Dead and Dead Again: Kansas City Quarantine

by Dalton Wolf

  “Can’t get water to an auditorium for a week, but you can build a wall in hours?”

  “Acts of nature do not fall under the same departments or reactionary parameters as incidents of Bio Terror. A few thousand people locked in a stadium in dire need of food and water will affect only people’s emotions, but the threat of a viral apocalypse motivates even the laziest people to protect themselves. It is all about self-preservation, the key word being self.”

  “Right. I get you. As long as there isn’t a cure, they won’t lift the quarantine and none of us get out.”

  “Yes. I’m afraid the Kansas City you knew and loved is no more, my friend. Even if we fix everything, this city may never recover.”

  “Oh, you don’t know us Kansas Citians, Doc. We’re pretty tough and dependable folk when the trouble starts. That’s why God put us all here in the middle.”

  “Why is that?”

  “So we can hold the rest of the country together in a crisis.”

  The doctor laughed.

  “You laugh now, but you’ll see. We’ll come through this yet.”

  “You’re basing this on your luck so far?” the older man asked.

  “Yes. Of course, I’m talking about our sports, mainly. But that luck has to go somewhere now. We can’t lose. This is just another test that we’ll end up winning…eventually.”

  The doctor laughed again, but not quite as enthusiastically this time. “You know. I almost believe you.”

  “With your help, Calvin will get us out of this somehow.”

  “If you two are done with the kissy-face,” the Captain trumped back into the building and spat at them. “We need to go now, Doctor.”

  Dr. MacGreggor sighed and followed her out to the military vehicles. When the officer, sergeant and the doctor were safely inside, the rest of the unit broke perimeter and climbed in. Both vehicles quickly pulled out and headed across the river and disappeared into the distance.

  Long after they were across the bridge and out of sight, the gang stood watching the proverbial dust from their passing fade into the distance. Calvin turned to Athena, Sarah and Trip.

  “Do you think she would have tried to take our stuff if she’d been able to get more guns in there?”

  “No question about it.” Athena said quickly.

  Tripper nodded, but Sarah added, “Maybe.”

  “You think her soldiers would have agreed?”

  “Private Gimp Bait would have done whatever she ordered,” Trip said. “GI Jane and Sergeant Dogood I’m not so sure about. They both seemed to be a little slower on the offensive, but not because of any lack of skill. It was more like they have morals and aren’t afraid to think for themselves.”

  “The sergeant did not look happy about the situation, but he would have fired,” Athena countered.

  “So I guess the real question is: will she try to take it if they come back?”

  “No.” Athena stated emphatically.

  “Wait, you were the one who said she would have taken the stuff if she had more people,” Calvin argued.

  “That was before she got to know us. She respected you, Calvin. She tested you and I think you passed.”

  “I agree,” Sarah agreed.

  “Whatever,” Tripper muttered in annoyance. “We still need to keep an eye out if they return. They’re soldiers and not used to not getting their way in a Battlezone. They’re like cops when they pull you over and you talk back. They’re absolutely certain they have the law on their side.”

  “Well, in most cases, that is true.”

  “Never said it wasn’t. I’m just saying it’s hard to debate with someone who thinks you’re supposed to do whatever they say.”

  “Fair enough. You three get on the line with Hef and Quinn and tell them what we have here and see if they can tell you how to lock down those rooms we’re going to set aside. I want traps and surveillance in place by nightfall.”

  “Roger, Chief,” Athena murmured with a salute.

  “And will everyone please stop calling me Chief or Boss?” he shouted at their retreating backs.

  “No!” “Too much fun.” “Sorry, Calvin,” “I love you.” Their responses floated irreverently back down the hallway to him.

  “Yeah, that’s about right.”

  * * * * * *

  The army convoy didn’t have to drive very far to reach Burlington. Crossing over the river, the captain noted that the bridge was, in fact, intact. Only a few shuffling dead blocked their way on the other side, but the Captain ignored them, as she had their entire trip into the Quarantine Zone, despite having to find alternate paths around many hastily constructed barricades on the main roads. It had taken them two days for a two hour trip into the city. They were so far behind schedule she was certain her superiors would have already sent in her replacement if that was an option. But there weren’t a lot of volunteers waiting to drive into a Quarantine Zone when the Chiefs were already considering a total purge, especially when the original team was still active and in communication.

  “Which way, Captain?” Sergeant Doogard asked gruffly when the private brought their Humvee to a halt at the first intersection.

  “I’m not sure. I wonder if those people did a very thorough search…what do you think, Sergeant?”

  “North, ma’am. That doctor said Hobbes looked from here south to the river. I can’t say much with confidence for the rest of them, but he at least seemed to have some control in an impossible situation. The others have really adapted fast, and that’s likely due to his leadership, though I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. He seems an honest and thorough type. I believe it.”

  “North it is. Head north, private,” she ordered, then added innocently, “You seem fond of them, Sergeant.”

  The sergeant recognized that for a test. He hated tests and he was short. With only two months to go before he was out, he didn’t care if he ever passed any test other than living and staying healthy. But he was probably two months short on all accounts. He knew he would most likely die inside this damned wall the same as Calvin Hobbes and his people. Am I fond of them? “I suppose I am, a little,” he admitted honestly.

  “Why?”

  “They’re still alive and still sitting right in the middle of ground zero. I mean, the outer cities still haven’t even been touched and everyone is already pouring out of those places or building their own walls and waving pitch forks to keep everyone out. But you’ve seen the bodies out there in these streets along the route in. The dead and the dead dead. I can’t say I’d have stayed down here. No one should. But there are still a lot of people here, Captain. And from what I heard, Hobbes and his girlfriend went and rescued the others one at a time. Must really be something in the water here.”

  “It’s the Fluoride, most likely.”

  “What’s that, ma’am?”

  “Just a joke any good conspiracy nut would appreciate. Would you have supported me if I’d have told you to fire at them?”

  “You give the orders, Captain. We follow them.”

  “Unless you find an order morally questionable?”

  “Permission to speak freely?”

  “Of course.”

  “Usually, hell yes. I’ll shoot you myself if you order me to shoot innocent civilians, Ma’am. That’s a promise, so remember it. But those people…today…we’re in the middle of a nightmare. This shit is a freaky war like no one has ever fought before. Reanimated dead folks walking around eating people on American ground? For real? We’re not even supposed to be fighting on American Soil. And zombies aren’t real. This is all fucked. I think the best way for us all to survive, for now, is to follow orders. If you tell me we have to take those people out, we’ll take them out. But I don’t believe you would ever give that order because you and I both know it would cost us too much. They might be civilians, but did you see how fast they raised those guns? Some of them are already killers.”

  “I agree, Sergeant. I really wanted to appropriate
all of their equipment for the trip back, but you are correct. They are still alive and here in the heart of the breakdown, where so many others have perished or panicked already. And more than just cordoning off streets to a neighborhood, they have a plan and vehicles and supplies and a place to go to dig in. They are not waiting for the government to come in and save them, they are saving themselves. I suppose that deserves some kind of consideration.”

  “Plus that was Colonel Hobbes’ son in charge there, and he had you dead to rights,” the sergeant added with a grin.

  “Nothing matters except getting this package to its destination, Sergeant. If you have to shoot in a situation like that and I am in the way, you shoot through me. That is an order.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  He agreed like a good soldier, but he knew that from the moment they had walked into that room that Calvin Hobbes was in absolutely no danger from their team. Batmouche was one of Colonel Hobbes’ protégées. That whole confrontation had been nothing but a test for Hobbes, of that he was fairly certain. And the kid had done just fine. The Captain was right about one thing, the military had missed out when he had opted for civilian life. Of that he was positive.

  “There, up ahead. What’s that movement up there?”

  “Jesus Christ, stop the vehicles,” the sergeant snapped. “It’s crawling, ma’am,” he explained to the angry look from the Captain.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s not all heat radiation making it swim like that, Cap. It’s all zom—um, Infected out there.”

  The captain reached down and pulled out her small field binoculars for a closer look. It took several adjustments on the focus to cut through the heat radiation. The four-lane road extended about a mile into the Northland and ended in a grassy park area. Where the grassy area began the one road split into several roads curving off into different directions. All four lanes and the grassy areas were literally covered sidewalk-to-sidewalk with lumbering dead, concentrating mostly around the split. Focusing on the center of the grassy area, she tried to make out a shadowy object that seemed to be the center of the swirling mass of humanity, but she couldn’t quite identify it.

  Is that red? Shit. “Pull into this parking lot over here,” she ordered. “Quietly.”

  The drivers moved both vehicles east into the parking lot of a low brick building.

  “Sergeant, send someone up onto that building to get a look at what’s in the middle of that.”

  “Baldwin!” the sergeant snapped.

  “Yes, sir,” Private Gimp Bait snapped sharply.

  “Get your butt up that pipe to the roof of that building. Tell us what you see.”

  The private jumped out and slung his rifle across his back, then with a brief examination of the squat building before them, he shrugged once and shimmied up the heavy drainpipe as if it were a ladder.

  “Good god!” He breathed when he was in position. “Sarge is right, ma’am,” he called down. “Side to side with zombies.”

  “Infected,” she corrected him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Private Baldwin responded smartly.

  “What else do you see?”

  “There’s a vehicle crashed into the fountain. It might be the one we’re looking for. Looks cherry red with gray splotches on it. But I can’t get the make from this distance. It’s a big car, though. Could easily be a Cutlass or Chevelle.

  “Right. Everyone get locked and loaded. We’re going in.”

  “Ma’am?” the sergeant asked.

  “We take enough of them down, the rest will get the idea.” She said casually.

  “They’re not people, ma’am.”

  “That hasn’t been established yet. We know nothing about them.”

  “We know what those people back at that library told us.”

  “They’ve spent half of their time running, Sergeant, and the other half hiding. They could easily be exaggerating about certain aspects of the behavior patterns.”

  “Maybe you should ask the doctor for his input, first?”

  “Not necessary. I’m sure he’ll tell us nothing we don’t already know. We are dealing with sick people. They’ll move when they realize how determined we are.”

  “Haven’t you ever seen a zombie movie, ma’am?”

  “No.”

  “The dead don’t have behavior patterns. They only have the need to feed.”

  “This isn’t some cheaply made horror movie, Sergeant,” the captain snapped. “This is the real world. We aren’t fighting monsters and aliens. We are unfortunately facing our fellow Human brothers and sisters who have been infected with a horrible virus, which makes them a danger to everyone around. And we have to get into the middle of those infected individuals and retrieve the package. Put enough bullets into a crowd and people will move out of the way.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the sergeant agreed. “But that don’t mean these things will act the way you want them to,” he replied firmly. “I think we should look for another way to the center of that horde. If it were an army of soldiers would we charge right up the middle, or would we sneak in?”

  “It’s not an army of soldiers, Sergeant. It is a collection of unarmed loiterers. They might as well be cattle in a field. The faster we get back with the doctor and his case will be the sooner someone can find a cure. There’s still a chance to save the rest of the country. We’re going in. Right down the middle. We’ll blast our way to that car. We’ll take one of the Humvees with everyone inside and leave the doctor here in the other Hummer with a gunner to keep him safe. When we get up there, Henson, if that’s our target car, you jump out and look for the case while we cover you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The Latina private nodded, shooting the sergeant a forlorn grimace of doom.

  The sergeant made the sign of the cross and several of the other soldiers followed suit. “Everyone get ready. We’re moving in. Best say your final prayers now.”

  “I thought you said I give the orders and you’ll follow them?” the Captain shot him a glare.

  “Hell, Ma’am. I kind of thought you’d use good sense when giving those orders, but I’d rather die fighting a thousand of these here Infected than kill even one innocent civilian.” He admitted with a grin. “Now shake those asses, soldiers!” he snapped at his ‘men’, who were slowly stomping to the lead Hummer. “We’ve got to get this magic case back to the wizard in Kansas so Dorothy and I can open our own case…of scotch.”

  Raytown: My Hometown

  The sweet aroma of steaming piles of eggs, hot syrup and butter melting on pancakes filled the small cafeteria and forced its way down the halls of the former library. No one had been able to resist the inviting scents creeping through the narrow spaces under their doors and soon nearly the entire group gathered around the tables dining on a smorgasbord of breakfast foods cooked by none other than Gus and Joel.

  Felicia skidded into the cafeteria, tried to stop, but instead fell into and over the first table, taking parts of two meals with her and catching most of an omelet in one lumpy pile on her lap. The actress’s dyed crimson hair poked out in every direction from lack of quality hair products and she wore a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans with a side order of eggs.

  “Holy—” was all Calvin managed to mutter before the excited actress leaped to her feet and darted over to their table, ignoring the hot gravy and eggs dripping down her legs.

  “—ooh, is that eggs? Where’d you get eggs? Never mind. No time. Athena!” the keyed up girl shouted. “I was on radio duty! Your parents are waiting on the radio. They need help! They’re on the radio.”

  Athena was up and through the doorway, chain mail and boots clinking down the corridor like tank treads before anyone but Calvin had even deciphered the words of the excited young actress. Dashing over the white tiled hallway floor, she barely slowed yet somehow remained upright through two slippery turns on the way to the office. By the time she had reached the doorway to ‘radio room’, however, Calvin was
right behind her. He caught her just as she stretched out a shaking hand for the silver radio mic.

  “Daddy?” she called several times with no answer before Calvin showed her how to press the red ‘talk’ button on the side of the microphone.

  “Daddy?” she called again.

  “Neshama, where have you been? We have been waiting for you.”

  “Daddy, you should already be out of town. I sent you texts.”

  “Oy! Yes. Yes. We would be dead if I wait for that meshugah father of your friend Tripper to get us out of here,” her father immediately began rambling in his conspicuously Jewish accent that always made Calvin want to watch reruns of Taxi for some reason. “And Tripper? What kind of name is that?”

  “What happened, Daddy? You’re supposed to be at Calvin’s uncle’s farm.”

  “Calvin’s Uncle’s Farm? Is this proper English? Is this what we spent my life’s savings on, so you can go get an Ivy League education and talk to me like some tipsha?”

  “Some what?”

  “Tipsha. Tipsha. Uneducated silly person.”

  “Are you sure you’re even using that right?” she asked.

  “Oy, am I using it right? Is this what your education taught you? To question your elders? Your elders who taught you the language?”

  Calvin waited patiently. This occurred every time they talked. He was pretty sure it was a Jewish thing, but it could as easily be specific to the Rosenthals, Jewish or not. It could literally take hours to get to the actual point of a meeting or family gathering.

  “You know, Daddy, I could just turn this radio off…” Athena suggested casually.

  “Oy, no. I am sorry. You are right. Get to the point, Saul. The point is, you must come and rescue us.”

  “Where are you?”

  “We are in Raytown still.”

  “What are you in Raytown for? I thought people only pass through there on their way somewhere else?” Calvin joked into the mic.

  “Ha ha, very funny man, that Calvin.”

  “That is My Hometown you’re talking about, Calvin,” Athena warned him.