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

by Guenther, David

  The team of five men and five women, each wearing butyl gloves, and carrying a flashlight and bucket of medical supplies, walked briskly towards the survivors. “We need to do a quick inspection on each of you, and then you can go inside and get cleaned up, have a meal, and get some sleep.” The mention of food and sleep perked up the ears on some as others appeared suspicious of an examination. The inspection team members started with the children, wiping away blood and having them take off clothing when they suspected there might be injuries. A pair of teenagers, a boy and a girl, walked over to stand off to the side as the other kids entered the building. Neither had a parent there to comfort them.

  “I’m not getting undressed for some perverted Air Force Lesbos!” a civilian woman shouted. The Sergeant’s face got red; she took a moment before replying.

  “I can’t pass you as cleared then. Go stand over with the two kids, please.” she replied pleasantly.

  “And if I just go into the building, grab some food and go to sleep. What will you do about it?” she shouted, spittle running down her chin.

  “Ma'am, I wouldn’t do a thing. I’m trying to help you and protect everyone from spreading the infection. Now, please let me proceed.” The woman shoved the sergeant aside and walked five steps when a lone shot rang out, hitting the asphalt five feet in front of the woman.

  “Ma’am, that was the only warning shot that will be given this evening. If you take another step towards the building, it will be your last one. Please turn around and come back to me.”

  Defeated, the woman came back and stood in silence as the sergeant removed her blouse for her, then wiped away the dried blood from a scratch along her shoulder. “See, that wasn’t so bad. Now why don’t you go inside and warm up?” The sergeant smiled as the tension dissolved.

  “I thought I was infected. I thought as soon as you saw the scratch, I was dead.”

  “Ma'am, the scratch is just that, a scratch, but not from a Z. If it’d been by a Z, it would have been more than one straight scratch; it would have been at least two as they grabbed at you. In addition, there would be infection streaks by it. Fresh infected have the skin around a wound turn white. My money says you ran into something when you were running. Now, please head inside. I have more people I need to help here.”

  The process of inspecting and cleaning the survivors was tedious, especially when the wind began to pick up. A corporal reluctantly stepped forward for his turn. His eyes kept moving, trying to see everything going on all around him. The Airman sensed his nervousness and made a point to scratch himself behind his left ear. “Corporal, I’ll need you to remove your scarf from around your neck, please.” He did not see the punch that laid him out as the Corporal turned and began to run to the open field and the darkness beyond. After ten feet, he zigged sharply to the right, the same time as the report of an M4 was heard. He went ten feet again and zagged to the left, again just as another shot rang out that missed him. Wyatt watched the poor display of marksmanship in disgust, tracked the fleeing corporal and fired a three second burst from his Ma Deuce. The runner looked like he was dancing before he fell to the ground, cut in half.

  “Troop 21, report to me immediately after we secure from this operation.” No identification was required, nor was there any wondering the state of mind of MSgt Conrad.

  The last remaining National Guard survivor awaiting inspection pulled up his sleeve and showed his bite wound to the airman that was still in shock from watching the runner torn in half. “Um, please stand over by the two children, please.” He stuttered out after making a point to scratch behind his left ear. Conrad saw the signal and felt pain for what he knew would have to be done. He’d had to kill before and it was not long ago that he had killed a number of friends and comrades that had turned. He reasoned he had been helping them. The two kids and the remaining guardsman? He considered those to be executions, he was not an executioner.

  MG Peters came out of the building with the guardsman, Capt Abrams. He went to the teenage girl first to give her a follow-up inspection. Abrams took her to the other side of the truck, he wanted to allow the girl some dignity.

  “I’m sorry about any embarrassment, Cindy, but we have to be sure you’re not infected. Please remove your top for me.” The girl’s face went red as she removed her top, then Abrams face went red when he saw her ‘injuries’ from her neck down to her waist. “Was it consensual, Cindy?” The girl’s face got even redder as she shook her head ‘yes.’ “Put your top on and head into the building and clean up, no one needs to know.” Abrams put his arm around the girl and walked her to the others. “Go inside, Cindy, you’re not infected. Next, please.”

  Abrams saw the boy’s face go red when Cindy walked by him. When he got behind the truck, Abrams didn’t waste any time when he saw the red bruises and scratches on his neck. “Did Cindy do that?” The boy reddened even more as he nodded. “Okay, son, we’ll do the paperwork in the morning to show you and Cindy are officially married. Do you have any surviving fam...” The boy interrupted the question as he fainted. The others saw him fall and ran to the Captain’s aid, only to be waved off. His grin made it obvious there was no danger. The boy came to and Abrams resisted the urge to congratulate the boy. “You’re okay, son, and you are officially single. Just be careful. You can go inside and get out of the cold.

  Peters and Conrad looked as relieved as the kids did when they saw both had a clean bill of health. “Capt Abrams, can you tell me what was wrong with those kids and is it communicable?” Peters asked.

  “The boy and girl are both suffering from a mixture of livor and amor morsus. They could be contagious, but only to each other.” Peters took a moment and grinned, while Conrad looked lost.

  “I understood ‘love bites’, Captain. What was the other word?”

  “Hickey” The three men laughed, then went silent as they realized the infected guardsman had been listening and was laughing along with them.

  “I’ll save you the time Doc. I may have love bites, but they sure aren’t hickeys,” the guardsman offered.

  “General, is there a place we can safely put him? I want to be able to observe the disease other than when I’m running for my life. I think it’s very important.”

  “MSgt Conrad, please find a private room for our friend and make sure he’s secured and as comfortable as possible.” He turned to the guardsman and put out his hand to the man. “Son, we did get a report that there is a cure for the disease. God willing, the doctor can discover what it is again.”

  “Come with me, son,” Conrad motioned for the young guardsman to come with him. “Let’s get you something to eat and then we’ll set you up with a room.” Wetzel and his crew entered the building right after the pair. “SrA Wetzel I want you and your team to clean out cage number three. I want the single bed from the terminal brought over and installed in there. I also need you to find a chain to attach to a pair of handcuffs and a plastic spit/bite mask. I want it done as of five minutes ago.

  “Come on guys, let’s find that bed from the terminal and set up the ‘guest room’ then maybe we can even get something to eat and call it a day.” The trio trudged over to the terminal and found the only bed in the back room of operations, an old metal bunk with a thin mattress. Somebody had their personal effects laid out on the bed.

  “Let’s get this done before whoever the squatter is returns and pitches a bitch.” Wetzel put the items on a chair and saw a pair of stars. “Guys, double time it, I mean, now. I’ll explain later.”

  MG Peters stood in the shadows sneaking a smoke, especially as it was officially frowned upon by the Air Force. He almost laughed aloud as he watched his bed being sprinted across the open area between the terminal and the hangar. I guess the prisoner/patient will sleep well until he turns. I had better grab a sleeping bag. Tomorrow’s going to be another bitch.

  Chapter 17

  Luke AFB, Arizona, April 3, 2029

  Warm, there’s something warm on my cheek. Gloria for
ced herself to wake up. There was a slight pain from the sun as she opened her eyes. The sun was just coming over the mountains to the East. She looked down into her lap, Oliver was breathing deeply as he slept. Juan had his arms crossed and was sound asleep with his chin on his chest. The truck was still parked on the runway, only now there was no sign of the zombies. Aww, crap, there’s no way I’m salvaging my uniform blouse this time. It’s well beyond saving. I need to find some more rugged clothes; old Juan there has been enjoying the view too much. A chill ran through her at the thought of Juan. Gloria tried to pull her blouse more together for a little more coverage before waking Juan.

  I have to do this. Gloria pressed his shoulder softly until his eyes fluttered open, then he jerked to full alertness while looking around, confused. “Good morning, sunshine,” she whispered, not wanting to wake Oliver. He went from confused to creepy immediately as he checked her out in the morning light, a big smile of broken and rotted teeth.

  “Good morning, pretty lady. Did you sleep well?” Another shudder went through her as she imagined what he might have done as she slept. He noticed her shiver, started the truck, and turned the heater on, which immediately started blowing cold air as the engine warmed up.

  “Uh, yes, thank you Juan. How does getting off the base sound to you?” Then I can be done with your criminal ass and find someone else to come up with a survival plan with.

  “The gates are all locked. How can we drive off the base with the truck?”

  “Do you know where the fire department is?

  “Yes, but that’s not by the gate.”

  “I didn’t say it was, let’s drive over there. They may have what we need.” Gloria opened her window to get rid of the smell of body odor that filled the cab. Damn, I smell as bad as Juan. Oliver still managed to sleep soundly as the truck moved.

  The building looks so empty compared to yesterday. Juan parked the truck in the center of the garage area. “Shhh, I don’t want to wake Oliver, there should be a pair of bolt cutters in one of the cabinets along the wall. Be careful you don’t slam the door when you get out.”

  Maybe I should just rid of this bitch and her kid. I don’t need this. Juan closed the door gently, fighting the urge to slam it to show her who’s boss.

  “Son of a bitch! I found them in the first cabinet.” Juan shouted. Oliver began to stir, rubbing his eyes.

  “Mom?” Gloria couldn’t help but laugh even as she wanted to hurt Juan for waking the boy.

  “Oliver, do I look like your mom?” They both broke out laughing as Juan returned to the truck. Suspicious about what they were laughing at, his face grew hot.

  “So now we use the bolt cutter to cut a hole in the fence, huh?”

  “That would be one way, but do you want to do that much work and make it possible for more zombies to get on base? Drive us to the north end of the runway, where all the plane watchers park on the road across from the fence.”

  Juan smiled as he drove towards the end of the flightline. You keep smiling, Juan. I don’t know what you’re thinking but after I get to my place, we are done.

  “There, where the fence sort of goes in and then out again. A long time ago, they had railroad tracks going onto the base to deliver fuel. They tore out the tracks but left the gate. We can cut off the lock, then wrap the chain back around the gate. It will make it easier if we ever have to get back on base again.”

  “That is good. You’re as smart as you are pretty.” Juan quickly had the lock cut off and was fighting with the gate to open, the hinges well rusted from disuse. Gloria drove through the gate and cursed that Oliver had wanted to get out of the truck, too. I could be on my way already, minus one criminal.

  Juan made a point of forcing Gloria across the seat before he got back in behind the wheel, then Oliver climbed in as well. “Where to now, pretty lady?”

  “How about we go to the convenience store by the bus stop and see what we can get for breakfast?” Juan looked at her, confused.

  “The stores, they’re closed because of the…you ARE a smart lady.” The smile on Juan’s face was real this time as he drove as fast as he could.

  “Let’s take turns going in. I don’t want Oliver going into the store since there might be bodies.” Gloria hopped out of the truck first. “Oliver, I want you to stay in the truck until I get back. Do you have a favorite juice?”

  “Can I have a cola, instead?” You’ve been a nice quiet kid so far, no way in hell am I giving you anything with caffeine.

  “Sorry, honey, I don’t want to rot your teeth out with all the bad sugar. What’s your juice?” She could have sworn she saw Juan stiffen when she answered Oliver.

  “Grape and a donut, please.”

  The glass doors and windows let in plenty of light so Gloria was sure it would be safe in the store. “Can I have the gun, Juan? I don’t need any surprises once I get in there.” Juan sat there, as he appeared to be debating with himself.

  “You holler and I’ll come running, it’s safe in there.” Juan grabbed the gun from the seat and made a point to stuff it in the back of his pants. Gloria did her best to avoid giving him a dirty look as she walked up to the front of the convenience store.

  A disemboweled woman lay on the floor just inside the store. The stench was as bad as the smell coming from both the spoiled milk and bad meat. Gloria was surprised that the body at her feet didn’t disturb her more. What did disturb her was the new sensation; she knew that she was not alone in the store. She scanned the back area of the store and could swear she saw movement through the cooler’s glass door. She looked carefully at the beers and did see movement behind them. Quickly she grabbed a shopping basket and grabbed some candy bars, snacks, and a bottle of nonalcoholic champagne, stopping only for a pair of sunglasses before rushing out of the store. Juan smiled at her from the truck. Your turn, stud. Cleanup in the cooler, she thought cheerfully.

  Juan hopped out as she got in. Her heart leapt at the opportunity until she saw the keys were missing. Juan came out after a long ten minutes, pushing a cart full of expensive premium whiskeys and cases of cigarettes and cigars. He had a clear plastic bag stuffed with cash. “Make yourself comfortable, I may be a while,” he said jovially. He dumped everything but the money in the back of the truck, but held on to it as he went back into the store.

  “Come on, Oliver, we’re going to play a game. We have to be real quiet.” Quietly she opened the door and picked Oliver up. “Not a sound now.” She walked softly along the wall of the convenience store until she was out of sight, then let Oliver down and grabbed his hand. “Let’s run now, sweetie, but stay quiet.” She turned the corner and ran as fast as Oliver would let her, passing the bar and then a barbershop before running across an open lot to an apartment complex. “Almost there, sweetie.” They ran between apartments until they were in a covered parking lot. She stopped at a shiny red convertible, reached up into the driver’s side front wheel well, and pulled out a magnetized box. Her heart was thumping as she heard Juan shouting.

  “Get back over here, you puta. I saved your life and you owe me.”

  “Gloria, he sounds mad. I’m scared. He’s not a nice man, is he?” Oliver asked. He was shaking as his voice was breaking.

  “We don’t have to worry about him ever again. Do you want to see my apartment? I think I have soda.” Gloria picked up speed a little as Oliver decided he wanted to get away from the bad man. He followed her up the stairs to her second floor apartment. She started to slide the key into the lock and the door moved from her pushing the key. She sensed someone but was sure the presence was not from in the apartment.

  “Come on, Oliver, let’s get in here before Juan sees us.” The apartment initially looked normal, with nothing out of place. Guess I left the door unlocked. Gloria entered quickly, then had Oliver come in and stand by the door. “Stay by the door, Oliver. If I scream, you open the door and run as fast as you can. Do you understand me?

  “Yes, Ma'am. Do you want this in case there’s a
monster in here?” Oliver held out a little silver automatic slightly bigger than his palm. “This fell out of Juan’s back pocket; I thought I should hold onto it.”

  You tell me that now, boy!

  “Thank you, Oliver, that will make me feel much safer. Juan was a bad man, I think.” Little gun for a little man. Gloria fought the urge to laugh at the little gun. This is hard to get accustomed to, being able to see this well in the dark. Why is it my last thoughts before all this happened was getting ready to go to work and then nothing? Gloria bent over and picked up her keys from the floor. “Well, that explains why I didn’t lock the door, doesn’t it, Oliver?” Things in the kitchenette had been knocked around, with one chair tipped over. Heading for the bedroom, she had a sense of something being wrong but not able to figure it out. Clothes were strewn about the bed, nightstand and floor. Okay everything is normal here. A quick peek in the bathroom revealed nothing.

  “Everything is okay, Oliver. Why don’t you go ahead and open the curtains so you can see. I think I have a can of soda in the fridge. You can have that for now. Be sure not to go near the door. I really need to take a shower before I do anything else. Now what do I wear for the apocalypse? OCPs are comfortable but I may be the last living person from the base if not the Air Force. Blue jeans and a flannel shirt? My oath didn’t end last night, OCPs it is. Gloria tossed her blouse in the trashcan and her remaining clothes at the dirty clothes hamper, and missed. Her last set of clean OCPs hung in the closet still covered in plastic from the dry cleaners. She opened her drawer and pulled out her sensible lingerie and a pair of boot socks. Not going to dress to impress for a long time I have a feeling. She left the clothes on the bed and wrapped herself in a towel before heading to the bathroom. Oliver had moved a chair by the window and was peeking out, trying to remain unseen if anyone was out there.

  Dropping the towel over the toilet she turned the water on, expecting it to be freezing. She was right. Ignoring the cold, she felt disgust as she found tiny pieces of flesh, skin, and several small chips of bone in her hair. The soap and shampoo were overwhelmingly strong and she tried to hold her breathe as she rinsed them off as quickly as possible. Drying quickly, she avoided the urge to look at herself in the mirror; instead, she went back to the bedroom to dress. Feeling clean now that she had on fresh clothes, she heard the tiny sound of scratching at the wall with the next apartment. She couldn’t remember the woman’s name only that she was a single sergeant from the base. “Are you okay over there?” The scratching got louder and she could hear animal like noises. A hand broke through the wall near the floor.