Zombie Night in Canada (Book 1): First Period

by Friesen, Jamie

  When the convoy got there, several APCs formed a protective cordon and fired on infected as they appeared, while Mayor Johnson was quickly ushered into one of the other APCs. As swiftly and as quietly as possible, so were the others at City Hall. It was a messy operation because they only had so much room in the APCs, and seeing the military arrive in force, dozens of civilians had flocked to City Hall from nearby buildings looking for help. Unfortunately, there was nowhere near enough room for the civilians as well as the people at City Hall. That meant leaving behind plenty of uninfected people to be devoured or turned by infected. A compromise was quickly made and several city trucks took positions between the APCs. Once everyone had been secured, the entire convoy fled back through the city and onto the base.

  Mayor Johnston and his staff were none too thrilled about staying in the prison under quarantine with everyone else but grudgingly accepted the necessity of such measures.

  Meanwhile, Raine sent the remnants of the Military Police and local reservists to assist RCMP officers in local suburban cities, who had had more luck in controlling the spread of infection in their smaller communities.

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  The HMS Audacious was one of the newest submarines in the Royal Navy. Outfitted with the best technology her country could deploy, she had been sent on a mission of the utmost importance.

  “Target is dead ahead,” the sonar officer stated.

  “All stop,” Captain Hollingsworth ordered.

  “All stop. Aye-aye,” the XO repeated.

  “Sonar, range to target?” Hollingsworth asked.

  “Range is two kilometers,” Sonar replied. “Target is locked, sir.”

  “Weapons, load tubes one through six,” Hollingsworth ordered.

  “Aye, Captain, loading tubes one through six,” the weapons officer answered.

  One minute, then another ticked by. The phone on the weapon’s officer’s console buzzed. He picked it up. “Tubes loaded, Captain, permission to flood tubes?”

  “Permission granted.”

  “Flood tubes one through six,” the weapons officer ordered.

  Momentarily, he turned to the Captain. “Tubes are loaded and flooded. Ready to fire on your command.”

  Captain Hollingsworth paused, then stated flatly, “Fire all tubes.”

  The sub heaved slightly as the torpedoes were ripple fired from their tubes.

  “All torpedoes running perfectly, sir. Impact in 30 seconds,” Weapons said.

  The crew in the Combat Information Centre watched the torpedoes track to the target. The submarine’s computer sent signals down the wire spooling from each to ensure they hit simultaneously. Almost as one, six Spearfish torpedoes hit the seafloor directly above the Chunnel, at a point farthest from main structural stanchions designed to prevent collapse. Almost two full tons of PBX explosive exploded, causing a massive shockwave. Its designers had deliberately built the Chunnel in a shape of a large ‘W’, to prevent the entire tunnel from flooding in the event of a leak or collapse. However, it was still possible to flood several kilometers of the tunnel.

  The massive concrete tunnel cracked but did not break. The Captain watched from an external video feed. If the Chunnel had been breached, he would have noticed a massive bubble of air escape to the surface.

  “Prepare a second salvo,” Captain Hollingsworth commanded.

  “Aye, Captain,” Weapons said.

  The moments ticked by again until Weapons said, “Tubes ready to fire.”

  “Fire tubes one through six,” Hollingsworth said.

  Hollingsworth watched the second salvo of torpedoes impact. This time, the Chunnel roof cracked and broke. An enormous bubble surged for the surface and thousands of tons of seawater poured into the hole and within minutes, a large portion of the Chunnel was totally flooded. The pathway for infected to get into the United Kingdom was now closed.

  The only question was whether or not it was quickly enough.

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  Rudolph Bloch was a man with a decision to make. He was part of Switzerland’s Federal Council, the elected officials who ran Switzerland. As head of the Federal Department of Defence, Civil Protection and Sports, he was the commander in chief of the Swiss armed forces.

  That decision was whether or not to isolate Switzerland from the rest of Europe. Theoretically, Switzerland could stand on its own for a while, perhaps two to three months, but then it would run out of food, fuel and everything else people needed to live. And three months meant they would run out of supplies just before Christmas and at the beginning of winter. No heating oil meant tens of thousands could freeze to death. Of course, the alternative was just as bleak. Switzerland’s seven million people could become infected by whatever was turning the world into a morgue and everyone could perish.

  Switzerland had not suffered as badly from the plague as other European nations. With nearly every Swiss man part of the armed forces and equipped with a firearm and at least 20 rounds for it, the infected were generally wiped out whenever they appeared. Occasionally, they might spread the infection throughout a home or even a village, but the Swiss were pragmatic and simply killed them as soon as they changed. No, the real problems were the nations surrounding Switzerland, Bloch mused. The plague had only started a little over week ago, and France had already collapsed, unable to contain the infected and to provide services to its citizens. Germany and Italy were also on the verge of collapse. When that happened, Switzerland would be surrounded by a sea of over two hundred million potential infected. The entire Swiss armed forces numbered less than two hundred thousand, and most of those were not combat soldiers.

  “Margaritte, please get the Brigadier on the phone,” he said into his speakerphone.

  “Yes, Minister,” she replied smartly.

  In minutes, Bloch’s phone buzzed. On the other end of the line was the defacto commander of Swiss military forces.

  “Minister, what is your decision?” Brigadier Ulrich Herzog asked curtly.

  “Are your plans complete?” he asked in return.

  “We can begin in twelve hours. Do I have authorization to begin Operation Reduit?”

  “The Federal Council has just adjourned and they left the decision in my lap. Cowards!” He paused, thinking. “You have authority to begin as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Minister. We will begin right away!” Herzog said as he hung up.

  In all honesty, Herzog had already begun implementing Operation Reduit. Had the minister not given the order, he would have gone ahead with it anyways in whatever limited fashion he was able. He was already at a field headquarters in the Gotthard region and considered the nation’s survival the most important task in front of him.

  Operation Reduit was a throwback to World War Two. In an effort to prevent Hitler from invading Switzerland during the conflict, the General in charge of Swiss forces in 1940, Henri Guisan, had begun planning a strategy that would far outlive him. The central lowlands of Switzerland would be abandoned and only the high Alps would be defended. He had had explosive charges emplaced in key tunnels and on bridges, through which invasion forces would have moved. Massive fortifications were constructed, supported by dormitories, hospitals, and kitchens to house the troops who would occupy them. Gold Reserves in Zurich were moved farther away from the German border to the Gotthard region, one of the areas to be defended. With the onset of the Cold War, Switzerland had maintained the plan as a deterrent in the event of Soviet aggression. After the fall of the USSR, the threat of nuclear holocaust receded and many of the fortifications were closed. Two had even been turned into museums!

  Herzog had spent the past three days having his troops reactivate whatever they could. Foodstuffs and fuel were trucked into Gotthard, temporary shelters were built, and the fortifications were being repaired and brought back to active status. So far, he had the ability to save perhaps a hundred thousand citizens. His most trusted men stood guard on the bridges and tunnels into the Gotthard region. Platoons of troops pa
trolled the area, seeking out infected and eliminating them. He had more than fifteen thousand soldiers at his disposal, and most of the citizens in Gotthard were also members of the militia, so he could easily triple his ranks if necessary. His plan depended on making Gotthard a safe haven, from which he could expand slowly but surely. Eventually, he might be able to save all of Switzerland.

  Then he could worry about other steps, like blocking road and rail tunnels into Switzerland and closing her borders.

  Chapter 12

  September 24th

  Costco didn’t have any windows, so it was difficult to know what was going on around them. Steve had told Xander about a roof hatch near the loading dock, so once the building was secured, Xander had climbed up there to survey the area around them. The roof gave him an unobstructed view of most of the area nearby. To the west, he could see the entire Edmonton Transit train yards, south of Costco was the rest of the strip mall, with a couple of restaurants, a pair of banks, and a few other big box stores – a PetSmart, Staples, and the Home Depot where he had bought the hardware he had used to fortify his condo.

  Xander had suggested they keep at least one person up on the roof during the day to keep an eye out for both zombies and other survivors. Steve agreed and asked for volunteers. In the beginning, the roof was where everyone wanted to be. It was still warm outside, the leaves were changing colours and there was plenty of cold beer to drink, courtesy of Jack and Fred. Sure, the world was going to hell in a hand basket, but it was very exciting up there. Some enjoyed the morbidity of watching zombies hunt down their prey. Others simply wanted to be a hero and tell everyone that someone was coming and try and rescue them. Still others just sat up there and ignored everything and drank beer.

  Everyone else kept working, organizing the food, water and other survival items. Obviously things like bread and raw meat would have to be eaten first, and as soon as they lost power, everything in the freezers and coolers would have to go, too. That meant canned and dry goods were put out of the way, on the very top levels of the shelves. There was some discussion about using dehydrators or foodsavers to preserve some vegetables and fruit, but that was a low priority right now. Finally, a communal sleeping area near the pharmacy was set up.

  While the work went fast because there were so many people, it still took most of two days to finish everything. There were members from six different families and people ranging from four to fifty-four. The kids were plopped down in front of a TV and a cartoon put on for them, while most of the adults took turns crowded around one of the TVs that was hooked up to a satellite dish, drinking coffee.

  The world was falling to shit and no one seemed to have any idea why. CNN, BBC, even the CBC was broadcasting doom and gloom. Stories abounded of hordes of zombies overrunning US army positions in California, people killing strangers who approached their property, and car bombs going off. You name it, it was happening somewhere, and in High Definition no less.

  A lot of island nations suddenly cut themselves off from the rest of the world. The British had used some sort of explosives inside the Chunnel, collapsing it and killing hundreds of people fleeing France on a bullet train. Japan announced it would sink any ship or shoot down any plane that entered their territory. A cruise ship that never got the message was sunk, killing everyone on board.

  The TV and Internet were full of stories of planes crashing, hospitals running out of supplies, political leaders disappearing from capitals, preachers talking about the end of the world and survivalists running amok. It was reality TV on a global scale. The one useful thing they learned was that the only way to kill an infected person – though most people called them zombies – was to sever the head or destroy the brain, usually by gunshot.

  On their second day inside Costco, the Prime Minister ordered the Canadian Forces to assist civil authorities in maintaining order and operating quarantine zones where the infected were. In some places the Canadian Forces could do so, but with less than hundred thousand people spread across the world’s second largest country, the Canadian Forces simply didn’t have enough troops to do it everywhere.

  Outside, gunshots and screams could be heard almost continuously, as people desperately fought for survival and zombies hunted them. Cars tore through the streets, looking for an escape or a safe haven. After a week, it was very odd to see any normal people on the streets. Within a couple of days, even the police stopped driving through the area. Every once and awhile, the police helicopter could be seen, but soon enough, that stopped as well.

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  Dan and Ed sat in the police station, eating dinner. It wasn’t much, some microwaved Swanson’s crap they had grabbed from a 7-Eleven that was still open the day before. Shocked at seeing a store open, they had walked in and emptied the freezer section, as the canned goods were all gone as was most of the perishable stuff like bread and sandwich meat. Now, coupled with what others had brought from home or scavenged themselves, there was enough food for about a week for all of the station’s remaining police officers, which now numbered less than fifty.

  As the crisis got worse, fewer and fewer police officers were responding to calls. Many had decided that their families came first and had either abandoned the city wholesale, or simply refused to answer phone calls begging them to help. The worst case Dan knew of was when four members of the Tactical Team absconded with two of the unit’s special Suburbans. Equipped for use by the Tactical Team, they were equipped with powerful engines, bulletproof glass and loaded with weapons, ammunition, body armour, you name it. They had signed them out, headed off into the city and then disappeared from the radio net shortly thereafter. Air One, the Edmonton Police Service helicopter, spotted both of them racing out of the city an hour later, escorting a motley convoy of cars and minivans, all stuffed full of people, suitcases and other junk strapped to roofs and spilling out of trunks. When Air One flew low to examine the situation, one of the Tac officers leaned out of the window and opened fire. He missed Air One as it veered away. That was the last anyone saw of them. Dan thought to himself that if he ever saw those assholes again, there would be a reckoning.

  Most of those who stayed to deal with the pandemic were like Dan and Ed, either they had lost their loved ones already, or were without a family at all. North Division’s regular strength was listed at almost four hundred officers, but with losses and defections, it was now far less, and many – like Dan and Ed, simply found it safer and easier to stay in the police station, rather than risk a commute and staying somewhere that might not be fully secure. More than one officer had left the police station fine after a shift, only to wind up infected somewhere on their trip home.

  As Dan had learned from the talking heads on TV, infections grew logarithmically. One person was infected, then he infected another. Then those two infected each infected one more. Then those four infected another four, and so on. Eventually, everyone got infected, at least theoretically. Edmonton had done a far better job than most cities in containing and then slowing the spread of the infection. Some denser populated cities in the States had gone from clean to almost totally infected in only a few days.

  They finished dinner and got ready to head out. They suited up with body armour, filled their pockets with ammo and a couple Powerbars, and then made sure their weapons were loaded. They headed to the loading dock, which now doubled as an entrance and exit. Another officer looked up as they walked in.

  “There’s a couple outside near the parking lot, so be careful,” he said.

  Ed nodded and pumped his shotgun, while Dan clicked the safety off his MP-5. The door began to rise automatically and as light from the dock spilled out, both officers tensed. They waited until the door was open six feet, then stepped out into the cool fall air and scanned the parking lot.

  None of them were immediately visible. They began moving away from the loading dock as the door began to close behind them.

  They carefully walked to their car, parked only 10 feet from the doorway. T
hey moved around it entirely and then while Dan examined the interior, Ed dropped down and made sure an infected wasn’t lurking underneath.

  “All clear,” he whispered to Dan. Dan nodded and they opened the doors and got in, sliding their weapons in, barrels pointing downward.

  Ed fired the car up and began driving to the gate. It had been a flimsy little wooden arm that opened and closed automatically. It had been smashed by a vehicle ram the day before when some infected attacked the North Division’s remaining Suburban. The driver had simply floored it and destroyed the wooden gate with ease. As they drove over the wood, it splintered and snapped under the car’s tires. Dan noticed a pair of infected in the ditch, about ten meters from the gate, feasting on some unfortunate soul.

  “Stop the car, let me take care of these two,” he said.

  Ed began to slow the car to a stop and Dan was moving as soon as he thought it was safe, rolling out of the door and onto the ground. He knelt in a classic crouch, one knee on the ground and smoothly brought his MP-5 to his shoulder. The infected, sensing him, had already turned in his direction.