Episode 4
(American Resistance)
The super feeder was immobile and helpless. It was lying face down in the snow with what was left of its forearms and calves bound together with thick leather straps. Its jaw and larynx had been cut out so that it wouldn’t alert anyone to their presence. It was still animated, however, and thrashed with an undead fervor towards the smell of its captors.
“Did you really have to chop off its hands and feet Brody?” Kalen said, dragging the zombie-like creature through the snow on its belly, like a sled. “I mean, I understand you don’t like these fucking things, nobody here does, but that’s just nasty.”
“You do remember what these bastards did to me?” Brody said, holding up his right arm. His amputated right arm had been fitted with a hybrid prosthetic which connected at the elbow. He had helped design it so it wouldn’t hinder him on these missions. He had forged his right arm from the elbow down into a weapon. It was made from a lightweight aluminum connecting to the elbow socket with a thermoplastic. He made a strong wooden casing and attached his bayonet blade to it from the inside.
“Yea… I guess you do have a point,” Pualani said, tapping Brody’s arm knife with her katana.
“Alright, alright. We need to keep moving and get this thing to the science department at the bunker, we’re almost there,” Mason said, grabbing one of the ropes tied to its neck, helping Kalen to pull it through the snow. “Pualani, take Luanne up front with you and make sure the entrance to the bunker is clear. Brody, stay behind us and watch our six.”
Luanne and Pualani glided through the snow, getting well ahead of the others, when they stopped at the tree line and watched the hidden entrance for any signs of ambush from either feeders or the League of Islam soldiers. The entrance to the bunker was through a trap door inside an old hunting cabin that was built into the Appalachian Mountains. The cabin itself was run-down and abandoned, but inside was the entrance to one of the last holdouts of the American resistance.
The smell of rotting flesh wafted through the air and the hair on Pualani’s neck immediately stood up. “Look, …Over there Luanne,” she said, pointing to a deer carcass with four feeders feasting on what remained of the small deer.
“Yuck… This is why I could never watch Bambi when I was growing up,” Luanne said as she took the compound bow off of her back and nocked an arrow. She drew the bow and aimed for the largest feeder. The arrow whistled through the air, finding its home in the eye socket of the largest and closest feeder, dropping it instantly on top of the small deer. The other feeders didn’t seem to notice as they continued to devour the remainder of the deer.
“Nice shot. You’re really starting to get the hang of this,” Pualani said.
“Well. We’ve been up here in the mountains for nearly two years now, and I’ve got nothing else to do but practice. Do you want to try?” Luanne asked, offering the bow to Pualani.
“Nah… Fuck that, I’d rather shoot them,” Pualani said, drawing her 9mm Beretta from her thigh holster.
“C’mon, you know the rules. We have to control noise. You can’t just start firing unless you’re in immediate danger,” Luanne said, drawing another arrow.
“Oh, wait. You haven’t seen this yet, huh?” Pualani said, pulling out a silencer from her bag. “Brody helped me make it the other day; it’s made out of extra pipe we found and steel wool.”
Branches were breaking behind them as Mason and Kalen dragged their prize through the mountainous terrain. One of the feeders brought its nose to the air and started to use what was left of its sense of smell to find the direction of this new enchanting human aroma.
“Great job guys, you gave away our fucking position,” Pualani said, smiling, as she screwed the silencer onto her Beretta.
Mason assessed the situation quickly and smiled at her. “After fighting those super feeders down south, this is too easy. Go ahead, show me your skills,” he said, returning her smile. “Cover her with that bow Luanne, but let her have the kills, unless she gets in trouble,” Mason said, putting the heel of his boot into the super feeder’s skull, to make sure it remained silent. He signaled for Brody to come up and watch the entertainment, while he pulled out a bag of trail mix and passed it around.
Pualani crept up to the trio of feeders. The decomposing deer was a wretched sight, she thought. She had a momentary bout of nausea from the putrid stench, and she was fighting hard to keep the vomit from rising any further in the back of her throat. The snow had gotten deeper over here by the feeders, she noted, and she felt the cold icy slush against her shin. She had planned to make a theatrical performance of slaying these creatures, but now she was growing impatient.
“What a little show-off, look at her,” Kalen said, laughing, as they watched her walk out into the open and start whistling in front of the feeders.
“I don’t like it; she’s getting reckless,” Luanne said as she sailed an arrow that landed into the open mouth of the first feeder that turned to amble towards its new prey.
Pualani slipped her Beretta into her waistband and gripped her slender, curved single-edged blade with two hands on the long grip. She stood with her blade in a high guard as the first of the two remaining feeders rambled towards her. As soon as it was in range, Pualani made a single thrust, impaling the zombie-like creature from the Adam’s apple to the base of the skull, severing the spinal column.
It collapsed backwards into the legs of the second feeder, knocking it on all fours in front of her. In a strong, slashing motion that signified her new position in the world, she beheaded the repulsive monster.
****
The group joined Pualani in dragging the corpses a good distance away from the entrance before they entered the grungy old hunting cabin. The floors creaked from the strain of age as they entered one by one. There were gaping holes in the roof that had allowed the snow to accumulate inside. There was a torn up, blood stained mattress in the corner that was left there for effect. The kitchen had a few cast iron pots and pans lying on the gas powered stove. Mason walked to the vintage fireplace in the center of the cabin.
“Just like we left it, home sweet home,” Kalen said, outstretching his arms and looking through the hole in the roof at the snowcapped mountains.
“This is too fucking cold for me; I’m ready to go home to Florida where it’s warm,” Brody said, staring through the hole in the roof with Kalen.
“There is nothing left for us there now. It’s full of those super feeders and League of Islam soldier bastards. Can you believe they call Florida the New Jerusalem, now?” Luanne said.
“Yup. They even took over Disney World and made it into a concentration camp,” Pualani said.
“It’s a cleansing camp, they call it. If you get captured, it’s your last stop before you die. Kind of ironic, actually. I never liked Disney World and it did remind me of hell even before the infection,” Mason said, smiling. “Kalen, make sure our prisoner is secure, I’ll get us an elevator.”
“Sure, I’ll get right on that. It’s a tough job, seeing as it doesn’t have any hands or feet anymore and it’s hogtied. I know—you need a tattoo, don’t you, little buddy?” Kalen said, pulling out his twenty-four inch replica Bowie knife.
“No—don’t, Kalen. That fucking thing smells bad enough already,” Pualani said, pushing past him to join Mason at the fireplace.
Mason yanked off the fake fireplace bottom and opened the hatch. He gestured for everyone but Kalen to follow him down the thirty foot ladder into the entrance of the bunker. “Kalen, keep an eye on the feeder and cover the entrance back up after we go down. I’ll send someone up from the north portal to come get you after we get inside.”
The group made the long, cold climb down the rickety ladder
and headed for the entrance. Mason marveled at the twenty-five ton blast door which served as the main entrance for one of the last few remaining encampments of the resistance. Two heavily armed soldiers guarding the door recognized the group and walked over.
Mason loosely saluted the guards and said, “Strike force foxtrot returning. We have a prisoner upstairs with one of my men.”
“Roger that.” The heavily armed guard, dressed in anti-bite gear, extended his hand to Mason. “It’s good to see you again. Master Chief has been waiting for you. How long has it been, two months?”
“I don’t even know anymore. It’s tough to keep track of anything out there, except staying alive,” Mason said, accepting the guard’s hand and nodding his head to the other one.
“Ok, you know the drill. First stop, Decon station—to check for bites and infection—then the armory. After that, get some food at the mess hall and then we’ll de-brief. I’ll radio in your arrival now. It’s really good to see you. We lost Strike Force Bravo the other day—All of them.”
****
The group took their time following the return protocol of every team re-entering the bunker. Mason was the first to enter the command center of the bunker, where they would all be debriefed. Not much has changed in here, Mason thought. There was a large wooden table with a projector screen and less-than-comfortable chairs waiting for them. Master Chief Ken Gaye was standing at the head of the table with a big smile on his face.
“Good to see you back safe, Mason. Any casualties?”
“None from my team. I heard about Bravo though, is that true?”
“Unfortunately, yes. “
“Damn it. That was Bill Tirado and his group of elite ex-marines, all dead?”
“Worse, I’m afraid—watch this.” Master Chief started to fumble with his laptop projector and brought up the YouTube video.
There was a large picture of the face of Abu Hadi with a hellish fire burning behind it. It played like a shabby propaganda film from the forties, Mason thought. Abu Hadi started to speak in Arabic, but he was translated into English by subtitles on the bottom of the screen:
“The terrorists defy us again, with their godless acts of murder and destruction. The great prophet Mohammed has declared this land for Allah and its disciples. After the cleansing of the infidels, it is our duty to colonize this land and rebuild it to be in service for the prophet. Again, we have captured godless terrorists in our midst.”
The camera panned shakily to reveal five men tied to large, vertical posts sticking out of the ground. Mason immediately recognized the five men as Bill Tirado and his team—Strike Force Bravo. They were naked and bloody, it only seemed as though a couple of them were even conscious.
Abu Hadi’s face appeared back on the video. “There is only one punishment for the godless murderers and sinners who enter the New Jerusalem.” The video panned back to the stakes in an arena type setting as three men wearing red berets and green camouflage entered. Their uniforms signified them as the League of Islam’s revolutionary guard, or the Pasdarans.
They brought out at least a dozen of the new militant super feeders. They didn’t need to restrain them; they looked as though they were following orders. They stood in two organized ranks and waited. Their heads whipped from side to side, spewing blood and squealing like trained, hungry animals waiting for permission to eat. Their eyes were a lifeless empty black and their bodies shook with a hideously violent twitch.
One of the Pasdarans walked forward and raised his hand, pointing toward the captives. In a sweeping motion, he shouted,“Allahu Akbar,” and the super feeders exploded onto the helpless captives. They savagely attacked the members of Strike Force Bravo, biting and clawing through their skin. They ripped off large pieces of flesh and limbs, while howling like demons as they feasted on the bound men. It was a horrific sight as they dismembered and devoured the men as if they were chicken wings.
The propaganda video returned to Abu Hadi’s face and he gravely stared into the camera for a long minute. “You have been warned,” were his final words as the video turned to black.
The rest of the group had filtered in as they played the video again and again. They sat in horror watching the brutal death of their comrades. These were strong, able men who they had trained with and learned from during their near two years stay in the bunker.
“I can’t believe this. I’m not going out like that.” Mason stood up to address his team, “We can never be taken alive. The stakes have been raised, and these men will be avenged… I swear it.”
“This Abu Hadi mother fucker has a lot of nerve calling us terrorists,” Brody said, pushing back from his chair and stabbing his bayonet hand into the table.
“Any word on the status of my father’s team, Strike Force Echo?” Kalen asked.
“Cap’n Tony’s team went in to rescue Strike Force Bravo. We’ve had no communication with them for over a month now. I’m sorry, Kalen,” Master Chief answered.
“Master Chief, what is the state of the resistance? Can we put up a fight or are we still going to fight them from the mountains and the coasts like a guerilla army?” Mason asked.
“I’m not going to bullshit you. We are losing this war. All of our attempts to attack them in a frontal assault have been routed. They’ve taken the entire state of Florida as a colony and renamed it the New Jerusalem. They’ve built a wall across the northern end of the state that reaches from Jacksonville Beach to the Apalachee Bay. The fallout from the initial nuclear assault has made everything north of there a barren wasteland.
“The real threat is these new Pasdarans or infidel hunters. They travel in packs with those super feeders hunting and capturing survivors. We need to take a more strategic and scientific approach to fighting this war. How are they able to mutate these feeders into an army? How can they control these monsters and use them like viral weapons against us?” Master Chief said, with pleading, desperate eyes.
“Well, we brought that one super feeder back to the science department, hopefully we can get some answers there,” Mason said.
“I hope you’re right. I’m on my way over there now. We will finish this debrief in the morning, get some rest everyone.”
“I’ll join you,” Mason said, following the Master Chief down the long, tunneled halls of the bunker.
The science department inside the bunker was a state of the art facility. Professor Colon (or Jimi as he was known) was a cancer biologist when the Annihilation epidemic began. He headed up a team of four other researchers whose mission was to identify weaknesses of the feeders and find a cure… If one existed.
Mason and Ken pulled the reinforced glass doors of the lab open and found Jimi hard at work examining the newest addition to the research facility.
“Well, do you have anything for us?” Ken asked, as Jimi turned to greet them.
“Yes, actually, I think I may have a breakthrough,” Jimi said, in his thick Puerto Rican accent. “I want you to look at its arms and neck. Do you see these tracks? These are from injections. It seems that they have been injected with a type of serum or steroid to make them so much stronger than the other infected.”
The mutilated and restrained super feeder was thrashing violently as Jimi pointed out the multiple tracks from a safe distance. They watched as Jimi experimented on it with electricity, fire and water to see if there was any reaction.
“This feeder is stronger and more resistant to nearly every type of attack, including brain trauma. Mason, may I use your side arm?”
Mason gave Ken a confused look as he handed him his 9mm Beretta and watched Jimi fire two rounds into the creature’s temple. The super feeder howled and cackled with a devilish strength and continued to thrash violently in his restraints.
“Oh… You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, shooting them in the head doesn’t kill them anymore?” Mason asked.
“I’m afraid not. I’m hoping this method will though. You may want to stand back, this could get messy,” Jimi sa
id, picking up a hatchet off of his medical supplies table. With a precise swing, Jimi decapitated the super feeder cleanly. Its head landed on the floor and whatever re-animated life it had in its eyes passed.
“Now this is interesting, “ Jimi said, pointing to the metal device that was attached to the base of its skull.
“What the fuck is that?” Mason said, staring at the device in disbelief.
Jimi cleaned the blood and gore off the instrument and started to examine it. “It’s some kind of a receiver; it looks like a satellite receiver.”
“So they are inserting these into the feeders’ skulls and sending them a signal via satellite to control them. Wow, it makes perfect sense… Son of a bitch, look at this!” Mason said as he read the etching on the bottom of the device. It read—Made in China.
“Professor Colon, please continue to examine the cadaver and report any new findings to me immediately. I need to inform central command. Great work, both of you.”
****
Mason joined his team in their temporary barracks. The overall mood was sour as Pualani was petting her complacent puppy Cujo on her lap. Luanne and Brody were sitting together on her bunk, trying to console Kalen. Mason sat down next to Pualani and told the group of the new developments in the science department.
“I think we’ll only be able to rest here for a little while, so enjoy it while you can,” Mason said.
“What about my father? We need to find him. What if he ends up like Bill and his team? I can’t let that happen,” Kalen said, seriously.
“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but Cap’n Tony is probably already dead,” Brody said, taking off his prosthetic sword arm and laying it on the bunk.
“Don’t say that, Brody, we don’t know what happened. He could still be out there hiding or captured, there is a good chance he’s alive and we have to find him.” Luanne said, sharply, as she started to massage the nub of his severed arm.
“She’s right—nobody gets left behind. We’ll find him, no matter what,” Mason said, trying to comfort Kalen.
Rise of Chaos 4 Page 1
