by Jon Schafer
Their spirits remained high until the large window at the front of the beauty salon broke when two of the dead got tangled up in each other's feet and fell through it. Other zombies, attracted by the strong scent of fresh flesh coming through the opening, followed their noses to the hole leading through the wall into the insurance building. It was shortly before midnight when the first of the dead fell on the survivors staying in an office on the first floor. In the confusion and carnage that followed, eight people fell to the gnashing teeth of the dead.
Awakened by screams of terror to find their refuge invaded, everyone fled to the upper floors of the building. Creating a barricade out of office furniture in the stairwell, they managed to halt the advance of the dead just below the second floor. Safe for the moment, they turned their attention to the wounded.
Two people with bites were quarantined in an office. Normal injuries were treated with the few medical supplies on hand.
Once settled into their now smaller quarters, they realized the cooking area they had been using was on the first floor at the back of the building. A quick inventory was taken and it was found that the only food on hand was two ten-pound sacks of grits.
But this was just the beginning of their problems.
The furniture they had stacked on the stairs to stop the zombies was being cleared, albeit slowly and clumsily, by the dead who frantically clawed at it in their attempt to reach the living. The survivors piled more desks and chairs onto the makeshift barricade, but with no way to secure them besides a couple rolls of scotch tape salvaged from an office, these were soon pulled away. The supply of office furniture on the second floor dwindled as the night went on and by dawn the second floor had to be abandoned. This pattern of retreat continued until the barrier to the third floor was pulled apart by the relentless dead and the last of the living humans in the building were forced to flee to the roof.
Looking at the heavy wooden access door that was the only obstacle remaining between them and death, Jimmy glanced at his stark surroundings and decided he would probably die of exposure, thirst or starvation long before the dead broke through.
That had been yesterday and nothing had changed, including the incessant pounding of the dead at the door leading from the third floor to the roof. Jimmy let his mind wander to take it off his obsessive thirst and daydreamed about saving everyone. Fantasizing about finding a rifle and shooting down the dead, his vision of killing the zombies surrounding them was so strong that he could actually hear the shots.
Feeling a kick to the bottom of his boot, Jimmy came out of his reverie to find Jo-Jo standing over him. Before she could speak, he became aware that it hadn't been a dream. He could hear gunfire. Lots of gunfire. And a strange whooshing sound he couldn't place.
With a huge grin on her face, his sister shouted in glee, “The Army's here. They're right on the edge of town and they're coming our way. They got guns and flamethrowers and everything. They're massacring them damned dead things.”
Flamethrowers, Jimmy thought. That's what the whooshing noise is. I gotta get me one of them, he decided.
With a shout of triumph, he jumped up to join the throng of people standing at the parapet wall, cheering and shouting as the Army decimated the dead.
Perched on trucks, MRAPs and Humvees, and using automatic rifles, machine guns and flamethrowers, the first military unit swept through town leaving nothing but the inert bodies of the dead in their wake. The soldiers came back and started a systematic search for survivors in the town while eradicating the few zombies they missed on their first pass. Seeing the people on top of the insurance building, a unit was detached. They drove up to the front of the structure in armored cars. Dismounting, the soldiers broke down the front door and started clearing the building of the hundreds of dead which clogged its halls and offices.
Jimmy, Jessie and Jo-Jo ran to the access door to the third floor and waited. The noise of muted gunfire coming from inside the building grew louder. In minutes, the McPhersons had to back away from the door when stray bullets started coming through it.
The gunfire died down and was replaced by a voice that yelled, “Identify yourselves or we will open fire. This is your only warning.”
Cries of relief greeted this announcement. The door was opened and a dozen heavily armed men wearing camouflaged utilities came onto the roof. After being hailed as saviors, the soldiers made sure that none of the people were infected before leading them down to the street. Here they huddled in a group, staring at the hundreds of dead bodies that littered the street. A Humvee, followed by a truck, roared up and disgorged more civilians, quickly recognized as fellow townsfolk. Reunions were common and more were in the making as people shouted out that they had seen each other's family and friends.
More trucks arrived, and soon there were over three hundred citizens of Owens Grove crowding Main Street. Tears of joy were shed at reunions of family's that had been split apart, and tears of sadness were shed at the news that loved ones had been killed. Medics helped the wounded while soldiers moved through the crowd passing out bottled water, crackers and spam to the crowd. Despite the circumstances, a feeling of being at a festival soon prevailed.
They had made it. They were alive.
Darkness was falling when a Humvee with two speakers mounted on the roof approached and stopped a short distance from the edge of the crowd. Everyone fell silent as feedback whined when a PA system was turned on. The screeching stopped abruptly and a voice with a Cajun accent echoed across the downtown area saying, “My name is Major William H. Shurmann the Third. I'm the commander of the unit that rescued you. I would like to congratulate you for making it through, and I would also like to offer my condolences to those of you who lost family members in this tragedy.”
Caught up in the spirit of having narrowly avoided death, the remaining citizens of Owens Grove roared their thanks to the soldiers who saved them and at the words of consolation. When the noise died down, Shurmann spoke again.
“I am seeking both male and female volunteers to join with us in our efforts to eradicate the plague of dead threatening our existence. For those of you who want to enlist for the duration of this crisis, please go to the post office three blocks down and give your name and vital statistics to the clerks on duty there. “
Nothing more needed to be said. Ready and eager to do their part, over fifty men and woman broke from the crowd and headed down the street, their excited chatter filled with shouted vows of, “Kill them dead things,” and, “Take our country back.”
Jo-Jo and Jessie joined this group, but when Jimmy tried to accompany them, Jo-Jo told him to wait. While they were worried about the rest of the family, the farmhouse was outside town and the soldiers hadn't advanced that far yet, Jo-Jo decided that she and Jessie would sign up now and Jimmy would wait to see if they opened up the road heading to their house. If they hadn't cleared the way by the time she got back, then she and Jessie would wait while Jimmy signed up. Although they wanted to be reunited with their family, they felt sure the resourceful McPherson clan would be all right. The farmhouse drew water from a well and had a pantry kept stocked with food.
When the noise of those going to enlist died down, Shurmann spoke again, “For those of you who remain I would like you to split up into two groups. The soldiers moving among you will assist you in an orderly separation. On the right side of the street I want all men and women between the ages of sixteen and fifty. Everyone else needs to move to the left.”
It was then that Jimmy noticed that the soldiers who had been facing outward to guard the crowd against any stray zombies had attached bayonets to their rifles and were brusquely ordering people to the left or right of Main Street. People were confused at this new development, but since the soldiers had saved them they went along without too much fuss. Once divided, a line of trucks pulled down Main Street and stopped between the two groups, further separating them. Now people started to feel uneasy and shouted questions at the soldiers guarding the
m, as well as to the unseen Major who had yet to step down from his Humvee.
“Quiet,” a sharp, angry command boomed over the loudspeakers. The crowd fell silent as he continued, “You all had your chance to volunteer, but some of you didn't take it. Your country needs you in this time of crisis and you turned your backs on it. I am here to inform you that under orders from the Joint Chiefs of the United States of America, all men and women between the ages of sixteen and fifty are hereby conscripted into military service. While those people who volunteered will be given two days to get their affairs in order, those of you on my right who refused will be taken directly from here to Fort Hood, Texas. There you will undergo basic training for a period of four weeks. After that, you will then be sent immediately to units working in the cities to rid us of the hordes of dead. Those who resist will be shot. Those who desert will be hanged upon their recapture. Any disobedience to any lawful order given by me or my men will be dealt with swiftly and harshly.”
Shouted curses filled the air including Jimmy's, who protested that he was going to sign up. Everyone was silenced when a soldier fired a burst from his assault rifle into the air.
In the eerie quiet that followed, Shurmann said, “The next person to act out in disobedience will be shot where they stand. Everyone on the right needs to board the trucks and keep quiet.”
In shock, no one moved until Shurmann's voice roared out, “Now!”
Slowly at first, and then quicker when prodded by the bayonet-wielding soldiers, the conscripts boarded the transports. Jimmy was the final person on the last truck in line and ended up sitting next to a guard who had positioned himself at the back. As the vehicle started to move, he realized that the road they were taking to Baton Rouge would lead them directly past the family's farmhouse. Sizing up the guard seated next to him, he knew he could easily knock the man out and jump from the truck when they went by his house. He needed to talk to his daddy about what was happening. He wanted to let everyone know that he’d been shanghaied. If he didn't do this, no one would find out for weeks what happened and might think him dead.
Right after I let the family know I’m safe, I’ll go volunteer, Jimmy told himself. Thinking about the Major's punishment for deserting, he assured himself that this was America. He wasn't worried about being shot. Americans didn't do things like that to their own people.
Seeing the tattered remains of the Red Cross tent in the distance, he knew he was close. Readying himself to overpower the guard, he concentrated on the spot behind the man's ear where he would hit him. He was just drawing back when he heard one of the other men in the truck ask, “Ain't that your place, Jimmy?”
Turning to look, Jimmy felt his heart drop down to his stomach as despair washed through him. All hope fled at the sight of the wreckage that had once been his family's home. The only thing that wasn't burned down and scattered was an old outhouse. Bricks and wood were strewn in a huge arc across the front yard and Jimmy could see bodies lying on the front lawn. He hoped these were dead things and not his family, but looking closer at the scene of complete destruction, deep down inside he knew the bodies were his kin.
In shock, he whispered, “What happened?”
Hearing him, the guard replied, “They resisted. Happened about half an hour ago. Heard about it on the radio. The people inside shot one of the soldiers after he told them they were drafted. The old man who lived there was screaming about it being kidnapping and opened fire. The Major said he wanted an example set and called in a tank to level the building.”
Completely lost in his misery, Jimmy sagged in his seat as the truck drove him to Baton Rouge and whatever fate awaited him.
In such a way, the recruitment drive initiated by the Joint Chiefs of Staff swept across the country.
Chapter Nine
The Dead Calm:
The morning sun illuminated the bridge of The Calm of the Seas as Reverend Ricky looked at Brother Seth with disgust. After letting the man squirm for a full minute, he demanded, “What the hell happened? How did that bitch get away and kill Brother Raymond?”
Not wanting to tell Ricky how Sheila had caught him and Raymond with their pants down, literally with their pants down, Seth made up a story of how Sheila ambushed them. That she must have suspected they were coming for her, so she hid just inside the entrance to the lounge. When they walked in, she jumped out and slashed at him first before stabbing Brother Raymond in the chest. Hoping to turn Ricky's wrath further away from him and onto Sheila, he added to his lie by saying that as she ran off, she had yelled out that Ricky was a limp-dick who molested Border Collies.
Seth almost laughed when he saw the reaction this got. Ricky's face turned almost purple and he started shaking as he spit out, “That bitch,” before falling silent.
After taking a moment to compose himself, Ricky finally gained enough composure to ask, “What happened on deck five then? I set a bunch of freaks loose when the spotter told us that Sheila was there.”
Grateful to be out of the spotlight and more than willing to throw someone else into it, Seth answered, “We had one of the Faithful keeping an eye on the newcomers. When he spotted the dead you set free, he panicked and ran. When we finally got another guy down there, he reported that a whole shit load of freaks were dead - or whatever the hell you call it when they don't get back up - and there was no sign of any other stinkers. We don't know how many were let loose, so there could still be a few walking around.”
Ricky asked, “Did any of them make it down to deck four?”
“A couple,” Seth answered. “He told me that six of them were lying near the top of the stairs and another one was halfway down, and the rest didn’t make it much further. The six up top all had head wounds, but he couldn't see the other ones.”
“So these people know how to shoot,” Ricky stated.
“Apparently,” Seth replied dryly.
Ricky considered this for a moment before turning to Parsons and saying, “This kind of throws a wrench into our plans. Doesn't it?”
Parsons nodded curtly as he pushed down at the anger bubbling up inside him. He and Ricky had come up with the perfect plan to draw the newcomers into the ship and now it was worthless. Their plan hinged on everyone staying out of sight and letting the people from the sailboat feel comfortable in their new environment. They knew curiosity would overcome caution if someone were given what they thought was a safe environment to explore. Once scattered throughout its numerous compartments, they could be separated by locking down the watertight doors in front and behind them. This way, their combined firepower would be cut down, and they could be killed from ambush without much risk.
But now, because of your snap decision to let some of the dead go, our plan isn't worth a shit, Don thought.
When Seth had radioed Parsons to let him know Sheila had escaped, he called the rest of the Head Ushers to meet him at the Masthead. They split up in search of her but couldn't find so much as one red hair. For hours they searched for Sheila without luck. It was like she'd vanished. They were just about to give up when the spotter on deck five radioed that she had shown up there. Knowing she was trying to reach the people from the sailboat, he called Ricky to tell him the bad news.
Having retired to his cabin with two Hungarian sisters aged thirteen and fourteen, Ricky was annoyed at the interruption. When he found out the reason behind it though, he went totally ballistic. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stormed to the bridge and threw the switch that opened a watertight hatch on deck five.
Although most of the doors keeping the dead secured in the cabin areas were simply fire doors that had been chained shut, a short distance beyond these were water-tight hatches that could be controlled from the bridge. After gaining control of the ship, Ricky shut the hatches and had the chains removed. This way, he could open these areas from the safety of the bridge. Now he could let the dead loose at will to terrorize his Faithful and reinforce their need for protection.
Normally, Ricky would
only open one of these hatches for a few seconds, just enough time for one or two of the dead to escape. In his rage at Sheila though, he left the door open for a full fifteen count. Returning from the bridge, he called Parsons and told him he wanted Seth to report to him at nine the next morning. He wanted to know what the hell happened at the Masthead. Like a child throwing a temper tantrum, he screamed that short of the ship sinking, he wasn't to be disturbed for the rest of the night.
“So how do you want to do this?” Parsons asked, hoping Ricky didn't go off again and have a fit. This seemed to be happening more often.
To his relief, Ricky sighed and his anger dissipated. Turning to Brother Seth, he ordered him to personally check on what was happening on deck four. Once he was gone, Ricky sighed again and said in a regretful voice, “l guess I kind of blew it last night. Didn't I?”
Parsons gave a noncommittal nod, not wanting to rub Ricky's nose in the fact that his actions had trashed their plan. Now it might take weeks for the people from the sailboat to relax enough to feel free to explore the ship, and they didn't have weeks. Trying to assess how much damage Sheila's defection might have caused, he asked, “What does that red-headed bitch know?”
“She knows the ship's sinking and she knows how we operate,” Ricky replied.
“So that means the people on deck four know.”
“But at least she doesn't know we plan to kill them and take their boat,” Ricky countered.
“But she knows about Cozumel. If she tells them about that, they might make the connection. She's sure to tell them that we let the freaks go and why. That alone will keep them on edge. We need to find a way to take them out and get their boat,” Parsons insisted.
“We've already decided we can't go head to head with them. They've got us outgunned and we're limited on ammunition. We need to separate them so we can pick them off one by one,” Ricky said.
