The Common Cold (Book 2): A Zombie Chronicle-Cabin Fever

by Roberts, David K.

  *

  Danny woke early. A few days after, and in spite of the overwhelming slaughter of the undead at his hands using the LRAD, which Sam had christened the Zombie Splatterer - kids were so good at stating the obvious - Danny’s sleep patterns had become a little more normal and in the last couple of days he had actually woken feeling refreshed. Time might not be healing the world but it was starting to scab over the wounds or at least dull the pain of the small reality that existed for twenty three people in the mountains.

  Considering immediate survival was their primary objective, the mountains were not turning out to be the haven they had all hoped for in their headlong run away from what had once been civilisation. Realising the dead were making their way out of the cities in vast numbers, no doubt in search of food - if that’s what the living were to them - everyone realised a plan had to be worked out to secure the area from the large numbers of ex-city dwellers. Something was needed that would protect them until the fence could be completed; they were still less than half-way to completing the enclosure.

  In the same shed as the hole-borer, which they had retrieved in one piece following the massive attack, there had been significant other machinery, including a snow-plough. It had been put to good use clearing away the frozen remains of the slaughtered, collecting it into a seven foot tall pile of frozen brain chippings and other human remains to be taken away when more convenient - and absolutely before the spring came. They had then set about clearing the road to and around the reservoir, giving them relatively safe access to the rest of the buildings. As far as they were concerned, the less snow that piled up, the less chance of another surprise attack.

  It had been Rob’s suggestion that they strap the LRAD to one of the trucks and use it as a portable Splatterer. Today was its first run out and Danny was looking forward to seeing if it worked as well as they had hoped. There was no reason why it should not.

  “Wake up love,” he whispered in Janet’s ear, kissing her gently. I’m going out shortly.” She turned over and gave him a lingering hug.

  “Be careful out there, today,” she mumbled warmly. “Don’t get complacent, thinking you’re safe because of that machine. I don’t want to lose you.” She kept a tight hold on Danny, not wanting him to get up just yet.

  “I’ve got to get going, babe,” he said, wishing he could go back in time for a few hours, back to two weeks previously when all was normal between Christmas and the New Year - eating and drinking too much, relaxing without worrying that your neighbours might eat you. To be relaxed enough to stay in bed and play Mr and Mrs all day long was just a dream for the foreseeable future, and certainly wasn’t about to happen today, there was still too much to do.

  Denver, with a population of well over six hundred thousand, was emptying of its citizenry, and even if you divided that number by the points of the compass, that still left something like one hundred and fifty thousand potential zombie threats coming their way. Although the killing was indescribable and terrible for all of them, their brains quickly adapted by numbing them to the fact that they were wiping out humans, or at least a vague facsimile of what was once human; the brain’s capacity for soaking up horror was well known and in this scenario essential for survival. The fact that they may have destroyed about a thousand of them in that one terrible attack, was as nothing when they considered that there still remained enough Infected coming their way to launch about one hundred and fifty more similar attacks. The numbers were appalling to think about, and he was barely able to put them into some sort of imaginable perspective. Their first mass encounter was bad enough.

  Peeling himself gently away from Janet he got up and threw his clothes on. Janet followed, getting ready to mount armed guard for the cabin area. In the last few days there had been time to practice shooting and by now everyone was approximately equally capable, with few showing any squeamishness for the task. Flying the less practiced down to the supply dump in the grounds of the National Center For Atmospheric Research, they practiced shooting zombies until everyone had shot at least half a dozen each. Although it was a cold-blooded act, every one of them would need to overcome any resistance they might still feel about killing the creatures. It was also decided that the Infected would be known as zombies, dehumanising them as much as possible; Janet’s idea had finally been taken up by the rest of the group.

  In their brief rest periods when not erecting the fencing or standing guard, they had all taken to sitting out front of the cabin basking in the winter sun which, as long as there was no wind, could be quite warm - as long as you wore warm clothes of course. At least they would get their daily dose of vitamin D. Since the first heavy snow the clouds had stayed away but no-one was under the illusion that would remain the case. If the reasonable weather could just last until the fence was completed, it would be a miracle worth celebrating and would ensure that any snow that did land within the confines would be zombie-shark free.

  The LRAD eradication team consisted of Rob at the wheel of the Splatterer truck, Danny and Tom working and securing the LRAD in the back, and Mike and Cliff manning the backup truck to give fire power support if needed. They had worked out a standard route for the clearing process. They would drive at no more than walking speed, aiming the LRAD away from the lake and into the treeline, unless they found footprints leading in another direction. This would enable them to eradicate any zombies that might be hiding in the area, possibly under the snow if they were lucky and it worked that way. The only risk they all saw was the potential for a non-zombie hiding or innocently making their way past their territory to be killed by the machine. While agreeing it would be a hideous way to die, they all agreed it to be a risk worth taking; chances of a lone breather successfully making their way through the hundreds of thousands of zombies circling the mid-western city was slight.

  “Right, guys.” Tom called. “Mount up!”

  Everyone ran to their trucks and took up their positions. Danny got out his freshly charged iPhone and set the music for kick-ass Kylie’s ‘Can’t get You Out of My Head’ and put it on repeat. Plugging it in he gave the thumbs up signal and Rob pulled away slipping into second gear and staying slow. With only faint echoes of the tune reaching Danny’s ears - thankfully - it was hard to tell the device was functioning properly.

  “Is this thing working?” Tom asked, clearly echoing Danny’s doubts.

  “See the lights indicating volume? They’re one away from full volume, just like before. I can faintly hear it. We won’t know until it hits something, I guess.”

  “What about the animals out there?” Tom asked. It was a question that had crossed Danny’s mind. As a city dweller, he probably had more concern for the sanctity of countryside wildlife than out-of-towners who usually had a more utilitarian and pragmatic approach to life and death, especially that of small, furry creatures.

  “Well, if it’s a deer or something edible we won’t waste it. I’m gagging for a bit of fresh meat. The sooner we can get off bloody MREs won’t be a minute too soon.”

  “Can’t complain though, without them we’d be in a pretty bad place right now.”

  “You’re not kidding, Tom. How much of it do we have left?”

  “I’d say a couple of weeks as long as we all stick to the diet allocated.”

  Poor old Chuck hadn’t intended to support over twenty people for a sustained period with his provisions. His supply had done the group proud, that was for sure, and certainly helped them get through the first few days, removing desperation at least as a reason for leaving the safe haven. It was also a relief they had gone down the mountain to the emergency supply buildings and discovered such a haul. The food supplies they’d found there meant they would have a varied diet, albeit more bloody MREs. When Laurie had seen the food supplies brought back she had been surprised. It was not supposed to be a food resource point, so it was with deep gratitude they all thanked the god of administrative fuckups who had seen fit to deliver it within reach of people who needed it.


  Tom brought him back to the present by tugging his sleeve and pointing. Ahead they could see several zombies loitering among the trees. They appeared to be wearing military uniforms and there was evidence of what looked like recent blood in the snow.

  “Where’s the blood come from? Have they just turned? Or would they eat wild animals. Do you think?” Danny asked, trying to understand what he was seeing. As he spoke the walkers came out from among the trees. Some carried guns but did not appear to understand their use for they were not being carried or aimed in any useful manner. It was as if they had forgotten they had them.

  “I doubt a wild animal would get near enough to be caught. My guess is that we’ve had recent visitors that have been attacked. The recent visitors might even be them.”

  As the truck drew near and the undead came within the arc of the LRAD’s range they started to stiffen, as if realising something was wrong, although in truth it was probably just the sound frequency grabbing the attention of what passed for brain function. Their jaws began to drop as bodily control was given up. One, wearing corporal stripes stood ahead of the others, his dominance in life appearing to reside in death. In his belt was a radio and something else, Danny couldn’t make it out. Almost in unison, their heads began to vibrate rapidly, steam pouring out of their available orifices. Even their eyes seemed to steam before popping like over-ripe tomatoes, blood and solid matter splattering down their fronts before their heads finally began to crack open with the now-familiar wet popcorn sound they’d all heard before. As every one of them lay in the snow, bodies steaming, they began slowly to sink into the frozen ice crystals as it melted under them. In the immediate area of the zombies the snow was also affected by the sound; as with the heads, the brain matter boiling before exploding outward like a faulty pressure cooker, so the snow melted, thick steam rising and pits deepening in the surface as the ice within the drifts was melted.

  “I want their radio,” Danny said.

  “Why? We have radios,” Tom challenged.

  “What if they’re in contact with someone? They might be able to help us.”

  Before Tom could object, Danny flicked off the LRAD and jumped down, hurrying across to the corporal. As he approached he noticed a small, slightly discoloured crater next to the body. Curious, he dug into the snow while holding his pistol in case there was something alive underneath. His hand dug into cooling goo and he withdrew it quickly in shock. Greenish red blood covered his hand like a thick gelatinous glove.

  “Oh, crap!” he exclaimed in horror, desperately wiping it off in clean snow. It took surprisingly more effort than he might have imagined removing the substance. More carefully this time, he dug to one side of the crater and finally found a shoulder. Lifting with all his might, he uncovered a headless body. The LRAD had taken this one out under the snow. “Yes!” he exclaimed, excited by the discovery.

  Moving on he dug out the corporal’s body a little to see him more clearly. Picking up what appeared to be some form of necklace he threw it down in horror realising what he had in his hand. Ears on a string!

  “Jesus!” he exclaimed, shuddering. Somehow seeing thousands of corpses did nothing to alleviate the creepiness of what he had just discovered. Were these bastards on their way here, he wondered? He suddenly realised that protecting the group from zombies was the easy bit, certainly by comparison to defending against a trained group of killers. God knew what these soldiers had done before coming here to turn. If the corporal was a wrong ’un then it was likely that most if not all of his men were in the same league of depravity.

  Careful this time as to where he put his hand, he pulled the radio from the corporal’s belt. Pulling the other thing off he had seen from the truck, he discovered it to be a hand-held GPS unit. The battery was still functional and the screen was lit, showing a map. His blood ran cold; the destination of this group was shown clearly on the screen - it appeared to be the survivor’s group of huts. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked himself. He ran back to the truck with his prizes and climbed aboard.

  “What you got?” Tom asked. He’d seen the stunned look on Danny’s face.

  Instead of answering Danny banged on the roof of the truck. “Let’s go, Rob buddy.” The truck jerked into motion and they continued their clearance of the area.

  In answer to Tom’s question, Danny handed over the GPS unit. Tom’s face went pale. “What the…”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Danny muttered.

  “Have you tried the radio?”

  “Not yet, it’s switched on but I haven’t tried calling out. Considering the GPS was pointing at us I was wondering what it might bring down on us if we used it.”

  “Good point. Let’s have a proper discussion when we get back.”

  “Yeah, let’s. The upside is that the LRAD works on the under-snow fuckers.”

  “That’s good news, Danny. So what does lightly boiled brain feel like, then?” Tom chuckled showing he had enjoyed Danny’s reaction to his inadvertent handful. Without waiting for an answer he suggested they collect the weapons.

  “Why? We’ve got plenty.”

  “If they’re left out here they could be collected by someone else and might be used against us, and they can also be cannibalised to provide parts as our weapons begin to fail in time.”

  “Good idea.” Danny slid open the window. “Hey, Rob. Once we’ve done the circuit, can we come back to this point? We need to scavenge the weapons those guys were carrying.”

  “Sure thing.”

  *

  “Stacey. Sir” Ethan spoke, pressing the intercom switch to the commander’s office. One of his pet hates was calling an officer by his first name, whether ordered to or not. It just wasn’t right. He didn’t even like the guy. Admittedly he was the only one left to speak to at all. Everyone else seemed to have made the decision to go their own way, ignoring everyone else. God knew where they were in this bunker while Ethan spent his time at his terminal doing his job. Sometimes it felt like he was the last one in this place that gave a damn. His colleagues’ actions didn’t feel malicious; it just seemed to be what they wanted. He hadn’t seen another soul for over an hour and for now Ethan didn’t really mind; he wasn’t feeling good and his headache was beginning to make his thinking fuzzy. That and strange thoughts were passing through his fevered brain.

  Colonel Stacey Bradford hobbled into the small comms room and over to Ethan’s monitoring station. He seemed to have an injury of sorts; Ethan wondered what the problem was as he could see blood on the officer’s shirt, up near the neck. It might have been a shaving cut, but the amount of blood was way too serious for a small nick. And what was the limp about? He was absolutely certain he didn’t have one before. He appeared almost to be dragging his foot as if the ankle had failed.

  “I have someone on the radio, sir,” he began when the officer arrived, trying to ignore his demeanour.

  Stacey nodded. “Who is it?”

  “I believe it’s the people we sent the soldiers to assist.”

  Stacey appeared to raise his eyebrow, surprised that it wasn’t the helpful Corporal they’d been in touch with earlier.

  “Go ahead.”

  “NASA calling Stapp Lakes. NASA calling Stapp Lakes. Come in.” Ethan’s voice sounded croaky, this cold deepening it significantly.

  “Hello. Did you say NASA? You are sounding garbled, unclear. Over.”

  “Affirmative. We sent soldiers to protect you, to assist if they could. Over.”

  “You sent the soldiers?”

  There seemed to be irritation in the survivor’s voice, Ethan couldn’t understand why that would be so, they were only trying to help.

  “We have satellite feeds and drones,” he explained. “We have been looking at the whole US of A for survivors, trying to connect them with each other.”

  “And are there many? Over.”

  “Not many.”

  “Well, don’t send any more of them to us. We will repulse them with ma
ximum force. One of those sent to rescue us was collecting the ears of dead people. He had a string of them around his neck. Very fucking Universal Soldier.”

  “That can’t be right. Which one?”

  “One with a uniform and minus a head. I don’t know,” The voice sounded pissed and exasperated, making Ethan glad no-one knew where he was. “All I want to say to you is this, leave us alone. We are doing just fine without you sending us your psychopaths.”

  Ethan looked pained and sighed quietly; no-one ever appreciated the things he did for them, even in his personal life his mother shunned all the effort he’d put into making her twilight years more comfortable; he only hope she enjoyed the new reality, he wouldn’t be there to help her through it - the only thing warming him was that maybe she’d finally appreciate what she no longer had.