The Zombie Terror War Series (Vol. 2): The Darkest Part of the Night

by Spell, David

  “Well, no one said he was a very good terrorist,” Jimmy observed.

  There was an opening at the curb and Jones pulled the Interceptor to the side of the street. There was a parking meter but neither officer had any intention of worrying about it.

  “LaTeesha can write us a ticket later,” Jimmy said to Alejandro.

  She didn’t think that was funny. “Don’t we need to wait for backup?”

  “Please call it in on your radio and give them our location. You can come with us or wait in the car,” said Alejandro, getting out of the SUV.

  Jimmy clicked the transmit button on his radio. “Team Two Bravo to Team Two Alpha.”

  Eddie answered immediately. “Go ahead, Team Two Bravo.”

  “We’ve spotted him and we’re tailing him on foot. He came out of Ricardo’s Mexican Restaurant at the corner of Decatur Street and Central Avenue. We’ll be heading south on Central Avenue. It might be good to have some officers get over there and make sure he hasn’t spread any zombie love in that restaurant. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Team Two Alpha clear.”

  Jones and Estrada trailed Ahmed at a distance as they walked down Central Avenue. The terrorist didn’t seem to be in a hurry. They turned left down Martin Luther King Junior Drive just before they got to the Fulton County Court Buildings. LaTeesha was trailing them by fifty yards. She wasn’t sure if she should stay with the two male officers or if she should hang back. This was the most dangerous thing that she had ever done in her short law enforcement career.

  The sidewalks were packed and the officers didn’t want to attempt to take Mohamud down in a crowd. It was likely that he was armed and they did not want any innocents to get hurt. His direction was taking him back towards Interstate 85. They crossed Washington Street but stayed on MLK Drive. They passed the Georgia State Capital, with its gleaming, golden dome.

  Jimmy motioned to the female officer to join them. She increased her pace to catch up.

  “What’s that next street?”

  “That’s Piedmont Avenue,” she answered.

  “Let’s try and take him down near MLK and Piedmont Avenue. It looks like the pedestrian traffic is thinning out.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Estrada answered.

  “Can you call in our location to your dispatcher?” Jimmy asked LaTeesha.

  The officers were about fifty yards behind Ahmed. The red pedestrian light caught him at the crosswalk with Piedmont Avenue. Jones slowed down to call Eddie and to give him an update.

  As Jones was talking to his team leader, he saw the terrorist turn around and look at him. Their eyes met. He saw the surprise in Ahmed’s eyes as he suddenly realized that he was being followed.

  The terrorist turned and started running. Cars slammed on their brakes to avoid hitting him. Drivers pushed their horns and yelled at the running figure.

  Jones and Estrada pulled their badges out from under their shirts and let them hang on their chests by their chain as they started running after him. Jimmy had been a Track and Field star at the University of Alabama as a sprinter. He quickly began to close the distance on Ahmed. Alejandro wasn’t far behind.

  They continued running towards the interstate. MLK Drive would go underneath the highway. Jimmy was only twenty-five yards behind the terrorist and closing the distance fast.

  “Stop! Police! Mohamud Ahmed, you’re under arrest,” Jimmy yelled as he ran and drew his pistol.

  Ahmed glanced a look over his shoulder and saw the black man getting closer. He heard him shout for him to stop. He even heard the man yell his name. How did they find him? he wondered. Mohamud reached into his right front pocket and withdrew the Makarov pistol that Amir had given him. He felt regret that he wouldn’t be able to carry out his mission.

  His lungs were burning and the adrenaline propelled him forward but he was not a runner. Another quick glance over his shoulder. The police officer was now only ten yards behind him. Another officer was quickly closing the distance as well. This was it. He knew that he couldn’t run anymore. Even if he could, these police were too fast. Ahmed began to slow down. He stepped sideways to his right and swung his pistol towards the closest police officer.

  Jimmy saw that Mohamud was slowing down. Now, he was just fifteen feet behind him. Jones has seen him reach into his pocket but he couldn’t see what he had pulled out. He assumed it was a gun but he didn’t want to shoot a guy who had just been grabbing for his cell phone. He had to be sure.

  The terrorist took a step to the right. Jimmy moved to his left to give himself a little more distance and to make himself a tougher target. Jones brought his Glock up to eye level. When Ahmed turned with a gun in his hand, Jimmy fired three quick shots that caught him on the right side of his chest. Time slowed down and he saw the shots impact. The terrorist flinched but did not go down.

  Estrada saw the man they were chasing swing around with a small pistol. He saw Jimmy shoot and watched the rounds strike him, the fabric of his black t-shirt moving with each impact. Alejandro pulled the trigger on his Glock twice and saw his bullets hit Mohamud in the sternum. Ahmed continued to try and aim his pistol at Jones.

  Jimmy and Alejandro both raised their sights slightly and fired again. Jones’ shot hit him on the bridge of the nose and penetrated into his brain. Estrada’s bullet punched into the terrorist’s left eye. His head snapped back and he collapsed onto his back.

  They both covered Ahmed with their pistols, making sure that he was no longer a threat.

  “I’ll handcuff him,” Estrada said.

  He holstered his gun and pulled his kevlar gloves out of his pocket and put them on. With Jimmy covering him, he moved in and rolled the terrorist onto his stomach and handcuffed him. Ahmed’s pistol was laying on the pavement next to him.

  Thompson came walking up slowly. She stared at the body but didn’t say anything.

  Jimmy performed a tactical reload of his pistol, inserting a full magazine into the gun. He reholstered and called Eddie.

  LaTeesha had hung back when the two CDC officers started chasing the skinny, light-skinned man. She had heard Officer Jones challenge him to stop and had seen the guy swing around with a pistol. She hadn’t even see him draw it but Jones and Estrada had and calmly shot him several times, including two final shots to the head. Now, she was standing and watching the terrorist’s blood leak out of a number of bullet holes. Jones and Estrada didn’t seem to be fazed in the least by the death of Ahmed.

  She heard Jimmy say to Alejandro, “Yep, that boy came from one unlucky family.”

  She knew she needed to request an ambulance and let Sergeant Roberts know what had happened. Her hand was shaking as she pushed the transmit button and she felt the vomit suddenly rising into her mouth. LaTeesha was just able to move to the side of the sidewalk so that her puke did not land on the body or the other two officers.

  New Century Hotel, Atlanta, 1800 hours

  Within minutes after the shooting, the street was a sea of blue lights from both marked and unmarked police cars and red lights from the fire truck and ambulance that had responded. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned the area off. Eddie and Chuck controlled the scene until Rebecca arrived. She requested that the FBI send a team to help with the investigation and that both of the CDC’s Clean Up Teams respond. The media also arrived quickly and in force. She let the FBI’s media relations agent deal with them. The FBI had been the ones who had taken out the warrants on Ahmed and he had just made Number One on their infamous Most Wanted List.

  It was obvious that the terrorist was dead. The paramedics had verified it so his body would be left where it was until the scene was processed. After the crime scene photos had been taken, the lead FBI agent put on a pair of rubber gloves and went through Mohamud’s pockets.

  In his left front pocket, there was an extra magazine for his pistol. In his right rear pocket was a black leather wallet that contained a room key for the New Century Hotel, a few blocks away. The wallet also contained several hund
red dollars in cash and a Georgia Driver’s License in the name of Cumar Ali.

  Supervisory Special Agent Thomas Burns held up the ID and said loudly, “It looks like you guys shot the wrong man.” He looked at Jimmy, who was standing with Eddie, Chuck, and Rebecca. “I guess you didn’t bother to try and confirm his identity before you killed him?”

  “Is this guy an idiot or what?” said Scotty, loudly, as he walked up behind Burns.

  The special agent turned to confront the person who had just insulted him. When he saw the big, muscular man in the CDC Enforcement uniform with a rifle slung across his chest, he checked what he was going to say.

  Smith walked by Burns without even acknowledging his presence. “I mean, really? Are all FBI agents this stupid?” Scotty asked motioning over his shoulder at the red-faced agent.

  Burns found his voice and said to Rebecca, “You can bet that I’m going to report those insulting and degrading comments to my superiors.”

  “Just do your job, Burns,” Rebecca said coldly. “Are you going to check that hotel room or do you want us to do it?”

  “This is our investigation. We identified Ahmed and we took out the warrants on him. Now, it looks like your men have shot the wrong person.”

  “When a man points a gun at you, he’s the right guy to shoot even if he’s not the guy you’re looking for,” said Jimmy. “But, this is the right guy. We’ll get the Clean Up Team to fingerprint him and verify his identity.”

  Chuck walked over to Agent Burns. “Can I see that driver’s license?”

  After examining it for about ten seconds, he handed it back to the FBI agent and said, “It’s a fake.”

  “How do you know that?” Burns demanded.

  “Because I’m a police officer and being able to spot fake documents is an important job skill. That’s not even a very good fake,” Chuck said.

  “Back to my question, Burns,” said Rebecca. “We need to get into that hotel room. For all we know, Amir al-Razi is waiting there for Ahmed to come back. Send a couple of your guys with us if you want, but we need to get over there now. I don’t think you’d want your superiors to know that you let al-Razi get away.”

  The four officers of Team One, Chris Rogers, Rebecca, two young FBI agents and two City of Atlanta police officers moved quietly down the second floor hallway to room 210. They paused for a moment when they got to the room. Chuck scanned the hallway. There was no noise except a television from a few rooms down. A ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hung from the door of room 210.

  There was no telling what was on the other side of the door. The CDC officers were wearing their heavy body armor and had their rifles slung over their chests. The FBI agents had thrown soft body armor over their polo shirts and had their “FBI” windbreakers on. They were holding their pistols down by their legs.

  Chuck nodded at Rebecca and she slipped the keycard into the door. When the light turned green, she turned the handle and stepped out of the way. McCain was in the door first, followed by Smith, Fleming, García, Rogers, Johnson, and the two FBI agents. The uniformed police officers provided security in the hallway.

  Chuck and Scotty cleared the small room while Andy and Luis checked the bathroom. The hotel room was empty. The bed had been slept in and there was a black duffel bag laying on the small table next to the window. One of the FBI agents started to grab it.

  “I wouldn’t recommend that,” said Rebecca quietly.

  He shot a glance at her. “And why not?” he challenged.

  “It probably has some of the zombie virus in it, for one thing. The other reason is that it’s part of the crime scene and needs to be processed correctly. I doubt you want to be known as the agent that messed up a crime scene involving one of the worst mass murderers in American History.”

  “They really are all that stupid,” Scotty said to Andy, but loud enough for everyone in the building to hear.

  “Be nice, Scotty,” said Rebecca as she called the Clean Up Team. They were parked below in the parking lot and came up to process the room.

  The Clean Up Team photographed the hotel room and processed it for fingerprints and for DNA evidence. They searched the room thoroughly. The duffel bag did contain the zombie virus. At least, that’s what it looked like. Three small, glass vials of a clear liquid were wrapped in bubble wrap.

  The duffel bag also contained more cash, more bullets, some clothes, toiletries and Mohamud Ahmed’s Georgia Driver’s License. What it did not contain was any clue about what his target was in Downtown Atlanta. A cheap cell phone was laying on the table next to the bed. The phone would be given to the FBI to see what their forensics people could get off of it.

  Mohamud Ahmed was dead. That was not a bad thing. They had recovered a quantity of the of the virus. They were also at a dead end in their investigation. Amir was still out there but they had no idea where. Was he in Downtown Atlanta as well? Rebecca and her men had no clue where to look next.

  Sports Bar, Athens, Georgia, Friday, 1830 hours

  Amir had been doing his own research and reconnaissance around Athens. He also had three vials of the virus. His first stop on Saturday morning was going to be the Georgia Square Mall. It wasn’t a very large mall but it had a coffee shop just off of the food court.

  The mall was about six miles from the university. When people started turning into zombies in the mall, it would pull police away from the campus. A break-out of the infection there would serve as a distraction for the police and for the emergency responders. An attack on the mall would ultimately be an attack on the university as well because so many of the students worked there and shopped there.

  The main reason that al-Razi had chosen tomorrow to launch their attacks was because it was the first home football game of the season for the University of Georgia. Eighty thousand people or more would be packed into Sanford Stadium to cheer for the Bulldogs. Terrell Hill would be working at one of the concession booths inside. Amir had already given him his instructions. Al-Razi’s plan was going to turn that stadium and the surrounding area into a graveyard.

  The start of the game, the ‘kickoff’ they called it, was scheduled for 2:05 in the afternoon. He would visit the mall and cause some chaos there and then drive back to the campus and cause even more chaos there. His only disappointment was that he didn’t have more of the virus. He had not realized how big this university was until he had spent some time walking around it yesterday and today.

  Amir found a sports bar in downtown Athens. He got a table near the back of the business to watch the crowd. He ordered a cheeseburger, french fries and a Coke. A story caught his attention on one of the many televisions playing throughout the restaurant. He could not hear anything but the headline read, ‘Suspected Terrorist Killed in Shootout with Police.’ The screen showed live footage of an area near the Georgia State University roped off by yellow crime scene tape.

  He quickly got to his feet and walked out of the restaurant. If they had identified Ahmed, the police had very likely linked the two of them and his own face could soon be appearing on the television again. They had identified him as suspect after the initial attacks and his picture had been shown regularly for a few days before other stories became more important. Amir walked to his car which was parked a couple of blocks away. He turned on a local news radio station in the car to hear more.

  The police were not saying much except to say that they believed they had stopped a bio-terror attack in the heart of the city. A unnamed source had told one reporter that a CDC Response Team had shot and killed Mohamud Ahmed. He was being named as the primary terrorist behind the Peachtree Meadow High School attack that had killed close to a thousand students, teachers, parents, and police officers.

  Al-Razi slammed his hand into the steering wheel in anger. How did they do that? How did they find Ahmed in a city the size of Atlanta? Once again, Amir’s plans were thwarted by the officers of the CDC.

  He took a deep breath. At least Mohamud had not been arrested. Granted, he had
not known where Amir was going to strike but his death left no loose ends. He had nothing to connect him with Amir. While disappointing, it did not matter. Tomorrow would be another blow to the infidels as al-Razi and Terrell Hill brought jihad to one of the largest universities in America.

  Waffle House, Athens, Georgia, Friday, 1845 hours

  Terrell only had another fifteen minutes before his shift ended. The Waffle House is one of the few restaurants that offers jobs to ex-convicts. His guidance counselor from the Department of Corrections had helped him get the position. He always hated serving the police when they came in, though, and on a couple of occasions, had managed to spit in their food as he prepared it. Today, however, would be his last shift at Waffle House.

  A friend from high school had helped him get the part-time job at Sanford Stadium with few questions asked. He had worked all the home games for the last two seasons but tomorrow would be his last shift there, as well. He would complete the mission that Amir had given him and then he would disappear. Well, not completely disappear. Amir had told him to head towards the Northern Virginia area and had given him the phone number of a contact in Washington D. C.

  “If you don’t hear from me within forty-eight hours of our attacks, assume the worst and call the phone number. He will have some more work for you if you want it,” al-Razi had told him.

  All he had to do tomorrow was show up at the stadium on time and follow the instructions that Amir had given him. As soon as he was done, he just had to get out of there without becoming a victim himself. He even had a plan for driving away instead of walking.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Friends and Family