Omega Pathogen: Despair

by J. G. Hicks Jr

  Jeremy continued as their driver as they navigated the roads on Camp Blanding. After an hour or more of taking an indirect path, they found themselves at a heavy weapons firing range. They saw the source of the smoke. What remained of a fuselage lay twisted and smoldering just inside the tree line. They couldn’t tell by looking at it, but knew it had to be the distressed C130 that had flown over the day before.

  They approached the wreckage more closely without any hope of finding survivors. They did find hundreds, if not thousands, of spent ammunition casings. Someone had survived the crash, or perhaps people on the base responded to the crash and fought infected.

  Jim looked to the few buildings near the range to see if there were signs of life when the sound of three suppressed gunshots startled him. He looked toward the noise and saw Chris lowering his rifle that had been aimed into the trees.

  “Infected,” Chris said and then continued to scan the tree line for threats.

  Jim told Chris and Jeremy of his intention to check the two nearby buildings for possible survivors. They figured any survivors would have made themselves known by then, but they had to check. The closest was a single-story block building. Near it was a tower about fifty feet high. Jim guessed the tower had been for observing tank or artillery exercises.

  Jim, Chris, and Jeremy approached the brick structure on the side with the only door. All the windows in the olive drab building were intact. As they drove closer, Chris pointed out the door was open. Jim used the flashlight attached to his AR-15’s foregrip to illuminate the interior as he peered through the high windows. It looked clear.

  “Hey!” a male voice shouted.

  Jim and his sons looked around.

  "Up here!” the voice yelled again.

  They looked up and saw a man leaning out and waving from the structure atop the tower.

  The wiry man finally made his way down the tower steps. The man was bald except for patches of long stringy hair on the sides of his head. He looked tired but relieved to see someone. The man’s eyes constantly darted about. He rarely focused on the men he'd just met for more than a few seconds. The stranger introduced himself as George Simmons.

  After he'd introduced himself and his sons, they got George some water and food. Jim asked George if he’d seen the aircraft crash or any survivors from it.

  “See it? I was in the damn thing,” George said.

  The four men went inside the MRAP and Jim urged George to continue his story.

  According to George, he’d been the laboratory assistant to a CDC virologist. George and some other CDC staff were in Mexico studying Chikungunya when they began hearing of the outbreaks of what had later come to be known as the SCAR virus.

  The U.S. military was called on to extract the CDC team and transport them to Miami. Other experts had been gathered to study and combat the new disease, and George and the other CDC personnel were to join them.

  Everything that could go wrong did, George told them. After losing some members of the CDC team in Mexico to the virus, they were flying back to the U.S. when they experienced the engine trouble and crashed here.

  “How were things in Mexico?” Jim asked.

  “Terrible,” George replied and took another gulp of water.

  “Any other survivors?” Jim asked.

  George shook his head. “I don’t think so. We were chased from the plane. It was chaos. I ran up the tower and have been there since,” he said.

  “We’re going to have a look around this base and see if there’s anything we can use,” Jim said as he stood from the bench seat. Jeremy took the driver's seat and started the MRAP. Jeremy headed back the way they had entered the gun range, as his father had asked.

  Instead of heading out of the main gate, they drove around and looked for signs indicating the base’s armory. Chris called down from the turret that he’d seen a sign. Jim squeezed up in the turret with Chris while Jeremy turned right in the direction the sign indicated.

  Jim looked over the surrounding area with binoculars and then focused on the armory. “Stop. Stop. Stop,” Jim said. Jeremy brought the MRAP to a halt. Jim stepped down from the turret and relayed what he’d seen. A large Army-green truck had apparently been driven through the armory at some time. Its rear end protruded from the building.

  After receiving questioning looks from Chris and Jeremy, and a blank expression from George, Jim explained. “We have no way of knowing if anyone normal is still inside that armory. They may not want to share. They could have armaments that could cut right through this MRAP.” Jim saw in their faces that they now realized his concern.

  “Jeremy, turn us around. Let’s look for a better approach to the armory,” Jim said. Their hunt for an alternative route yielded nothing. They found themselves back where they had stopped when they first saw the armory. Jim stepped down and went over his plan with Chris and Jeremy.

  Jim manned the turret with a .50 caliber rifle equipped with a scope, and scanned the armory and surrounding area. Chris drove them, and Jeremy sat in the passenger seat with binoculars, watching the building. Chris set off slowly down the road back to the armory.

  “Floor it and drive past the building,” Jim called over the radio.

  Chris immediately did as asked and the MRAP picked up speed.

  With its considerable tonnage the MRAP would win no drag race, but Jim wanted to add speed to make it a little harder for anyone that may have taken a shot at them. Chris drove by the armory while Jim and Jeremy looked for any signs of a threat. Once past the building and blocked from view by a post office, Jim had Chris turn back around to approach again and then called for him to stop.

  They were in cover now, but approaching would leave them in the open after moving past some trees. Jim had them wait inside while he left the vehicle to try to get a better look inside the armory. He jogged to the trees in a crouched position and jumped to the ground the last few feet at the base of a large oak tree. Jim aimed the .50 caliber rifle’s scope into the building but could see little of the interior. Only a few feet on the passenger side of the big truck offered a view inside. Anyone or anything inside was obscured by shadow.

  The night vision optics they had wouldn’t be of use. The area between the protection of cover outside and the darkness of the interior of the building was lit by the bright sun. The optics they had wouldn’t be able to compensate for the difference in the light. Jim headed back to the MRAP.

  Jim wrapped up his plan with Chris and Jeremy. He looked at George and saw him staring out the rear window. “Get the key before you come out,” Jim whispered to his sons.

  They both nodded in understanding.

  At Jim’s request Kathy had installed a keyed system and relocated the starter switch. Without the key, the MRAP could still be started, but you had to know to switch on the battery and where the ignition switch had been hidden under the dash. Jim had just met George and he didn’t trust him yet.

  “I’ll call you up if it’s clear,” Jim said to Chris and Jeremy. He put down the binoculars he’d been using and moved from the front to the rear of the MRAP. He checked his gear and weapons again, and then stepped out onto the pavement. Jim angled his approach as much as he could from the tree he had been at moments ago to the building. No matter what he did, he was a perfect target for any decent marksmen hidden inside. He felt like they had been watched since they first approached the armory.

  The path Jim took brought him to the front left corner of the building. He was about thirty feet from the gaping hole made by the deuce-and-a-half truck. Its height prevented him from seeing into its cab without crossing in front of the hole in the building and using its step.

  The bed of the military truck was covered by canvas stretched out over the frame. Seeing inside it from a distance was impossible. Jim called to Chris on the radio and directed him to drive the MRAP along the path he’d taken to the building. Chris didn’t take long to move the short distance and pulled to a stop. Jim called for Chris and Jeremy to joi
n him and to bring a flash-bang grenade. Chris nonchalantly removed the key from the ignition before he and Jeremy exited.

  Jim updated them on his plan. He’d toss a flash-bang grenade into the gap closest to them, and after detonation he’d enter the building to clear it. After Chris heard the bang he was to check the bed of the truck and Jeremy would clear the cab.

  Once the three were ready, Jim pulled the pin and flung the grenade through the gap. They covered their ears and in a few seconds the blast came. Jim stood and pulled down his NVGs and was quickly through the gap in the wall.

  Jeremy approached the cab on the driver side. He put a foot on the step and lifted himself by the handrail. His face rose above the door and near the closed smudged window. A hideous face with no lips rose from behind the door and looked out at Jeremy through the window. It seemed to have been a man but its apparent decomposition, the matted stringy hair partially obscuring its face and absence of lips made its sex difficult to tell. Whatever it had been, it was hideous looking then. It lunged and struck its face and forehead on the glass.

  The glass held — but not knowing it would, Jeremy leapt backwards off the step and landed on his buttocks on the pavement. He fired four rounds from his rifle at the window. The window shattered as his rounds struck the infected man in the chest and face.

  Chris heard the rifle fire as he stepped up and looked in the bed of the truck. He saw no one, but various sized crates haphazardly filled the bed. His section secured, Chris jumped down to check his brother and father. Chris got to Jeremy just as he had gotten to his feet and stood hunched over holding his lower back.

  “Are you okay?” Chris asked.

  His younger brother winced as he stood fully upright. He didn’t look like he was okay, but nodded his head regardless.

  They heard gunshots from the interior of the armory. Chris and Jeremy flipped down their NVGs and entered where their father had a few seconds earlier.

  They had just made it past the front of the truck when there was another burst of gunshots and then the sounds of a struggle and the growling. Chris and Jeremy followed the sounds to a short hallway on the opposite side of the building they’d entered. As they approached the hallway, the growling stopped. They could hear another sound that neither could place.

  As they rounded the corner and looked down the hall in the green hue of their night vision goggles, they saw their father using the butt of his rifle, beating one of about eight corpses that laid around him. He struck it over and over and over. “You mother fuckers!” he yelled as he bludgeoned the lifeless infected.

  “Dad?” Chris and Jeremy said quietly.

  Jim froze. His breathing was rapid. His arms gripped his rifle overhead, ready to pummel flesh and bone again. He slowly lowered the rifle and turned to his sons.

  “You guys okay?” he asked as he tried to slow his breathing.

  “Yeah, we're good,” Jeremy answered.

  “You?” Chris asked as their father walked to them.

  They stepped aside for him to pass.

  “Lost my cool. I’m good now,” Jim said as he stopped between Chris and Jeremy. “Let’s go get some air,” Jim said as he swapped his empty magazine for a full one and followed Chris and Jeremy outside.

  When they walked out of the armory, Jim noticed Jeremy holding his back and bending in different directions in an attempt to stretch. “You hurt?” Jim asked and began examining Jeremy.

  “A rotten-looking infected dude in the cab of the truck poked his head up and surprised the shit out of me. I slipped and fell,” Jeremy replied and pointed at the cab. “I’ll be all right,” he added. He stopped massaging his lower back and stood upright.

  They headed to the rear of the truck that protruded from the building. They didn’t have the time to take a complete inventory of what was in the bed of the deuce-and-a-half. It was obvious, though, that there was more than they could pack into their vehicle. Most of the weapons, equipment, and ammunition would need to be left behind after they picked through what they needed. There seemed no need to check further inside the armory. Much of the weaponry had been loaded in the truck.

  The interior of the MRAP was packed with what they had collected. Some containers were strapped to the top and sides. One of items Jim was thrilled to find was a case of laser aiming devices. The units had a red laser for daytime and an infrared laser to be used in conjunction with night vision optics. They’d give them a great advantage in being able to defend themselves at night or in dark structures. The Advanced Target Pointer / Illuminator Aiming Lasers, or ATPIAL units, just needed to be mounted on a weapon’s picatinny rails and zeroed in.

  They took a rest after the gear was packed into the MRAP. The exhaustion from the adrenaline drop had kicked in. The high stress took a toll on their bodies and minds. Jim, Chris, and Jeremy mounted the ATPIAL systems to several of the AR-15s, and the fully automatic-capable M4s they now had. They had also found two more M249 machine guns and mounted the laser systems on them as well.

  Using a bore laser placed inside the rifle’s barrel, they matched up the ATPIAL’s red laser to that. The infrared laser used with night vision optics was slaved to the red laser, so no further adjustments were needed. Jim and his sons decided they would remain longer at the base and gather more useful equipment and supplies. George was not in agreement. He had wanted to depart for the Yates’ compound that Jim and his sons had talked about.

  Chapter 12

  In a short time they had located the next place they had put near the top of their list of stops, the vehicle maintenance facilities on Camp Blanding. They found the building’s large roll-up bay doors open, providing them a good view inside.

  George sat in a seat in the rear of the MRAP. He looked out the windows periodically and fidgeted with his hands. Although the interior was relatively cool, George sweated profusely.

  Jim and his sons sat quietly in the MRAP while they looked over the maintenance building for signs of infected and areas they could be lurking in.

  Seeing no movement, and noting areas they would need to clear once they had made entry, Jim, Chris, and Jeremy prepared to go in. “George, you stay in here and try to relax,” Jim said. He poured red colored powder from a packet into a water bottle and shook it. “Here, this will help rehydrate you a little quicker,” Jim said and handed it to George, whose hand trembled as he took the beverage

  “What’s in it?” George asked. “The powder’s just minerals and some flavoring. Like a sports drink,” Jim answered.

  “Okay. Okay. Thanks,” George said and sipped from the bottle.

  The search of the garage went quickly. Jim, Chris, and Jeremy set about looking for anything of potential need. Jim checked an empty trailer outside the building and realized they could hook it to the MRAP. Jim instructed Chris and Jeremy to put items they collected inside the trailer.

  Jeremy found a maintenance manual for a similar type of MRAP that they had. They made it a priority to collect as many parts, tires, and filters as they could get. Jeremy suggested they take one of the trucks parked near the garage back with them.

  “Good idea. But we’ve got the same kind of trailer hitch on the MRAP and can hook to it. We’ll leave it here for now and get it before we head back. I want to check out more places for things we need,” Jim said.

  They rejoined George in the MRAP. Jim called the farm on the Ham radio and gave a situation report. He let them know that they would be searching the base for useful things they could bring back. Jim signed off on the radio as they left the garage to continue searching the base.

  The tractor-trailer with supplies was left, with the plan it would be picked up prior to their departure from the base. Jim drove as they traveled away from the vehicle maintenance building and deeper into the base.

  They slowed as they looked at different areas on the base and then continued on. All the time, the number of walkers slowly increased and followed them. Jim slowed and then came to a stop. He stared at some tractor-trailers
parked in a large paved area on their left. “You see those?” Jim asked his sons as he pointed to one of the seven trailers parked beside each other.

  “What?” Chris asked.

  “The trailer with the forklift near it,” Jim said.

  “Yeah, what is it?” Jeremy asked.

  “It looks like a shit-load of Hescos,” Jim answered.

  Jim explained that Hescos were simply containers made of pliable material and reinforced with thick wire. The Hescos were transported collapsed or folded on themselves, and could be transported and set up quickly. Once unfolded and placed on leveled ground, they were filled with dirt. They had proved very useful for quickly constructing walls around U.S. and Coalition military bases in Iraq and Afghanistan. “We can use those for at least part of the perimeter of the farm,” Jim said.

  On the move again after their stop near the Hescos, they come across a logistics and supply building. To their pleasant surprise they found a trailer loaded with MREs backed up to the loading dock at the rear of the building. Something else that was placed on the list of things they would need to bring back.

  They drove to the base’s hospital and as much as Jim loathed the idea of going inside, they needed more medical supplies. As a paramedic he knew it was nearly impossible to have too many medical supplies. It was already nearly 4:00 PM; Jim and his sons discussed it and decided they would spend the night and then enter the hospital after sunrise tomorrow. George politely disagreed.

  Jim called the farm and gave them an update of their plans. He signed off feeling a little relief that Arzu hadn’t been near the radio. She would have surely protested the decision. He didn’t like being separated and spreading their numbers, but it was the only way to scavenge for the things they desperately needed, or could need in an emergency.

  Jim pulled the MRAP away from the hospital front entrance and to a nearby parking lot that offered a better field of view. Chris and Jeremy began to prepare meals while Jim set aside some of the flash-bang and fragmentation grenades that they had recently obtained. Jim made sure that Chris and Jeremy were educated about the grenades, especially the fragmentation variety. He explained the casualty distance for the fragmentation grenades was fifteen meters. An almost certain kill radius was five meters.