The Sixth Extinction America Omnibus [Books 1-12]

by Johnson, Glen

  Terrance and Lindell frequently checked the doors. After an hour of no banging, they even checked the loading bay area. The back door and metal shutter was still intact, but they decided to stay in the kitchen and have one extra door of protection between them and everything outside. They collected the few things that had been left behind in the retreat.

  Alex lay in his corner, as far away from everyone else as possible. They were all doing the same – a mutual distancing.

  He wasn’t looking forward to going to sleep. He kept having a recurring dream, where people were crawling towards him along a dirty desert floor. They were too weak to stand as the spores ravished their bodies, and they bled from the eyes, nose, and mouth. They called his name repeatedly, with outstretched hands, pleading for his help. While in the background, massive factories poured more black spores into the atmosphere. He had no idea what the dream meant.

  He shook the memory off.

  Maybe tonight I will have a normal dream?

  Luckily, the gas was still working, so Cody, Bonnie, and Phyllis were in the process of turning some of the pasta and Bolognese sauce into a meal for everyone. It took twice as long as it should have due to Cody wandering over to check on his wife every two minutes, and because Phyllis worked at such a relaxed pace, as she slowly stirred the sauce with her arthritic hands.

  The traumatized Abigail lay motionless with her eyes wide-open. She hadn’t uttered a word since she was grabbed. She stared at the one-armed woman who was unconscious over next to the guilty looking priest.

  Frank kept checking on the injured woman, fussing around, even though there was nothing else he could do. He used a wet cloth to wipe the sweat and dirt off her pale face.

  The large walk-in chiller was checked for food, and then sealed again, to stop the smell of the corpses inside wafting around the kitchen. It was obvious the small group had somehow been accidentally or purposefully locked inside, and they had consumed the food to survive. How long they had been inside was anyone’s guess. It looked like they survived mainly on drinking tomato juice that was stored in the chiller in large tubs.

  Frank wished he knew more about her, and those that had died. He felt the need for answers, and he couldn’t explain why.

  All that time, locked inside the chiller with those decaying bodies. Did she know them? Were they her family? Did she think she was going to die as well?

  If the young woman survived, they might get some answers.

  Naomi and Tierra had called a truce, for the time being, and were both as physically far away from the other as possible, while being in the same room.

  Juan followed the King brothers around. It made Alex uncomfortable with the teenager shuffling along holding the gun. In Alex’s opinion, the teenager seemed on edge and too unstable to be allowed to carry the weapon, he was just as likely to accidentally shoot one of them. Moreover, he didn’t like the look in the kid’s eyes. He didn’t seem right in the head.

  Once the food was ready, they lined up and had a large dollop scooped into a bowl. They all retreated to their corners to eat.

  Dante cried even while he ate. Tierra just couldn’t get him to calm down. She stated he had a temperature, and he wasn’t normally this loud. However, people knew she was lying; they used to live in the same apartment building; the child was a constant irritant, even then.

  After everyone had polished off the plates, Bonnie collected the bowls and started washing them in a large metal industrial sink.

  Naomi wandered over and commented that there was no need, just leave them; dirty dishes was the least of their worries, but Bonnie ignored her and kept herself busy. Naomi gave her a dirty look, and dropped her cigarette butt into the water as she strode away, grabbed her backpack, and went and locked herself in the toilet for half an hour.

  From the small high windows, they could tell it was pitch dark outside. Every now and then, there would be a dull concussive boom. In the distance, sirens wailed, and alarms blared.

  Troy was leaning over some maps, working out the best route to take to make it to his uncle’s farm. A farm he said would be more than big enough for them all. They farmed cattle, sheep, and pigs, as well as growing organic food in polythene tunnels, and even had a natural spring on the land. It would be perfect; he kept muttering to himself.

  There was no mention of how his family would react if he turned up with a truck full of strangers.

  They set up shifts to keep watch during the night. Terrance took the first shift as they settled down for some much-needed rest.

  Alex was glad Tierra had finally got Dante to sleep. Now all he could hear was Troy muttering to Lindell, “The only problem is, the farm is in Pennsylvania, over two hundred miles away.”

  24

  Doctor Bachman

  Greenstone Quarry

  Raven Rock Mountain, Pennsylvania

  Bachman didn’t know how far they had flown, or for how long, but they all knew when the nuclear device went off. The change in pressure inside the plane, when the shockwave rolled over them, made everyone gasp. They must have been hundreds of miles away, and they still felt the effect of mankind’s most destructive weapon.

  It’s hard to comprehend that a place he called home for most of his adult life was gone – atomized. It was now a radioactive hole in the Nevada desert.

  I wonder if they evacuated Las Vegas before the detonation? Was there even anyone left there to save?

  He knew being locked away underground had distanced him from what was truly happening in the world.

  He also knew that at around the same time, the other six pods were destroyed in the same manner. All those nuclear devices pouring radiation into the atmosphere. It was an environmentalist’s worst nightmare. But that was nothing compare to what they were doing to Madagascar.

  As he made his last trip to the surface, carrying his life’s work in a cardboard box, he shared the lift with General Gordon. The General stated the location of the seventh pod was unknown, even though they had a rough geographic location from the helicopter pilot who had ferried the nine sick loggers out of the jungle, before he succumbed to the infection and became unconscious. However, the loggers had apparently been driven to the landing pad from another location.

  The American president had given up waiting for the ground teams, and satellite reconnaissance of the area, and had approved complete blanket coverage of thermal nuclear warheads over the two hundred and twenty-two thousand square mile island of Madagascar. All eighteen American Ohio-classed ballistic missile submarines were diverted with their seventeen hundred warheads. It was estimated that it would take two days of nonstop firing to complete the mission. The projected twenty-two million casualties (if that many were still alive on the large island) would be chalked up as casualties of war.

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” the General stated. Of course, this is normally uttered by someone who is thousands of miles away from the location in question.

  Alex was sure the General would have a much different view if he lived on the island.

  The sky was still dark; it was hours before dawn, as Doctor Bachman and the other scientist walked down the back ramp from the C-17s.

  There was Gettysburg Regional Airport only thirteen miles away, or the larger York Airport at thirty-three, even a small private air strip only seven, but all of them were just too far away, and too difficult to protect, what with the area crawling with Eaters. It was a logistical nightmare.

  So instead, the army from the nearby military encampment, Fort Ritchie had modified a local quarry that was only two miles north. They widened a connecting mile-long road into a landing strip capable of receiving cargo planes.

  Greenstone quarry was where Doctor Bachman now found himself as he walked towards a line of idling army trucks.

  The area was swarming with army personnel. It was obvious that a large quantity of planes was landing hourly, and the quarry was converted into a makeshift depot, with trucks constantly ferrying t
he crates to the bunker.

  The plane had taxied into the large quarry, and was now being unloaded.

  Bachman looked up the steep sides of the white cliffs, which rose over a hundred and fifty feet at a sharp angle. Around the top was halogen spotlights, with army personnel behind Browning M2 .50 caliber machine guns, which were stationed at intervals around the semi rim.

  Helicopters were hovering, with long cables being attached to large crates by personnel on the ground. Then they would disappear hoisting the crate with them.

  “This way please,” a woman in uniform shouted, while herding the scientist into waiting trucks that would take them the two miles to the bunker.

  She seemed to notice Bachman, after she checked a group of photos on a clipboard.

  “Doctor Bachman?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have a vehicle waiting for you, sir,” she announced while placing a firm hand on his arm.

  “I don’t understand,” he stated as the other scientist jostled him to one side as they climbed aboard the trucks. “If they’re going to the bunker, then where are you taking me?”

  25

  Alex, and the King brother’s

  On top a shipping container, on a truck

  Interstate 80 Express

  New York City, Metropolitan Area

  There was no such thing as sleep-ins anymore. The instant you first awoke you got up, there was no more lazing around, relaxing – eating breakfast in bed, or reading the newspaper.

  Alex had no idea what the time was. His watch had stopped during the night, and he felt stupid asking someone the time, as if time mattered anymore.

  They all walked around in a daze, collecting their meager belongings.

  Alex was amazed that everything he now owned fitted into such a small pack.

  Frank had discovered the unconscious woman had passed away in her sleep, due to blood loss. He said a short prayer then placed her in the chiller and covered her with a white sheet like the others. He sealed the walk-in chiller door, which was now their mausoleum. He used a marker pen to draw a large cross on the metal door, and wrote under it, For the hour is coming, in which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice. John 5:28.

  Naomi scoffed at his actions. She mumbled something under her breath, but the priest ignored her as he made one more sign of the cross before following the others with his head hanging low.

  He could have done with a swig of Jack, but his last bottle had smashed the day before. It would be the first day since the outbreak started that he didn’t have ‘help’ getting through it.

  Even the Lord enjoyed his wine, he always told himself in his moments of weakness.

  They were all hungry, but preparing another meal was classed as time wasting. They were used to being hungry.

  Lindell and Terrance unbarricaded the loading bay door. There were no more disturbances during the night. However, they were still cautious. The infected didn’t sleep; they hunted relentlessly until their stomachs ruptured.

  Lindell exited first, checking the early-morning gloom for Poppers, in case one had collapsed and waited in ambush.

  Dante started whimpering.

  Once the area was cleared, they rushed in single file into the back of the container, with Troy jumping in the cab.

  Alex had stated he wished to ride on the top today, helping to keep a lookout. The King brothers were more than happy to have another set of eyes.

  Alex couldn’t convince Juan to hand over his hand gun, so he made do with his baseball bat. He had already proven the bat was more than proficient at ending a life. No matter how much he washed his bat last night, he couldn’t get the blood off it – it was now embedded in the very grain, darkening the wood.

  Alex handed over the key to the lock to the Priest, so they could lock the door from the inside. After they were all secure, and the King brothers and Alex were on the roof, Troy started the truck.

  The loud roar was deafening in the morning silence. If anything was in the area, now would be the time it would hear the engine and attack.

  Alex knelt at the back, watching the loading bay doors grow smaller as Troy pulled the truck out of the dock and headed out onto the main road.

  Just as the truck started changing gears and picking up speed, a group of four Eaters came hurtling around a corner, obviously drawn by the loud engine. Two collided in their rush to get to the truck first. They scrambled on all fours as they took the corner too fast. Like wild animals, they scurried back onto their feet and continued running.

  One was young, possibly only ten or so, but she kept up with the adults, and had the same hunger etched into her deformed face and wide maw of a mouth.

  Lindell walked to the back and stood beside Alex. His weapon was held pointing at the container.

  Lindell noticed Alex’s expression.

  “We don’t shoot unless they physically reach the truck. We don’t want to waste bullets.”

  It seemed reasonable. Why waste bullets just because they are charging at you. It doesn’t mean they will reach you. They were stronger and faster than humanly possible, but they still had limitations.

  The truck jolted as Troy changed gears, while picking up speed. The four creatures were left behind in a cloud of fumes.

  26

  Doctor Bachman

  Communication Center

  Quirauk Mountain, Pennsylvania

  Bachman found himself in the back of a Humvee, being chauffeured through a town of some kind – he didn’t catch a signpost as they drove through.

  There were only two others in the vehicle, the driver and another soldier up front, who held a machine gun across his chest. Both were silent, even after Bachman asked where he was being taken.

  The view out of the window was dismal. No civilians were in sight, only military personnel – obviously keeping the roads clear from the landing field to the base. Checkpoints were every couple of hundred meters. There was tall metal razor topped fencing everywhere. Everyone seemed on high alert.

  Helicopter’s continually flew overhead.

  So far, they have driven past four large bonfires. He saw people in Hazmat suits tossing bodies onto the infernos. Whether they were infected or not, he couldn’t tell.

  The houses looked abandoned. There were belongings scattered along the streets. He wondered if they had moved all the civilians into the mountain base, or were they left to fend for themselves?

  Every now and then, Bachman could hear the burp-bup-bup sound of muted gunfire, as if it was coming from way off in the distance.

  The Humvee slowed for another checkpoint. This one looked bigger, more protected. There were two tanks, one to either side of the entrance, along with jeeps fitted with large .50 caliber machine guns. The vehicle was waved through. Soldiers mulled around in small groups, smoking and staring as the jeep flew past.

  There was a large sign announcing Fort Ritchie. As they drove through Bachman saw rows of identical barracks to one side, and lines of tanks and helicopters in a large field to the other. However, the transport kept on going. They passed the military base, and the scenery turned to open fields and woodland. The Humvee was now climbing a slight hill, which then turned into a steep mountain. The vehicle winded its way to the top, which was covered in a thick pine forest.

  Bachman could see a large red and white pylon coming into view, looming over the tree line. As they turned another corner, a collection of large grass mounds surrounded them. He noticed three pylons of varying heights sticking out of the grass hills. Everything was surrounded by tall, thick chain-link fencing. There were four rows, each set about two meters apart, and all covered in razor wire. A metal gate rolled open.

  The Humvee pulled up outside a large concrete arch that was set in a grass mound. There was a vault-like door. A woman decked in military attire was waiting as the truck pulled up. By punching in a series of numbers, the door made a whirring sound as the powerful mechanism inside readjusted.

  “Doctor Bachma
n, please follow me.” She looked in her mid thirties, and was slim with tied up mouse-colored hair.

  “What is happening? Why have I been brought here?” He stood with his arms crossed. He was used to dealing with the military, sometimes you had to throw a tantrum to get answers.

  “All will be explained inside, I can assure you.” She gave a strained smile. The woman stood next to the thick door that led into the largest mound that the tallest pylon perched on.

  The transport drove away.

  Bachman realized she looked as stressed and tired as he felt. However, he hated the fact that they felt like they could push you around without any consequences. He also realized he left his box full of files in the back of the Humvee.

  “It’s been a bad couple of days, and the last th–”

  She cut him off. “You weren’t in command at Groom Lake, but after General Gordon talked with Doctor Callaway, he realized who really ran the facility. Your expertise is needed to analyze video footage from the British Ark.”

  “Footage?”

  “It was destroyed yesterday by a controlled explosion.”

  “I don’t understand. The British facility is destroyed?” His thoughts jumped to Doctor Lazaro. He wasn’t sure why, the last he heard she was at Exeter university.

  “Whether the underground bunker was affected, we have no idea. As of yet we can’t reach them on any frequency.”

  “Then why do you need my help?” He felt dizzy. He only knew Doctor Lazaro through phone conversations and emails, but he was still shocked at the prospect that she could be dead. He felt stupid. The base was miles away from where she was located. However, he had a gut feeling she was involved somehow. As well as the fact that she was the foremost expert on the new theory. It was her work that had provided them with their breakthrough, and as of yet; apart from an email, he hasn’t spoken to her in person since she sent the information.