by David Achord
“The entire facility was infected within a few hours,” Smeltzer said sadly.
“Except for the three of you,” I remarked. The two men nodded. “How’d that happen?”
“Remember me mentioning the level four containment lab?” Smeltzer asked but did not wait for a response. “The three of us were in the lab, suited up, oblivious to the disaster unraveling around us.” He smiled. “We would wear diapers when we were suited up so we could stay in the lab longer without having to take restroom breaks.”
“So, there we are, engrossed in our work, and the alarm sounded,” Kincaid said. “There are, were, almost eight hundred people on the grounds at that time, over a hundred in the secure part of the facility. We don’t know how, but when we emerged from the level four lab, everyone was either infected or getting attacked by the infected.”
“Our containment suits actually saved us,” Smeltzer said. His expression reflected the memory. “The suits are hooked up to an air hose while in the lab, but there is also the option of attaching an oxygen tank.”
“It’s only for emergency purposes,” Kincaid said. “In case the air filtration system goes on the blink. If that happens, you simply help each other hook up an oxygen tank, secure anything you’ve been working on, and exit the lab. There is a decontamination procedure and then you could go back to the outside.”
“You two knew something was wrong,” I guessed.
“Yep. A couple of our co-workers were in the main room. We watched through the glass partition as one of them turned and attacked the other.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“We came up with a plan,” Doctor Smeltzer said. “When we exited the lab, Doctor Kincaid and I kept our two infected friends occupied while Doctor Craddock bashed their heads in with his oxygen tank.
I tried to imagine the scenario, two nerds trying to ward off an attack while a third nerd swung an oxygen tank.
“What did you do then?” I asked.
“We secured the door, turned the lights off, and hid. The observation room had respirator masks. We managed to get our protective head gear off and the respirators on without becoming infected, and then spent the next twenty-four hours hiding in there.”
“Cowering in fear, to be specific,” Kincaid said, “and crapping in our diapers.”
“And yet, somehow, the three of you made it out alive,” I remarked, wondering exactly how they did make it out if everyone else was infected
“Doctor Craddock and General Fosswell were good friends,” Kincaid said. “They went to the same church and Mayo was even the godfather to Captain Fosswell. He got on his cell phone and called. The general mounted a rescue operation. He sent some soldiers in those armored vehicles and brought us here.”
“For some reason, Mayo insisted on going with the first task force last week,” Kincaid said. “They were only supposed to secure the facility, and then a second group of Marines was going to ferry us up there so we could restart our work.”
“We wanted everything ready for your arrival,” Smeltzer said.
I made a mental calculation and realized they’d been preparing for my arrival before I’d even made a decision. It was either optimistic of them to think I’d say yes, or they had a contingency plan in case I said no. I hoped the former was the correct answer.
“We’re going to exercise a much higher level of caution this time,” Kincaid said.
“How so?” I asked.
“For one, everyone will be fully suited up in protective gear and will stay that way until testing has been done to determine if Detrick is a hot zone.”
“I didn’t think it’s airborne,” I said.
“We don’t believe it is either, but we’re not taking any chances.” He shook his head ruefully. “One would think that after three years any residual contamination would be long gone, but with the mysterious disappearance of the prior task force…”
He didn’t finish, and for once, his counterpart had nothing to add.
The next morning, we watched them leave. Several of us had gathered and waved at them, wishing them luck. Especially me.
“When are they coming back?” Kelly asked me.
“Two to five days,” I answered. “That’s for Sarah and her crew. Justin and his unit are going to stay until those two scientists are able to formulate a vaccine.”
Josue was standing beside me and I heard him emit a sigh. “There goes all of our músculo,” he said, and then interpreted. “Muscle. All our muscle, there they go.”
He was right. Sarah and Rachel had two civilian personnel in their Humvee, but Justin had all of the Marines with him. I hoped there was not going to be any trouble while they were gone. I had no idea about how these civilians would react if we were attacked.
“No training,” he muttered. I looked at him.
“Say again?” I asked.
“No training,” he said in a louder voice.
I nodded in understanding. Although we’d only been here three days, the duty assignments for the rest of the week were posted online for everyone to see. There was not a single kind of training session on the itinerary.
“Yeah, you’re right. Seems odd. I’ll ask Seth about it.”
“Maybe everybody is already trained up,” Jorge suggested.
It was possible, I thought, but judging by my first impressions of these people after the type of questions asked during my debriefing, I wasn’t sure they were up to snuff. I saw Josue looking at me. He must have been reading my thoughts because he slowly shook his head.
Chapter 13 – Oak Ridge
Melvin stopped on Scarboro Road near a water reservoir. He put the truck in park, turned it off, and listened as he looked around.
“What are we stopping for?” Savannah asked.
He held up a finger and pointed at Peggy. After a couple of minutes, he got out and motioned for Savannah to do the same.
“Okay, I don’t believe there’re any zombies around at the moment. Come with me,” he ordered.
Without waiting for her to follow, Melvin grabbed a tattered-looking rucksack and a similar-looking rifle case and jogged to some trees near the water tank. Looking around, he found a spot, set the gear down, and covered it with branches and leaves.
“Take a good look around so you can find this place in the dark, if you have to,” he told her.
Savannah did as he directed before focusing back on Melvin.
“Got it?” he asked.
She nodded her head. “Could you explain what we’re doing?”
“Yeah, come on.” He motioned toward the truck and explained while he drove.
“Alright, so here’s what we know. This place we’re going to is occupied. What we don’t know is if they’re good guys or bad guys. So, always have a contingency plan,” he said.
“It might go bad when we get there and we might have to make a run for it. If that happens, make your way back to that water tower and to that rucksack. It has food and water in it, and there’s a shotgun with ammo in that rifle case.” The rucksack weighed somewhere around sixty pounds. An easily manageable weight for him, definitely too much for her. She’d figure it out, if it came down to that.
“Where do I go?” Savannah asked.
Melvin thought about it. “Make your way back to that auto detail shop. If I don’t show up in three days, you bug out.”
“Bug out where?” she lamented. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, I’ll die.”
“Don’t say that. You’ll be okay,” Melvin assured her. “If I’m not around and you have to bug out, try to make your way to Mount Weather. If not, you find your own way. You’re not helpless; you’re a survivor. No more of this self-pity nonsense. I don’t know of anyone who could’ve gone through what you did and survived. You’re tougher than you think. Okay?”
He glanced over at her as he drove. Her lower lip was quivering, but she didn’t argue.
As he approached the Bear Creek Road intersection, he caught sight of a sligh
t difference in the vegetation in the wood line. He drove slow and avoided staring straight at it as he turned onto Bear Creek Road.
“Alright, they know we’re here,” Melvin said.
“How can you tell?” Savannah asked.
“We just drove past an OP, an observation post. I’ll show it to you when we leave.” He handed her a cell phone. “Here.”
She looked at him funny. “What am I going to do with this?”
“Take pictures,” he said. “But don’t let anyone see you doing it.”
They rode for no more than a quarter of a mile before they came upon a manned roadblock. It was a preexisting roadblock, built back before, but it’d been heavily modified. There were sandbags, a machinegun port, and the shoulders of the roadway were blocked with old tires that’d been repurposed into defensive barriers. They were stacked about five feet high. He couldn’t see how, but it looked like the tires were fastened together somehow and then filled with earth. Another thing Melvin noticed: everything was neat and orderly. There wasn’t even any scrap of plastic stuck in the barbed wire.
He looked toward the main compound and noticed several of the buildings surrounded by similar barriers. Melvin stopped several feet away and waved. There were two men standing behind the barricade, both wearing combat utilities and both were armed. Neither waved, but one of them gave a slow nod of the head. Melvin took it as an encouraging sign.
“Alright, you wait here. If they do something like shoot me, get in the driver’s seat and haul ass out of here.” He pulled his Glock out of the holster and handed it to her. “Only use this if your life is in danger. If you have to dump the truck, remember that water reservoir and make your way to it. Got it?” he asked. Savannah nodded nervously. He lowered his voice.
“I suspect they’re friendly enough, I usually get a vibe when they aren’t. Even so, keep your eyes open and don’t let them see you taking pictures. Be sneaky, okay?”
Savannah nodded again, all the while wondering if Melvin was about to get the two of them in deep doo-doo. Melvin gave her a reassuring wink and began walking toward the barricade.
“Good morning. Who has coffee?” Melvin asked loudly as he walked up. The two men stared hard at Melvin and then looked at each other. Melvin stopped a few feet from the barricade and kept his hands visible. He noticed both men make direct eye contact with his empty holster.
“I left my gun back in the truck, so no need getting nervous.”
Melvin waited for a reply, but they remained silent. He kept talking.
“You guys sure are a sight for sore eyes; we haven’t seen any other humans in a few days now. How’re you men doing?”
“We’re alright,” one of them finally answered. “Who’re you?”
“The name’s Melvin, Melvin Clark.” He hooked a thumb back behind him. “That’s Savannah sitting there. She’s got scabies and a mild case of explosive diarrhea, so I made her stay in the truck.”
They continued staring hard at Melvin, and after a couple of seconds, one of them pointed at Peggy. “What the hell’s that?”
“That’s my lovely wife,” Melvin replied. “She doesn’t care much for coffee, but I sure do.”
They looked at each other again briefly in a mixture of confusion and bewilderment. It was exactly what Melvin hoped for.
“What brings you to Oak Ridge, Melvin?” one of them asked.
“I’m glad you asked. I’ve been sent here by POTUS. That would be the President of the United States.”
The two men continued staring oddly at Melvin, pausing only long enough to exchange another glance.
“Right, buddy,” one of them drawled out sarcastically. “And I’m Batman.”
Melvin laughed. “Good one. You don’t suppose I could speak with your CO, could I?”
The one who proclaimed himself Batman grimaced. “I’m not so sure the boss man would find the humor in some crazy dude coming up here claiming the president sent him.”
“Well, sir, you’re certainly entitled to your opinion, but I can assure you POTUS is alive and well.” Melvin paused, pulled a small notepad out of his breast pocket, and thumbed through it until he found the page he was looking for.
“Thirty-six hours ago at approximately twenty-two hundred hours UTC, give or take a few seconds, there was an event in which several lights were activated on the premises of the Y-12 facility,” Melvin paused and pointed. “I believe that’d be that mess of buildings right over there. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. The premises were lit for thirteen minutes and eleven seconds before all lighting was turned off. This incident was recorded by Mount Weather personnel via a satellite and then shown to POTUS the next day shortly after his morning crap.”
Melvin finished, put his notepad away, and looked at the two men expectantly. “What happened? Someone’s kid go wandering off or something?”
They glanced at each other in concern, making Melvin wonder if he’d guessed correctly.
“I’ll get on the radio,” one of the men said.
“Thanks, Batman,” Melvin replied. “Now, how about that coffee?”
Melvin waited and listened as Batman explained, more than once, about Melvin. For some reason, the person at the other end of the radio was having a difficult time understanding. Finally, he got his point across, and the other voice advised they’d send someone out. While they waited, Melvin took the opportunity to get to know the two men.
“You two have a military bearing about you,” he suggested.
“Close,” Sergeant Bastone said. “Police.”
Melvin nodded. “Cops had it rough when it went bad. They were expected to protect the civilians from all of them zombies.”
“Yep, and it got a lot of good people killed,” Sergeant Bastone said. He gestured toward the truck. “Have you two been wandering around out here by yourselves?”
“More or less,” Melvin said. The other one grunted.
“That’s a good way to get yourselves killed these days.”
“Yes, sir,” Melvin replied. “But we’re careful. I ran into a few zeds yesterday, up on the turnpike, but I took care of them.”
“How many?” Sergeant Bastone asked.
Melvin shrugged. “Ten, or so.”
Bastone swore. “We make frequent sweeps, and every time we think we’ve killed all of them, more show up.”
“Like cockroaches,” the other one remarked. “By the way, we don’t have any coffee. Ran out about a year ago.”
“That’s too bad,” Melvin said.
Directly, a contingent of people exited a building and rode up in ATVs. There were six of them. They killed the engines and eyed Melvin before getting off and walking up.
“Sergeant Bastone advised you’re an envoy sent by the president,” one of them said. He was a lean, older man, silver gray hair, dressed in jeans, a blue golf shirt, and a khaki vest. Melvin noticed he wasn’t armed, which either meant the others were bodyguards or he had a hideout weapon. He also noticed the man was clean-shaven and his clothes were clean.
“Sergeant Melvin Clark at your service,” Melvin replied. “And, Sergeant Bastone is correct.”
“My name’s Kries. Around here they call me Doc. And what message are you to deliver on behalf of the president?” he asked.
“I’m glad you asked. We are making a concerted effort to reestablish communication with the organized survivors in an effort to rebuild America. I’ve been sent to give you people a formal invitation to join in.”
The man looked at Melvin for a long moment with the disguised expression of a professional poker player. He then turned and motioned toward one of the men in the entourage. He was a younger version of Doc, fit, serious-looking, and armed with a Heckler and Koch MP5.
“Walk with me,” he directed to Melvin and the young man.
“This is my son,” he explained as they walked down the roadway away from the rest of the crowd. The young man followed behind. “If he sees something suspicious, he’ll kill you.”
&nb
sp; “Fair enough,” Melvin said.
After a moment, he made a slow, sweeping gesture with his hand.
“We’ve worked hard to make this place what it is today. We are totally self-sufficient and frankly, we don’t need POTUS, or anyone else. What do you think about that?”
“I can certainly understand. But, there is an issue that should be addressed.”
“And what is that?” Kries asked.
“You have the Titan computer and nuclear material,” Melvin said. The man didn’t answer. Melvin continued.
“It’ll only be a matter of time before a hostile nation with their shit together will attempt an incursion. My guess will be Russia, although China is also a viable threat.”
“And how might that concern us?” he asked.
“Y-12 will be a viable target. I think you already know that.”
Melvin waited for a response, but the man was quiet. He was staring at something at the far end of the compound, seemingly lost in thought.
“How many survivors are at Mount Weather?” he finally asked.
“A little over a hundred,” Melvin replied. “The VP didn’t make it. We have several politicians and their staff, personnel who worked at Weather, and we’ve picked up a few survivors along the way.” Melvin snapped his fingers.
“Dang, I almost forgot. One of those survivors is a young man from the Nashville area. Apparently, he’s immune. He agreed to relocate his people to Weather, and the scientists we have are working on creating a vaccine.”
“That’s certainly encouraging news,” Kries said. He absently rubbed his hands together.
“What’s in it for us?” he asked.
“For the next year or so, absolutely nothing.” Melvin looked at him pointedly. “You seem like an intelligent man. Hell, if you’re the leader here, you have to be. You know exactly what the POTUS is trying to achieve.” Melvin fixed him with a serious stare. “Let me ask you, how much longer do you expect to live?”
