Everyone they had arrested was destined for the same fate. Some just got there easier than others.
“What’s up?” Andy asked, rejecting the notion that he had a right to object to Gary just barging in. This wasn’t his home, just a room with an uncomfortable army cot in it, so he had no real expectation of privacy here. If he’d had his cock out enjoying himself, then maybe things would have been different, and he suppressed the image of how Gary would have reacted to that. The police sergeant probably wouldn’t even have batted an eyelid.
“Report came in over the emergency tip line of screams just south of here. The army is already on their way there, but there’s a lot of street to cover, so we’re going in.”
“Is Kev coming, I didn’t see him on the raid?” Gary gave him an icy stare, searching for any hidden depth to the question. When he didn’t find anything other than mild curiosity, he deemed Andy worthy of a response.
“Kev didn’t cut it and has been demoted down to orange.” No further information was provided, although the threat was inherent in the words. “Meet in the car park in five minutes.” Andy watched the man go, realising that there was an edge to Gary now that hadn’t been noticeable before. What had Gary seen in the last few days that had helped shape the man he now presented to the world? Or had he always acted like this? Unlikely when you thought about it. Inside, these character traits might have been buried, but it wouldn’t have lasted long, not in the politically correct and human rights infused society they had all once lived in. Would those days ever return, thought Andy?
He didn’t need five minutes. All it took was for him to put on his shoes and his Kevlar vest. The utility belt with spare ammunition, torch and pistol finished things off nicely. Andy briefly got a glimpse of himself in the small mirror on the far wall, and he felt a strange confusion about how he looked. The clothes he wore felt out of place, nobody yet feeling that the civilian members of the special units needed proper uniforms. For now, the arm and wrist band would be enough to prove their worth.
The pistol felt heavy on his hip, a permanent addition to his outfit now. The heavier weapons, like the L85A2, were handed out and returned after every op due to the relative shortage of them. But the side-arm was his and set him apart from the majority of those who were trapped in Leeds. Trapped was definitely the right word because where else was there for anyone to go? If they lost this city, then there really wouldn’t be any other refuge to flee to as far as Andy could see.
He had also been allowed to keep his shotgun, but he rarely took it out with him now as it was cumbersome and of limited use compared to his other weapons.
The gun gave him ultimate authority. And it also gave him a freedom most people didn’t possess. Not freedom in the sense of movement, but in the ability to end it all should that need arise. It was actually quite difficult to kill yourself successfully, but that hadn’t stopped thousands trying over the last few days. Andy didn’t feel that he had any plans on that regard, at least not yet.
26.09.18
Frederick, USA
Reece must have dozed off, which was amazing when you thought about it. When the sound of the door opening woke her, she had little memory of visiting the desert. Lizzy did. Also awoken, the child cried pitifully as Reece gathered her up into the best hug she could manage.
John stood in the door. He had a bemused smile on his face.
“Don’t you ever knock?” Reece said to admonish him.
“Rarely,” John responded. “What do you say we get you out of here?”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. I’ve been thinking about what you said. I’ve been persuaded that there is no reason for you to stay in isolation like this.” Reece glanced down at Lizzy. “Yes, that includes you, Lizzy.” Would the girl be able to interact with others of her age though, or was she just too damaged? “Lizzy can mingle with the other kids.”
“There are children here?” The notion hadn’t even occurred to Reece. It made sense though when you thought about it. Serving soldiers were more likely to follow orders and less likely to desert from their posts if the base was the safest place for those they loved.
“Of course. We even have a school set up. What do you say, Lizzy?” Lizzy stared at John with suspicious eyes. “Want to meet some more kids your age?” No answer was forthcoming.
“You will forgive us if we don’t trust you just yet,” Reece warned.
“Look, I get it. I had no idea what was going on down in that place. My job was to collect you, and I’m not going to apologise for that. Nobody told me the ins and outs of it all.” Technically that wasn’t true, he’d had some idea that the immune would be experimented on, but Major Carson had been in charge, and the major had given assurances that the immune were to be looked after. Carson had applied a need to know analyses to the information he was willing to share and had reflected that it was better for the teams sent to fetch the immune be unaware of the true extent of Schmidt’s sickness. John resisted the temptation to say he was only following orders because that really wasn’t a defence anymore.
“So you say.”
“I’m not asking you to trust me,” John advised. “I’m just letting you know we will get Lizzy out of this hole.”
“Can I stay with her?” Reece almost begged. She wanted to be useful, to do anything other than sit in a room whilst the world outside hurtled towards oblivion. The last few days had been merciless boredom interspersed with frantic panic.
“There might be a place for you to help out with the kids, keep them calm because there’s a chance we may have to move them.” The idea washed around inside Reece’s mind. A week ago, the thought of it would have likely sent her into a cold sweat, but now she kind of liked the idea of helping kids. With a broken arm and a pretty specialist skill set, her choices were fairly limited.
“Okay,” Reece found herself saying, to which she felt Lizzy give her arm a squeeze. The child was smiling. They were getting out of here.
“When we are out of here, you can teach me to be strong like you,” Lizzy said excitedly.
“Well kid, I don’t know about that.” Was there a call for teaching children how to arrest and interrogate people? Would there be a need to teach Lizzy how to shoot and load a gun?
“We will probably be ready to relocate you tomorrow,” John said. “When that happens, someone will be down to collect you.” Thank Christ, thought Reece. And hopefully that would involve access to a shower and some fresh clothes. It was surprising how important the most basic of things were when you found that you were suddenly denied them. “Be advised there might be a base evacuation pending.”
“Where would we be going?”
“There are tunnels that connect this base to several others in the area. The whole countryside has secret facilities, built years ago during the Cold War.”
“Really?” The idea amazed Reece. To think there was a whole secret world beneath the United States.
“Really.”
“Will we have long to walk? I’m not sure Lizzy is up for walking far, and I’ll struggle to carry her with this arm.”
“Don’t worry about it,” John said with a smile. “The tunnels were built for monorails. You would be transported in the lap of luxury.” Monorails? Jesus, how much money had been spent on this?
Reece was about to find out just how quickly plans such as this could fall apart.
***
“Initial tests show that the vaccine does not protect against the Los Angeles strain post exposure.” Jee was speaking, the other people in the conversation joining her by video conference call, all their faces displayed on her computer monitor. They were the other people involved in the research, most of them just as smart as Jee, some leading lights in their respective fields. “As for the weaker strain we tested, two of the test subjects died. Another two seem to be pulling through. They all went through some of the symptoms however and unfortunately one of the survivors is in a coma.” Jee hesitated for a moment. “We don
’t yet know if he will make it.” Jee felt her nose tickle, and she did the best she could to ignore it. She really didn’t need reminding that she might be under a death sentence.
“How are you doing, Doctor Lee?” The question came from a Captain Rosenbaum, an army virologist who had been stationed at Fort Detrick long before the crisis.
“I’m just processing my latest blood test,” Jee said. She was hoping to see some evidence that Lazarus was having its ass kicked by the vaccine she had taken. Everyone in the conference call knew of Jee’s infection, and she wasn’t the only person on the call in that predicament.
The news on those who had received the vaccine first was better. H4N2G7-LAXZ1-32 seemed to be the version to fear the most at present, but with all the radiation that was gathering across the landscape, there was no telling what other mutations might develop. For now, Jee had a hope that they could get some sort of control over the uninfected parts of the US population, whole areas of the country still reportedly free of the virus, although those regions were getting scarcer as the zombies spread themselves across the land. Lazarus had initially crept from person to person unseen, but now it was being steamrollered to people’s very doors by necrotic hordes.
“We will reconvene in an hour’s time if that’s agreeable with everyone,” Rosenbaum suggested. Well, he made it sound like a suggestion, but really it was his way of telling everyone how this whole escapade was to be played out. “Let me know if your condition changes please, Doctor Lee,” the Captain added. Jee liked to think that was all down to genuine concern on his part, and she did her best to ignore the images of what would happen to her if she started to grow sick. Howell’s incubation period could be measured in hours, whereas hers might be more like days. At least Howell was doing well. Whilst still not conclusive, it looked like the vaccine worked. They just hadn’t proved it was a cure for those already infected.
Rosenbaum disconnected the video chat and brought up the video player to full screen, his mind troubled by the information he was about to watch. The video had been forwarded to him along with several others, each one verified for its authenticity. Despite the extent of the zombie outbreak, there were still researchers and scientists out there doing ground-breaking stuff in the field. Most of what they were doing was focusing on gathering information about the actual undead, brave souls risking it all to try and give humanity the edge they needed.
The first video he had was from Saudi Arabia, from a US military base that was now abandoned. It was an autopsy of an unusual specimen of undead. He kept the volume low because he’d already watched it several times and it wasn’t the words spoken that interested him.
“The specimen was destroyed by a grenade blast,” the voice behind the camera said. “It had received multiple rounds from a platoon who encountered it just outside the green zone. Despite being shot multiple times, nothing seemed able to take it down.” The camera zoomed into the torso. “As we can see, the skin is a lot more keratinised than you would expect. It’s hard, almost like armour. The bullets don’t so much penetrate as get embedded. There are various levels of thickness, suggesting the keratinisation was an ongoing event, developing as the zombie aged. And look here.” The voice over paused as a gloved hand pointed at the back of what was left of the neck. “There is a definite specific increase in thickness around this point, as if it is somehow designed to protect the brainstem.”
“The one glaring weak point of the zombie,” Rosenbaum muttered to himself. Was this an aberration, or a natural development in the zombie’s life cycle? Or should that more rightly be called a death cycle?
Rosenbaum closed the video and pulled up another one. This was taken in Texas from a military base that had also been abandoned after the video was taken, only that desertion had been more to escape the hurricane that was only now starting to dissipate. The camera feed was shaky, having been taken on a smart phone. It was also jerky because the zombie, in this case, wasn’t dead. Instead it was trapped in a mess of razor wire that it was finding impossible to escape from. Every time it lurched towards the soldier holding the phone, it just seemed to tangle itself up even more.
There was a loud bang as someone fired at the zombie’s head. It was rocked back, but stayed on fighting, the skin able to absorb the force of the blows. A face came into view, the eyes haunted by lack of sleep and the horrors they had witnessed over the last few days.
“As if they weren’t hard enough to fucking kill as it was. Now the bloody things have armour,” the man’s distressed voice said.
Rosenbaum had a dozen such videos. This was a worrying development, but somehow it made sense and might even go some way as to explain why so many defensive positions had been overrun recently. The virus had always been about reproducing itself, and now it was apparently adapting its host bodies to its environment. Normally such evolution wouldn’t happen so quickly, but nature’s realities existed in a world before the dead decided to get up and walk. Whoever had created this pathogen must have had a genius level of IQ. Rosenbaum didn’t know of anyone in the scientific community who could devise such a thing.
He pulled up another video, the most disturbing of those he had watched. The zombie was huge, most likely a weight lifting fanatic in a former life. The neck was fully keratinised, the tissue there thick, probably making it difficult for the zombie to turn its head. The recording was taken from a first-floor window, the zombie clearly punching a wall with its huge hands. Normally that would have pulverised the bones in the extremities, but in this case, it seemed to be the bricks in the wall that were losing the fight.
This was ridiculous. Any edge they seemed to get, the virus acted to counter. What the hell would it do next? That was why he had insisted that the immune be protected. Private Howell had gone above and beyond his duty in protecting the two survivors from the sub fifteenth floor. Despite Schmidt’s rejection of them, Rosenbaum still felt Lizzy and Reece held the answer to the secrets of Lazarus.
26.08.19
Stocksbridge, UK
To cross the dual carriageway meant forcing their way through the growing throng of undead that were massed there. An easy enough task for an armoured vehicle and not something that they hadn’t been forced to do before. Still, it was unnerving to hear the undead smash themselves on the sides or climb on top in an attempt to somehow rip themselves a way into the tin cans that were ripe and full with delicious human meat.
Even once through the mass of the horde, the zombies chased after them. Jessica had expected Billy to be a blathering wreck listening to the undead’s attacks, but the kid seemed strangely calm. Billy had been through rough times, and she encouraged him to try and get some sleep. That suggestion just got an exaggerated shake of the head.
“They can get you if you sleep.”
“You’re safe in here, Billy,” Jessica insisted. But were they? All it would take was for one of the APCs to fall foul, to break down and get stuck whilst it was surrounded by so many ravenous monsters. If that were to happen, could anything be done other than abandoning those inside?
“No, I’ll never be safe.” The words were whispered, haunting. Jessica understood what he meant. Sleep used to be an escape; now to many, it was a torment to match anything the waking world had in store for them.
“The desert can’t hurt you, Billy.” He didn't respond to that except to shake his head vigorously. Hopefully, if they made it to Leeds, they could get Billy the help he needed. And before all that, the kid would need a shower. He stank, sweat and smoke ripening his skin, the clothes he wore stained with God only knew what.
The vehicle dropped alarmingly, those inside holding on as it manoeuvred off a side road and into a field. And still, the undead attacked, drawn by the noise and the hope of food.
Billy had a secret that he would never share. He knew from experience that it was best not to reveal his inner demons because people often reacted adversely to what he had to say. Adversely was perhaps a big word for someone his age, but he had hear
d a teacher use it once and had looked it up in an online dictionary. That was the sort of thing he did to try and explain the way he was different from those around him.
When he was seven, Billy had suddenly become fascinated with spiders. Whenever he caught one in the house, he showed none of the fear many children had for the eight-legged little terrors. If anything, he would actively seek them out, all for the perverse pleasure of seeing what happened when he removed their legs. It took several weeks for this strange behaviour to come to light, his parents questioning him about what the hell he thought he was doing.
“I just wanted to know how they worked,” had come his answer. Billy could tell that he had done something wrong by the tone in the voices of his horrified parents. He just hadn’t understood what the issue was, and had been most dismayed when his father had told him to “stop fucking around you little shit”. And to be fair, it was mainly his father who chastised him, his mother working more than perhaps was healthy for anyone in the family, including herself. Billy didn’t mind, he enjoyed his alone time, but he didn’t like being shouted at by someone three times his size.
His bruised backside taught him a lesson that day.
There were other things that led people to worry about him. Billy had grown up to be a serious child. He seemed pleasant enough, but he rarely laughed, even around others, as if he was somehow inoculated to the infectious nature of laughter. To look at him, it was as if he didn’t understand its purpose. Billy soon twigged that this sort of thing was perceived as a problem, and had recently begun mimicking others’ behaviour. Even as young as he was, he felt different from those around him, unconcerned by their lives or the feelings of others. He would often come across as aloof, the sort of child that developed into a loner. His mother had taken him to the doctor because she felt there was something wrong with him.
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