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

by Guenther, David

  “You three get the hell out of my sight; I want to see written incident reports from each of you. If I think for even a second the three of you colluded with each other when I read your reports, you will wish you were with the Zs.”

  Caleb had a slight smirk on his face as he listened to the airmen being reamed while he dressed. “And you can wipe that smile off your face, White. How in the hell could you expose yourself to others knowing you have an infection. What if you infected even more people here, and we lost containment? We’re hanging on here by a thread, regardless of how it looks. Then on top of all that, you knew there was a curfew. You were lucky they didn’t shoot you outright for being out where you shouldn’t have been.” Conrad lost his anger and changed his tone. “Just finish dressing and I’ll take you over to the clinic so they can give you a clean bill of health.” Because I don’t want to shoot you down like a dog, he thought.

  Caleb walked alongside Capt Conrad and entertained thoughts of running. He remembered back to the woman he’d saved, and how she’d turned after having sex. He figured it was like when his dad had told him the horror stories of when he was a kid, about a disease called AIDS and how someone who didn’t have it but was HIV positive could spread it. He’d been confused back then only now he understood only too well. Would they lock him up to be safe? Uh oh, something’s not right, there’s a couple Zs nearby.

  “Capt Conrad, there’s a couple Zs somewhere close by. Don’t ask me how, I just know.” Conrad just nodded and continued to walk towards a mobile home that had red crosses on the sides.

  “I wouldn’t worry Caleb, one is in our jail under observation by the doc, a guardsman who knew he was going to turn. He was willing to have us observe him in the hope we’d find a cure. The other one is in the hospital, an old woman has dilated eyes like you and a couple broken legs. The Doc was saying he’s amazed at how quickly she’s healing. He thinks it has to do with the infection. Caleb thought a moment about telling Conrad about being shot in the arm and not even having a scar, but decided to stay closed lipped about it.

  “Here we go; after you, son.” Conrad followed Caleb up a couple stairs into a mobile home that was now a clinic. A desk was by the door, behind it sat a lieutenant that looked totally exhausted. She smiled when they entered.

  “Good morning, I guess,” she looked at her watch, “yep, morning. I know we discharged you, Captain Conrad, is there a problem? What may I do for you?” Caleb noticed she was flirting with Conrad and the effort was wasted.

  “I brought in a Z, I want to make sure he’s not dangerous or infectious.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just shoot him and not worry about it? Damn Zs!”

  “Ma'am, I really didn’t want to be shot. I’ve already been shot once and it really hurt like a mother.” He removed his sunglasses, making his dilated eyes easier to see. The woman looked at Conrad, then at Caleb as her face got brilliant red.

  “Follow me back to an exam room please and we’ll start with some vitals until the doctor can get here. Captain, is he safe to be alone with?”

  “He’s still an airman on active duty, and he’s here right in front of you. Feel free to give him at least the minimum respect and courtesy you would any other airman. If I had any doubts, he’d be in cuffs instead of standing here listening to you prattle on as if he wasn’t in front of you.

  ZOMBIE DESERTER: INFECTED WORLD BOOK 3 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VSNDWVD/

  Chapter 1

  Surprise, Arizona. April 11, 2029

  Lieutenant Caleb White looked at his tablet and was surprised to see he actually had new emails; he was even more surprised to see they were from Major General Peters, the senior surviving Air Force general, and commander of all forces.

  Caleb,

  Tomorrow or the next day at the latest, President Etchberger will announce his first presidential decree. He will be announcing that no infectee will be allowed to serve in any branch of the military and will have to be secured for the safety of the uninfected. What will not be declared is that the infected, unless being kept for medical experiments, will be euthanized. I have already sent an official email to Major Wilson that I have accepted your resignation. I have directed him to allow you to retain all personal issue weapons, and provide you with a small supply of ammunition and rations in lieu of payment for your service to your country. I also ordered that you are not to be allowed near any military personnel or facilities immediately after your separation. This is to ensure you can get away as soon as possible. I have made arrangements that your digital access is not disconnected. I’m sure you will find a way to access the system if you need to.

  I see you, and will always remember you, a hero. Perhaps one day even a friend.

  Respectfully yours,

  Major General William Peters

  Commander Combined CONUS Forces

  Caleb looked at the current time on the tablet, it was just shy of 0600. Adrenaline pumping, he tried to figure out what to do first. He grabbed his duffel bag and pulled out an extra drive he had stashed, then attached it to the tablet, downloading all his data in case the tablet was taken from him. He looked over at the pair of M4s by his bed and was sure the one that been issued to Corporal Golsteyn would be taken away if they knew about it. He quickly broke it down, cringing slightly when he felt the dried blood on the weapon before he stuffed it inside the bag then stopped and realized everything he owned back in Wyoming, the truck his dad had given him, his collection of firearms, and his stash of booze, was as good as gone. He picked up his tablet and began to compose a quick email to the man he looked at almost as a father, Captain Bryan Conrad.

  Bryan,

  It looks like I’m not going to make it back there. I want to you to have all my possessions I left behind, including my truck. It was an honor serving with you the short period of time that I did. I hope one day to see you again, and maybe my truck.

  Thanks for everything,

  Caleb

  Caleb shut down the tablet after deleting the email from the general, and ensuring it was cleared. Hopefully Major Arnot will delete the evidence of the email, he thought as he hurriedly dressed. Just as he was pulling the last speed lacer down his boot laces, locking them tight, there was three short raps at the door. Caleb gave a panicked look around the room and forced himself to try and relax; he couldn’t sense any danger from the other side of the door. He picked up the shades from the table and opened the door.

  “Sorry for the early visit, Lieutenant White. I’ve been asked to bring you to the orderly room. You also need to bring all your possessions with you. That sucks, you just getting here last night and already moving you out. My money says he wants you to take command of the agricultural detachment, but we’ll have to wait and see. Can I help you with any of that sir?” Technical Sergeant Muller offered.

  “I have it Sergeant. I’ll follow you to the orderly room.” While appearing calm, Caleb’s heart continued to race as he tried to sense any dangers. Then he felt the Other, there was an infected nearby, but different, calm and rational, the same as the infectee he’d met on the road in Wyoming, another like him. How do I ask if they have any infected among them? Especially if the Other is able to hide their condition from the locals. This is so frustrating he thought just as the NCO before him stopped at a door and opened it.

  “Lieutenant White, welcome, please come in.” Major Wilson sat at the desk in the back of the room. “General Peters has emailed me, to let you know that he has accepted your resignation of your commission. In addition, he has waived any requirements to fulfill your service obligation as an enlisted man. In particular it strikes me that he just wants you the hell away from the military as a whole. It looks to me that you were caught with your hand in the cookie jar and resigning your commission was for the best for the service as well as yourself. He has also been quite generous, in my opinion. You will be allowed to keep your personal weapon. I have also been directed to provide you with ammunition and rations until you can get
on your feet. I’ve had one of the numerous civilian vehicles that have been requisitioned for government use loaded with those rations and a can of 9mm and 5.56 ammo. In the spirit of the general’s email, you will not be welcomed back here, any military facility, or by any military personnel. Once you get into the truck, you are a civilian and not welcome here again. Do you have any questions for me?”

  “Major, it has been an honor and privilege to serve my country. I must now enter into the next stage of my life. I will make this easy and just leave now. Hopefully, this opportunity will allow me to find my parents.” Caleb replied. He held out his hand to shake the Major’s hand.

  Ignoring the offered hand, the Major looked at Technical Sergeant Muller. “Escort Mr. White to the truck, he is to be afforded no military courtesies. Then I want the guards to know he is to be considered persona non grata. You may escort him out now, Sergeant.” Wilson looked down at his desktop, ignoring the pair as they exited his office. If they had looked back at him, they would have seen a smile on his face. That bitch is going to be pissed when she sees her stolen truck has been requisitioned for the good of the service, he almost laughed as he took a sip of his coffee. My brother may not have been a good man, but he, and his men, didn’t deserve to be murdered by her. I’ll enjoy making her life miserable as long as I live.

  Muller walked out to the gate and wasn’t sure how to address the young, now ex-lieutenant. “Good luck sir, I hope you find your family.” Caleb was fighting his emotions, and just nodded back to the sergeant. The lifted truck before him was a total surprise. He took in the American paint job, then climbed up on the side to check out the bed of the truck. Two green metal ammo cans and six cases of MREs sat there. He dropped his duffel bag on top of the pile, and then slid off his M4 before opening the driver’s door and setting it between the seats. The opulence of the cab’s interior was an additional pleasant surprise, although he was not happy with the automatic transmission, preferring at least a four speed. Turning the key, the engine fired up nicely with a throaty growl, the gas gauge was at a half tank. This was definitely someone’s baby he thought, before looking back and giving a half wave. The ride was quiet, the seats perhaps too comfortable. The satellite radio was playing a song too soft to hear so he turned up the volume,

  There must be fifty ways to leave your lover

  Fifty ways to leave your lover

  You just slip out the back, Jack

  Make a new plan, Stan

  You don't need to be coy, Roy

  Just get yourself free

  Hop on the bus, Gus

  You don't need to discuss much

  Just drop off the key, Lee

  And get yourself free

  Caleb turned off the radio in shock, wondering if he was possibly going insane.

  GRAY PANTHERS: BATTLE FOR EARTH

  Gray Panthers: Battle for Earth

  Prologue

  Hades Wormhole, deep space

  The Flem sensor operator began to shake uncontrollably. “Sir, enemy ships have just entered sensor range. They will be able to see us in two days. Estimate they will catch up to us in three days.”

  “Calm yourself, Petunia. We’ll figure something out,” the ship’s captain responded with a sigh. He had known the risks when he ordered the refugee fleet into the Hades Wormhole to escape their pursuers. Now the five hundred ships were trapped. The Hades Wormhole was supposed to have been a well-kept secret.

  The Flem, a race of underground dwellers, were the most technologically advanced race in the galaxy, renowned for their advanced scientific achievements. They were innovators in creating artificial intelligence and faster-than-light space drives, as well as in the areas of mining, construction, and energy creation. They previously had cities spanning thousands of miles.

  Although they were formidable in appearance—six feet tall, with huge fangs, and covered in light tan-colored fur—the Flem were virtually incapable of acts of violence, even in self-defense.

  Historically, the Flem relied solely on the Jacka for defense. Huge and hairy, the feline-like Jacka sported enormous leonine manes. They could easily propel themselves at great speeds using their legs alone or in combination with their two sets of massive arms.

  The Jacka, a race of mercenaries from the planet Glory, lived by a strict religious code honoring clan, honesty, and warrior skill. The ten Jacka clans could be distinguished from one another only by the color of their clothing. Originally technologically backwards, the Jacka’ contract with the Flem provided them with interplanetary travel capabilities and advanced technologies—except in the area of weaponry, ironically. The Flem, though open to all trade, refused to participate in the development of weapons or to sell technology that could be easily converted to weapons.

  “Do we know who is following us?” the captain asked, scratching nervously at his belly.

  “Sir, it looks like a pair of Jacka scout ships—originally of Flem registry, traded to the Claw Clan of the Jacka. The transponder identifies those on board as the Tooth Clan.”

  Still scratching himself, the captain asked softly, “What type of capabilities do the ships possess?”

  “Sir, both appear to have older-model Republic lasers and missiles, still potentially deadly to our ships,” the first officer replied. She felt hot and didn’t realize that her leg had started to tap the floor beneath her.

  Aware that he was out of his league, the captain went to his ready room to open a virtual conference with the captains of the rest of the fleet. As the captains made and scrapped plan after plan, the ships of the Tooth Clan continued to close the gap. In desperation, they finally agreed on a course of action. Two of the Auxiliary fleet repair ships, under the control of their artificial intelligence systems, would gradually slow until the scout ships overtook them. They would then destroy themselves, taking out the scout ships with them. The two ships that were chosen for the mission were believed to have defective AIs. The Deep Roots’ AI was feared to be militaristic, and the Grub’s AI lacked initiative, constantly requiring input to be successful in its assignments.

  After the plan was transmitted to the ships, Auxiliary Deep Roots engineered a slight impact with the other ship so that it would appear as though the two ships had experienced an accidental collision. The ships began to slow and vent helium-3 fuel. Auxiliary Deep Roots commenced to power up the independent power reactors in the ship’s cargo hold while opening all combustible materials, flooding the atmosphere. The Deep Roots then slowed all forward movement as the two scout ships came alongside and prepared to send crews aboard. As the scout ships attached themselves to the ship, the Deep Roots’ engine exploded, leading to multiple sympathetic explosions in the cargo holds. The blasts destroyed the Deep Roots and both scout ships. As Auxiliary Grub tried to veer from the destruction, which was intensified because of the restrictions of the wormhole, the ship’s systems were overwhelmed. All exterior sensors were wiped out, leaving the ship in total sensory deprivation as its AI tried to understand what had happened.

  In the total darkness, the ship experienced a hard crash and external gravity pulled it downward. Something akin to desperation flashed through the Grub’s AI, and eventually the ship’s minimal sensors began to spit out information indicating that the ship had materialized inside a planetary body. The bubble created by the ship’s force field had dematerialized the rock surrounding the ship for a hundred feet in all directions, and the rock had melted into a cavern around the stricken ship. Within seconds, the Grub realized it had only one option. Slowly, it reduced the force field’s power until the ship rested on the ground of the cavern. It then powered itself down and went to sleep, awaiting instructions for what to do next.

  Chapter 1

  Vulture Mountains, Arizona

  31 March 2126

  Leaving the city behind was reward enough as Dan “D2” Daniels once again headed toward the mountains in search of his fortune. The old veteran was bounced out of his daydreams when he hit a hidden rut in hi
s solar cart, nearly breaking its axle. In the distance a large herd of desert bighorns were grazing, unaware of his presence. Stopping the cart, he reached slowly into the back of the cart and uncovered his ancient M1 rifle. Rapidly, with the smoothness of a well-oiled machine, he found himself leaning against the side of the cart, calculating the distance to the herd and feeling for any breeze. With a slight rush of buck fever he centered in on a huge ram. The slam in his shoulder surprised him—he wasn’t even aware that he had squeezed the trigger. The huge ram hit the ground hard as the 30.06 slug went through his skull. Dan felt like a kid as he policed his brass and climbed into the cart to get to his reward, alert to anyone who might have seen him, ready to report him for having an illegal weapon or for poaching, or both. The thought that he would soon be eating meat, something he could rarely afford, overrode his fears.

  He began to gut the ram, marveling at its size. He figured if he cleaned it right, he should have nearly two hundred pounds of meat. No sooner had he finished packing the meat into every free space in the cart than he heard the distinct buzz of a drone in the distance, growing louder as it headed up from the Mexican border. Its route would soon take it slightly to the west of him, where the mountains would block any view of him and his treasure. A slight adjustment in the drone’s flight path, however, sent shivers through Dan as he realized that the drone’s cameras were now tracking him. Hoping his treasure was covered well enough, he waved to the drone with his floppy hat, showing his gray beard and head of silver hair tied back into a ponytail. The operator of the Homeland Security drone quickly lost interest in the old desert rat and banked the drone back toward base, as it was on the last leg of its circuit.