Dead Calm

by Jon Schafer

  When Cage and his unit were called up after the Governor of Arkansas declared martial law to keep order, Jedidiah's first posting was to provide security for the hospital where the HWNW virus had developed. Present at post-hurricane Katrina ravaged New Orleans, and having served in Afghanistan, he thought he was prepared for anything.

  He was wrong.

  Driving up to the hospital in his Humvee with a platoon of men accompanying him in two trucks, he was amazed to see sandbagged bunkers flanking the entrance to the emergency room. Manned by police officers carrying automatic weapons, the checkpoint created a choke point for anyone trying to get aid. The parking lot overflowed with hundreds of injured people, the wounded either sitting or laying, thrashing in agony, bleeding and vomiting onto the asphalt as two doctors moved among them. They were escorted by a Little Rock police officer that stood watching while the medics marked the wounded on the forehead with grease pencil to show the order in which they would be treated. Once triaged, the injured were then stripped of all their clothing by two orderlies who examined them from head to toe before allowing them to be admitted past the guards at the emergency room door.

  After parking his Humvee on a grass strip near the entrance, Cage started to collect his gear for the walk to the emergency room. Looking up when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, he saw one of the physicians who had been examining a man lying on the asphalt suddenly back away from his patient as the man started going into convulsions. The police officer that accompanied the doctor drew his pistol and stood close by as seizures racked the prone man's body. People crowded the scene blocking his view, so Cage exited his vehicle and walked over to find out what was going on.

  Seeing Cage's National Guard uniform, the cop looked relieved and said, “Thank God you all finally showed up. This is a fucking nightmare. We've only got maybe six guys left. Everyone else is out on road patrol trying to keep things under control. We've got looting all over the city and these things keep popping up.” Pointing with his gun barrel at the man now laying motionless on the ground, the cop added, “You have to shoot them in the brain when they come back. Or hit them with a taser. The electrical shock takes them out.”

  Cage didn't understand what the officer was talking about. Before he could ask for an explanation though, the man on the ground twitched a few times and then jerkily rolled over onto his hands and knees before rising unsteadily to his feet. Jedidiah got a good look at his face as revulsion and fear battled for control of his emotions.

  Tinged with a grayish-green skin color, and with its mouth pulled back in a snarl, the newly dead man's eyes stared in hunger at the crowd around him as saliva began to roll down his chin. Blood, mixed with a thick, black substance, leaked from what looked like a bite wound on his chest. A few people screamed and ran away but most just backed up and continued to watch the show.

  The Little Rock cop said, “You have to wait until you're sure they're dead before you kill them.”

  This contradiction was lost on Cage as he watched the cop take two steps forward, raise his pistol to aim it point-blank at the man's forehead and pull the trigger.

  Chunks of skull, brains and a fine spray of black puss mixed with a small amount of blood flew from the back of the man's head to land on some of the onlookers. More screams, this time of disgust, met this volley of gore.

  “Fucking rubberneckers,” the cop said, “Serves them right. They're one of the reasons why we have to wait so long to shoot the ones who turn. Too many people complained about us shooting people who might still be alive, so now we got the ACLU on our ass about civil rights.”

  “What in the fuck is going on here?” Cage asked in amazement.

  “You don't know?” The cop replied. Seeing the puzzled look on Cage's face, he explained, “Some guy had a disease of some kind. Something called Prader-Will or Willi-Prader or Darth Vader or something. It gave him an insatiable appetite for food. Guy got into an accident and had a head injury. Word is, the hospital treated him with the wrong medicine or some shit, and his disease mutated into this virus. If you're infected, you get an appetite for a new kind of meat. Us.”

  “What virus?” Cage asked.

  They're calling it the HWNW virus. What it does is it kills your ass off and you're dead, but then you get back up and try to eat people.”

  “Eat people?” Cage said with disbelief in his voice.

  “Yeah, and that's how the virus gets spread too. It's transmitted by the bites.”

  Cage learned more details of how the virus came about by talking with hospital staff. They also warned him that any contact with infected body fluids on an open wound would transmit the disease also. By then it was too late for those already sprayed by the blood, puss or the saliva of the walking dead though.

  In the first days after their arrival, his platoon of forty-two took heavy losses as they learned how to deal with the virus and those it infected. By the time they finally set up a system to keep themselves safe, the hospital was abandoned due to the attrition of its medical staff. Cage and his remaining twenty-nine men were reassigned to rescuing civilians trapped in their homes by the dead that had multiplied beyond anyone's imagination and now wandered freely through the streets of Little Rock. Eventually, there were no more living human beings left in the city, and the Guard was ordered to pull out. The once thriving metropolis gained the designation that was being given to all abandoned population centers. It was now referred to as a Dead City. Cage and his remaining twenty men were then sent to a newly constructed research facility outside of Russellville.

  Checking his appearance again in the full length mirror hung on the back of the door of his cramped trailer, Cage decided he was sufficiently squared away to proceed with his daily duties. As he stepped out into the cool Arkansas afternoon, his eyes jumped to the fence that encircled the compound. He visually checked the wire ties holding the electrified mesh to the reinforced, eight foot high, chain link enclosure and was reassured to hear the hum of the generator that sent a continuous charge through the barrier.

  When Cage and what was left of his unit arrived at the research facility, the perimeter only consisted of some hastily strung coils of razor wire. Numerous bodies of the walking dead that had tried to breach the compound’s defenses hung limply from this flimsy barrier. In one section, it was almost flattened by their weight.

  Cage saw a Major coming toward him, and after exchanging salutes the officer informed him that he and his men were needed for body disposal duty. They were to draw rubber gloves from the medical building and pull the bodies of the dead from the razor wire. Another detail would be coming behind them to shore up the weak spots.

  “Where’s the medical building and what should we do with the bodies, sir,” Cage asked.

  Looking at him quizzically, the Major said, “I don't recognize you. Are you new here?”

  Cage snapped to attention and rapped out, “First Lieutenant Jedidiah Cage reporting for duty with-.”

  The Major waved the rest off. “You're one of the Little Rock crew that just arrived, aren't you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Cage answered.

  The Major frowned, “I heard it was bad there.”

  “Pretty bad, sir,” Cage replied.

  The Major thought about this for a moment before saying, “I know you just got in, Lieutenant and that you all just pulled out of Little Rock, but I need you and your men on disposal duty. I'm shorthanded right now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cage replied. “My men and I can do the job.”

  “We've got to maintain the integrity of the fence or we're totally screwed. The Army promised us an electric fence, but who knows when that'll show up. So far the Z's are only coming at us in groups of four or five, so we've been able to deal with the assaults by engaging them with pistol fire once they get hung up on the fence. If that changes, your rifles will be needed to help defend the perimeter.” Pointing to a three-story farmhouse, which was the only permanent structure in the compou
nd, the Major said, “That's the research facility. Go and ask one of Professor Hawkins’ people to give you some gloves.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cage replied and said, “If I may ask sir, what are they researching?”

  The Major broke eye contact and replied, “They’re working on finding a cure for the HWNW virus.” After a pause he added, “Among other things.”

  Cage nodded, not commenting on the Major’s uneasiness at the question. “And the bodies of the dead?” He asked.

  “Drag them downwind and burn them. You'll find diesel fuel at the motor pool.”

  “I do need to report in and let the C.O. know I’m here, sir,” Cage said.

  “You already did,” The officer replied. “I’m Major Conway. I’m the ringmaster of this circus. When you're done with the bodies, get cleaned up and get you and your men something to eat. When you're done with chow, come and find me, and I’ll give you a full briefing on our position here. That'll also give me some time to find a place for you and your men to be quartered.”

  Since that day, Cage found himself working closely with Major Conway in building up the facility and its defenses. He met twice with Doctor Lionel Hawkins, the head of research into the HWNW virus, but found the man distant and aloof. Cage was left with an uneasy feeling after both meetings and wasn't looking forward to a third.

  It was a relief when, a week after he and his men took over security for the medical building, a platoon of regular Army soldiers arrived and relieved them of this duty. Since then, Cage had little contact with the people at the farmhouse. After finding out the duties of this new platoon, he was quite happy to keep it that way. Besides providing security, the regular Army unit was also charged with acquiring specimens for Doctor Hawkins and his staff to study.

  Once a week they went into the nearby town where the zombies congregated in large numbers and brought back ten or more of the living dead. Although Cage and his men regularly went into Russellville on scrounging missions, they tried to avoid the dead, while the Army unit sought them out.

  One afternoon at lunch, Cage was sharing a table with Major Conway when he overheard the Lieutenant who commanded the Army unit explaining to another officer the process of how they trapped and brought the dead back to the base.

  With bright, excited eyes, the Lieutenant said, “We take three of those four-by-four trucks with the big lift kits on them that make them sit up high, and we cruise real slow-like through the streets of town. In no time at all we got a whole slew of them things following us. We speed up a little so that the most beat up ones fallout and we only got the most intact ones staying with us. When we got about two or three of the best ones ahead of the rest of the herd, we stop. Six of our guys are in the bed of each of the pickups, but they sit so high up that them dead things can't reach them. Two of my guys are ropers and hang off each side of the pickup. They just drop a noose over the head of one of them and pull it up. Each roper has two handlers. When the roper hauls the Z up near the rail, the handlers throw a hood over its head and shackle its arms and legs. By this time, the other dead have caught up to them, so they drive off a ways and move the dead to the transport truck. Doc Hawkins tells us how many he needs, and when we fill our quota, we head back here.”

  “Where do they keep the Z’s,” Cage asked. He was curious, since he had never seen any detention area for the walking dead at the facility.

  Now that he had a larger audience, the Second Lieutenant sat up straighter in his seat and said with pride in his voice, “We just pull up behind the farmhouse and throw them down the old coal chute that drops into the basement. We got it all set up slick as shit, and we’ve only taken two casualties since we started.”

  Hearing this, Cage quickly put the basement of the farmhouse on the list of places he never ever wanted to fucking visit.

  After finishing his walk of the compound perimeter, Captain Cage went to the duty officer's trailer to read the reports from the previous evening. He, and what was left of the men he’d commanded in Little Rock, had guard duty that night so he wanted to know what kind of activity to expect.

  After reading the reports, he asked the officer of the day, “Are these correct, Lieutenant? It says there was no attempt by the Z's to try and breach our defenses.”

  “That's correct, Captain,” he replied.

  “But last night's sentries reported a lot of activity in the woods beyond the fields surrounding us and over by the lake,” Cage said.

  “Correct again, Captain. The Z's seem to have learned that the fence takes them out so they're keeping their distance.”

  “What do the patrols outside the compound report?”

  “They estimate one hundred Z's are stumbling around in the woods, but they've been deemed no threat, so no action is planned against them.”

  “Has Major Conway seen these?” Cage asked, holding up the reports.

  “I’m sure he has, Captain. We submit them to him at 0600 every morning.”

  Cage thanked the O.D. and went in search of Conway, eventually tracking him down in the communications trailer. As Cage entered, the Major was finishing up a call on the satellite phone. After disconnecting, he acknowledged Cage, but before the Captain could speak, he held up his hand and said abruptly, “My office, we’ve got new orders.”

  His question about the buildup of the dead outside the fence forgotten, Cage dutifully followed Conway while trying to guess what could be going on now. He didn’t like to speculate on what the future held in store for him, especially when it was in the hands of the Arkansas National Guard, but he couldn’t help but wonder.

  When the two men were seated across from each other at the Major's desk, Conway said, “First, I need to inform you that you've been placed on active duty, along with every other reservist under my command, and are now part of the regular Army of the United States of America.”

  “And that means what, sir?” Cage asked cautiously.

  Conway leaned back in his chair before replying; “It means that of the two-hundred sixty three men and woman on this base, one hundred are to be transported to Fort Hood for redeployment. It seems that the Army has lost a lot of people trying to retake New Orleans, and they need fresh bodies to fill the ranks.”

  Cage felt his stomach drop. He’d heard the stories and read reports about the units sent in to retake the Dead Cities. They searched every standing structure and crawled through the storm drains and sewers seeking out and destroying the living dead. It was no wonder the Army needed more troops for what had come to be known as Dead Duty. The life expectancy of those engaged in the battle for the Dead Cities was measured in hours instead of days. Recalling the abandoned homes that littered the city of New Orleans after Katrina and the maze that was the French Quarter, he started mentally making out his will.

  The apprehension must have shown on his face because Major Conway said, “Not to worry Captain. You did your part in Little Rock. Besides, the Army has decided it needs you here.”

  Putting off his anxiety, Cage said, “If I’m needed elsewhere-.”

  “You’re needed here Captain, and that's the end of it,” Conway interrupted. “Besides, congratulations are in order, not condolences.”

  “Sir?” Cage asked, bewildered.

  “You've been slated to take over command of this base,” Conway told him. “What about you, sir?” Cage asked, shocked by his promotion.

  “I’m to go with the men to Fort Hood where I’ll take over command of the training facility for the new recruits that are needed to offset the losses suffered in trying to retake the Dead Cities. Every man and woman who's capable of holding a rifle is being pressed into service.”

  Standing, Major Conway circled his desk with his hand outstretched. “Congratulations on your new post, Major Cage.”

  Cage stood awkwardly, trying to read the Major's mood about his own assignment. Should he return the congratulations? He settled for, “Thank you, sir,” and fell silent.

  “My orders are to report to Fort H
ood within seventy-two hours, so we have a lot to go over in a short time,” Conway said. “I need you to be here in my office at 0600 tomorrow morning, so we can compile a list of who stays and who goes. We also need to review the additional duties you'll undertake as commanding officer of this facility.” After hesitating, Conway said in a lower tone, “I will also be briefing you on some of the additional research that Doctor Hawkins is doing. Much of it is classified but I’ll relay to you the few things that I’m allowed to.”

  “How is it going over there, sir?” Cage asked. “Are they making any progress toward a cure?”

  “It's complicated,” Conway said evasively. “Finding a cure has become secondary to other considerations.”

  Cage was confused. He thought that the only reason for the existence of this facility was to find a cure for the HWNW virus.

  Seeing that Cage was readying to ask more questions, and not being in the mood to open the can of worms that was the research being done at the farmhouse, Conway said crisply, “We’ll discuss this tomorrow, Major.”

  By the tone of the Major's voice, Cage knew he was being dismissed. Coming to attention, he snapped out a perfect salute and took his leave.

  As he exited the command trailer, he stopped and glanced over at the farmhouse. Smoke came from chimneys situated at each end of the white clapboard structure, which at any other time would have given the building a homey look. Today though, with Major Conway’s evasiveness and Cage's own suspicions that something was going on behind the scenes, the farmhouse looked ominous.

  'What in the hell are you up to over there,” Cage asked aloud.

  Chapter Four

  The Dead Calm:

  Steve Wendell tried to discern any sign of life as he looked into the depths of the open hatch in the side of the Calm of the Seas. Without diverting his eyes, he said to Brain, “Keep the light centered.”