down on the floor, out of sight of the outside world, and ate for the first time in almost a day. Jackson curled up on the ground.
SSgt Brown tried to take it all in. What did we learn today? 1) These things are dead. 2) They can make others turn into zombies with bites, and apparently scratches too. 3) Headshots are the only way we know to kill them, so far. 4) They communicate by moaning. 5) They’re uncoordinated and have limited mobility. 6) They don’t seem to know how to use the simplest of tools, door knobs and the like.
He pulled his note pad from his pocket and his flashlight from his LBV. He wrote down his thoughts. He saw the cordless phone on the counter. Crawling too it, he pulled it off the counter. It still had its charge. He tried several numbers. Squadron still had no answer. He tried his own home number, no answer. He tried his wife’s cell, no answer there either. He even tried 9-1-1.
It went straight to an automated message: “The Bossier Parrish emergency services line is no longer in service. Due to the recent outbreak, residents are ordered by the Governor to evacuate the parish. They are advised to head north and west. FEMA has set up several refugee resettlement areas near the town of Mena Arkansas. All residents are advised to avoid major cities, including, but not limited to: the Dallas-Fort Worth area, Tyler, Texarkana, Houston, Little Rock, New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and Jackson Mississippi. This evacuation order covers the following parishes: Bossier, Caddo,
Webster, Desoto, Red River…” SSgt Brown hung up.
What the hell? They’re evacuating the entire state? He tried one other number.
“Hello, you’ve reached the Barksdale Air Force Base automated mini-system. If you know the number you wish to dial…” Thank God! He pressed zero on the phone. A voice answered: “2nd Coms squadron Master Sergeant Reeves speaking.”
“Sergeant Reeves, my name is Sergeant Brown. I’m with Charlie Troop, First of the One-Oh-Eighth Cav. I need to talk to someone in your operations center or command center or whatever you guys have.”
“Who, exactly, do you need to talk to Sergeant Brown?”
“I don’t exactly know,” replied the National Guard NCO.
“Look Sergeant, I just got 5,000 new personnel on this base. I don’t know who any of them are. If you can tell me who you want, then I can direct your call to them. If not, I suggest you use your radio sets to communicate with the army units that are on the base here.”
“Sgt Reeves, I don’t have a radio. I’m calling from a fucking burger joint. I’m cut off, and I am not in contact with my higher headquarters or any other headquarters for that matter. So, what say you let me talk to someone?” Sgt Brown thought about it for a minute. “Fuck it! Put me on with your intelligence officer.”
He heard the line click several times. “2nd Bomb Wing Intelligence, Major Wright speaking.”
“Sir, my name is Staff Sergeant Brown; I’m one of the troopers from One-Oh-Eighth Cav. Me and one of my men are cut off. I can’t raise my TOC. We need to get onto your base, but the approaches are full of those things.”
“You mean to tell me you’re in town somewhere and are still alive?”
“Yes sir, but for how long I really don’t know, sir. Three of us made it away from that Charlie Foxtrot that killed most of my troop. Now it’s just two of us. We’re holed up in a burger place for now.”
“Hang on a second Sergeant,” and the line went silent. A minute or so later the Air Force Major returned. “Sergeant, I’m trying to raise the 101’st Airborne’s S2 now. Can you tell me exactly where you are?”
“Yes sir. We are up Industrial, north of I-20. Last word I got from my TOC was to get to I-220. That was yesterday, and I haven’t been able to reach them since. I guess my CO had worked out a PZ on the interstate. Do you know if that is still on?”
“I’m not sure Sergeant,” answered the Air Force intelligence officer. “Looks like you’re about a kilometer outside the east gate. How the hell did you get there? Last we heard, your unit got hit between the west and north gates.”
“It’s kind of a long story, sir. Basically, when those things attacked Alpha Troop, one of my troopers went down with a gunshot wound. My El-Tee ordered us to reinforce Alpha. Those things hit us like a tidal wave. Most of my squad went down on initial contact. I grabbed my two closest guys and we booked it for the nearest fence. Private Anderson got bit by one of those things. He died a few hours ago and attacked some of the kids we had rescued,” SSgt Brown paused. “Sir, do you know what these things are?”
“Officially, Uncle Sam is calling this some form of contagious encephalitis outbreak. You know like some form of rabies?” answered the Major. “It seems that the contagion is spread through saliva. You know bites and such? We also know they’re hard as hell to kill.”
“That they are, sir I have some other intel on them if you want it.”
“What else do you know Sergeant?”
“Aside from what you just said, Jackson and I noticed that they’re very uncoordinated. They don’t even seem to know how to use the simplest of tools. We saw one stuck inside a glass door because it wouldn’t even pull the door. They don’t climb. Me and Jackson got away from a group of them by climbing the highway embankment.” He paused for a moment. “Sir, I also think they talk to each other.”
“What do you mean talk?”
“Well sir, if you notice, when one moans, it always brings more.”
“No one else has reported that Sergeant. But, that would explain why we have half of Shreveport/ Bossier clawing at our damned gates.”
“Speaking of that sir, what the situation everywhere else? Like I said, I can’t raise my TOC anymore.” There was a long pause.
“Son, I’m sorry. Your TOC went off the air about 6 hours ago. Last reports were that the casualties they took had died. My guess is that what you saw with your squad member happened at the Hundred-and-Eighth’s armory. I do have some good news. Several members of your unit managed to make it in. We found a Staff Sergeant Thorne, Specialist Rafe, and Private James climbing the fence this morning.”
“No shit, Sir? Sergeant Thorne made it? So, 1st Squadron 108th Calvary Regiment is officially down to five surviving members?”
“Fifteen, we pulled in one of your squads on day one.”
SSgt Brown took a deep breath. He didn’t want to ask the next question, but knew he had to. “Sir, what’s the situation everywhere else? I tried to call home a while back and got no answer.”
“It’s bad; real bad. There are outbreaks in all the major cities of the U.S. The south and southwest seem to be getting the worst of it. Several other countries have reported outbreaks. Mexico seems to be epicenter. As for the local area, the governor ordered all cities to be evacuated. There are several refugee centers being set up in the less populated areas throughout the south.”
“Yeah, I heard the recording on the 911 line. What’s the security of the base looking like?”
“Not as good as we’d like. Some family members were injured before we recognized what was going on. They turned, and caused some more injuries. I guess there was something about shooting your family in the head. So, the Hundred-and-First guys are currently trying to clean out our housing areas. We got a lot of demoralized troops on this base right now.”
“No kidding? Zed is inside the fence of a nuke base?”
“Who’s Zed?”
“Oh, my troopers stopped calling them zombies and decided Zed wasn’t so scary. You know, Zed’s dead.”
“I get it Sergeant, I saw the movie.” The line clicked several times. “Wait one Sergeant Brown.” The phone was silent for several minutes.
“Ok Sergeant Brown, I have Colonel Kirsch, Hundred-and-First’s Third Brigade commander on the line.”
“Sergeant Brown,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “I’m Colonel Zachery Kirsch, CO of the 3rd Brigade 101st Airborne. Major Wright was just giving me an update on your situation. I just wanted to assure you personally that we’re going to come out and get you guys in the morning.”
“Thank you sir,” replied the National Guard NCO.
“Son, at 0700, I want you and your trooper to be on the I-20 overpass. Major Wright said you guys were pretty safe up there. I’ll have a Blackhawk come get you. See you in the morning Sergeant.”
“Yes, Sir…” The line clicked dead. He stared at the phone for several seconds. A sense of relief came over him. He looked at his watch: 2330. Six or seven hours and they get out of this nightmare.
He thought about Jackson. He wondered if the trooper had tried to contact his family. He was sure he had. He watched the trooper sleep for a moment. He found himself feeling sorry for the young soldier. He and Anderson were best friends. SSgt Brown knew that they shared an apartment and worked at the same place. Jesus! And he had to shoot his best friend in the head.
He decided to let the young trooper sleep as long as he could. He wondered what was outside. He dared not raise his head above the counter. So, the old soldier used his ears. At first he couldn’t hear much. Then his hearing adjusted to the lack of sound. He could hear some machinery of some sort, maybe trucks in the distance. He could hear gunshots. They were sporadic and very distant. He couldn’t tell if they were military, or civilian. And of course he could hear the moaning. It was faint, but it was constant.
Day 6
The Convenience Store
It’s dark, thought Jen, so dark. She could her everyone in
the group. She could hear them breath. Every time someone shifted positions she could hear them. She heard everything. And that’s what scared her. If she could hear them, then so could anyone or anything else.
She could also hear the monsters. For the first hour or so she could hear them clawing at the glass door. Then the banging started. She could feel the thuds in her very bones. Every one reverberated in her ears. BANG…BANG...
Finally she heard the sound of glass shattering. Theresa squealed at the sound. Larry quickly hugged her close. Jen could hear the faintest shhh from their little corner. She could imagine the frightened boy holding the teenage girl, hoping upon hope that by holding her he too would find the strength.
Jen could hear the shuffling. It sounded like a hundred of the monsters were milling around the store. She knew it must only be a dozen or so. She could hear shelves falling over, knocked over by some unseen monster in the darkness. Now the crunching of potato chips crushed under the feet of the dead.
She waited and waited. She waited for the sound she knew would be her death knell. She waited for the scratching, the scratching on the only barrier between her and the curse of the living dead.
She thought about that for a second. Obviously the death at the teeth of a monster would be horrible. But, what did these poor souls go through after the bite? Was the death painful? Did they suffer? Did they know what was happening or did they die peacefully?
EEEEKKKKKK.
She could hear everyone gasp as one. The first zombie began scratching on the door. They held their collective breath, waiting for the next scratch. It didn’t come. Jen could hear the ghoul shuffle away, a collective sigh. Jen could feel her heart beat in her chest, hear it beat in her ears. She concentrated on calming down. Slow your breathing Jen. Don’t think about it.
Jen continued to think about the damned. She thought about her neighbors. How many did she watch die in that first day? How many others had she seen shambling past the house? She thought about Theresa’s family. How did it feel to know your mother was dead and had turned into a horror movie monster? She wasn’t sure if Theresa knew for sure her dad had reanimated, but she suspected deep down inside she knew. God, she thought, how horrible for her.
