Enclave: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Robert Morganbesser

  Slowly the zombies were spreading out. Some were stopping to feast on the dead mechanics, digging out the soft tissues and ignoring everything else. Others, irritated by their inability to force their way in on the feeding went off in search of other prey.

  Suddenly a fusillade of shots hammered into them. Heavy caliber weapons fire, from across the yard slammed into the mass of creatures. Some, head shot, went down for good. Others, limbs shattered so they were no longer mobile, fell over, less of a threat. Others were knocked down and struggled to rise again.

  The zombies entered the living quarters of the Enclave. Slowly, like a flood, they spread out, catching people who were asleep and slaughtering them. Here a couple in bed were overwhelmed and joined together in death as the zombies shredded their flesh from their bones, staining the room in their blood.

  In another room, a man brushing his teeth heard the door open. Coming out of the bathroom, he froze in horror as the zombies entered. Rushing toward them, he knocked two aside only to run into a corridor full of the ravenous things. Outnumbered, he was pulled down and killed, the horrible stinking mouths of the zombies sinking their teeth into him again and again.

  At the medical wing, Lazarites came in, shooting the injured and sick through their heads, and then looting the supplies while the zombies went to town on the corpses. The bright white room looked like an abattoir in no time, pools of blood splashing across the tiled floor, making it difficult for the Lazarites to continue their looting without slipping. The zombies ignored them; concentrating on the meals, they found waiting on hospital beds. On Lazarite slipped and fell into a puddle of blood. When he rose, the zombies were waiting. As he screamed for help, the others laughed one saying, “Shouldn’t be so careless.” Another smirked, “I wonder if they let morons into heaven?”

  Moreau had reached Enclave 2. The radio operator instantly called for the officer of the day, Captain Eric Stearns. Neil could hear gunfire and screams from the yard area and knew things weren’t going well.

  “Major Stearns, this is Lieutenant Moreau, Enclave 9. We have a fire sir. It’s a bad one.”

  Stearns came instantly awake. “A fire? How?”

  Moreau could feel sweat trickling down her ribs. “We think Colonel Candido is a traitor sir.”

  There was a brief moment of silence. “That Sonuvabitch! Lieutenant, do you need assistance or Evac?”

  Neil listened to the gunfire and screams of terror. It sounded pretty one sided to him. Glancing out the door, he saw two zombies, one trailing his intestines in the uniform of the Enclave approaching. Raising his rifle, he fired two quick shots, blowing them both away, their skulls shattered. Eyes hollow he turned to Moreau, “Evac.”

  In Enclave 2, Stearns got things moving. After giving Moreau the radio freq to contact the aircraft he was sending, he got his troops moving. First, he ordered four of his eight AV-6B Harriers into the air. Rattler’s 1-4 were loaded for bear, 30mm’s with depleted uranium ammo in their guns, an assortment of bombs and Maverick anti-tank missiles under the wings. As soon as they lifted off, he ordered six Apache attack choppers, ten Blackhawks and four Huey Iroquois choppers into the air. This would leave E2 short of air, but with no teams out, he felt the risk worth it. He wished his eight Peregrines were available, but they were on load to Enclave 22. Once they were gone, he took a moment for silent prayer. A traitor inside E9? This was a nightmare shared by all the Enclaves. This would have to be reported to all the Enclaves, which, from the way things sounded, after tonight would be one less.

  Clemens felt like he was at Rourke’s Drift, waiting for the final charge of the Zulu’s. The zombies kept coming and his men kept shooting them down. The bodies were piling up but ammo was getting thin and they were on the wrong side of the yard from supplies. Clemens could see Lazarites on that side, running into the storage area, and running out, arms full of loot. Some civilians who escaped the slaughter inside joined Clemens and his troops, but they had no weapons, only some bricks, shovels, and picks. Still any zombie that got close to them was slaughtered. One fat man, an engineer was crushing zombie skulls with a nasty overhand swing of his heavy shovel, while another, a slight woman with white hair, was using a pick on those knocked down, to put terminal holes in their skulls.

  Clemens commlink buzzed. “Moreau here, change freqs until you hear my voice again.”

  Clemens spun through the dial until he reached the new freq. Moreau had done this the smart way. They were now using a freq that only the troops used, usually for insulting officers they didn’t like. Prior to tonight Candido’s name was mentioned on it frequently.

  “How are you holding?” Moreau asked.

  “Barely,” said Clemens. “The Lazarites and zombies are in, some civvies are with me, but ammo’s running low.”

  “Listen, Enclave 2 is sending a combo air strike, evac mission. They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. We need to get up on the wall helo pad where they can have easy access.”

  “Understood, I’ll start moving the civvies first, and then we’ll go.”

  Fields was keeping his troops out of the fray with the Enclavers. He only had thirty men with him and didn’t want to lose them to unnecessary combat. Besides, eventually the Enclavers ammo would run out and the Blessed would have them. Fields stood by the guardhouse, under the ruined gates when Candido appeared.

  Smiling, the Colonel put out his hand. “Mr. Fields, we meet at last.”

  Fields made a face. “Yes we do?” He didn’t take the Colonels hand.

  Candido frowned. “Things are going well?”

  Fields nodded. “Except for the troops holding out across the way.” As he said that, another fusillade of shots rang out and more zombies went down. Candido smiled nastily. “That won’t last forever.”

  The zombies reached the nursery. One held a dead infant to its chest in an insane parody of breast-feeding. It had bitten through the infant’s soft skull and was slowly slurping out the brains. Other infants, some still crying, were quickly scooped up and eaten. The four nurses on duty were overwhelmed and devoured. What was left of them, bits of cloth and bone, a blood-spattered stethoscope, lay near the entrance, zombies moving about carrying bones with meat on them.

  One trainee nurse escaped, two infants hugged to her chest. Eyes clouded with tears she ran toward the radio room.

  Moreau put down the head set. “We’d better get out of here.”

  Neil nodded agreement. He’d already killed five more zombies, more were sure to come. They were headed for the stairs when they heard the patter of running feet. Weapons coming up they both turned. The nurse, a pretty redhead, face stained with dried tears, screamed, “Don’t shoot!” Moreau ran to her and saw zombies staggering down the corridor.

  “What happened?” Neil asked.

  “The nursery…” The nurse, whose nametag read ‘O’Hare’, stopped speaking the memory of the horror still too fresh. Neil patted her shoulder. “You’re coming with us. We’re getting the fuck out of here.”

  Behind them Moreau raised her M11 and fired so quickly it sounded like one shot. Two zombies went down, brains destroyed. Turning, she had an idea. Ducking into the radio room, she grabbed the explosive, reset it, and stuck it under a pipe on the ceiling. Covering her, Neil gave her a thumbs-up. If the explosive brought down the ceiling, it would buy them some time.

  Clemens shot another zombie with his pistol, his shotgun empty. The civilians, led by four troopers he had ordered to guard them, were headed for the northeast wall. He felt it was over for him, but he thought he’d seen Candido near the gate, among the Lazarites.

  An idea grew in his mind.

  The lead plane of Rattler flight activated his radio. “Rattler flight to Moreau.”

  “Moreau here! ETA?”

  “Six minutes out, weapons hot. Targets?”

  “Everything outside the walls and everything in except the northeast corner of the yard and the wall. We’re gathering at the emergency pad.”

  Rattle
r One’s eyes bulged in his helmet as this news. “It’s that bad, Lieutenant?”

  “This Enclave is done.”

  “Roger that, Rattler flight out. Rattlers, follow my lead. First pass will be low and slow. Make sure your counter-measures are on!”

  Clemens turned to his men. “We have to buy some time. Who wants to take some Lazarites with me?” Several of the troopers raised their hands. Clemens smiled and did a quick head count. “Listen up; I’m taking twenty troops with me. The ones I don’t choose give them most of your ammo and take off. Right inside this gate,” he fumbled a key loose. “Are some emergency supplies. Grab em and get up to the wall. I probably won’t be seeing you again, so good luck. Don’t forget us!”

  For a few moments, those not chosen almost mutinied. But Clemens stared at them and said, “Those civilians need you! Now go!”

  Clemens turned dark eyes toward the gates. Staring a moment he vowed, “I’m going to kill you Candido, if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

  Moreau and Neil had reached the top of the wall. They glanced around in the semi-darkness making sure no zombies were near. The civilians, armed with what they could grab, mostly tools, stood around in a clump, terrified.

  Rattler 1 came in ten meters off the ground, some two hundred meters from the gate. In his sights, he could see a line of trucks rumbling into 9. From the way the trucks were stopping and starting, it was clear whoever was driving wasn’t from the Enclave. More Lazarite fucks looking to loot the place. Pickling off two 500-pound bombs, he pulled up, banked, and nodded to himself as he got a secondary explosion. Now burning trucks blocked the gate.

  The other rattlers added to the carnage at the gate by dropping more bombs. The foundation of the wall shuddered, some bricks shattering. Then the planes were gone, coming around to attack again. Those Lazarites outside the gate who survived began to run for it. Without any anti-air weapons, there was no way they could face the planes. As they ran, they could hear their fellows, trapped in the burning trucks, screaming as they burned to death.

  Capshaw looked up from where he was collecting souvenirs. Already several ears, a few noses, and a set of testicles hung from a necklace he’d made of wire. He was hoping they’d take some captives, but the zombies were hungry and the Enclave, thanks to Candido, was taken totally by surprise. Oh well he shrugged, he would have to find another way to amuse himself.

  Fields hit the dirt, rose to his feet, and glared at Candido. “I thought you wrecked the radio room!” Candido was at a loss for words. The charge he left should have destroyed the room. He would have been angered to know that instead Moreau successfully used it to block off a corridor from the zombies allowing others to escape.

  “Nightingale flight to Moreau.”

  “Moreau here!”

  The Warrant Officer flying Nightingale 1 was an old timer who had seen service in the Gulf and South America. An old hand at Evacs, he could drop a bird on a paper plate and pick it up.

  “Evac point?”

  “Northeast wall. There’s a small pad there. We have civilians who need to go first. LZ is hot, repeat hot.”

  “Roger that. Stand-by for your ride.”

  Some Lazarites heard the choppers and tried to run. Capshaw beat a few down and pointed to the wall where the survivors were gathering.

  Slapping two staring Lazarites he shouted, “Start shooting at them, asshole!”

  Bullets ricocheted off the walls around the survivors. One woman caught a slug high in the neck and screaming, toppled off. Within seconds, the zombies were on her. Fortunately, the fall broke her back, killing her so she didn’t feel it. Within moments, she’d been disemboweled and dismembered.

  Moreau felt something hit her. She stumbled a moment, then looked around. No one saw the hit. If she were wounded, she didn’t want anyone to know. She had to coordinate the evac. Pressing a hand to her side, she felt a spent bullet. Thank god for trauma plates, she thought.

  “Rattler flight, we’re taking fire from the area east of the gate.”

  “Roger that. Rattlers two and three, bomb east of the gate.”

  Capshaw shouted as he saw the woman fall. “All right you shitheads! Keep firing! Kill them all!”

  Capshaw never heard the bombs fall. Two anti-personnel 500 pounders, they exploded well behind him, but a large piece of shrapnel hit him in the head peeling off the top of his skull from the eyebrows up. He stood there a moment, holding his rifle, staring sightlessly as blood seeped out of the wound and into his fading vision. Like a tree falling, he tumbled to the ground.

  He hadn’t been dead ten seconds when a zombie with shattered legs crawled over and pulled itself to him. Its mouth began ravaging one of his legs while others gathered. The other wounded Lazarites, shrapnel piercing their legs and bellies, prayed, or screamed as the ‘Blessed’ came to pay them attention.

  The first three Nightingale flights were pulling up and leaving, taking as many survivors as they could carry. As others came in, Moreau leaned against the wall exhausted. Instantly Neil was at her side. “Next chopper…” Moreau pointed to the courtyard. “Look!”

  Down below, Clemens was leading his last charge.

  Weapons blazing, Clemens led his men toward the gate. They moved into the Zombie mass that swirled and moaned around them. Firing their weapons, they shoved the zombies back, blowing their heads and limbs off, some of the soldiers saving their ammo and using entrenching tools. One soldier went down, sucked into the mob of zombies, teeth, and nails rending him to bits even as he struggled to keep fighting.

  The troops moved on. Two more went down. One, wounded by a stray bullet just collapsed from blood loss, the zombies swarming over him, biting and pulling off chunks of flesh, noisily chewing them. He was beyond caring. The second, eyes wide with fright, finally overcome by the terror of what they were doing, put her pistol in her mouth, and pulled the trigger. The back of her head blew over a zombie’s face, causing the creature to stop so it could pick the pieces off and eat them. As she collapsed, fingers were thrust into the large wound and the body dragged off to be eaten.

  The closer the men got, the less there were. Zombies who were done with the other Enclavers closed on the small group, which was growing smaller.

  Neil stared in horror as they waited for the last chopper to come in. “That lad’s daft. What the hell was he trying to do?”

  Moreau pointed toward the gate. “He’s trying to get Candido.” Activating her radio, she said, “Rattler flight! Hit the area inside the gate!”

  The once burning trucks were now smoldering wrecks allowing the Lazarites, without Capshaw to control them, to flee. Several were dead from bombs, others outside the gates were afraid to come in. Fields grabbed Candido and said, “let’s go.’

  Candido raised a hand. “One moment.” Unholstering his pistol, he watched as Clemens and two other troopers, both bitten and clawed, came within four feet. Aiming low, Candido fired a shot into Clemens stomach. The Lieutenant screamed and fell to his knees. Fields then fired, killing the other two soldiers who the zombies pounced on instantly.

  Candido came to stand before Clemens, shoving his head up with the barrel of his pistol. “The Negro who thought he was good enough to be an officer, how quaint.”

  Clemens face grimaced in pain as he struggled to his knees. “Quaint this motherfucker!” With a slashing motion, Clemens drew his combat knife across Candido’s middle. The blade sliced open the man’s impeccably tailored uniform and his stomach. Candido dropped his pistol and tried to hold back his insides. As he stumbled back, the smell of the blood and feces brought the zombies. As they fell on Candido, digging their hands into his hot innards, yanking them out and chewing them, he stared at Fields and said, “This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”

  Fields spat in the dying man’s face. “I have no use for traitors.” Candido screamed finally, as the zombies were pulling out his liver and kidneys. Near him, Clemens breathed his last, fell over, and disappeared into a horde of zombie
s.

  Fields looked around feeling satisfied. He glanced up at the last chopper. Two people were clambering aboard. It was good to have survivors. This would teach the Enclaves fear. This Enclave was history; eventually they’d all go down.

  Fields turned to leave as Rattler 4 let loose his last bomb. Fields started to run. The Harriers bombs hit the wall just above the gate. With a hideous sound the inner (and thinner) gate came shrieking down, sparks shooting off the railings. It cut Fields in two like a cheese slicer, the front half of his body falling on one side, the rear half-falling backwards.

  The zombies weren’t fussy, they ate what they could of him, then staggered around looking for more even as the Rattler’s returned to fire off 30mm ammo and napalm bombs into the yard, killing as many of the zombies as they could before they had to return to base.

  08 November 2033

  Above Enclave 9

  Near Phoenix, AZ

  Moreau and Neil stared at the cloud of smoke that rose out of what had been their home. Enclave 9 was gone, destroyed and it would be further bombed to make sure nothing was left for the Lazarites. The Enclaves didn’t have the numbers or the resources to retake it.

  Neil put his hand in Moreau’s. Both of them were crying.

  “So many good people; gone.” Moreau’s voice was tight. She was dirty, thirsty, and hungry. Out of eighteen hundred people (E9 had room for more, but the southwest wasn’t as populous as the West and East, the older citizens had fallen quickly to the zombies) in the Enclave, barely four hundred were rescued. She had to thank Stearns when she reached Enclave 2. He’d sent more helos and few of the remaining Ospreys in the end, making such a rescue possible.