by David Achord
“How’s it going, guys?” he asked.
“We’ll know in six weeks,” Kincaid replied. “That’s how long it’ll take to ferment the correct proteins.”
Joker overheard the conversation. “Six weeks? We’re going to be stuck here for six weeks?”
Doctor Kincaid nodded patiently. Before Joker had a chance to ask why, he explained.
“There are three different methods to create a vaccine for a virus, are you aware of that?”
“Uh, I know the flu vaccine is made with chicken eggs, or something like that,” Joker replied.
“Yes, that’s the most common and oldest method. The virus is injected into fertilized chicken eggs and then is incubated. The virus-containing fluid is harvested, the virus itself is then killed, and it is used to create a vaccine.
“The second method is a cell-based production. I won’t bother explaining it. We’re going to attempt to create a vaccine using what is known as a recombinant method. It was first used in 2013 with partial success. The vaccine is produced using insect cells.”
“No shit?” Private Burns asked.
“That’s correct,” Kincaid said. “Now, the CDC scientists made an amazing breakthrough substituting insect cells with Zach’s blood cells. Our goal is to reproduce their work.”
“Six fucking weeks,” Burns lamented.
Justin was inclined to sigh and utter a few invectives, but then reminded himself he was the leader of these Marines and had to set a good example.
“Alright, you heard the man, we’re going to be here a while. That means we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. Now, the first thing we need to do is build some defensive positions.”
“Wonderful,” Joker said.
Chapter 19 – Lonnie
“Savannah, you need to hide,” Melvin said urgently as he thumbed open the restraining strap on his holster. His other weapons were inside the truck, so his only option at the moment was his Glock.
Melvin watched as the zombie came closer. It was a man, probably in his twenties once. He stared directly at Melvin, and if Melvin didn’t know any better, he could have sworn he saw fear and a silent plea for help in his expression. Before Melvin could react, there was a loud report of a gunshot, quickly followed by a bloody hole sprouting in the zombie’s forehead. Melvin heard the sound of the bullet as it zipped by him. He instinctively ducked and drew his Glock.
The car, a burgundy Toyota Prius rolled to a stop. Lonnie was grinning from ear to ear.
“Whatta ya’ say, you old goat fucker!” Lonnie shouted and looked over at his driver. “Look, Pig, it’s our old buddy, Melvin.”
“What the hell?” Melvin asked as Lonnie got out.
He stretched, walked over to the dead zombie, and admired his work. Melvin watched the two men warily. Lonnie was wearing a tight-fitting black tank top, his heavily muscled arms hanging like two slabs of meat. He could see the leather handle of the blackjack sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans, hence the name of his group. All of them carried blackjacks, mimicking their leader.
Lonnie admired his work a few more seconds and spit on it. Shoving the Colt into his waistband, he turned to Melvin with a smug grin.
“How the hell are you, my brother?” Lonnie asked as he walked over, ignoring the Glock in Melvin’s hand and grabbed him in a bear hug. Before Melvin realized what he was doing, he reciprocated in kind.
“Oh, same old same old,” Melvin replied. “I was driving along and decided to stop and take a big country crap when all of a sudden, here comes this crazy zombie running toward me. All I can say is, what the hell?”
Lonnie emitted a loud bellow of laughter and hugged Melvin again.
Pig had exited their vehicle, a sawed-off twelve gauge double barrel in hand and his own blackjack stuffed in his waistband. Melvin watched Pig carefully. He knew Lonnie was the more dangerous of the two, but Pig would probably be the first one to actually shoot. As Melvin watched, Pig walked over to the dead zed and kicked him in the side of the head. Melvin guessed it was his own way of proclaiming a job well done by his boss.
“How’d you like my shot?” Lonnie asked.
“It was a good one, but you almost got me along with him,” he replied.
Lonnie laughed again.
Melvin gestured at the zombie. “What’s the deal?”
“That there was an odd one,” Lonnie replied. “We came up on him, and instead of trying to attack us like all the others would’ve done, he actually started running away like he was scared.”
“I bet he was a coward back when he was alive,” Pig proclaimed. “Probably one of them fudge-packing queer bastards.”
Melvin nodded like Pig was lauding them with profound wisdom.
“What the hell are you up to?” Lonnie asked him.
Melvin gestured toward two abandoned tractor-trailers no more than fifty feet away from them.
“I was about to check out those two trucks over there when you two drove up.”
“Doing some scavenging, huh?” Lonnie asked.
“Yeah, it’s what I do. Hadn’t had much luck lately though.”
“You got a lot of junk in there,” Pig said as he pointed in the bed of Melvin’s truck.
“Yeah,” Melvin replied. In fact, that’s exactly what was on the upper layer, junk. Underneath was where he hid items people like Pig and Lonnie would covet. Melvin watched Pig as he started to walk around to the passenger side, presumably where Savannah was hiding.
“Careful where you step,” Melvin admonished. “I dropped the kids off at the pool over there.”
Pig stopped and looked at Melvin in disgust. He then looked around and pointed toward the two barrels in the back of Melvin’s truck.
“I always meant to ask, what are those for? Water?” he asked.
“Nope,” Melvin answered. “Those are for biodiesel fuel.”
“No shit?” Lonnie asked as he walked over and looked closer. Melvin had put his Glock back in the holster, but he kept it unsnapped.
“Yeah, gas is iffy these days, so I improvised.” Actually, one of the secretaries, who also happened to have two or three post-graduate degrees, wanted to experiment with biodiesel and talked Melvin into it. All Melvin did was find restaurant grease pits. He used a pump and hoses to fill up the barrels. He’d carry it back to Parvis and Parvis would convert the foul-smelling goo into biodiesel. Parvis also had a secret moonshine and hydroponics lab that Melvin helped him with.
Pig pointed at the Prius. “We found six of those. They’re quiet and they get fifty miles-per-gallon.”
“Nice,” Melvin said.
“What do you say we help you search those trucks?” Lonnie volunteered.
“Fifty-fifty split?” Melvin asked.
“There’s three of us here, partner,” Lonnie said with his transparent grin. “My math says it’ll be a three-way split.”
Melvin knew better than to argue and gave an affable nod. “I’m cool with that, but how about Pig keeps a lookout for any friends that there zed may have nearby.”
“That’s a good idea,” Lonnie said and pointed back down the interstate. “Go on down there about a hundred yards and keep a lookout.”
“I’ll be damned if I will,” Pig declared.
Melvin chuckled. Pig was only about five foot eight with squat, wide hips, stubby arms, and a fat face. How he survived before Lonnie came along Melvin had no idea. He had no athletic ability, and Melvin imagined the man spent his days eating junk food and playing video games, back before.
“Go on now,” Lonnie ordered.
“Aw, Lonnie, there ain’t no need…”
He stopped protesting when Lonnie fixed him with a cold hard stare. He stopped arguing and began trudging down the interstate, muttering to himself as he walked.
It worked out better than Melvin had hoped. They were separated now and Pig wouldn’t be wandering around his truck and stumble on Savannah by accident.
Melvin used a pair of bolt cutters on the padlocked tr
ailers. “I’m surprised they haven’t been searched already,” he said.
“Yeah,” Lonnie agreed.
When they opened the first one, they found it was stacked with truck tires. The second trailer was more of the same. The cabs had been previously searched and were bare.
“Nothing,” Lonnie said in contempt.
“Yeah, but I found something the other day you might like,” Melvin said.
When Lonnie looked at him, he made a head gesture toward Pig and held a finger to his lips. Lonnie watched warily as Melvin went to his truck and partially opened the door. He expected to see Savannah hiding in the floorboard, but she wasn’t anywhere inside the truck. He masked his concern and retrieved the bottle of Jack Daniels. He showed it to Lonnie before hiding it under his shirt and gestured to Lonnie to follow him. He intentionally led Lonnie away from his truck and to the back of one of the trailers. The two men climbed in and sat. Melvin took a sip and handed it to Lonnie, who took a large swallow.
“Good shit, brother,” Lonnie said. He then nodded down the road where Pig was and looked at Melvin questioningly.
Melvin shook his head. “I must insist this split is fifty-fifty only.”
Lonnie let out a belly laugh and took another swallow.
“What’re you two doing down there?” Pig yelled at them.
“Nothing. You better be keeping watch,” Lonnie warned and grinned at Melvin.
“Well, you know anyone who needs truck tires?” he asked.
“Not off the top of my head,” Melvin answered.
“Me neither,” Lonnie said. “We can’t use them, we don’t have any semis.”
Melvin nodded indifferently, but filed the information away.
“Have you seen anyone lately?”
“Nobody but some people holed up down at Oak Ridge,” Melvin said.
“Oh, yeah?”
Melvin grunted. “If you’re thinking of trying anything, be careful, they got a bunch of cops and military types guarding the place. They’re dug in and heavily armed.”
“Fucking cops,” Lonnie suddenly exclaimed. “We came across a few not too long ago. They opened fire on us without any provocation and killed two of my men.”
“They were cops, you say?” Melvin asked.
“Yeah.”
“Where at?”
“A little town called Staunton,” Lonnie said.
Melvin remembered his conversation with Savannah. “Isn’t there a state police headquarters there?”
“Yep, that’s where they’re living,” Lonnie replied. “The Blackjacks are going to get some payback, you better believe that.”
“Good,” Melvin said, not meaning it for a second. He sincerely doubted those state troopers fired on Lonnie and his gang for no reason. More than likely the Blackjacks were the instigators and ended up getting their asses handed to them. He reminded himself to go visit them as soon as possible.
“Dug in and heavily armed,” Lonnie repeated. “You were in the military once, am I right?”
Melvin hastened a brief glance at Lonnie. He would have preferred Lonnie knew nothing about his past, but went along.
“I was, but ole Peggy over there got me kicked out.”
Lonnie laughed and slapped Melvin on the back. “I knew it when I first met you. I told Snake you were military. Which was it, Army or Marines?”
“Army,” Melvin replied.
Lonnie wagged a finger. “And the bitch got you kicked out. That’s why you’re keeping her alive, isn’t it. You’re tormenting her for what she did to you.”
Melvin chuckled, but didn’t reply. He wondered if, subconsciously, that was the real reason for keeping her alive.
“I still don’t know why I didn’t kill you back when we first met,” Lonnie said suddenly.
“If you’d have done that, you wouldn’t have any truck tires right now,” Melvin deadpanned.
Lonnie laughed now. “And I wouldn’t have any whiskey right now either.”
The two men laughed, causing Pig to poke his head out from behind some cars.
“What’re you bastards doing down there?” he yelled.
Lonnie ignored him, took a swallow, and stared out of the open trailer door.
“You and me are just alike, Melvin,” Lonnie said.
Melvin nodded. “Yeah, I guess we are, in a way.”
The truth was, Melvin thought nothing of the kind. He wasn’t like Lonnie. If he was, he would’ve already raped Savannah and probably would have killed Lonnie just for shits and giggles. They swapped the bottle in silence for several minutes before Lonnie said something disconcerting.
“We’ve been looking for a girl.”
“Oh, yeah?” Melvin asked. “You got a particular one in mind or any old gal you bump into?”
“A little whore by the name of Savannah,” he said and then looked at Melvin. “She’s a teenager, skinny, brown hair, small titted, freckles. We called her Stinky. Have you seen her?”
“Should I have?”
“We lost her on the outskirts of Oak Ridge a few days ago. Let’s see, you said you were in Oak Ridge, when was that?”
“Yesterday,” Melvin answered. That’s the thing about psychopaths, Melvin thought. You never knew when they were engaging in casual conversation or if they were accusing you of something. He slowly moved his left hand a couple of millimeters closer to the Glock.
“But I didn’t see any girl,” Melvin said with the most apathetic tone he could. “Are you sure she’s still alive?”
“No telling,” he said. “But I’d like to get her back.”
Melvin didn’t ask why, but it seemed odd. Why did he have to have her back?
“Is she on foot? You think she made it this far north?”
“There’s no telling, my friend.”
Melvin grunted. “Alright, I’ll keep an eye out. Is there any kind of reward?”
“My undying gratitude,” Lonnie said and burst out laughing. Melvin laughed with him.
“You should join up with us, Melvin,” Lonnie suggested. “We could use some military brains in our group.”
“I appreciate the invite, Lonnie, I really do.”
“But?” Lonnie asked.
“I’m more of a lone-wolf type. I don’t get along with people all that well.”
“You should consider it. We’re recruiting new members and have something in the works right now, and if all goes as planned, we’re going to hit a big lick.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Lonnie said with a knowing smile. “I got Snake on it.” He pointed northward. “We’re on our way to meet him right now.” Lonnie turned the bottle up and finished it. So much for a fifty-fifty split, Melvin thought.
He stood and worked a kink out of his back. “I guess we need to get going. If you find that girl, you look Lonnie up. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Sure thing,” Melvin replied.
Melvin waved as the two men drove away. When they were well out of sight, he began looking around.
“Savannah?”
There was no answer. He couldn’t figure out where she went until it came to him. He crouched down and looked under the truck. She was there, lying in a mud puddle, a look of panic in her eyes and shivering uncontrollably, much like she was when he first found her.
“They’re gone, come on out,” he said.
He had to gently coax her before she reluctantly crawled out. When she stood, she was soaking wet and covered in mud. She eyed Melvin and looked around nervously.
“Are they coming back?”
“I don’t know,” Melvin answered. “But if they do, we’re going to be long gone. Get in the truck.”
He thought about what Lonnie had said. He was meeting Snake, and when he left, he was going north on 81, the direction Melvin needed to go in order to get back to Mount Weather. Sighing, he took the next exit.
“I have no idea where Lonnie and Pig are going,” Melvin said to Savannah. “So, we’re going to take the backroa
ds. I want you to lean back in the seat so nobody sees you, okay?”
“Okay,” she replied and reclined the seat. “Can I ask you something?”
Melvin glanced at her as he tried to jog his memory. He’d been on these back roads a few times, but not recently, and he was having a hard time remembering the route back to Weather. The whiskey certainly didn’t help.
“Why didn’t you kill them when you had the chance?”
It was a good question, and he was having a difficult time coming up with a good answer.
“Um, well, they’re good sources of information,” he rationalized. “For instance, Lonnie told me about some state police living up in Staunton. Those are good people for Mount Weather to network with. Also, he told me they were up to something big. Might be I can keep him from doing something.”
She stared at him in stony silence for several minutes.
“What?” he finally asked.
“They raped me, Melvin,” Savannah said quietly. He glanced over. She was lying back in the seat, muddy from head to toe, staring at him with those big doe eyes. She was crying. Not loudly sobbing, no. The tears were running down her face in silent anguish.
“Every day, at least one of them raped me, or Suzie, or one of the other girls. Sometimes it was more than one. Sometimes they’d make us do the most degrading things you can imagine. They’d laugh and make fun of us, and if we didn’t go along, we’d get the hell beat out of us. And Lonnie was the ring leader of all of it.” Her tone was hushed, somber, and it was tearing Melvin apart.
“It was the most awful thing you can ever imagine.”
Melvin didn’t know how to respond. They drove down one road and he had to stop suddenly due to flooding. When he turned his head to back up, he briefly looked over at her. She was asleep, curled in a ball. Her face was still moist.
Melvin still wasn’t sure about Lonnie. Maybe he was down the interstate, waiting to follow him back to where he lived. Maybe he’d doubled back and was waiting to ambush him. Melvin didn’t know, but one thing he was certain of: he couldn’t lead him back home. Under no circumstances could Lonnie learn about Mount Weather, and, more importantly, that Melvin was affiliated with Mount Weather.
