by Jon Schafer
After the engine room crew had died and came back to feast on their fellow crew members trapped inside with them, the hatches of the engine room had been sealed to prevent them from escaping and wreaking more havoc on the rest of the ship. The meat sealed inside with the dead had been quickly consumed and the marrow sucked from the bones. When no new food presented itself, the bones themselves were then broken apart and devoured. This had taken three days, with the skulls of their victims’ taking the longest to consume.
For this final part of their gruesome feast, the engine compartment was filled with the sounds of teeth scraping on bone.
Since then, none of the dead had eaten, but they still moved about with a purpose, to find something to feed on.
Dressed in gray coveralls, one of the crew stumbled down the stairs of a catwalk. As it neared the main deck, it slowly sank into the water that had been building up in the engine room over the past few days. With the hatches sealed, the water had nowhere to go as the compartment filled. Reaching the floor, the creature started wading through chest deep water. If the dead thing had been able to make a comparison, it would have realized that the water had only been knee deep the day before and ankle deep the day before that.
Not noticing anything, the zombie crewman continued to slog through the water as if it wasn't there.
***
Later that night, Reverend Ricky dismissed his informant with a flick of his hand and the warning, “The next time I summon you, I want you to come immediately, and I don't care if you're eating, shitting, or playing with yourself. Lead the one named Randy to where I told you to or the consequences will be painful. Tomorrow morning, be there.”
Once his snitch was gone, Ricky looked at the dials and gauges set into the consoles lining the back bulkhead of the bridge. For a moment his eyes rested on the bank of switches controlling the watertight doors before moving on. Shaking his head at the undecipherable readings on the rest of the dials, he was content that he knew enough to take care of business when the time came. He could let his dead go at anytime, anywhere. Turning to go back to his cabin and the two young girls waiting there for him, he didn't notice a row of solid red lights with labels under them that read: FLOOD WARNING; Deck One, and, FLOOD WARNING; Engine Room.
Chapter Fifteen
Russellville, Arkansas/Clarksville, Arkansas:
Major Jedidiah Cage glared through the window of his office at the farmhouse where Doctor Lyonel Hawkins kept his research facility.
Months wasted, Cage raged to himself. All this time and not a damn thing had been accomplished. Those idiots have been screwing around trying to find the source of the disease when all they had to do was ask me. I was at the hospital where this nightmare started. Just from talking to the doctors and the nurses, I found out what was going on and how the HWNW virus got started.
Cage steamed as he recalled the meeting he'd just left.
Hours earlier, he’d been summoned from his office by Doctor Hawkins. The Doctor informed him that he had an announcement to make regarding some big advances that he and his team had made. When Cage arrived at the farmhouse he found that, besides all the officers who worked at the base, the doctor had also invited a reporter from the Army Press and someone to tape the meeting so it could be replayed over the few radio stations up and running in the Dead Free Zones.
Cage was interested in what Doctor Hawkins had to say but scoffed at the “Press” that attended. The Army rag was nothing more than a propaganda sheet that was barely suitable as toilet paper, and the last he’d heard there was only a total of five radio stations across the country up and running. Not even enough to cover an area as big as the State of Rhode Island. Sometimes, late at night when conditions were just right, he could pick up the station out of Fort Hood while he scanned for any new stations that might have come on the air. He always spun the dial past it, since he'd listened to Fort Hood radio once and vowed never to tune in again. The broadcasts, like the Army paper, were controlled by the government and never reported anything of substance.
Arriving on time, although the meeting didn't even look close to starting, Cage was kept waiting while he tried his best to avoid conversation with the rest of those present. Finally, the great doctor himself appeared with his white lab coat flapping around him and called the meeting to order. After introductions were made, Hawkins laid out his stunning revelation about how the HWNW virus had sprung from a combined mutation of a rare disease named Prader-Willi and the H1N1 virus.
No shit Sherlock, Cage thought at hearing this. What was your first clue? Now tell us something we don't know.
Doctor Hawkins then went on for twenty minutes as he threw out a lot of medical jargon that made no sense to anyone present and explained nothing. He summed up by stating that he and his team were still working on a cure, and now that they had isolated the root cause of the disease that progress should speed up. He then looked at those gathered as if he'd just told them that the secret of time travel was accomplished by making a few minor adjustments to your espresso machine and waited for his accolades. There was enthusiastic applause from all those present except Cage, who looked on in wonder.
That's it? He asked himself. That's all they've got after months of research. That information was put out days after the initial outbreak. What in the hell have you been doing over there, jerking off?
An Army reporter who asked him to stand interrupted Cage’s internal tirade. It was photo op time and similar to a feeding frenzy. Cage with Hawkins, Hawkins with his staff, Cage with Hawkins' staff, and once every combination had been exhausted, Cage alone. The reporter then cornered him and asked to conduct a quick interview that would appear in the next issue of the Army Times. Cage knew that no matter how he answered any of the questions they would print what they wanted so he replied in words of one syllable whenever possible.
He wasn't a cover your ass kind of guy and stood by any order he gave, but he wanted to distance himself from anything having to do with Hawkins' research. As much as the doctor seemed to be screwing around, Cage could feel an investigation coming and wanted to be known only as the Base Commander. He didn’t want to be connected with the farmhouse in any way other than that he protected it.
When the interview was over, Doctor Hawkins suggested they all head over to the mess tent for refreshments. As they filed out, Cage hung back from the herd. When they rounded a corner and he was momentarily out of sight, he cut between two tents and headed for his office. He had work to do and didn't have time to waste at some kind of half-assed coffee klatch. There were supplies to order, two disciplinary reports to review and he had to finalize plans for the most important item on his agenda; an upcoming foraging mission into the nearby town of Clarksville.
Diverting his gaze from the farmhouse framed in his office window, Major Cage leaned back in his chair and looked at the map of the city of Clarksville pinned on the wall next to him.
Since taking command of the base from Major Conway the previous day, he'd been planning this mission to look for survivors and to see what could be salvaged from the small town only twenty miles away. The former commander of the base had kept his operations limited to the nearby town of Russellville, but between the looters who had swept through before the National Guard arrived and his own people combing through it, the town had been picked clean. The only thing left in abundance was the dead.
With supplies not arriving in a steady flow, all military commanders had standing orders to supplement their rations and equipment by foraging what they could from the surrounding areas. Since supplies in Russellville had become scarce, Cage knew it was time to look for greener pastures. There were still large amounts of food and gas, albeit in lesser quantities, scattered in the small towns surrounding Russellville, all they had to do was look for them. Most farms had their own fuel storage tanks and pantries were generally stocked with food. Despite this temporary stop gap measure in gathering supplies to ensure they could continue operating, Cage often asked himse
lf what was going to happen when they ran out of towns to scrounge from. If the Army supply chain kept going the way it was, everything would fall apart within three months. What in the hell were they going to do next year?
A few days earlier, when he had been nothing but a Captain in charge of perimeter security, he had thought his job was difficult. But now...
Deciding that the burden of command really meant that you were the only one who knew how seriously fucked you were, Cage closed his eyes and leaned further back in his chair while he considered the difficulties that he and his people were likely to face in Clarksville. As he tried to focus on this his thoughts wandered, and he couldn't keep his mind off the meeting he'd just attended. He was replaying in his head what Doctor Hawkins had said when a thought came to him with enough force to make him sit upright in his chair.
Hawkins had lied.
Cage knew there was no way in hell Hawkins hadn’t known how the HWNW virus started, and his announcement wasn't any revelation that he and his staff had recently come up with. Hawkins was in Little Rock when the first cases were reported. He had been on the original team brought in from the University to study the disease.
Cage's thoughts drifted to Major Conway and the briefing he had given him before transferring to Fort Hood. Cage had already wondered what was really going on over at the farmhouse, but when he voiced these doubts to Conway, the Major had assured him that the scientists and doctors were working hard on the problem of the HWNW virus and trying to figure out how to turn it to our advantage.
That statement had seemed odd to Jedidiah.
Conway hadn't said, “They're working hard on a cure,” he had said, “They're working on how to turn the disease to our advantage.”
What advantage? He pondered this as he remembered something else that Conway had said to him, or maybe had been warning him about, “You don't want to know too much about what's going on over there in the lab. Just keep in mind that it's in the best interest of the country. Men like us take our orders and carry them out to the best of our ability. My job, and now your job, is to keep this compound secure. Keep in mind that everything over there is way above our pay scale.”
Cage shook off his suspicions as looked at his watch and realized that it was time for him to walk the perimeter. This wasn't actually a job of the Base Commander but was something that had been his duty as a junior officer. He continued doing it because it gave him a chance to talk with his men, the people who actually worked for a living and find out where their heads were.
Before leaving his office, his eyes turned once more to the map of Clarksville pinned on the wall. If anyone was still left alive there, he hoped they weren't in serious danger and could hold out until tomorrow. By noon, he and his men would be all over that burg.
***
Major Cage and two platoons of his soldiers actually arrived on the outskirts of Clarksville at five minutes to ten, two hours earlier than planned. The recon team that had been sent along I40 the previous day to scout their route had overestimated how clogged the Interstate was, so the column of four Humvees and two trucks made better time than planned. This was often the case whenever the roads were scouted, since the recon teams were under orders to only travel a mile or two in any direction before turning around. This was due to security. They didn't want a small group of their people getting cut off and wiped out. It was a trade off of safety verses information, and Cage always looked out for the safety of his men first.
He knew that regardless of the size of the town, traffic was always jammed up worse right around its edges than further out. This was caused by people who were fleeing from that city running into other people fleeing to that city. In the end, nowhere was safe and it left a huge jam of abandoned vehicles and wrecks. Cage tried to plan for the blocked areas around Russellville, but since the Interstate heading toward Clarksville had never been completely scouted, he had to be ready to adjust to any situation.
In this same vein of thought, Cage considered splitting his forces and coming into Clarksville from two directions. Since one group was tasked with looking for survivors while the other's job was to scrounge, this seemed to make sense. They would be able to cover a larger area. He reasoned that the timetable had been moved forward by the ease they had reached the area, so now his people would have time to reconnoiter before moving in. After considering the different scenarios, in the end he discarded the idea. Until he knew what awaited them, he didn't want to halve his firepower and risk the possibility that the roads through town were blocked, which would keep his forces from joining up. Erring on the side of caution, he ordered his column to keep their interval and approach as one from the south.
Although I40 was scattered with abandoned vehicles sitting on their rims and a few cars tangled up in wrecks that had to be winched out of the way, once the force took the off-ramp onto the main drag into town, the road was clear except for a few derelict vehicles sitting in the breakdown lane.
Having travelled this section of Arkansas before, to Cage, the number of broken down cars and trucks on the side of the road wasn't even extraordinary. He marveled to himself that if it hadn't been for the events of the past few months, it could be a Sunday morning with the roads deserted because everyone was at church.
This illusion was quickly shattered when the convoy crested a small ridge. Here, a line of fifty-five gallon metal drums stretched across the road to block it. Railroad ties had been wired between each container to create a formidable barrier. Secured to the barrels were three large, hand painted, plywood signs. The first read: QUARRANTINE AREA. The second: TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SHOT IN THE HEAD. But it was the third one that disturbed Cage the most. It read: WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN US?
Cage halted the convoy and moved from his position in the number three spot of the column to the lead. Directing his driver to advance their Humvee slowly toward the barricade, he ordered the rest of his men to face outward and hold their fire unless they were sure that their target was dead and coming toward them. At this point, he didn't want one of his people shooting a civilian who was manning the barricade or coming to investigate their presence.
Stopping the Humvee fifteen feet from the roadblock, Cage unclipped the microphone for the radio and switched it over to PA. Speaking slowly and clearly, he said, “This is Major Cage of the United States Army. We are here to offer aid to anyone who is injured and give food, water and shelter to anyone who needs it.”
His words echoed back from the bluff on the right side of the road and dissipated across the overgrown fields on his left. No one showed themselves, so he repeated his message. Still nothing. Looking around, Cage slowly stepped from his Humvee and cautiously approached the roadblock. As he glanced over the top of the barrels he saw the scattered bones and clothing of at least two people, along with what looked like a shotgun and a hunting rifle. Both weapons had been turned into rods of rust from sitting out in the elements.
Adjusting his gaze further down the road, Cage could make out the shapes of at least ten bodies and assumed they were Z’s. They dotted the road in a path that led directly to where the two dead men lay.
Recreating what had occurred, Cage determined that two men had been sent to guard the roadblock. They had been attacked from behind by a large group of the dead. It looked like they held their own for a few minutes but were overcome in the end. No one had come to bury them, so he had to assume that no one else in the town's defense force had been willing or able to make it to the roadblock. It appeared to have been abandoned since then.
Cage turned back to look at his men - he had to remember to call them his people since a quarter of them were women – and found himself looking down the barrels of two fifty caliber heavy machine guns mounted on Humvees sitting abreast, which took up both lanes of the road. Beyond them, he could see three of his soldiers leaning on top of the cab of the lead truck with their M-4 assault rifles at the ready. At the rear, rifle barrels poked out of each side of the truck to cover their flanks.
Seeing this, Cage was pleased that his people were so well trained Shouting to be heard above the rumble of the idling engines, he called out, “First squad of first platoon, clear this roadblock.”
The two Humvees at the front of the line pulled off to the sides of the road far enough for the lead truck to move between them so it could utilize the winch mounted on its front bumper. Six men and two women dismounted and started to dismantle the barricade with crowbars and axes while two more dragged the wreckage out of the way with the winch.
In the town of Russellville, the soldiers had come across many roadblocks erected in neighborhoods where the people tried to isolate themselves from the virus and those infected with it. The men and women of Cage's command had gotten lots of practice as they cleared those, so they made short work of the one in front of them.
When they finished and mounted back up, Cage kept the lead position as they rolled slowly into the outskirts of town. Passing a few houses, he could see no sign that the living inhabited any of them. You didn't have to be a genius to figure out which buildings contained people. All you had to do was look for a big crowd of the living dead swarming around it.
A burned out motel appeared on the left and the houses became more numerous. Cage stopped the column every hundred feet and made a quick announcement over the PA as to who they were. He didn't want to be mistaken for one of the roving bands of looters that had started to pop up around the country. It would be a shame if they shot a civilian by accident but it would be a tragedy if one of his men were killed due to mistaken identity.
Coming to the top of steep hill, the road leveled out and he could see they were coming close to the downtown area. He knew from the maps he’d studied of the city that a large residential section lay to his right. On his left were more houses and a small college. Using the radio, he ordered second platoon to split off on the road to the right and begin searching for survivors. One truck and two of the Humvees passed him as they headed on their rescue mission.
