by Tristan Vick
As she left the city limits, she drove around the bend of a hill outlined by a grove of trees. The twilight hour was making it difficult to see the road as she came over the crest of the hill. Out of the blue she plowed into a huge gathering of white-eyed walking dead. Rachael screamed, but instead of slowing down she hit the gas. Bodies bounced off her car as she mowed down a trail in the massive gathering.
A few of them toppled over her hood while a few others went under the car. The tires bounced over their bodies as if they were speed bumps. Looking into the rear view mirror, she saw the one’s she had just run over start to get back up.
Seeing a large group of the white-eyed half dead awkwardly galloping after her, she hit the accelerator and sped up. Watching the pack of Walkers shrink in the rearview mirror Rachael smiled to herself and sighed with relief.
Looking back out the front windshield, Rachael barely noticed the single form waving frantically in front of her desperate for her to stop. Rachael slammed on the breaks and skidded to a halt, stopping mere inches away from the nose of the terrified girl. Leaning over Rachael popped open the door and shouted, “Get in!”
The young woman jumped into the SUV and slammed the door behind her. Rachael checked the rearview mirror, and said, “They don’t give up, do they?” Slamming her food down, Rachael pushed the pedal to the metal, and with her tires squealing, the silver SUV peeled away, leaving twenty inch elevens burnt into the road.
As she caught her breath, the girl looked over at Rachael as if to say thank you, but before she could speak a single word she passed out from exhaustion. Rachael noticed one of the girl’s pants legs was missing and her thigh was tightly bandaged.
8
Debriefing
WALKING UP TO THE GATE, which ran around the entire perimeter of the south quadrant of Newcastle, Barnes and Noble waved at the tower guards. Suddenly a spotlight shined on their position. Behind the guard towers of the main entrance was a massive military compound. The installment was state of the art, and was made up of various interlocking pods, all of them a dark unreflective carbon fiber gray.
Next to the buildings were parked several military vehicles, including two tan armored Humvees, a Japanese Komatsu LAV, and an armored personnel carrier. The Komatsu LAV looked like the offspring of a DeLorean and an H2. The tank looking SUV was fitted with a roof-mounted Sumitomo M2 Browning .50 caliber heavy machine gun. Good for turning one’s enemies into minced meat.
Jennifer Hurley and Jesse Zanato straggled close behind their centurion-like guardians. The whole time they had been walking, Jennifer had kept on sharing seductive glances back and forth with the big black soldier called Ulysses Noble. Jesse couldn’t help but feel he was already old news, and the added competition wasn’t helping.
Noble looked back and, without so much as an attempt to disguise his intentions, eyed Hurley up and down and shot her a pearly white smile and gave her his tried and perfected trademark wink. Hurley blew him a kiss back, which only made Jesse feel like he would hurl.
Jesse Zanato scoffed, turned, and sulked away, but not before he mumbled, “Whore.”
On the other side of the eight foot tall chain-link fence, Major Rebecca Valentine approached and eyed the rag-tag crew suspiciously. Upon seeing a familiar face, she smiled as Jared Barnes approached the fence.
“Major Valentine, what a pleasant surprise.
“Careful, Sergeant, it’s hot,” she informed, ignoring his attempt to lure her into idle chit-chat.
“Don’t worry,” Barnes replied sarcastically, “I have the same feelings for you.”
Valentine rolled her eyes and then marched back toward the control center.
“Wait,” Noble called out. “Aren’t you gonna open the gates and let us in?”
Turning around, Valentine gave him a devious smile, and said, “Only if you give me the correct password.”
“Um … open sesame?” Noble answered.
Valentine rolled her eyes and then waved her hand and signaled for the gates to be opened.
“Good work there, Ali Baba,” said Barnes, slapping his buddy on the back. “But the real password is ‘Meat Popsicle.’”
Looking confused, Noble watched Barnes walk off. “Who the fuck is Ali Baba?”
Before Valentine disappeared completely, she added, “You know the drill, gentlemen. Have the survivors processed and then report to General Greer ASAP.”
Jennifer looked at Noble with a frightened look. “Processing? What does she mean by that?”
“It’s nothing to worry about, I promise. They just have to get your biometric data and check to see if you’ve sustained any injuries.”
“That’s a laugh,” Zanato quipped.
“How’s that?” Noble asked with a hint of intimidation in his voice.
Zanato turned toward him and attempted to stare him down. Noble merely matched his gaze, and the two men glared at each other, both feeling their blood broil as their testosterone fueled rivalry over who’d win Hurley’s heart heated up. “You full well know they’re not checking us for injuries. They’re checking to see if we’ve been infected by … well … whatever the fuck it is.”
Noble smiled jeeringly and then said, “So what if they are?”
“So I know my rights!” Zanato protested. “I’m an American citizen. I pay taxes … sometimes … and I pay your goddamn salary too, tough guy. So you can go fuck yourselves for all I care.”
Noble’s jaw clenched his as he took offense at Zanato’s impertinence. Getting in Zanato’s face, he said with a masked rage, “Say that again, pretty boy. I dare you.”
“Knock it off you two. You can compare dick-sizes later,” Barnes said. Turning his attention to Zanato, Barnes added, “Besides, it doesn’t seem like you have much choice in the matter. You can take your chances back there in the city with the undead cannibals, or submit yourself to a strip search, an anal probe, and a chemical spray down courtesy of Uncle Sam. Your choice.”
“Stop being such a giant dick-bag,” Jennifer added, and slapped Zanato in the back of his stupid head as she walked by. Then she went on through the open gates. Barnes smiled and followed after her.
“Yeah, stand aside micro-dick,” Noble taunted as he shoved Zanato out of the way.
Realizing he was the only one left standing on the wrong side of the fence, Zanato quickly trotted after them. “Hey, wait up!”
With everyone inside, the gates close behind them with a rattling clank, followed the buzz of electricity surging through the fence along with the din of what sounded like a swarm of angry bees.
A loud moan filled the base as Jennifer Hurley slammed down onto Noble’s throbbing member. Pressing her naked breasts down onto his firm dark skin, she sighed with Rabelaisian ecstasy as she slid up and down his well sculpted body.
Hurley’s blonde hair glowed like white gold as the strands danced across the rolling contours of Noble’s rugged dark skin. Rising up, she kissed his mouth with hers and electricity danced between their lips. Clasping her tight in his arms, Ulysses Noble rolled over on top and slammed her down face first into the bed. Grabbing Jennifer’s hips, he pulled her into him, hard. Their throbbing, aching bodies surged and pulsed with pleasure as they conjoined.
The wet warmth of her body sent waves of pleasure up Noble’s spine as he slowly pushed his hips into hers as he tapped her from behind. Falling into a rhythm, they didn’t hold back. They fucked as if it was their last night on earth.
“Yes. Yes. YESSS!” Jenifer screamed, doing her best to sound like a professional porn star. Noble smiled, admiring the blue monarch butterfly tattoo above her ass, which writhed in pleasure as he kept up his epic pace.
“Do you think he can hear us?” Jennifer asked mischievously.
Noble shouted out and enthusiastic, “Oorah!” and rammed Jennifer Hurley’s backside even harder—soliciting even louder moans from her. As he went to town on her, she bit down on her finger and gave into the moment.
In the next room, Jesse
Zanato covered his ears in protest. Jared Barnes, who sat on a stool, kicked his feet up onto the end of the bed and leaned back nonchalant while he brushed his teeth.
“How can you stand to listen to that racket?” Zanato pouted.
“Look, when you’re in the field every day, and you get some down time, and a pretty girl throws herself at you and tells you to take her, there’s only one answer she’s looking for: ‘Yes, ma’am.’ As Marines, we’re honor bound to serve.”
Zanato fell back on the bed and pressed his hands over his ears even harder to try and muffle out the noise. “Yeah, well, it still makes me want to puke my fucking guts out.”
“Yeah, well, please don’t,” Barnes replied as he walked over to the sink, spit, and rinsed out his mouth.
Opening the mirror cabinet, Barnes pulled out an elegant blue bottle of cologne and threw on a dash.
“Going somewhere?” asked Zanato.
“I have a date.”
Zanato raised his arms in protest, and grumbled, “What? You mean you’re just gonna leave me here with this disgusting fuck-fest going on? Whatever happened to bros. before hoes?”
“Let’s get a couple of things straight here,” Barnes began. “First off, don’t call me bro. Ever. Secondly, you’d best do yourself a favor and give up the macho-boy cock-fight routine.” Nodding his head toward the other room, Barnes added, “The saying once you go black you don’t go back was created because of that guy in there.”
Pulling a pair of socks from a drawer then flung them at Zanato. The socks pelted Zanato in the head, and he fumbled to catch them. Looking down at the socks, Zanato asked, “What’re these?”
“It’s happy time,” replied Barnes sarcastically as he opened the barrack’s door. Looking back, he added, “Knock yourself out.”
Before Zanato had a chance to come back with something witty the door slammed in his face. Hastily he grabbed the pillow off the bed and wrapped it around his head, then groaned in revulsion at the sounds of the Jennifer and Noble grunting and sighing, gasping and groaning, as they went at it like a couple of wild animals.
Rebecca Valentine undressed herself as she got ready for a hot shower and some much needed shut eye. Hearing a noise in the hallway, her nerves jumped to yellow alert, and she put her sidearm on the bed stand just to be safe. Valentine let her clothes slide off her solid form and then stepped into the steamy shower. Hearing the door squeak open, she smiled.
Tip-toeing toward the shower, Barnes spotted the gun on the nightstand. This provoked a smile. Typical power play, he thought. Then he slowly grabbed the door handle to the shower and flung it wide open. Steam rushed out, filling the room, but to his surprise it was empty. Suddenly he felt the muzzle of a gun being pressed against the back of his head.
“Bang,” said the sultry voice.
Barnes slowly raised his hands and turned around to face his attacker. Glancing at the nude glistening female form in front of him, he smiled. “It seems you caught me with my pants down,” Barnes said playfully.
Valentine looked down and watched as he unfastened his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. She grinned, and said, “I do like a man with a sense of humor. But the real question is, can you fuck?”
Barnes grabbed Valentine and pulled her naked body into his and kissed her lips. As they kissed, Valentine tore off his shirt and pushed him into the shower. Hopping in after him, she leapt up onto his chest and wrapped her legs around his waist. Sliding down, she suddenly felt him penetrate her, as their bodies came together.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, answering her own question. Going back to lathering each other with wet kisses, steam as hot as their lust engulfed them.
Back in his room, Zanato heard a new, but somewhat familiar sound. It was the same sound as before. The sound of rough and tumble sex. But it was coming from the other side of his room. Just then, both walls erupted in a chorus of loving making noises. Zanato gripped his hair, as if to pull it out, and winced at the realization that he was the only one not getting any.
Holding the limp sock in his hand, Zanato contemplated the exact amount of desperation it would take to override the overwhelming sense of shame he would inevitably feel afterward. He managed to talk himself out of it, but not before getting mad about his rotten turn of luck. He pitched the sock at the wall and yelled, “This is bullshit!”
Barnes rolled over in the bed and checked his watch with weary eyes. It read twenty-two hundred hours.
“Shit,” he said in a hushed tone as he squinted at the green digital numbers. Valentine stirred awake and rolled over and smiled at him. As he smiled back at her, Barnes noticed that her bare breasts became illuminated by a soft orange glow. That’s when they realized they weren’t alone.
General Greer reclined on a stool at the foot of the bed watching the two lovebirds scramble to cover themselves. Smoke wafted lightly in the air as Greer puffed regimentally on the cigar.
“Staff Sergeant Barnes, I do believe I had issued a direct order to report back to me at your earliest convenience, did I not?”
“Yes, sir,” said Barnes, apologetically. “Sorry, sir.”
“It’s my fault,” Valentine interjected. “I didn’t specify that it was a direct order. I—”
“Never mind that,” the general stated, cutting her off. He eyed Valentine’s long legs poking out from the sheets, “We’re past pleasantries, I should think.” Greer took another puff on his cigar.
“May I inquire as to why you’re here, sir?” Valentine asked.
“Last I checked,” grumbled the general, “this was my base. Are you telling me I can’t go wherever I goddamn please?”
“Apologies, sir. All I meant was … what I mean is … what brings you to my domicile in the secrecy of night?”
Grinning coyly, the corner of Greer’s eyes wrinkled with crow’s-feet. “Sometimes the best place to have a powwow is out of the detection of prying eyes and ears.”
Barnes interjected, “Does the general mean to say that he wishes to disclose classified information which he could not disclose under normal circumstances due to regulation?”
The general pretended he hadn’t heard Barnes’ last remark. “Like I said, since we’re all so familiar with one another, what’s a bit of gossip among friends?”
“Yes, sir. I read you loud and clear,” Valentine said, immediately realizing how officially corny she sounded.
Barnes leaned over and whispered, “Loud and clear?”
“Oh, hush up!” she said in jest, pinching him below the covers. Barnes squirmed but forced himself to ignore it seeing as they were sitting in front of the General.
Greer blew a smoke ring which could be seen in the dim glow cast by the orange glowing bud of his cigar. Dark shadows blotted out his face and gave him the appearance of a specter.
“Intel has informed me that the contagion is retroviral in nature. However, the retrovirus has hybridized. Common rabies has crossbred with H5N1, and their wicked union has created a nasty little Chimera capable of causing some pretty damn ugly babies.”
“A retrovirus? So you mean to say that whatever else it may be doing, it’s effectively re-writing the DNA of every living thing it comes into contact with?” Valentine asked.
“Exactly,” replied the general. He took another drag on his cigar and puffed out a cloud of smoke. “If we don’t sort it out soon, it will be too goddamn late.”
“Too late?” Barnes hesitantly echoed. “Too late for what?”
“Too late to find a cure,” the general informed.
“What do you mean too late for a cure?” Valentine inquired.
The general raised his eyebrow and informed, “I don’t think you fully grasp the grim nature of the situation. It took goddamn near a half century before we cracked the code for HIV. At the rate at which this new retrovirus acts, a cure won’t even matter because by the time one is found, the world will already have been completely and utterly consumed by the damn thing.”
&
nbsp; “Dear God,” Valentine gasped.
“The virus replicates faster than any of our scientists anticipated. The CDC was following reports as early as two weeks back, but now look at things. Half the city is missing, probably eaten alive, or else turned into one of those blasted things.”
“What are the projections for propagation of the contagion?” Valentine asked.
Greer let out another puff of smoke from the “O” shaped hole formed on his lips, and then continued. “As you probably know, it spreads through coming into contact with infected blood. Anywhere from an hour to two hours after that the virus will effectively take over its host. At this rate, by next week the entire city will be overrun. In two weeks the plague will spread throughout the entire eastern seaboard. In three weeks the infection will be global. By the end of the month the projected number of survivors will be—none.”
“Heaven help us,” Valentine said in utter dismay.
“By the time scientists crack the genetic code of this Chimera from hell, it will have spread beyond our capacity to contain it. Hell, there won’t even be enough scientists left to mass produce the damn cure.”
“It’s a huge fucking nightmare,” Barnes said.
Valentine looked over at Barnes then back at the general, and asked, “But we’re working toward a cure, right? I mean, it is a virus we’re dealing with, isn’t it? So it’s, in theory, curable. We’re working on an anti-viral, right?”
The general shook his head grimly. His silence spoke volumes.
“What’s it called? Does the virus have a name?” Barnes inquired.
“Unofficially, we’re calling it the Resurrection Virus. As you witnessed firsthand, the blasted thing reanimates its victims, but not before it boils their brain away with a vicious godforsaken fever. This causes the infected to go mad. Then they die of enzyme failure. As far as we can tell, they stay dead until the retrovirus completely takes over the host. Then they wake up.” The general lingered on those last words a moment before continuing on. “When they do awaken from death, their minds are completely gone but their madness lingers.”
