Zombie Crusade

by J. W. Vohs

  Suddenly his thoughts were shattered by a loud, prolonged wail of agony from the village. As the agonizing howl faded into the darkness, Jack ripped the poncho from his head and assumed a shooting position facing down the mountain. After five minutes of utter silence he realized that he needed to be able to see what was happening below him, so he once again decided to risk using the NVS he had smuggled in. The device was a generation 3 model and on a moonless night would never allow Jack to see all the way into the village. The strong wind was blowing clouds that periodically covered the half-moon, so he concentrated his viewing efforts on the closest hazmat site in the darkness.

  The men in their moon-suits were sitting in the Hummers to keep warm, but suddenly one of them opened his door and tossed a glo-stick down the road. The faint light illuminated a man shuffling toward the roadblock with the same lurching gate as the previous night’s attacker. The hazmat man took several steps forward, then lifted a pistol and pointed it toward the civilian. Jack’s mouth opened in shock as he saw a small burst of flame leap from the barrel of the weapon. The gun must have had an excellent silencer for no sound from the shot reached his position.

  Jack then turned the NV scope to the man who had been approaching the roadblock and saw that he was sitting on the ground staring toward the soldier who had just shot him. The wounded civilian must have been in terrible shock, because through the eerie greenish hue of the scope Jack could see that the man’s lower jaw was missing and a large exit wound was visible in the side of his neck. Then the wounded man did an amazing thing: he pulled himself to his feet and began shuffling toward the roadblock again. From the corner of his eye Jack saw a burst of flame as the pistol fired again, and he watched with revulsion as the back of the civilian’s head spewed brain and bone into the air behind him. This time the man went down and didn’t move.

  With an efficiency that indicated a great deal of practice, the rest of the hazmat team left their vehicles and helped remove the dead man’s body. Two of the soldiers carried a long cable with hooks on the split end, which they attached under the corpse’s armpits. From off to the side came a very slight whine of a motor, and Jack turned the scope to see two different soldiers operating a winch on the other side of a gully about fifty yards from the road block. As soon as the body reached the lip of the ravine the two men who had attached the hooks removed them and used long poles to roll the body down the steep slope. Within minutes the gear was stowed and the hazmat crews were back in their vehicles, leaving Jack to wonder about what he had seen take place.

  For several hours afterward nothing stirred in the valley below, then the night silence was shattered by a series of panicked screams from the village. Moments later a house began to burn and Jack discovered that he was able to see through the night vision scope as long as he didn’t look directly at the flames. The visibility wasn’t great at that distance, but he could see that people were running through the streets and alleys, ducking into doorways and climbing into windows as if they were trying to hide. Jack fought back the horror seeking a way through his disciplined mind as he thought about the fear roaring through the village and wondered what was causing it.

  At first he thought that perhaps the hazmat teams were clearing the village, but then he saw other people shuffling through the streets with the same lurching gait he had seen in the man the soldiers at the roadblock had killed earlier. He silently cursed the outdated scope as he tried to make out the details of the scene unfolding below him. He wanted to know why some of the people were panicked while others were moving about calmly, if a bit unsteady, on their feet. He had just decided that the lurchers were drunk until he saw a child run out of one of the dwellings and grab one of the strange people around the waist. Jack figured the kid had found a parent or another relative in the chaos, but what happened next shocked him to the very core of his being.

  The adult grabbed the child by the hair and lifted it up until the kid’s throat was exposed, then the lurcher bit deeply into the child and ripped away a chunk of flesh as others came shuffling to the scene. Jack thought people were coming to the rescue, but instead of helping the stricken child the other lurchers bit down into the arms and legs of the kid and began pulling the body apart.

  Jack ripped the scope from his eyes and tried to catch his breath, surprised to discover that he was hyperventilating. He willed his nerves to calm as he tried to decide what to do. Even with his sanity under assault he realized that he couldn’t break orders and leave his post; the people in charge of this fiasco would lock him up, or worse. He chambered a round into his M-4 and watched the slope below him for a few minutes, hoping to silhouette a target against the flames still consuming the village dwelling. Finally convinced that nothing was close by, he lifted the scope and scanned further out, trying to determine if anyone was leaving the village.

  Nothing seemed to be happening on his side of the valley, but on the other side he saw numerous flashes near the hazmat roadblocks. After a few minutes the firing stopped, and slowly an eerie silence settled over the area. The wind had slowed, and the moon was now blocked by thick clouds. Jack barely breathed as he continued to peer into the darkness below him, knowing the scope wouldn’t reach the village as the house fire was now just a pile of glowing embers.

  Finally a pale light began to filter through the clouds as the sun began peeking through the surrounding mountains. With the coming of dawn, Jack pulled out his binoculars and covered his head with the poncho, hoping to prevent any possible glare from the lenses being noticed by anyone across the valley. All was still in the village this morning, with nobody trying to retrieve water or anything else. He watched for over an hour but only saw one of the shuffling, lurching people move across a street. The person was a male adult, but with his back to Jack he couldn’t make out any other details. Finally he gave up watching and decided to write down everything he had seen for Carter. Even as he wrote he figured the Ranger wouldn’t believe him, but he had to try to convince his only friend on the scene that some horror beyond all comprehension was taking place in the village.

  By the time Carter showed up to relieve him, Jack had managed to push the worst of what he had witnessed far enough away from his consciousness to eat most of an MRE. Several other lurchers had moved through the village during the times he glassed the village, but again he wasn’t able to make out many details as they briefly came into view between dwellings before disappearing behind others. They seemed to be simply wandering about with no purpose, but after what he had seen the night before Jack knew they were probably hunting for other people to attack.

  When Carter arrived he must have been able to see some of the night’s horrors reflected on his friend’s face because he broke the rules and stopped to talk with him. “Are ya all right, man?” he asked with concern.

  Jack just stared at him for a long moment then whispered, “Read the letter. You won’t be able to believe what happened last night, but you have to try.”

  Carter looked furtively about before responding, “What’s goin’ on?”

  Jack shook his head and replied, “You know I’ve got to get moving. Read my letter and try to believe. I left a night scope and binoculars I managed to smuggle in here; they’re buried with my letter. Be careful, man, and remember our passwords. If there’s trouble I’ll be coming down in a hurry to back you up.”

  “Wait,” Carter called as Jack turned to leave, but the shocked intelligence sergeant just shook his head and muttered.

  “You know I have to keep moving.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Afghanistan, 2002

  Jack figured that there was no way he could sleep as he lay in his tent, trying to keep the sights from the night before away from his mind as he focused on reading the paperback he had stowed in his pack. Yet the long night and shock had worked together to dull his senses, and soon he fell into a deep but troubled slumber. Sometime after dark he jumped up with a start and looked about wildly as he tried to figure out what had awaken
ed him. He peered about the tent in a disoriented fashion until he heard the sound of gunshots on the other side of the ridge. At first it was only a few sharp cracks in the wind, but within minutes he could hear rapid fire and indecipherable shouts coming from the snipers currently on post.

  Jack quickly began throwing on his uniform and pulling his gear together. He was stuffing extra clips into his vest when he heard rapid footsteps approaching the tent, followed by the zipper being pulled up. Sergeant Peterson stuck his head in and shouted, “Get to the top of the ridge and report to the detail gathering around Colonel Barnes.”

  As Jack stared at him Peterson demanded, “Get moving sergeant, now!”

  Peterson disappeared as quickly as he had arrived, and ten seconds later Jack heard him yelling into another tent. With one last look around to make sure he had everything, Jack rushed out of the tent and headed to the top of the ridge. When he reached the crest he started down the other side toward his normal post out of habit before remembering he was supposed to join the rest of the off-duty snipers gathering around Colonel Barnes. In the moment that he hesitated, he was able to see and hear the melee taking place in the valley below.

  Fire was rising from the village again, but more than one dwelling was burning this time. From Jack’s view it appeared as if the entire village was aflame, and the firelight backlit what looked to be hundreds of people streaming away from the stricken town. He could see muzzle flashes at the hazmat roadblocks on the other side of the village, but on this side the only firing appeared to be coming from sniper positions that he could now tell were about two hundred yards apart. His first thought was that villagers were going to get through such gaps, especially in the darkness. His next realization was that Carter was firing in three round bursts as quickly as he could pull the trigger.

  Jack was momentarily frozen with indecision. Sgt. Peterson had ordered him to report to Colonel Barnes, but the night was dark and confusing. Barnes would have plenty of backup for whatever he was planning, while Carter appeared to be in trouble. He needed less than five seconds to decide what to do; Barnes was a snake and Carter had risked big trouble by befriending Jack against all orders. He quickly pulled out his tiny flashlight and taped it around the barrel of his rifle with a small square of duct tape he always kept in the cargo pocket of his BDUs. Then he chambered a round and headed for the post he shared with Carter.

  As he neared the cluster of boulders that had served as his twelve-hour personal hell for the past few days, he prepared to shout out the password he and Carter had agreed to, but before the words could leave his mouth he collided with someone climbing up the ridge towards him and they both tumbled to the ground. Jack quickly jumped to his feet, quietly asking, “Carter, are you all right?”

  He heard the other man trying to regain his footing, but the only reply to the question was a low, raspy moan. Worried that he had hurt his friend, Jack moved forward to help him to his feet. Suddenly he smelled a horrible rancid odor from the man scrambling to get up who once again let out a low moan. Now Jack jumped back a few feet as he switched on his flashlight and pointed the barrel of his weapon in the general direction of the man. With a sudden intake of breath he realized that he was looking at a person the likes of which he’d never seen before.

  Jack was three feet away from one of the people he’d witnessed lurching about like drunks down in the village, one of the men he’d seen devour a child during last night’s disturbance. His first impression was actually a question: why was this man on his feet with half of his arm missing and part of his throat hanging open? There was no life in the man’s eyes, and he didn’t flinch away from the LED light now shining directly in his face. For a moment the wounded man didn’t seem to move at all, though Jack thought he could see his nostrils twitching. Then the man cocked his head, let out a low moan, and stumbled toward Jack with surprising speed.

  Jack still hadn’t registered just what he was looking at, but somewhere in his subconscious he sensed terrible danger and his training took over. As the man reached him, Jack stepped aside in a flash and lashed out with a vicious kick to the side of his attacker’s knee. He expected a howl of pain as the now crippled man hit the ground, but the villager only moaned and tried to get to his feet again. When he realized he couldn’t stand up, the injured man reached out quickly with one hand and grabbed Jack’s boot-covered ankle, pulling it toward his mouth before Jack knew what was happening. Then the man opened wide and bit down on the edge of the boot with animal-like strength. Jack nearly bleated in terror as the wounded man shook his head like a terrier, trying desperately to find a way through the leather into the flesh beneath.

  Jack was simply in a state of shock by this point. The crippled man had wounds that should have left him dead hours ago, evidenced by the smell and appearance of his injuries. The broken leg Jack had just delivered should have left his attacker in a pain-wracked ball begging for help. Yet the fact remained that this man was continuing his assault on a combat soldier with nothing but one arm and a set of teeth. The latter weapon suddenly gained Jack’s full attention as the teeth shifted a bit and actually began pinching flesh. The biting was now extremely painful, and again Jack reacted almost instinctively by lifting his M-4 and heavily smashing the butt of the weapon down on the man’s head.

  The attacker grunted at the force of the blow, but his vice-like grip on Jack’s foot didn’t let up. Once again Jack lifted his weapon and smashed the man’s skull in the same place he had hit before. This time he heard and felt something crack with the blow, but the only reward for his effort was a snarl from the man that sounded like a dog protecting its food. Now something close to panic took control of Jack’s mind, and he smashed the butt of the M-4 into the man’s head over and over until he realized he was hitting nothing but brains.

  The man was finally dead, but his teeth were still clenched onto Jack’s boot. The shocked soldier jerked his foot from side to until the boot popped free with what appeared to be a few teeth still stuck in the leather. He slowly became aware of the fact that he was shaking and breathing too quickly. He closed his eyes for a moment and willed himself to calm down. Finally he was able to think about what had just happened. He felt a cool calm coming over him that he recognized from previous traumatic life experiences, and he took stock of his situation.

  He had just killed a man who fought ferociously in spite of what should have been crippling, even life-ending wounds. Despite a fractured skull he retained consciousness and continued his attack. Now Jack wondered just what sort of “virus” they were trying to contain in the village. What looked and smelled like a dead man had fought with vicious strength and tenacity. Had the villagers been deliberately infected with something that made them impervious to wounds?

  Suddenly his reverie was interrupted by frenzied shots from the boulders where Carter was posted. Jack wiped the gore from the stock of his M-4 on the dead man’s coat and quickly continued his descent to the sniper-post. During a brief lull in the firing, when he suspected Carter was reloading, Jack loudly called out, “Indy . . .”

  He waited a moment for a reply but the firing began again, this time ending after a three round burst. He could hear Carter mumbling profanity so he knew he was close by. He didn’t want to shine his light again for fear of becoming a target, so he nearly shouted, “Carter, Indy, Indy!”

  Suddenly Carter shouted out, “Jack, get down here man; sScrew the passwords!”

  Jack came sliding into the rocky hideout to find Carter scanning the slope below, feverishly seeking out targets. “Carter, what’s happening out there?”

  Carter didn’t turn around, “They’re all over the place man, and ya can’t kill ‘em. I shoot ‘em and they keep on comin’!”

  “I ran into one on the way down here,” Jack quickly explained. “I finally killed it by smashing in its brain. Maybe head shots will work. I think these bio-dudes infected the villagers with something that stops pain; maybe even heals the wounds so they can keep going.�
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  “You found one behind me?” Carter asked with a rising panic in his voice.

  “Yeah, but its dead. Calm down and let’s think our way through this.”

  Carter pulled himself together and asked, “Okay, what should we do first?”

  “Do a careful three-sixty with that scope; make sure nothing’s creeping up on us.”

  After a moment Carter explained, “Nothin’ close right now, but there are crowds of ‘em down around the two roadblocks I can see. I swear to God it looks like they’re pullin’ somethin’ apart and eatin’ it.”

  Jack confessed, “Yeah, I saw something like that last night down in the village.”

  Carter kept looking around with the scope as he declared, “I read what ya wrote, but I just couldn’t believe that part. I believe it now. Looks like I managed to put three of ‘em down, and I can see the one ya got behind us. Some of ‘em are startin’ to move away from the roadblocks. We got any help comin’?”

  “I don’t know. Peterson was ordering all of us off-duty guys to report to Barnes up on the ridge, but it sounded like you could use some backup so I headed down here instead.”

  “Wait,” Carter held up a hand for silence. “Hear that?”

  Jack cocked his head and suddenly heard the growing sound of chopper blades in the distance.

  Carter shouted, “That’ll be Apaches, man. Get yer head down and hug the ground.”

  Jack did as he was told and felt the ground shake for two minutes as the Apaches lit up the valley with missiles and machine gun fire. When they finally flew off, he risked a peek over the edge of the rocks and his mouth dropped open as he viewed the scope of destruction. What was left of the village was again in flames, while scores of smaller fires burned in the valley below. For a moment he thought it was all over, but then a charred, naked human corpse came stumbling toward them through the dust and smoke.