“Beats the shit out of me,” Tom responded. “There’s nothing in the paper about any type of drill happening in the neighborhood.”
As they spoke, they heard the squealing of tires and a black suburban turned the corner and headed down the street, skidding into the driveway across the circle from the two men. Leaving his car running, Col. James Tindall leapt out and ran into his house.
“Christ, what the hell is up Jim’s ass? He shouldn’t be driving like that with the kids that could have been out here.”
“Dave, what the hell does he do for the Army again? He might know what’s up.”
Tom thought for a second. “He told me one time, I know he spends most of his time in Maryland, some government program office handling pandemics, like germ warfare or something. He would not be involved in Army exercises.”
The Colonel emerged from his house carrying his five year old daughter; she gripped his neck still half asleep. Trailing him was his hysterical wife. While the colonel started strapping his daughter into the back of the car, Dave called out to him.
“Hey, Jim, what’s going on? You know anything about some sort of exercise or accident around here?”
The Colonel did not respond, but ran back into the house and emerged a second time with a box of hastily thrown together food items.
Dave walked over to him. “Jim, what the hell is going—”
Colonel Tindall spun around. “Stay on your own property, Dave! Back off and go back inside!”
Dave, a former Marine, did not take well to the tone nor the command he had been given. “What the fuck, James! Who the hell you think you’re talking to?”
“Hey guys, cool down,” Tom called out. “Colonel, what is going on?”
The colonel grabbed a few more supplies from his garage and threw them in the back of the large vehicle, ignoring the two other men. Dave continued his inquiry and walked over to his longtime neighbor’s driveway.
“Listen, Jim, if something is going on, you need—”
“STAY BACK, I WONT TELL YOU AGAIN!” Tindall shouted.
“And I am not going to ask you again, neighbor,” Dave said indignantly. “You need to tell us—”
At that point, Colonel James Tindall pulled out his .45 and fired three shots into the chest of the man who had been his neighbor for over a decade. The colonel’s wife and daughter started screaming hysterically as the Colonel jumped into his still running car, put it in reverse, and was driving down the street before Dave’s body had stilled.
Tom Willis stood there, still as a statue, absorbing what had happened. The paper fell from his right hand and scattered in the strong breeze. The cup fell from his left hand, shattering and splattering what was left of the coffee he had made only fifteen minutes earlier. He bent over and vomited. His stomach purged the black liquid coffee he had just consumed. It kept coming. The black, burning liquid spilled out of him, as if his stomach had itself liquefied. When he could expel no more, he stood up, his stomach burning. He turned to go back to his house.
God, he was hungry.
Chapter 30
MILF
The drive back to the compound from the burned out school offered Dan, Pat, and Eric a sight none of them would have ever expected to see forty-eight hours ago. A cargo plane overhead had airdropped shipping containers, and in the distance, over a dozen containers the size of Humvees were floating to Earth via parachute. It looked almost comical as the sky filled with them. Within fifteen minutes, they encountered the resting place of one of those containers.
A public address system had sprouted from the top and it was repeating a recorded message telling the public to stay in their homes, avoid the main roads, and to self-quarantine. It instructed them to handle affected family members by locking them in a room and hanging a white sheet out of a window to alert authorities. Pat looked over at Eric, who was bordering on shock.
He blankly stared out the window where scenes of normalcy, typical suburban streets, quiet, tree lined on one block, would lead to scenes of chaos a few blocks further down. Scenes of the aftermath where people who had mere hours earlier left their homes, travel coffee mug in one hand, briefcase in another, casually making their way to their car for their morning commute, were left ripped apart on their driveways, some with their attackers still hovering over them, devouring what was left.
Patrick turned around in his seat and looked at Eric in the back. “So kid, you won some sort of radio contest to get into that bunker?”
Eric shrugged. “I guess I won it, but to tell you the truth, I don’t remember even entering the contest. I fill out a lot of things online, so I figured it was some sort of scam, a timeshare thing. But I didn’t know why they would want to target me. I don’t have any money. My folks…well, my mom doesn’t have any money. So it was weird when they contacted me last year and said I won. I guess it was meant to be. Wild coincidence, huh? Things don’t usually work out like that for me.”
Pat turned back around and considered the chances that some kid would be randomly chosen for some contest he had no interest in. And why was Ivan so eager to ensure this kid was brought in to receive a prize he did not seem to even want?
The three made it back to the compound and let themselves in the front gate using the code they had been provided. As they walked through the house to the backyard, it was immediately evident not all was well. The bunker door was ajar, but a quick sweep showed no one in the house or in the immediate surroundings. The only noticeable change was that the perimeter fence was now ten to fifteen bodies deep with Skells. Something had drawn them there.
They cautiously walked down the steps towards the entrance of the bunker, but the bloodstained steps foretold what they would encounter. They pushed open the second steel door, and saw that the place was in shambles, blood and body parts strewn throughout the communal area. In the corner, a gold grill next to some scattered teeth and a jawbone indicated that Camden would not be releasing another album. Ever.
The entranceway light was covered with blood, which bathed the area in an eerie red glow, and a glass panel containing electronics hung off the wall, shattered by gunfire. Smoke drifted through the air, as if some unseen fire was smoldering.
On the coffee table lay a bloodstained iPad with the multiple SKYPE sessions open. The chatter of other survivalists prattled on, overlapping each other. Some were calmly giving out coordinates to safe zones or zones that were under siege. Some were ranting and panicking, some praying. Some were reciting their last will and testament over the airwaves. How had this occurred, and so quickly?
It was the sound of an electric lock releasing that caused the two to spin around, guns at the ready. A door opened, exposing a closet sized safe room. Ivan and Marifi were crouched on the floor, she cradling her wounded and bloody husband’s head; he had a gash across his right temple where Marifi held a cloth in her left hand and in her right, a 45 caliber automatic pistol pointed right at them.
Dan stepped forward. “What the hell happened!?”
Ivan struggled to speak. “One of them must have been infected. I don’t know how. Things went nuts, that rapper’s posse started shooting the place up. I caught a fragment in the head and we took cover in here. I guess after that they started ripping each other apart. Marifi said I was able to get them out of the bunker before I lost consciousness, but I must have been running on adrenaline, since I don’t even remember.”
Marifi shifted uncomfortably. She stood up, supporting Ivan on her shoulder as everyone lowered their guns.
“Okay,” Dan said, “we got the kid, now give us the car keys, it’s time we hit the road.”
Pat and Dan walked back up the steps leading from the once deluxe survival bunker that had now become a blood-soaked tomb into the sunlit courtyard to rejoin Eric, who was standing by the bunker entrance, nervously waiting for their return while watching the Skells amassing on the outer perimeter of the fence.
Marifi followed, helping Ivan up the stairs, still appeari
ng disoriented from the head wound. When they set foot topside, almost as if on cue, a whooshing sound followed by a burst of flame and heat emerged behind them from the bunker. Ivan coughed and Marifi hustled him towards the main house, followed by the trio.
She led them over to a steel building that appeared like a small airplane hangar with a set of doors in the courtyard and an alternate set of doors on the opposite side, outside the perimeter fence. Marifi silently entered a code in the digital lock, and the doors unlatched. Dan and Pat each grabbed one of the heavy doors and swung them open to reveal a heavily modified SUV type vehicle that appeared to be straight out of Mad Max. It had reinforced tires, bulletproof glass, electrified door handles to shock unwanted passengers, and an empty machine gun turret on the roof.
“I can’t drive, so we will get in the back,” Ivan stated.
“Whoa, what do you mean ‘we’, kemosabe?” Dan protested. “You guys are staying here in the bunker.”
Ivan shook his head. “Bunker’s been compromised. We are all going with you.”
“Look, I can’t handle a kid, a girl, and you’re injured,” Dan scoffed. “Forget it.”
“We all go, or no one goes,” Ivan insisted.
After realizing there was no time to argue, Dan agreed, but condescendingly stated that he could not guarantee their safety. As they opened the doors to enter Furio, Camden’s two mountainous body guards came smashing through the bay window of the main house. Shrieking, eyes white and bloody, they had turned. Marifi ran towards them, and with a single move, snapped the larger one’s neck, tilting the huge bodyguard’s head sideways like a broken toy. She pushed the lumbering bodyguard with the now fractured neck into the path of the second attacker, tumbling them both to the ground. She reached into a case slung over her shoulder, and retrieved a Philippines War Golog, a machete type blade but with a flat tip.
As soon as the second attacker had made it to his feet, she slashed the large knife across his stomach, instantly disemboweling him. She then turned back to the first assailant, who was now walking in a circle with his sideways dangling head causing him to lose all sense of direction. She did him the favor of removing his head entirely. The body jolted violently, and then like a beheaded chicken, continued to run past them directly into the fence that surrounded the compound, riling up the Skells on the other side into a frenzy. Like a pro wrestler using the ring ropes as a slingshot, the headless torso bounced off of the fence and back in the direction of Marifi. She stepped aside, letting the blade slice horizontally across the attacker’s stomach, using the bottom of her boot to push the impaled man mountain off of her blade.
Ivan looked over at Dan and answered the question he had not asked. “She was raised MILF.”
“Yeah she was!” Dan responded enthusiastically. “Mom I’d like to fu—”
“Perverted idiot,” Ivan cut in with a half-smile. “Her grandfather was a former guerilla fighter for Manila Islamic Liberation Front. MILF. He quit the jihad cause when his 15-year old daughter got knocked up and abandoned the kid with him. He took the baby in, raised her, and educated her with the only formal training he ever had, which was surviving and killing. She could survive in the jungles on her own for years. She’s a trained sniper, trained in Philippine combat arts, and could cut your nutsack off with that sword before you even knew it was gone. She also cooks mean lumpia.”
“How did you two meet?” Pat asked thoroughly confused by the coupling.
Ivan gave him a sly look. “Mail order bride.”
Dan took the wheel and Pat jumped in the passenger side. Ivan, Marifi, and Eric climbed into the back. Dan fumbled with the controls to figure out how to drive the monstrosity but soon, Furio roared to life.
“Wait!” Ivan called out, and stumbled out of the back. He made his way over to a small white panel on the garage wall and started entering numbers.
“You’re kidding me. Are you setting the alarm? I hate to tell you this, but ADT home protection ain’t coming,” Dan yelled after him.
Marifi leaned forward and spoke the first words any of the group had heard her mutter. “You need to drive, now, fast.”
“Yeah honey,” Dan said dismissively, “I know, I am trying to figure—”
“You need to drive, NOW!” Marifi insisted.
Ivan got back into the rear seat, his head wound obviously still causing him pain. Dan looked over at the wall keypad and noticed a digital display with the numbers counting down. He then noticed on the dashboard an identical countdown had started on a small clock. Ivan had begun some sort of self-destruct sequence. The countdown clocks were then accompanied by an extremely loud, repeating squawk, a warning of the coming conflagration.
“Christ!” Dan yelled and put the car into drive as Marifi reached over and pushed the garage door opener on the visor. The front garage door opened, leading out of the compound, and a wave of Skells poured into the garage like a tsunami wave hitting a boat. The initial wave of Skell bodies slamming against the car was enough to push the entire vehicle backward. Dan floored the accelerator and again the vehicle started grinding forward, fighting the endless tide of monsters.
Furio lurched forward and began running them down, the sickening feel and sound of bodies being crushed under the fortified tires, spewing up a disgusting fountain of flesh, blood, and gore out the back like they were baja’ing in the mud. He cleared a path through the swarm of torn and bloody attackers, allowing the massive vehicle to speed down the dirt road away from the compound. Few attempted to follow, as most were running towards the sound of the warning siren’s screams. The amplified squawks could still be heard over the engine for another several minutes, and then a near silence both inside the car and outside were jarring.
Then, a blinding flash appeared from behind, followed by a series of enormous explosions that incinerated the compound and the hundreds of Skells who had picked the wrong yard for a picnic. The explosions were powerful enough to create a shockwave that shook the truck, but Furio was built for doomsday. They turned on the radio, but only heard the emergency alert system signal, and it was not followed by further instructions.
Chapter 31
Guidance Counselor
They drove in near silence for two hours, smashing through debris, wrecked and abandoned cars, and overrun military blockades. Every so often, they would hear the ping of a bullet ricochet off the outside of Furio, but had no idea who was taking potshots. They used the reinforced bumper to smash through roaming packs of Skells. There was not much left in the way of boots on the ground containment anymore, as military and first responders had either pulled back or fallen completely, and it was only dusk. By evening, the state of New Jersey would fall completely.
Patrick turned around to address Ivan in his best ‘let’s put the past behind us and make amends tone. “Ivan, you know, after I lost my parents, your dad really helped me out, and I don’t know if I ever expressed to you how much I appreciated that. If he had not covered my tuition costs, I never would have been able to attend college. And when things were really tough on the campaign trail, his support helped us get back our footing.”
Ivan did not meet his gaze. “Well before you get too teary-eyed, Congressman, understand that he had identified you early on, even before your family was torn apart. He realized long ago that you didn’t need to buy politicians when you could simply grow your own.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Pat said defensively. “I was a punk in high school. No way would anyone have even thought I would have even gone to college, not to mention law school and politics. I was a thug.”
Ivan looked over at Patrick. “And yet, look at you now.”
Pat had no reply. Dan did though. “You’re a paranoid schizoid, Gold.”
Ivan turned his attention to Dan. “Oh yeah, how about those Sullivan brothers? You’re war criminals. Shit, there was discussion about where the military would even incarcerate the mutant Sullivan brothers after court martial. Some wanted to put you two in Gitmo. I wo
uld have loved to see your two pale Irish asses in with all those camel jockeys. Yet you two come away with a slap on the wrists and walk right into cushy jobs with Dad’s company. How’d that happen? And what about Virgil? What was it like, three years we were out of high school before his father took a dirt nap and V takes over the family business before he’s 21? How many twenty year olds do you know who can run a crime family without ending up dead or in jail? Either of you ever notice any sign of leadership ability in V when we were in school? And what about the esteemed Dr. Woody? Remember that extreme diet and cellular detox drug therapy that he was hawking a couple of years ago? Remember the deaths it caused?”
“I didn’t hear about anyone dying,” Pat declared.
Ivan went on as if Patrick had never spoken. “And the next generation of chosen ones is sitting in your midst.” Ivan turned to Eric. “Kid, if you only knew what was ahead of you...” Ivan looked out the window, but what he was really seeing was not out there on the side of the road. “Your lives have been orchestrated. You were identified by my father long ago, positioned, manipulated, and toyed with. You didn’t know it. Your families didn’t know it. Well most of them didn’t. You played your parts perfectly and you never questioned anything. Don’t feel bad, marionettes rarely look up to see who’s pulling the strings.”
Silence hung in the interior of the car.
“Furio needs fuel,” Ivan said after a long moment.
It took some time before they could find a diesel pump that was not overrun by Skells or destroyed entirely, but eventually they found a service station that was off the beaten path. While Eric pumped the gas, Dan looked over to see Ivan and Marifi huddled together in the distance, having am intense conversation. Dan nudged Pat with his shoulder. “What do you think the Addams family over there is talking about?”
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