Infected World Trilogy (Books 1-3): They Only Come Out At Night

by Guenther, David

  General Peters sat quietly as the video clip played. “I am Professor Adi Pelaia. I have been part of a research team from four of Israel’s most prestigious universities. We are making this information available to the world to save time and lives. I am going to describe our findings in layman terms to make things easier for more people to understand. We will send a more scientific report later to appropriate government agencies in the international community. We have made initial discoveries about the pandemic we are calling ‘Night Rage’. We have watched the pandemic circle the globe. The original outbreaks were along the entire 175th meridian. Locations from south of the equator in New Zealand were experiencing their first outbreak at the same time as north of the equator in the farthest eastern portions of Russia. Geographically separated areas along the 175th meridian such as the Tabiteuea Atoll coincided with those to the north and south. We have determined the pandemic was originally airborne as it spread to the west, coinciding with the start of nightfall. Locations that received warning and utilized nuclear biological chemical shelters and protective equipment discovered their equipment provided no protection against the Night Rage Pandemic. In each country, the initial infected were from 75% to 90% of their populations. It has been determined that those infected all had positive blood types. Those who have negative blood types were immune to the airborne variety of Night Rage. Those infected with Night Rage then spread it through bodily fluids, blood and saliva primarily, to those immune from the airborne variant of the disease. Those that are infected are still alive. The rumors of victims dying then coming back to life as zombies are pure fiction. The infected do suffer from loss of control; they actively seek out and attack all others that are not infected. It appears to be the goal of the pandemic. Those who are infected do appear to become stronger and more athletic. Severely dilated eye pupils easily identify the infected. They also have miraculous healing abilities. They easily heal from small wounds and injuries. Those fighting the infected discovered destroying the brain or heart is the most expedient way to stop an infected. Severe blood loss and major injuries can also stop the infected. Direct sunlight also will kill an infected. No artificial light has any effect, other than to annoy them. The survivors who came out in the morning after the initial pandemic thought everything was over That is, until it was discovered the infected hide from the sun during the day, but are no less aggressive in trying to spread their disease.” The speaker stopped as she was handed a paper. “I have wonderful news. Our researchers have found a cure. On test subjects, the cure is 100% effective! We will transmit the cure to…”

  “That’s as far the transmission got. We have determined that’s when the first nuclear missile got through to Tel Aviv. At this point, it looks like the Middle East no longer has a problem with the Night Rage Pandemic. Israel was able to counterattack with over 160 thermonuclear devices, submarine-launched ICBMs, medium range ground-to-ground missiles, aircraft-launched missiles and bombs in retaliation, twice the number we had estimated. No more imported oil for us,” the intel officer concluded his briefing.

  Peters sat in total shock for five minutes. ET attacked us with a pandemic, and then turned off the lights for most of the world by wiping out all the nuclear power plants. To top that off, new ETs destroy our assailants. Then the Israelis found a cure for the alien pandemic, but the Arabs nuked themselves into oblivion by attacking Israel before they could say what the cure is. Now every time we destroy a zombie, really we destroy a sick human that could have been cured. I thought I was having a bad day this morning.

  “Lt Lewandowski, I want the briefing you just gave me copied with your voiceover explaining everything the way you did to me, then distribute it out in its entirety to every O7 (Brigadier General) and above in the system. I want it classified Top Secret. I want the entire report from the Israelis sent out as Confidential. No, send it unclassified. Then add the kicker that Israel and the Middle East have just had a nuclear war. God, I’d worry about all the losses if almost 90% of the world wasn’t infected during the last 24 hours. Let me know when they’ve been sent out, Lt Lewandowski.”

  Peters walked back towards the exit. Opening the door, he was assaulted by the noise from six aircraft running their engines. All of the crews sat waiting for guidance on where to park and to shut down engines. Peters walked towards the closest plane, pointed to it, and then made a circle over his head before drawing his finger across his throat before mimicking that he was holding a phone, then pointed at them again and did a circle over his head. Those boys and girls better be good at charades. The aircraft shut off its engines as others follow suit. Now we just need to unload and store or distribute everything from those planes.

  Wetzel noticed the first activity since they had arrived there other than the old man whose truck he was sitting in. Two moving trucks and two bulldozers were heading for his entry control point for the airfield. “CATM 1, Defender 1”

  “Defender 1, go ahead.”

  “I have two heavy trucks and two bulldozers heading for the gate, over.”

  “If they report that they’re here to help, let them through and direct them to my location. Overlook, are you monitoring this?” Two quick breaks of radio squelch answered his question.

  “Overlook, monitor from your position, if they are hostile or fail to follow instructions, you are cleared to fire.” Again, two quick breaks of radio squelch answered his call.

  Wetzel walked up to the gate, his M4 pointed down but ready to use if needed. “Good day, sir. May I help you?” he asked as three twenty-something young ladies smiled at him from the bench seat of the truck.

  “Hey sojur, we heard ya’ll needed a lil help. We brought over some pallet trucks and a couple D50s. Where would you like us?” The girls gave a huge smile and Wetzel almost lost his cool.

  “I, I mean sure, we could use all the help we can get. Drive on over to that hangar and they’ll tell you what they need. Ya’ll have a nice day now, y’hear?” Wetzel moved the truck to let them pass and mentally kicked himself. Where the hell did “y’all and y’hear” come from, dummkopf? The girls were laughing good-naturedly as they drove past him. His smile lessened when the three guys in the next truck looked down at him as they drove past.

  Wetzel walked to the other side of the hangar and smiled at the old chief wearing a flightsuit as he argued with an old maintainer wearing solid green coverall. “Hey Chief, we have friendlies coming in; they come bearing gifts to move cargo. None of the officers are around to screw it up. Can you coordinate the efforts before someone comes along and messes it all up?”

  “When you want cargo moved, you just call Aerial Port Squadron. Since we don’t have anyone from there yet, I guess you chose right to get a loadmaster to get it going right.” He looked over to a dozen airmen and NCOs. “Who wants a nice warm sleeping bag tonight and something to eat before that? Just follow me.”

  The Chief met with the civilians as his detail stood back to see which way the meeting would go. Ten minutes later, the Chief was laughing as he led half the detail to the closest C-130J as the maintainer he’d been arguing with earlier led the other half. Each team had one D50 bulldozer and a dozen pallet trucks. The chief stopped his group for a moment to inspire his team. “If they unload their plane first, we’ll have to hear about it till the next apocalypse. Let’s do this right, fast, and safe.”

  Each plane had the rear ramp down and the huge metal cargo pallets could easily be pushed easily out of the plane as far as the concrete. The chief grabbed sets of chains from inside the plane and connected them to the side of the metal cargo pallets, then looped the chain to the front of the dozer. The dozer driver slowly dragged the pallet twenty feet from the plane. The Chief was quickly showing his detail how to ‘break down’ a pallet by disconnecting the tie down nets that kept all the smaller pallets from moving while in-flight. The plane’s crew unlocked the next pallet and then pushed it over the rollers on the plane’s deck to the edge of the plane and prepped the chains themsel
ves, afraid if someone else did it, they might damage their bird. In a matter of minutes, it was amusing to watch as teams moved the smaller pallets, via one-man pallet trucks, as quickly as they could to the edge of the parking ramp before setting down the pallets and racing back to the plane for another load. MG Peters watched the show from a distance, knowing his presence would interfere no matter what he did.

  The two planes were unloaded in under an hour. Each straight away fired up engines to make another trip before it was too dark at either end of the trip. The chief watched them depart as he stood next to his maintenance buddy. “If we’d done that right, we could have pulled the cargo off each aircraft, taxied forward twenty feet and repeated, we would not have needed the dozer for a while.” His friend smiled in agreement.

  “I think our days of being spoiled are over and a lot of back labor is going to take the place of equipment in our future,” The maintainer said somberly.

  Chapter 10

  Aircraft 09-9211, Wyoming airspace. April 2, 2029

  Col Austin reviewed his options; he could complete the sortie to Peterson AFB and return to the strip in Wyoming, then spend his days watching the grass grow. Option number two, return to home station at Travis AFB, and try to salvage his command there and, more importantly, see if he had any family left alive. The crew was just the four of them, no one from the other base that would complicate things. “Major Donner, set the autopilot for Travis. Our TDY is now over and we are returning to home station to await new orders from our own chain of command. Hopefully, we’ll find our families have weathered the storm.”

  “New destination of Travis is set, Sir. ETA is 1910 hrs local.” Major Nicole Donner announced. I don’t like leaving, but they have enough planes that our departure won’t matter. I want to get home to my kids so badly! This is so wrong.

  “Attention crew, I have made the command decision to return to base. We will arrive at approximately 1910 hrs. Once we have put the plane to bed, each of you are hereby granted a seventy-two hour pass. We will only do an abbreviated post flight upon landing, ensuring the 781 forms are up to date so we leave no surprises for maintenance or the next crew to fly her. I want to give each of us as much time as possible to get to our loved ones before it gets dark. It has been my pleasure working with each one of you. Prior to landing, I will issue each of you a M18, holster and two loaded magazines from the plane’s weapons box.” Am I doing the right thing?

  Chapter 11

  Peterson AFB, Colorado. April 2, 2029

  The ten men standing before Lt Col Zeifer did not look happy. He had assembled the team of mixed maintainers and defenders to be available to receive aircraft, load cargo, perform maintenance, refuel, and launch. They looked at him like they had just received a death sentence, except for the three defenders that appeared to look forward to an adventure.

  “Sir, if we evacuated with the rest of the base, we can do the job just as easily if we were on the first plane that returns after daylight. There is no added value for us to be locked up in a building on base, waiting to see if the zombies find away in to us.” A TSgt replied to the colonel, his face haggard looking from a night of zombie fighting followed by a day of non-stop work on aircraft.”

  “Col Zeifer, can you at least explain why we need to be put at additional risk? None of us understand why this is happening,” a young female airman asked. Zeifer began to shake; he felt nauseous, short of breath and thought he was having a heart attack. The ground felt like it was moving under him as he tried to compose himself.

  “I’ll take your concerns under advisement. You’ll know my decision before I leave.” He turned to go back to the team assembling pallets of cargo when he heard someone softly utter “Bullshit!”

  “You’re all contemplating mutiny! We are in a state of war with the zombies. Don’t you realize under the UCMJ (Uniform Code of Military Justice) I can shoot you down like the dogs you are for questioning my orders? Now we are going to have these planes loaded like MG Peters ordered, and we will leave a caretaker team behind because he ordered it!” He never even realized he had pulled out his automatic as he gestured while he spoke. All before him were scared the gun would go off. A1C Holt couldn’t stand the fear any longer, especially when she could see his finger on the trigger.

  “Excuse me, Lt Col Zeifer, I have to warn you that your fing…” Two shots rang out like thunder. The girl looked down at her chest in amazement as two red spots grew larger, then mixed together. She tried to speak but was only mouthing words that would not come, then fell to her knees and pitched forward, dead. Everyone froze as Zeifer shouted out.

  “I warned you, I warned you all, this is no time for mutiny. She knew what she was doing when she challenged me.” His voice cracked, unable to say anything. He tried to think what he was going to do next when the gun was grabbed from his hand.

  “The young lady was trying to warn you that you were being unsafe with a firearm. Your finger was in the trigger assemble. Every one of us was about to piss our pants, we all saw it coming, but that girl had the balls to call you on an unsafe act.”

  Zeifer looked at the tall athletic black man, a MSgt that was speaking. He feared the angry MSgt was going to hit him; he started to whimper before he collapsed to the ground like a puppet who just had his strings cut, his body shuddered as he began to loudly sob. Those around him went back to work, not wanting to witness the shell of a man.

  At 1800hrs the last C-130J could be heard on approach for landing. With the breakdown of the colonel, no one was going to stay behind, preferring prison to zombies. The last fourteen helped to secure the armored car after it was driven aboard the plane. Only four generators were loaded after that. There was no mention of the missing colonel as they boarded and strapped into their seats. The loadmaster could feel something was wrong, but figured it was a mixture of fatigue and relief they were getting the hell out before sunset.

  Chapter 12

  Converse County Airport, Wyoming. April 2, 2029

  Conrad wanted to find something, or someone to hurt. The ammo supply would seem like a lot, but he realized that they had less than ten percent of what was in the bunkers. This was too big of a mistake to have been an accident. He’d have to bring it to someone in charge. They had not had a sit down yet to establish any chain of command. The general was doing too many things for command and whatever; leaving Maj Arnot in charge of the operation. Most of the personnel were doing the things they knew how to do. The old timers made sure the obvious things were done, just as he’d set up the perimeter and ensured the armored cars were re-armed and refueled. Now he had to get with the Major to see if he’d buy off on his security plan.

  “MSgt Conrad, I want you to take responsibility for security. I also want to see about augmenting your defenders. I just want you to give me your plan for them. Be sure to include how many you think you’ll need, and how you’d use them. Tomorrow I’m going to have a meeting of all officers and senior NCOs to establish our new chain of command and division of labor. I’ve been using Major Arnot as my number two man, even though he is not the senior officer. With the importance of evacuating Peterson, I really couldn’t use any of the flyers when I needed them flying. I’m also thinking of bumping you to captain with a field promotion. Between the evacuation and defense of the base last night, you proved you are up to the many challenges of leadership that are above those of an enlisted grade.”

  “Sir, I’d like to secure everyone in the hangars and terminal, with only my people in the armored cars taking out any zombies that attack. My plan is simple, run the fuckers over and don’t fire one single round to attract more of them. If we do get a horde of zombies, we’ll use an armored car to draw them away from everyone, the same way that kid of yours, A1C White did in a frickin’ pickup truck. Is he back on his terminals? I haven't seen him at all.”

  “White and the detail he was on clearing out the ammunition bunkers never returned. The colonel that assumed command of the base lost it and committed
suicide. We don’t know if he sent them on another detail or what. I’ll be sending a team in to the base for one last look over for anything we may have missed.”

  “Sir, one thing that was missed was at least two full bunkers of WRM ammunition. What they brought out is barely a token of what we have stored there. If this really is the apocalypse, then someone could start their own small kingdom, especially if they manage to gain access to heavy weapons.”

  “Can you tell me MSgt Conrad, how a Space Command base, with limited need for such ordinance, has so much?” Peters looked amused as Conrad tried to phrase his answer and gave up.

  “It’s not our ammunition, sir. The Fourth ID was having a major inspection. That ammunition sorta accumulated on them. Between real world deployments and wet fire exercises, they wrote off their expenditures, but when munitions thought to have been used were unaccountably returned, they felt it’d be a black eye. We had two bunkers that were empty that we allowed them to use. Someone in AMMO made the deal. I just happen to be familiar with it. When we were doing our annual supply point inspection of assets, we saw what’s there. They offered some .50 cal ammo and 40mm grenades that had reached the end of their shelf life. They also threw in range time on Fort Carson that was off the books.”

  “I’d say I’ll look into this, but there’s no one I can really contact. I will see if we had a satellite that was in position to see if anything was done with the munitions. I’ll leave you to setup the security for the night as you suggested. Make sure each building is secure half an hour before sunset. We stop losing people unnecessarily as of today. Carry on.”

  Chapter 13

  Travis AFB, California, April 2, 2029