Zombie Battle (Book 4): War

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Go on,” Steve said with a nod.

  “If I have enough food for six months, water too. Air, whatever. How can this be a tomb? Because how long will the zombie apocalypse really take? You’re doctor, biologically, how long?”

  Steve cleared his throat. “That’s something I will think about for you.”

  That was a few hours earlier; now Lil stood by the window catching a great view of the moon. She reflected on that conversation, and even thought about the question Garrick asked of his brother.

  Lil thought of a lot of things by that window. The little boy named Juan. Did he feel anything, did he know? He didn’t move or attack like the other things, he was different. That alone made her feel even more guilt over his ‘second’ death.

  And mostly, Lil thought of Jack. Jack and Irma’s husband, Saul. How they were all strangers and yet, thrown together accidently. Lil and Irma. Jack and Saul. Almost as if it were meant to be.

  She thought of them, prayed for them and wished with all her heart, they would soon get to the fortress.

  Chapter Six

  Pittsburgh, PA

  A pool of blood had formed on the floor of George’s car right under the accelerator pedal. He had lost so much blood, he was weak.

  George had to pull over even though he was seven blocks from home and after numerous calls for help. His hands shook, his leg ached and his head felt as if it were going to explode. Not to mention, he swore he had a fever.

  He pulled over and parked in a vacant lot. Something was wrong and it wasn’t just with his leg. He felt badly all over.

  George was wishing he hadn’t spent the afternoon watching on demand movies or perhaps he’d be up on the news. He knew there was some sort of virus that had been brought back from Peru. But those infected had been contained in Washington DC and Atlanta. They really weren’t close to Pittsburgh at all.

  How could sick people make it all the way from Washington DC? George couldn’t even make it seven blocks.

  He was scared, more so about the fact that he probably killed his father. But his father was mad and was eating the cat. Eating the cat, fur and all, told George his father wasn’t in his right mind Then again, George didn’t process much correctly. He was a simple man. He wasn’t born that way, but a stunt at sixteen when he convinced his friends he could jump from a moving car, without getting hurt, left him with a fractured skull and brain damage. George never fully recovered from that.

  While he regained the ability to read, write and talk, his mentality comprehension wasn’t higher than that of a child of twelve.

  He saw things differently than most adults his age, at times it was endearing, but in the current crisis situation, it was dangerous.

  He looked down to his leg, and the huge mouth size hole in his calf. It didn’t look good. But George could go no further. He was unable to put pressure on it to touch the gas pedal. He was feeling dizzy and his eyesight blurred.

  George needed rest. He tried once more to call for help but to no avail. Hoping someone would eventually find him, George rested his head back and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  Vermont

  The wind from the chopper blades caused Saul’s head to throb even more; but one thing was positive, in the two minutes since he injected his wound with the serum, the darkened veins extending up from his hand began to lighten. A good sign.

  Briefcase in hand, he was helped into the chopper by a soldier and they closed the side door. Saul sat down, belted in, and was handed a headset.

  “Thank you,” Saul told the young soldier, then glanced out the window.

  “Holy Christ, look at them all,” the pilot said. “This is as bad as Atlanta.”

  In response the other man in the front seat of the chopper said, “Seems to follow the CDC. Washington would have been this bad in a day or two.”

  “If Washington was still around.” The pilot said.

  Saul heard this through his headset. “What happened to Washington?”

  The pilot replied. “Some sub captain freaked out and released a bay of trident missiles. Three hit Washington and surrounding areas. Toast.”

  Saul partially closed his eyes. “Oh my God.” He used his fingers to dab the sweat from his brow. “Where are we headed?” Saul asked.

  “Cleveland,” the other man replied. “We have a station there. Cleveland is infection free. For now. I suppose …” he turned to look over his shoulder.

  Saul sighed in relief. “Dr. Powers. My God, it’s good to see you.”

  Gene Powers was in Atlanta with Saul. He had evacuated with the others when Saul stayed behind with his daughter Sara and Jack. He was instrumental in breaking down the virus. His work enabled Saul to go further. If anyone was around to work on it with Saul, Powers was the man.

  Powers crinkled his brow giving a curious look to Saul. He shifted his eyes to the briefcase. “Word has it you have an antidote.”

  Saul nodded and patted the briefcase. “I do. It is very quick in response, using Carlson’s antibodies and a synthetic along with a virus. It worked on a subject. She was about three hours post bite, too. But unfortunately she was killed. It’s being tested again.” Saul looked down to his hand.

  “You don’t look well. Are you okay?” Powers asked.

  “I hope to be. I don’t know. I’m the one testing the serum. I’ve been bit.” He looked at the soldier. “So, keep that gun on me just in case.”

  Chapter Eight

  May 13th

  North Carolina

  Jack had pulled the armored vehicle off to side of the highway into the tall grass. He locked down tight for the night so he and Private Allan could rest.

  He was waiting on directives from Lance and had a few hours to spare. Shut eye was in order. He did try to call Garrick’s satellite phone, but when there wasn’t an immediate answer, he hung up. After all it was four in the morning and they were all probably sleeping.

  Jack didn’t worry. Lil was with Garrick, the safest place she could be.

  Private Allan had passed out first, after rambling emotionally about his family. Then finally, Jack rested his head back and fell asleep.

  He wasn’t sleeping long, a couple hours.

  Jack looked at his watch as soon as he woke, then look across from him.

  Allan was gone.

  Thinking, “maybe he went to take a leak’, Jack checked the ‘scope of the vehicle to make sure there weren’t any undead around and he opened the hatch.

  He didn’t see Allan anywhere. As suspected, he probably took off. Even though Jack was pissed off, he didn’t blame the kid for leaving. He wasn’t angry about him going AWOL, he was more upset that he left the hatch unlocked while Jack slept.

  But there was something else that surprised Jack that morning. Something he didn’t expect to see.

  As if a normal day, a steady flow of traffic traveled the highway in both directions.

  Where were people going? Didn’t the new decree inform them to stay put, stay tight and stay safe?

  Apparently not.

  There wasn’t an abundance of cars, but they moved faster than normal.

  It was time to get in contact with General Lance. But first Saul.

  Jack tried three times to get through to him. No luck. Finally, Jack placed the radio call to Lance.

  “They got him,” Lance told Jack. “But, right now, for a day, he’s in quarantine.”

  “What happened?”

  “He … he was bit.”

  Jack’s heart sunk. Not Saul.

  “However,” Lance continued. “He had given himself a dose of the antiserum and so far, it’s working nicely. He is continuing to work on creating more of the serum.”

  “That’s good. That’s really good,” Jack tried to catch his breath.

  “Sergeant, Dr. Klein is the front line defense. If he perfects this serum it will stop anyone who hadn’t received a life threatening bite from getting an infection. That is a long term answer. However, we ne
ed you to do something to help us with the short term answer.”

  Jack listened to the General.

  “There’s an armory and reserve base twenty two miles north of where you are positioned. Do you copy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ll head there immediately for supplies and a means to transportation.”

  “And a squad?” Jack asked.

  “I’m sorry; I have no one to send with you.”

  Jack released the button on the radio and spoke out loud, “I’m going alone? What the hell?” he breathed out and depressed the button. “Roger that.”

  “It’s a search, rescue and retrieve,” the general said. “And I cannot stress how important it is that you retrieve.”

  <><><><>

  It was the first good night of sleep Irma had for days. No waking up and looking around, no anxiousness. In fact, she slept a solid five hours and she needed it.

  Perhaps the wine helped, that combined with the fact that she just felt safe. There were no nightmares. Then again, maybe living in a nightmare world, dreams would become a means of escape.

  She did however wake up with an abundance of sadness and heartache for her daughter. Especially when it registered that Sara was dead.

  Irma closed her eyes tight, trying to squeeze away the pain and then she panicked.

  Little Jerry.

  She had fallen asleep on the sofa with the child cuddled close in her arms and he wasn’t there. She sprang to a sitting position, swung her legs to the floor but before she panicked any further, she heard the sound of Jerry’s laughter.

  A small counter wall separated the kitchen area from the living portion and once Irma lost her grogginess she saw Jerry with Garrick in the kitchen.

  “Man, you’re a good boy,” Garrick spoke in that ‘adult to kid’ enthusiastic tone. “Is that yummy?”

  “Mmm.”

  Irma smiled with delight over the innocent smile as she stepped into the kitchen. “Morning.”

  “I have some coffee done,” Garrick said. “Help yourself.”

  “Wonderful thank you.” Irma took a few steps to the pot and halted. “Are you feeding him bacon?”

  “Yeah,” Garrick replied.

  “Oh my God.”

  “No, no worries.” Garrick waved out his hand. “He’s eating it and I’m doing that chew-chew-chew thing to him.”

  “It’s bacon, Garrick.”

  “Yeah, but he’s chewing. He’s loving it.”

  “He’s also Jewish and that’s pork. He doesn’t eat pork.”

  “He’s eating it now,” Garrick defended.

  “Because you gave it to him.”

  “I thought only the orthodox Jews stayed away from pork”

  “Some Jewish people eat pork, we stay away.”

  “But it’s bacon, it doesn’t count.”

  “It counts.” Irma argued.

  “Nah, I eat bacon and I’m Jewish.”

  “No you aren’t.”

  “No. I’m not.”

  Irma shook her head and reached for the plate. When she took it away, Jerry pouted, his little eyes welled with tears and a cry began to mount.

  “See.” Garrick pointed. “He loved it. And he didn’t eat much yesterday at all. I can’t believe you’re placing religion over nutrition.”

  “Garrick.” Irma scolded, as her hand moved so did the plate and so did Little Jerry reaching for it. “There has to be some semblance of culture even now. At the worst of time.”

  “True and I totally respect what Moses said. But …” Garrick held up a finger. “You really think God wants you not to eat? “

  “There’s plenty to eat besides bacon.”

  At that point Jerry’s cry turned into a scream, his hands reached out while he screamed. “Hungry, Ya Ya. Hungry! Please.”

  Irma paused. She stopped and set the plate down. “Only because it’s the apocalypse.”

  Garrick grinned.

  “Where’s Lil?”

  “She and Steve are out canvassing the area. Just checking.”

  “Are they safe?”

  “Absolutely.” As soon as Garrick said that, his phone rang. “Jack.” He answered. “What’s up?”

  Irma wanted to pester, ask, ‘how is he? How is Saul? What’s going on?’ But she’d wait, Garrick would get there. But she had to wonder what was being said because she watched Garrick laugh.

  “You’re joking,” Garrick said. Then his smile dropped and he gave a serious look to Irma. “You’re not joking. Shit.”

  <><><><>

  “What is it? What do you see?” Lil asked as she and Steve walked the wooded area. He had stopped and was looking at the ground.

  Steve only had his head down, his foot moved back and forth. “How far are we from the fence?”

  Quarter mile.” Lil guessed.

  “Ok,” He shuffled his foot. “Mark this down on the Garrick map.”

  “Sure. What am I marking?”

  “Burrow hole.”

  “A what?” Lil asked.

  “Burrow hole. Not important, probably a gofer.”

  Lil marked it down and followed as he walked. “Back to what we were saying. You’re really concerned about our safety. Aren’t we far enough away?”

  “I was in Peru, Lil. I mean these things wander aimlessly and with no direction.”

  “I highly doubt they’ll come into the woods. I mean, every movie I ever saw, I thought it was retarded that suddenly hoards of the walking dead are in the woods.”

  “Where are we?” Stave asked.

  “Um …” Lil looked down to the hand drawn map Garrick had made. “GS3. That stands for Garrick Sector three.”

  “No, I mean. We’re in the woods. Right? How many other people will come here? How many already sick will make their way here. That’s where they’ll start.”

  “I think you, you are worried a bit too much. Honestly. They’re walking dead. It’s not a work of magic or God, they’ll eventually decompose enough to not be a threat. There’s no way the infection could get out here. How would it?”

  Just as she said that, a haunting moan echoed through the woods.

  Lil jolted her head. “What was that?”

  “From down there.” Steve waved his hand. “Raise your cross bow. Noise travels.”

  Lil rolled her eyes some and pulled forth her revolver as she followed him. “Jack would totally be doing things differently.”

  “I’m not Jack. I outrank him anyhow, so listen to me.”

  Lil gasped.

  Steve held back his arm and stopped her. “Oh my God.”

  The sound echoed again and they saw where it originated. Down the grade, not far from them, was a doe on its side. Her leg lifted and fell, convulsing some as Eight Point Buck, gnawed hungrily on her mid section. The buck paused only to pull ligaments swallow and call out and in a frightening way. Its pupils were white and the bones were exposed on his hind legs.

  Steve looked at Lil. “And you asked how the infection would get out this way?”

  Lil whispered as she nodded. “I think I will use that crossbow now.”

  Chapter Nine

  Pittsburgh, PA

  ‘What the … what …’ George couldn’t think of the right words. For some reason they wouldn’t come to his mind. All he knew was he was pretty shocked to find out he was still in his jeep. He was glad he didn’t have a headache or the extremely bright sun would have been like needles. His eyes, however, felt sensitive.

  He had passed out, fallen asleep in the front seat of his jeep on the side of the road.

  After trying unsuccessfully to reach help on the phone, George succumbed to the pain and weakness, pushed back his seat and closed his eyes. He left his door ajar, so if someone came by the could see he was injured, He was cold all night and that didn’t change when he woke. Figuring he must be raging with fever, George tried to focus.

  The sun was too bright.

  But at least he was better. He had to be, his leg didn’t
hurt anymore.

  Either it was better or George was just in bad shape. He lowered his head, it nearly flopped and he looked down to his leg.

  He made out images, he could see, but it wasn’t crisp and clear. It was as if he were wearing an extra strong pair of reading glasses.

  Inching his leg, he noticed it hard to move. Heavy. After blinking, he saw he wasn’t seeping blood and that his foot was nearly cemented in the tacky brown blood.

  With a turn of his head, he was happy that the cell phone was still in his hand, but that same hand didn’t want to work right. His fingers wouldn’t let go.

  Some weird muscle reaction he supposed.

  He couldn’t even let go of that phone enough to dial.

  Help.

  George had to get help.

  His car door was still ajar and with a shove of his shoulder against it, the door opened and George rolled out and to the ground.

  He groaned. At least it didn’t hurt.

  Laying on the pavement, he noticed he could not hear properly. His ears felt clogged. Very clogged and any sound was muffled.

  Like the sirens. He couldn’t tell if they were distance or near. But he didn’t see any people. Where were the people? He was on a main street. He had to get up.

  Using the car door as leverage was impossible, especially with the cell phone stuck to his hand. He shook and shook his hand but his fingers would not release the grip.

  He desperately struggled to stand, but his legs and body felt as if they weighed five hundred pounds. It took him a while, but he eventually managed to get upright. He teetered back and forth until finally, arms extended he gained his balance. The first step was the hardest. His legs didn’t want to move or bend. They felt hard and rigid.

  George was fearful that he really had a bad infection, though he didn’t ‘feel’ sick, something was wrong.

  He had to get help; that was his main goal. And for as hard as it was to walk, as slow as he moved, George trudged on. Staggering as best as he could to find someone.

  Chapter Ten

  London, England