by Brad Knight
Amber was in such a heightened state of alertness, she almost shot Mack when he fell onto the truck storage container behind her. She stopped fighting and ran over to help him. Her priority shifted from fighting to making sure he was okay.
With her knife sheathed, Amber helped him up. He was in pretty bad shape but she could already observe his body stitching itself back together. Mack pushed her off as soon as he reached his feet. At first that upset her until she saw him take his rifle in hand.
More meat puppets jumped down from the overpass. The situation looked hopeless. There were just too many of them for just Amber and Mack.
That might do it. Mack noticed that one of the meat puppets ruptured the big rig’s large gas tank with its talons as it tried to climb up to get him. Gasoline poured out.
Without skipping a beat, Mack took a flare out of his well-equipped backpack. He ripped off the plastic top, lighting it. Then he tossed into the growing puddle of gasoline.
Mack picked up Amber, eliciting a stream of expletives from the teenage girl. Then he jumped off the big rig’s storage container. His unrepaired leg gave way causing him to let go of her as soon as he landed. She gently rolled on the road to a safe end.
Behind them, the truck went up in flames. It made for an effective barrier that stretched across the width of the highway. Mack knew that it wouldn’t last though. He and Amber moved as fast as they could in the opposite direction.
***
Free and clear from the meat puppets that tried to kill them earlier, Mack and Amber kept looking for a way off of the highway. It wasn’t nearly as easy as they thought it should’ve been. Tensions rose alongside their rising frustration.
They walked in silence. Mack grimaced with every other step. His leg was back in its socket but something went wrong. There was a dull pain every time he moved it. That pain got much more intense and acute when he put weight on it. In short, he was miserable.
“Over there. I think it’s an exit,” said Amber. She had her assault rifle up to her face. Through the night vision scope she spotted an exit for Fernando Boulevard.
Thank god. Mack knew that he and Amber were on borrowed time as long as they stayed on the highway. It was far too dangerous up there. Plus it eased the unpleasant tension between the two as fatigue and frustration took its toll. So when she pointed out a nearby exit, he was relieved.
“Not a second too soon. C’mon,” after taking a look at the exit through his rifle scope, Mack led the way towards the off ramp.
They reached the exit, but before going down it they heard a sound they learned to dread; helicopter rotors. When they looked up they saw the lights of three different helicopters.
Galatea. Why does that not surprise me? Through his scope Mack saw the Galatea Systems logo across the side of one of the helicopters.
“Are they after us?” Amber tried to hide the concern in her voice.
“I don’t think so,” answered Mack as he watched the helicopters fly past them into the heart of Los Angeles.
The choppers started firing rockets at a building Mack couldn’t see. There were multiple explosions that lit up the Los Angeles sky. It was loud and intimidating. Two of them broke off from the other and went too low to spot. The remaining one disappeared just as quickly as it appeared.
“Hurry. We don’t want to be out in the open when those other two come back.” Mack started down the off ramp. Amber followed close behind.
They found themselves in an area just outside of downtown. Looking down the street they saw the skyscrapers and the wide roads. The first thing they needed to find was a map. That way they could find the coast, preferably a port or docks.
***
Los Angeles was much like every other city and town Mack had been through. It was desolate. There were very few signs of uninfected life. Every once and a while they had to dodge or hide from meat puppets. The overall feeling of the place was hopelessness, and a sense of the civilization that once was.
They eventually reached a gas station. With teamwork that was born of repetition, not training, they carefully entered. In there they found a tourist map of the city. From that and their memories of landmarks they passed, they figured out where they were and how far they were from the Pacific Ocean. Their goal was within reach.
Something horrible happened here. It may be fucked up but better them than me. Mack looked at an overturned SUV. It looked as if the front half was blown apart. There were the remains of people all round it. They looked as if they were run through a wood chipper. There were little craters in the street. Something fired on those poor souls from above. Overall it was a pretty gruesome scene.
“Let’s keep moving,” said Mack as he and Amber passed the overturned SUV and a man-made roadblock that wasn’t far away.
***
Amber and Mack kept walking for a while. The spread out nature of Los Angeles helped them avoid meat puppets but made going on foot a daunting and time consuming task. It wasn’t until about ten at night that they decided to stop and rest.
When trying to find someplace to sleep during the zombie apocalypse, it is important to find the most secure place that no other survivors would have any reason to wander into. Mack found just that in the First Angeles Bank.
Like a mini well trained SWAT team, Mack and Amber entered the First Angeles Bank with their rifles up and ready. Through the eerie green light of their scopes they searched the big, old building. It was one of those banks that had a European feel to it with granite and pillars.
Mack jumped the bank teller counter. Behind it were stacks of crisp bills. Not far away from the stacks were the burnt charcoal like remains of a fire. Whoever was there used the money for tinder. That was all it was good for anymore.
Someone was here. They still might be. “Stay here.” Mack wanted Amber to stay in the bank lobby as he searched the rest of the building for any other squatters. “I think someone might be here.”
“I’m not staying here by myself,” said Amber with the defiant tone that only teenagers can muster. Mack didn’t bother arguing. He knew better.
Mack and Amber checked the bank offices together. They were very empty. Then they moved downstairs.
At the end of a hallway was the bank vault. It had a large, thick circular door made of dense steel. That door was open, and something hung from the ceiling inside the vault.
As they got closer, Mack could finally make out what was hanging from the ceiling. It was a woman. She had a rope typically used in queue lines tied around her neck. Under her were some feces and urine, voided when she died.
“That’s creepy,” commented Amber as they lowered their rifles.
“This is perfect,” said Mack as he looked around the bank vault. He completely ignored the dead woman.
“Perfect? There’s a dead person in here.” Amber didn’t dig the idea of spending the rest of the night in the vault.
“So? We’ll cut her down and clean up a bit. No one will find us down here. We’ll be safe. That’s all that matters.”
“But… what if it’s haunted,” Amber really grasped at straws.
“Haunted? Really? Of all the things to worry about, ghosts are pretty far down the list.” Mack pulled over the wooden chair that the woman used in her own hanging. “Now help me out and keep this chair steady. I’ll cut her down.” He took out his knife and started to saw at the rope.
Amber got a mop and bucket from a janitor closet. In a matter of minutes the vault was cleaned up. The duo slept among millions of dollars and an untold amount of expensive items in lock boxes. None of that mattered. What they cared about was considerably more valuable: sleep.
***
The next morning a refreshed Amber and Mack were ready to travel. They ate military rations, washed them down with water and enjoyed every second of it. Fed and well rested, the two of them left the First Angeles Bank.
For a little less than two hours, they walked westward. They thought that if they went west, eventually they�
�d reach the Pacific Ocean. It was a solid idea.
“Excited to go to the beach?” asked Mack.
“Thrilled.”
Mack shook his head. Even after the fall of human civilization, teenagers still held onto their sarcasm.
“We can stop at the store and pick you up a bathing suit.”
Amber looked over and up at Mack. “I’d rather hit up a gun shop.”
Mack laughed. “That’s my girl.”
Amber smiled, then turned her attention back to the street ahead of them.
That sound, that smell. Is that the beach? Mack heard the sound of breaking waves. He smelt the unique fishy, salty aroma of the ocean. But he didn’t let himself believe it until he saw the water.
They walked a couple more blocks until they made a turn to see a large space between buildings. In the distance, just beyond the buildings, they could see tall palm trees. The street leading up to the space was blocked off by metal poles about four feet apart. At the end of the street was a wooden sign, tagged with graffiti.
When Mack got closer to the sign he could read what it said in dark blue letters against a light blue background: Venice Beach. Both of them smiled. They were ecstatic, almost to the point of tears. For months they tried to get there, to get to the Pacific. And there they were, less than a mile away.
Walking on the asphalt boardwalk, they saw in both directions long rows of abandoned stores. Everything from head shops to food stands stood empty and run down. A combination of humid salty air, lack of upkeep and the outbreak, left Venice Beach as a shell of its former lively self.
As bleak as the commercial section of Venice Beach was, the beach itself was unaffected. Past the sand and trees was endless blue water. When they caught a glimpse of the Pacific, Mack fell to his knees and laughed.
Amber seemingly forgot all the dangers around her. She threw off her backpack and guns into the sand and ran towards the ocean. For the brief time she spent playing around in the water, she was a child again. It felt great.
Mack watched as Amber enjoyed frolicking in the Pacific. In that moment, all the hardships, all the pain and all the terror seemed worth it. Seeing her truly and innocently happy for the first time since meeting her was overwhelming. He started to tear up.
After wiping the tears from his eyes before they could fall, Mack stood up and looked out at the vast ocean before him. That was when he noticed black dots on the horizon and plumes of smoke rising up into the perfect blue sky.
Those must be ships. Mack took out a pair of binoculars from his backpack. His view was a bit fuzzy. After adjusting the focus, he saw numerous, large ships out in the water.
There were what looked to be a mixture of battleships, shipping vessels and even fishing boats. None of them moved. In fact they looked in no shape to move. It was a miracle that they hadn’t sunk. Almost all of them were on fire.
Mack kept watching the ships in the distance. He remembered what he was told back in Las Vegas. No one was to leave the country. The burning ghost ships in the Pacific were proof.
Who or whatever prevented them from getting out of the country can’t possibly still be around. If we can just find a small boat, we can get out of here. Or at the very least we could go north without having to risk traveling on land.
Mack was too busy looking through his binoculars and formulating plans to notice Amber making her way up the beach back to him. It wasn’t until he heard her laugh that he stopped looking at the ships.
“The water, it’s unbelievable,” exalted Amber. “Really, it’s great. You should check it out. What ya looking at?”
“Just some boats,” answered Mack as he lowered his binoculars. “Get your weapons. We need to go and find a boat of our own.”
Amber did as she was told and retrieved her guns. She did so with a smile still plastered across her face. What Mack didn’t know was that she’d never been to the ocean before. The teen hadn’t even been to the Gulf. That experience of feeling the cool salt water against her skin was a first. It was like someone living in the desert all their life seeing snow for the first time.
“Where are we going to get a boat?” asked Amber as she and Mack returned to the asphalt boardwalk.
Chapter 10
: Wipe Them Out
“How many?” asked Ted Gorman as he sat in the Galatea Systems board room. The blood of the board members still covered the walls and table. Pools of blood soaked into the carpet beneath his feet.
“Fifteen members of our security personal were injured. Nine died. In all, twenty four casualties,” answered Sebastian.
“Twenty four? That can’t stand. You can’t just let that go, boy. Hit back! Take revenge! If not for yourself, for them.” Thomas paced back and forth behind Ted with his customary cigar.
I know that, father. What, do you think I’m just going to let this go? “Who were they?”
“When Dr. Bawja left she took the secrets of the company with her. We have reason to believe that she shared some of those secrets with survivors in the city. Since she’s left we’ve been tricked several times. But none of them were as bad as today’s attack.”
“Why do you believe Dr. Bawja was involved?” asked Ted.
“Well,” Sebastian had a folder in his hand. He carefully stepped around the bloody stains on the carpet to get to Ted. The second in command at Galatea Systems handed his boss the folder. “We’ve had someone on the inside. One of our security personal infiltrated one of these groups of survivors. He relayed to us that the doctor had told the other survivors that the company was responsible for the outbreak.”
Ted opened up the folder. Inside there was a picture of a man in his early forties. He had a stern look about him and a close buzz cut. The information next to the picture had the undercover operative’s name: Ethan Daniels.
“Mr. Daniels had a brother who was a cop before the outbreak. That gave him the necessary information for his cover as a former LAPD officer. With that as the backstory we concocted, he fell into a group of survivors in the New Babylon Apartments in Los Angeles. As luck would have it, that was the group that included Dr. Bawja.”
“Kill them. Kill them all.” Thomas was like a gnat constantly buzzing in Ted’s ear.
“So we know where they are?” Ted already had a plan formulated in his head as his dead father had his ear.
“Yes.” Sebastian backed away, just as careful not to step in blood as he was when he gave Ted the folder.
“Okay… mobilize our security personnel from not only here but also our Washington and Utah facilities. Have them ready to go by this evening. No more attacks against us. We’re going on the offensive.” Ted stood up out of his chair. “Come on, let’s get this done. Let’s wipe them out.” He headed towards the door. “If you need me, I’ll be in the labs.”
Hours later, at about nine at night, helicopters landed in front of the Los Angeles Facility. They carried the best, most highly trained security personal from Galatea Systems facilities in Washington state and Salt Lake City, Utah. All of them knew they were there to kill.
“Mr. Gorman, I don’t think this is a good idea. Surely you could coordinate this from here,” suggested Sebastian as he walked on the right side of Ted.
The CEO was decked out in full tactical gear. He had on a Kevlar vest with pockets full of extra ammunition and even a couple of explosives. In his hand he carried a shotgun. On his hip was large caliber pistol. And on his face was a determined look.
“These men, they’re trained for stuff like this. That’s why you hired them. Let them get their hands dirty.”
Ted ignored Sebastian and kept walking.
“Tell him, boy. Tell this panty waist fruit that you’re immortal. Tell him you can’t be killed. Maybe that will make him shut the fuck up.” Thomas walked next to Ted on the left side.
“Sir…?” Sebastian kept trying to get through to Ted. But it didn’t work. The mad CEO was already formulating plans in his head. His second in command begging him to stay back d
idn’t even register. It wasn’t an option.
Sebastian and Ted emerged from the concrete tunnel that served as an entrance to the Los Angeles facility. Outside there were three helicopters and enough heavily armed men to fill them. Every man out there was ready for war, or in that case, a massacre.
“Good evening, Mr. Gorman, sir,” the head of the Salt Lake City security team greeted Ted. He was decked out in all the requisite gear and had a short Mohawk. Tattoos of flames adorned both shaved sides of his head.
A guy with tattoos on his head. He must be impulsive and probably a bit crazy. In other words, he’s my kind of guy. “Good evening, mister…?”
“Grey, Isaac Grey. Head of security at your Salt Lake City facility. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Isaac and Ted shook hands.
“What happened to Jefferson?”
“As I’m sure you know, there was an accident at our facility. The virus was released and most of the staff was infected, including Jefferson. I’m the son of a bitch that put the bullet in his brain pan. Then I inherited his job.”
Ted smiled. “That so? That’s good enough for me.”
Isaac and Ted headed towards one of the choppers. Sebastian followed close behind. That’s when the black metal crates next to the helicopters came into view.
“I brought ten of my best with me. They’re battle tested. Together we wiped out infected and survivors alike in Salt Lake City. None of them have any qualms about doing what needs to be done,” assured Isaac as he and Ted walked past the aforementioned security team members.
“That’s good to hear. I look forward to seeing them in action, Mr. Grey.”
Ted separated from Isaac and moved on to another helicopter where another team leader waited for him. A tall, well built and stern faced African American man stood patiently. His equally serious team behind him checked their weapons and gear.
“Mr. Gorman?” asked the stern faced team leader. He held out his hand for Ted to shake. The CEO shook it. “I’m Tyson Wright, head of security from your Spokane facility. I brought ten of my best with me. We’re ready to roll. Just give the word.”
