Desolation

by Mark Campbell

  Jerri was taken aback by the boy’s radiant gaze.

  Andrew stood next to her, smiling down at the child in wonder. Krystal rocked side-to-side, humming to herself.

  Time stopped and things were peaceful for just a brief moment.

  17

  “CSI Miami,” Bret said with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

  Hemingway snorted.

  “You better come up with something better than that if you want to win this round,” Hemingway replied nonchalantly. Nighttime had arrived and the two men patrolled their usual path along the top of the perimeter wall. Hundreds of other sentries had joined them, keeping an eye on the flickering campfires in the distance at the marauder encampment.

  The marauders hadn’t moved all day and the campfires burned steadily throughout the night. Suddenly the remaining campfires went dark at the same time. Hemingway and Bret didn’t notice.

  “Oh yeah? What do you have?” Bret asked.

  “I’ll pick… The Sopranos,” Hemingway said.

  Bret threw his arms in the air.

  “Every goddamn time! It never fails!!!” Bret shouted. “What?” Hemingway asked innocently.

  “You said network channels only!!! You always change the rules! The Sopranos was on cable! HBO!” Bret shouted.

  “Nu-uh,” Hemingway said, closing his eyes. “It was on Fox or something.”

  “You’re a fucking liar!” Bret said. “If you want to cheat and use cable shows, then let’s go!” He thought for a moment. “The Shield!” “The Wire,” Hemingway quickly responded.

  “Oz!” Bret shouted. He was sure he got him.

  “Two words,” Hemingway said with a sly smirk. “Breaking Bad.” Bret thought for a moment and then stomped his feat, shouting.

  “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” Bret exclaimed. “Okay, okay, okay! New game! I call it!” Suddenly there was shouting coming from the nearby watchtowers and the searchlights focused their beams across the desert floor.

  Multiple camouflaged individuals ran towards Camp 6’s walls. They looked like heaps of desert shrubbery, all but invisible until they were a few hundred yards away from the wall. The encroaching figures leading the pack froze and a second line took position behind them, and then a fourth, and then a fifth.

  It looked like an army of Sonoran Desert fauna had taken a stand against the heavily fortified camp. “ Attention, this is official United States government property. Do not come any closer! You are trespassing!” a voice boomed from the watchtower’s speaker system.

  “Fuck!” Bret shouted, “They’re making a move!”

  Hemingway unslung his rifle and sighted-in on one of the shrubs in the front.

  “Easy pickings,” Hemingway said.

  The other officers on the wall sighted-in on the camouflaged invaders and scanned the bushes with their laser sights. The bushes remained perfectly still.

  “Turn around and leave immediately before we shoot!”

  The enshrouded figures didn’t move.

  “All primaries, you’re clear to fire at will in three seconds,” the watchtower speaker announced. The FEMA officers grew pale and pointed their laser sights in every direction, trying to cover the entire horde at once, counting down in their heads.

  One of the officers took an early shot and struck one of the bushes.

  The man who was enshrouded in the bush grunted and collapsed onto the desert sand, bleeding out a pool of crimson. Crossbows peaked out from the shrubs and in a moment a cloud of arrows whistled through the air. The first volley targeted the watchtower searchlights. The lights shattered and were systematically taken out, shrouding the camouflaged figures below in complete darkness.

  The officers on the wall and in the towers ducked and started firing wildly and ineffectively into the desert night, panicking. The air raid siren started wailing.

  A second volley of arrows snapped as they struck against the steel wall.

  A third volley flew higher into the air and shattered the watchtower windows. Struck officers collapsed backwards onto the cold, unforgiving ground. Others fell forward and became ensnared in the razorwire stung along the wall’s edge. They twitched and convulsed violently.

  A fourth volley of arrows came, and then a fifth.

  The air raid siren continued to wail.

  Arrows stuck civilians down in the camp below and took them down like defenseless sheep ripe for the slaughter. The screams of the dying was deafening as people ran for their lives.

  Those who were hit collapsed and died rapidly, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Hemingway was the first to realize what was happening. That something far more horrible than a prolonged assault was in progress. He took in the changing scene below in the camp and the blood drained from his face.

  “Stay down! Stay the fuck down! The fucking arrows are laced!” Hemingway shouted. “Grab the–” An arrow struck Hemingway through the throat and erupted out the other side, spraying a red mist out the back of his neck. Gurgling on his own blood, he fell to his knees and dropped his weapon. His body convulsed violently.

  “Jesus! No!” Bret shouted, crawling over towards his fallen brethren. He reached over to check his pulse– Hemingway stood up in a drunken stupor with hazed eyes and a gaping hole in his throat. He looked down at Bret, snarled, and pounced on him.

  Bret screamed as Hemingway tore into his neck and pulled apart his flesh with his teeth.

  Sporadic gunfire started to pop off inside the camp amongst the crescendo of screams. Volley after volley of Acexa-laced arrows continued to fly further and further into the camp, striking down countless terrified souls who were unfortunate enough to be outside the protection of the dorms. The wall did nothing to impede the arrow’s deadly trajectories.

  The panicked officers were quickly entangled with fighting their infected brethren and terrified civilians, firing into anything that moved, infected and healthy alike.

  While the camp started to descend into the chaos, the camouflaged marauders slunk back to their encampment and waited... Throughout Camp 6 a new sound rose into the nighttime sky; it was the sound of moaning and ghoulish growls.

  18

  Andrew tensed at the sound of the air raid siren. The thunder crack of gunfire outside made him quickly draw his sidearm.

  Jerri looked over at Andrew, confused, terrified. Jacob started screaming in her arms.

  “What’s happening?” Jerri asked.

  “I don’t know,” Andrew quickly responded. “Stay here. I’m going to find out what the hell is going on.”

  Krystal vacantly stared at the wall, oblivious to the mayhem uncoiling around her.

  Andrew ran out into the hall, pistol ready.

  People were milling around in the corridor, looking at each other, frightened.

  The alarm started blaring from the overhead speakers.

  “Attention,” a recorded pleasant soft female voice announced overhead, “An emergency has occurred. Please stay inside your quarters and remain calm. Help is on the way. For your safety, all residential buildings will now be sealed. Thank you for your cooperation”

  Everybody in the hallway turned their heads towards the archaic sally port as the light above it switched from green to red. The motor above the sally port door made a horrific grinding noise and threw a shower of orange sparks out into the hall.

  “Emergenc-c-c-c-c [STATIC] procedures ac – [STATIC]. Seal-al-ling portal-l-l – [STATIC]” the sally port’s robotic male voice sputtered out. The door motor started shaking violently and then erupted. Pressurized oil shot out from the cracked motor hull and splashed the civilians gathered near the end of the hall, coating the floor and ceiling. “Lockdown procedures com-com-om-om-plete. Thank you for your cooperation-n-n– [STATIC].”

  The sally port threw another shower of sparks and the oil ignited. The hallway lit up in orange flames along with the unlucky bystanders who got spritzed.

  People started panicking and trampled one another to get away from the fire. Others ran out fr
om the flames, flailing, screaming at the top of the lungs as they batted at the fire covering their bodies. Black smoke filled the air, the heat from the inferno started to peel the crackled paint off of the walls.

  The flames spread quickly along the hall and from room to room, roasting multitudes as they slept.

  The fire alarms chimed. The white wall strobes flashed. The sprinklers did not activate. Lacking maintenance or care for so long, they were now just for show.

  “Holy shit,” Andrew muttered as he stared at the stampeding crowd headed towards him. He ran back into Krystal’s room and slammed the door shut behind him.

  Jerri looked at him with her mouth hung open. Jacob shrieked in her arms.

  Andrew stood against the door with his back pressed against it, holding it shut. He looked at Jerri and shook his head, lost for words.

  “Let me in! Let me in!” someone shouted as they tried to open the door, coughing violently.

  After a few seconds, the person gave up and moved on to the next room.

  Black smoke started to billow into Krystal’s room from underneath the door. The doorknob slowly started to glow red.

  “We have to get out of here. Now,” Andrew said, pistol shaking in his hand. “Your sally port just turned this place into a goddamn inferno.”

  Krystal sat on the cot like stone, no expression, and no comment.

  “Jesus Christ…” Jerri quickly replied. She looked around the windowless room frantically and then looked up at the skylight in the ceiling. “There! Up there!”

  Andrew ran his hands through his hair and let out an aggravated sigh.

  “You’re right, that’s the only way,” he said. “Stand back and cover the baby’s ears.”

  Jerri stood next to Krystal and covered Jacob’s ears tightly.

  Andrew pointed his pistol up at the skylight and fired four shots in rapid succession. The glass shattered, pelting the carpet with small broken shards.

  He holstered his pistol and ran over to the dresser in the corner of the room. Grunting, he slid the dresser underneath the shattered skylight and climbed on top of it. The dresser creaked and swayed with his weight.

  Flames started to eat their way into the room underneath the door, blackening the carpet.

  Andrew jumped up and grabbed the skylight frame. He gritted his teeth together as jagged glass cut into his palms. Struggling, he pulled himself up and out onto the roof.

  He wiped as much blood off of his hands as he could using his pants and turned towards the window on his belly.

  “Jerri! Give me the baby!” he shouted above the commotion of the gunfight in the camp and above the roar of the flames. He reached a hand down into the room below and motioned frantically.

  Flames covered the door and started to eat through the drywall.

  Jerri coughed violently and climbed onto the rickety dresser. She handed Jacob up to Andrew.

  Andrew brought Jacob up onto the roof and laid the child out next to him; the infant screamed the entire time.

  Jerri turned towards Krystal and motioned for her to step towards her. She hacked violently, barely able to see her friend sitting just a few feet away.

  Krystal let out a chain of rattling coughs, eyes tearing from the smoke. Something resembling sanity started to show in her expression.

  Jerri shouted, narrowing her eyes, trying to peer through the smoke. The flames ate their way deeper into the room, melting the plastic wall receptacles.

  “Jerri…?” Krystal uttered between coughs. “Jerri…? What is… what happened? Jerri!” She stood up and tried to navigate the room, gagging, struggling to breathe. Recognition finally struck her and panic started to settle in.

  Andrew lowered his hand into the room and waved it frantically.

  “Come on! Give me your hand!” Andrew shouted, trying to shout over the roar of the flames.

  Jerri tried to shout again but was overcome by smoke. The flames started to spread across the carpet and engulfed the bottom of the rickety dresser.

  The flames blistered her legs, licking their way up to Krystal’s nightgown. When the blaze came in contact with the material, it surged in size, turning her into a roman candle. She tried to scream, but the heat stole her voice.

  Jerri, gasping for breath, reached up and weakly grabbed Andrew’s hand. Her knees started to buckle as vertigo began to overtake her.

  Grunting, Andrew held onto her clammy wrist with both hands and hoisted her limp body onto the roof.

  The rickety dresser fell to pieces.

  He laid Jerri down on the roof and quickly turned towards the shattered skylight to try and grab Krystal.

  Flames lapped up from the skylight and made Andrew cringe backwards.

  He turned towards Jerri and shook his head, a look of sorrow in his eyes.

  Jerri gasped and coughed as she struggled violently for each breath she took. She rolled onto her side away from the lapping flames and curled up into a fetal position, coughing steadily.

  The alarm on the control tower wailed endlessly.

  Andrew scooped Jacob up into his arms and carried him away from the flames rising up through the skylight. He shushed the baby and tried to comfort him. As he walked with the babbling child, he looked down at the chaotic scene below.

  Scores of walking corpses shuffled around the camp; dull eyes searching for prey methodically. A mindless slow-moving army comprised of FEMA officers and civilians moving across the camp, attacking every living thing they encroached upon. Terrified officers had barricaded themselves on top of crates and inside hastily fortified buildings, firing ineffectively into the hordes that surrounded them. Hundreds of arrows lay strewn across the ground and protruded out the side of the buildings.

  For Andrew, the most frightening part was the groups of civilians who had gathered throughout the camp, taking up arms against the guards and infected alike, murdering with impunity. They were forcing open dormitory sally ports and pouring inside, looting and shooting.

  Things were rapidly falling apart.

  “Attention. A civil emergency has occurred. Please stay inside your quarters and remain calm until order is restored. Help is on the way. For your safety, all residential buildings have been sealed,” the camp’s public address system announced. “This is a public service reminder. Civil disobedience will not be tolerated and is punishable by death. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  A group of armed civilians overpowered the officers manning the gatehouse and took over the controls. An alarm started blaring as the massive steel gate rolled open, sending clouds of rust fluttering down off of its derelict track.

  The gate finally opened, throngs of people ran out into the desert night, running towards freedom.

  A volley of arrows quickly cut them down.

  The marauders weren’t letting anybody leave the camp alive.

  A group of armed civilians turned away from the open gate, abandoning the idea, and headed towards the control tower, waving their weapons above their head.

  “This is a goddamn riot…” Andrew muttered under his breath.

  For the first time in a long while, he was absolutely terrified; he knew in his uniform he was a walking target .

  Jerri got up onto her hands and knees, finally able to breathe somewhat normally. She spat up ashy mucus onto the roof and struggled to talk.

  The baby started to cry in Andrew’s arms.

  “…where is…?” she asked, trying to open her burning eyes.

  Andrew shook his head and backed away from the edge of the roof.

  “We have to go,” Andrew told Jerri without looking at her. “We have to go now.”

  19

  Supporting Jerri with his right arm and holding the baby against his chest with his left, Andrew walked across the smoldering dormitory roof. When he watched Major Ibanez plummet to his death from the control tower, he knew that Camp 6 was finished.

  They had to escape and they had to do it fast; the civil unrest was spreading throughout the
camp just as quickly as the infection. “Did she…?” Jerri wearily asked. She finally managed to stop coughing and some of her strength was returning. The sound of ghoulish moans, sporadic gunfire, and shouting filled the air; somebody in the control tower finally turned off the obnoxious alarm.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Andrew said as he stopped walking. “The baby is alive and well though.”

  Jerri glanced over at the child he held against him and let out a tired sigh. “His name is Jacob,” she said, shaking her head. She stifled her tears for her dead friend and pushed herself off of Andrew. She managed to walk on her own, albeit knees shaking. She turned towards him and stared into his piercing eyes. “When she died… did she know? Or was her mind still elsewhere?”

  Andrew’s eyes locked on hers. “She was still out of it… I don’t think she felt anything when she passed.”

  Jerri considered what he said for a moment and then nodded. “Perhaps that’s for the best,” she said. “The smoke probably killed her before the flames. It would be like going to sleep,” she tried to rationalize. She closed her eyes as they filled with tears.

  “Yeah..,” he said, looking down at the chaos below. “Right now we have to get out of here, Jerri… I need you to stay with me. There will be time for mourning later.”

  Jerri sniffled and looked down at the ground below. Infected were prying at the sealed sally port entrances at the dorms and banged against the steel doors, desperate to claw their way inside. Throughout the camp FEMA officers clashed with civilians and infected hordes.

  People tried to make a mad dash out of the camp’s front gate, but were struck down by arrows each time. The motor pool fence had been toppled and the Humvees were all engulfed in flames. A group of boney civilians stood around the burning vehicles pointing their weapons in the air, cheering.

  “What… what in the hell happened?” Jerri asked. The fear was evident in her expression. “A siege,” Andrew said. “Those bastards infected the camp with Acexa and now they’re waiting for the infection to run its course. They're just waiting on the hill.”