Enclave: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Robert Morganbesser

  Fisher came up behind me. Behind her back, in her left hand she held a syringe. "Lieutenant, let me talk to her."

  "Go for it." I raised my weapon just in case. Where the hell were Delacroix and Fields husband?

  Fisher smiled as she crossed the roof. "Dr. Fields, you don't want to do this. We're going to make it to the Enclave, you'll see. Everything will be fine."

  Tara smiled. "What if I don't want to go? What if I'd be happier dead, with my daughter?" Fields voice rose to a shriek. "What if I want to take you with me?"

  Before Fisher could back off, Fields grabbed her and they started grappling. The syringe flashed up, but Fields caught it, pulled it from Fishers hand, and jammed it into her eye. With a scream, Fisher let the enraged scientist go and stumbled back, hands coming up to her bloodied face. With a vicious look on her maddened face, Fields shoved Fisher back and off the roof.

  Fisher screamed all the way down.

  All this took place in the five seconds it took me to cross the roof. With a nasty roundhouse, I clobbered the crazed Dr. Fields, knocking her on her ass. Then I heard the screaming start. Moving to the edge of the roof, I could see where Fisher had landed. She fallen straight out, hit off the edge of a Dumpster and lay in the alley, legs one-way, torso another. She'd broken her back. The zombies were coming for her. Five came from one direction, seven from another. There was nothing I could do for her…

  Except give her a clean death. She lie there, one eye filled with blood, the syringe sticking out of it, fingers twitching, unable to reach her own pistol or a grenade. I waited until the zombies were almost on her, pulled my next to last grenade from my vest, yanked the pin, and dropped it. The small orb landed square on her chest and exploded, blowing her and four zombies to bits. I was sure that the rest of them would spend a while searching for scraps of her, but I didn't care about that anymore. She was dead and it was Fields fault.

  Delacroix and Delroy Fields came onto the roof. Delroy ran to his wife, held her close. Her eyes were glazed over; she was still recovering from the shot I'd given her. I told the two of them what had happened.

  "I didn't think this would happen," said Delroy. "We had a daughter, Lieutenant. She was born with downs syndrome. We wanted her to be evacuated to the Enclave, but the government…"

  My anger at the woman didn't ebb a bit. Did her pain at the loss of her daughter give her the right to kill Fields, a woman who'd never hurt anyone?

  "All right, let's get her down off the roof!" I snarled. "We'll secure her until we can figure out how to get rescued."

  Fields started pulling his wife, whose eyes were a little clearer and filling with tears, to her feet. "What did I do?" She mumbled. "What did I do?" Fighting frantically, throwing her small fists at Delacroix and her husband, she stumbled away and off the edge of the roof. Fields lunged for her. I had a choice, her or her husband; I grabbed him by the back of his collar and yanked back. He looked back at me, his dark skin ashen.

  Then we heard the screams. Delacroix ran to the edge of the roof and looked over the edge. Fields lay there one leg broken and bloodied, the zombies around her. The Sergeant started to raise his weapon. I grabbed the barrel and forced it down. "Not the zombies. Put one in her head."

  Fields shouted, "No! We have to save her!"

  "She's already dead, Doctor. Should the rest of us join her?"

  I turned to Delacroix. "Do it."

  The rifle barked and Fields body jumped the back of her head exploding as the bullet exited her skull. Her body slumped quickly disappearing under a pile of grunting, snarling zombies. Blood squirted onto the ground as she was torn to pieces. One zombie, unable to reach the picnic, was picking up the bits of her skull and sucking them clean. For some unknown reason I looked down the small alley. There, at the end, stood Fido. He stared at the other zombies for a moment, looked up at us, then turned and walked away.

  What the hell did that mean?

  From this horror came our first glimmer of hope. As we ushered Delroy Fields down the ladder to where King waited for him, the Sarge pointed toward a roof across the alley. "Look at that LT."

  I followed his pointing finger. A strange antenna hung on an aerial. I shrugged. "So what is it? Cable TV?"

  Delacroix made a face. "That's a ham radio antenna sir. There's a set over there. We get it; we could hook up some car batteries maybe get a signal out."

  A slow smile crawled across my face. "Let's get downstairs." I didn't think about the distance between the buildings. All I thought about was getting my people out of here before something else fucked up happened.

  I gathered everyone in the living room, even the watchers and told them what had happened. There was some cursing and I had to calm King down before I noticed Cushing wasn't here. I shouted his name. Cushing came in shaking his head. I looked at him. "What's wrong?" Chris looked at me as if he'd done something guilty. "It's that dang Fido. He wasted another zombie. Smashed its freaking head in like it was nothing! So I rolled a can of green beans out to him. He saw where it came from."

  I froze. "And?"

  Cushing shook his head. "The dang thing knocked on the damn door! Like he wants to come in!"

  King hefted her M-60. We only had seven belts of 100 rounds each left for it, and I wanted to conserve them. "I could take care of that."

  "No, we need that weapon for emergencies. Fido isn't hurting anyone. He's keeping out front pretty clear of the zombies."

  "He’s a zombie!" King protested, her deep voice rising.

  "No," said Fields, speaking for the first time since his wife had killed herself. "He's more than the average zombie. I've watched him. He is more aware and he doesn't eat flesh."

  King and Sisko both turned to look at him. Simultaneously they said, "How do you know?"

  Fields took his glasses off and polished them. His ebon skin was gleaming under sheen of sweat, "because yesterday I shook his hand."

  I freaked. "You fucking what?"

  Fields rose, his demeanor calm considering his wife had just been devoured. "I conducted an experiment that would have harmed no one but myself. Fido as you call him is far from a zombie. He is less than a normal human, but he is also more than a zombie." Fields rose and started pacing. "I don't know why and without a lab couldn't know, but somehow, while Fido has been reanimated, it has not been affected by the lust for flesh that affects the other creatures."

  "Then" said King, "We should kill him. Intelligence makes him that more dangerous."

  Fields turned a cold eye on her. "Have you not been listening? Have you not been watching? Fido hates the zombies as much as we do. He kills them, and they, stupid creatures that they are, do nothing in return. He is an ally."

  "I agree," I said, not knowing why I said it. "No one does anything to Fido."

  "Until he takes a chunk out of one of us," grumbled King. Right then I decided she would be permanent watcher on the civilians. We needed all the friends we could get and I didn't care where they came from.

  "There's a ham radio in the building across the street. So here's the plan. King will be on the roof with me for covering fire. We'll toss across a rope and two people, Delacroix, and one volunteer will climb across. Grab the radio if you can and get back here. Maybe that radio will be our ticket out of here."

  Savini volunteered. He and Delacroix, each carrying two pistols, got ready while Peters tossed a rope with a grappling hook across the space. Pulling back against the roof's abutment, we secured it. "First one across," I ordered. "Tie that off more securely."

  I peeked over the lip of the roof down into the alley. A few zombies stood there well spread out. All that was left of Fields and Fisher were a few scraps of cloth and dried puddles of blood. Even the bones had been carried off. I had an image of the bones being split open, the marrow sucked out.

  Delacroix began swinging the grappling hook. On his first toss, the hook disappeared into afternoon gloom and clanked on the opposite roof. As soon as it did, a well-worn zombie, wearing what w
as left of a lineman's uniform came staggering into sight. I brought my rifle up and fired off one shot. The zombie spun around and fell over, the top of his head gone.

  "Let's get moving," said Delacroix, taking a deep swallow.

  Huey climbed out on the rope, lay on his back, and squirmed across. I could see sweat dripping off him as he made the journey. I took a moment to look down into the alley. Fido was back, staring up at Huey. Near him was another body, its head torn off. I felt a chill and wished we'd had our radios with us, but they'd been on the helo. I swore to myself that if I ever got back, I’d never relax outside and Enclave ever again. Looking back down into the alley, Fido was gone.

  Huey got up on the other roof and pulled the rope across, securing it. Savini, in his 40's and excellent shape; swarmed across the secured rope. We stood there helplessly as they disappeared down into the building.

  They were only gone a few moments when Huey appeared back on the roof. Savini was behind him carrying the radio. I threw the pack I'd brought up to the roof across the void. Delacroix caught it expertly and stuffed the radio in. While he was doing this, Savini took down the antenna and tossed it across. King had put her M-60 down to catch the antenna. Once she had the antenna she handed it to me and lifted the M-60. I could see the distance in her eyes. King had seen too much. If we got back to the Enclave, I was putting her in for some rest. I didn't need a team member who could crack or worse, freak out at the wrong time.

  Delacroix, pack on his back, straps secured, crawled back across the void. Once Savini got across, I was going to cut the rope. We had more and who knew if there were scavengers or worse in the area? In the past during evacs, we'd fought it out with zombies, gang-bangers, bikers, looters. Name it, we'd fought it. The world was collapsing and we could only save a small part of it. Sometimes the thought of that ate at my guts like a cancer. I didn't need this bullshit anymore. Perhaps after this mission I could get transferred to the training cadre. I was fucking sick of being out here. Some of the troops thrived on the danger, I'd be happy never to leave the Enclave again until every zombie was dead.

  Delacroix clambered up onto the roof. I pulled him to safety while King motioned for Savini to start across. Nimble as an ape, he crawled out onto the line and was halfway across when the line snapped. I don't know how it happened, but it did. With a hoarse shout that had zombies looking up Savini plummeted into space. But as surprised as he was, he still had the awareness to hold onto the rope. With a grunt, he swung into the wall and let go. I heard the sound of him slamming into it and cursing. Without hesitating, I leaned over the wall and saw Savini, lying dazed in the Dumpster that had broken Fishers back. Zombies were surrounding it, ready to feed.

  "Fuck! Huey, go downstairs and get another rope! Savini's in a Dumpster and the zombies are there."

  King leaned over the roof and took aim. Firing in short bursts; she blew a few zombies to bits, the heavy 7.62 slugs hammering into them. King carried a mix of ball and incendiary shells. The tracers alternated bright green and red. Sometimes they'd set drier zombies on fire. I was just hoping she didn't set the trash in the ally on fire!

  "Savini!" I called down. "Savini! Are you all right?"

  "I think so. I'm in something that smells like five years worth of shit, but I think I'm OK!"

  "Stay there! We'll lower another rope!"

  King fired again then stopped. The zombies were too close, the alley too dark in the late afternoon sun. She might hit the engineer and that wouldn’t do him any good at all! I've shot my own people, but they were all mercy killings. When a human gets bit by one of them, a headshot is the only way out. I'd heard of some kind of super antibiotic, but we hadn't gotten it yet.

  I was waiting for Huey to come back when I heard shouting from below. Grabbing my flashlight, it had a halogen bulb and was pretty bright; I leaned over and flicked it on. The zombies near the Dumpster moved back, but one had clambered in with Savini! I could see him struggling, heard him yell out - in pain or fear? And then there was a shot. The zombie flipped back out of the Dumpster and lay still. I could hear Savini cursing and screaming.

  "I'm fucking bit!" He screamed frantically. "It fucking bit me!"

  "Jules, stay calm! Delacroix is here! We've got a rope!"

  "I'm a fucking dead man!" A fusillade of shots rang out, smashing into zombies, killing some, maiming others, some missing. Savini had flipped out. I thought about using my last grenade, I could have dropped it right down on him, but I had to think of the living. King looked at me and I shook my head. "He's right. And we've wasted enough ammo."

  Delacroix clambered back up onto the roof with us, carrying another rope. I waved him off. "Forget it. Savini got bit. He's down there freaking out. I'll stay here. You two go on down. That's an order."

  King looked at me for a moment, then said; "Don't be too long, all right, LT?"

  Huey put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll see if I can get the radio hooked up."

  "Leave the rope. Maybe Savini will calm down enough to come back to us. That way we can take care of him."

  Alone on the roof, I leaned over and shone my light down. Savini was standing in the Dumpster while the zombies surrounded it. I kept the light at an oblique angle, illuminating the zombies, not Savini directly. Some didn't like light and shied away from bright ones.

  Then a familiar shape stumbled into view. It was Fido. I watched as he moved to the Dumpster and peered over the edge. He was the tallest zombie I'd ever seen, easily 6'4". Most zombies hunched a bit, had no real muscle tone. What was up with this one? It was like he was only half a zombie.

  I hoped Savini didn't have any bullets or at least would recognize our 'pet' zombie. I heard him say, "What the hell do you want?"

  Fido motioned back toward the end of the alley he'd come in. It kind of reminded me of Bride of Frankenstein, where the creature is learning to talk. Whatever Fido was, he wasn't the average zombie.

  I looked at the far end of the alley. There were no zombies there. The normal (ha, normal!) ones seemed to avoid Fido like he had a plague or something. I didn't know what. He was different that's for sure.

  Savini raised a hand and said, "I can't climb, Fido." The pathos in the engineer's voice tugged at my heart. What happened next did so even more. Fido reached over, grabbed the smaller man, and started carrying him away.

  This was too much for the zombies. They charged en masse, overwhelming Fido and his burden. Fido leaned back, attempting to cover Savini with his own body. I couldn't believe this was happening! Without warning, a shot rang out and I could see Savini slump backwards against the alley wall. Fido turned slowly, reached down, and stalked away. The zombies fell on Savini's corpse like a pack of ravenous wolves. So intent on getting a piece of him they were even attacking each other. If they hadn't been so close to our part of the building, I'd have dropped a grenade on them and fuck the ammo!

  With no reason to stay on the roof, I turned and climbed down. The rest had to be told of Savini's death.

  We would have to wait for dawn to use the radio. I didn't want the flashlights to attract unwelcome attention, so another day in our prison wouldn't kill us. Restless, I took a turn at watch. I'd been there for nearly two hours when there was a low knock at the door. I opened the small hatch on it and something heavy dropped in. Activating one of my three remaining chem lights, I looked down. In the cold light was a bloodstained .45 caliber pistol, one of our extras. It had to be one of those carried by Savini. Keeping back, I peered out into the night. I knew who it was. It was Fido. He'd brought us something from Savini's corpse.

  Against all sense, I pulled on one of my heavy leather gloves and put my hand out the hatch. I felt a heavily muscled though stiff hand take it and pump it once. Pulling my hand back, I made a decision: If we could get him safely, Fido was coming back to the Enclave with us.

  Then I slipped off to get him a can of veggies.

  That morning it didn't take long before the radio was in use. Sisko's hobby was electronics,
so I let him wire it up. Taking a card out of my breast pocket, I gave him the frequency for emergencies and then took the handset. Delacroix had reattached the antenna on our roof. I could only hope our cobbled together batteries would work.

  "Team Bravo King to Enclave four. Bravo King to Enclave four, over." I could feel sweat trickling down my ribs. This was an open broadcast and I wasn't sure if they would respond. A few teams had disappeared responding to messages like this. I looked at the faces of the people in the room, Delacroix, Scott, Fields, and Sisko. Their eyes were shining with hope. King and Cushing had the watch. Peters was sleeping. Nothing rocked Peters. I'd seen him stand in a sandbagged emplacement, firing a .50 caliber until the barrel was nearly melting, dead four feet high and not even grimace. The man was one of those unusual people who just didn't get rattled. Peters could come out with me anytime.

  A voice, distorted by static suddenly broke the air. "Bravo King, this is Enclave four operations. Why are you on this frequency? We had you MIA, presumed dead."

  The voice had a hard edge to it like most radio operators did. They heard the most horrible things, people screaming for help on the radio while the zombies got in and devoured them. They had to be hard to deal with their jobs.

  "Our chopper went down outside Montgomery during evac. We made it…" I paused. What if the Lazarites or some other looters were listening? "We made it out of the city and now we're stuck…" I fumbled out my map. "About seventy-five miles from the Enclave. Request evac."

  There was no response, then, "Remain off the air until 1530 hours. We will contact you then. I will transmit for five minutes on the hour every hour if you do not respond. Be prepared to authenticate. Enclave out."

  The others in the room broke out in cheers that they quickly stifled. I put down the handset and took a deep breath. Fucking Peters didn't even wake up.

  To pass the time, I decided to relieve King at the front door. Savini and Sisko had done a good job bracing it. They placed a board about three feet back across the floor and then laid other thicker wood at a 45-degree angle. The door to the front, which was part of the house, not the garage, was solid oak. I wouldn't want to try to assault that door. Problem was the garage was the weak point. The grates that came down were secure, but the rolling doors were weak. Enough zombies could probably push one in. We had stuck crowbars in the locking mechanisms, but that would only keep the doors from being lifted. I looked at my watch, two and half-hours before I could call back.