by Vohs, J. W.
When the lead zombies leapt across the gap, they landed directly in front of Grant and Connor. Each of the boys calmly executed the maneuver they’d discussed in detail and practiced repeatedly against soccer balls, foam floats, and unsuspecting lawn furniture. They brought their metal-sheathed sticks across the lower legs of the monsters with such force that the creatures were immediately swept off their feet, hitting the surface of the road hard enough to briefly stun them as they slammed into the asphalt face first. At that point, the boys, each of whom had been playing hockey for over ten years, swung their sticks into the heads of the zombies, metal-edge first, spraying the road with black blood and brains. In less than half a minute the three creatures who had managed to cross the bridge and leap to the island were reduced to several slimy piles of blackened guts and bone. Grant grabbed Connor’s hand to celebrate the minor victory and yelled “How’d that BC two-hander taste, you bastards!”
While the teens were finishing off their victims, Robbie and his comrades were finally realizing that they were surrounded and cut-off from their escape route. Corey had obviously been injured in his wrestling match with the huge zombie, and he was limping so badly that Eli was nearly carrying his brother along. Robbie was stuck with all of the fighting in the effort to try to keep the creatures off of the trio, and he was quickly approaching the end of his strength even as the number of zombies trying to eat them seemed to be growing. Finally the moment came when he realized that he was going to die, and he was slightly puzzled to learn that he didn’t care so much now that the moment he’d dreaded was finally here. He managed to crush one more zombie skull with his hammer, but he lost it when the metal head stuck in the brain of the dying monster as it fell away from him. Then he was hit by several of the flesh-eaters and knocked backwards on top of Eli and Corey who were already lying on the bridge with zombies frantically tearing at them. Robbie soon saw black spots dance in front of his eyes as he struggled to breathe with the weight of his attackers pushing down on him. In his mind the phrase “it’s over” kept repeating itself, and he waited for the final darkness to overwhelm his consciousness.
After Michael had set the swinging of the bridge in motion he was no longer obliged to stay in the control room. But with at least a hundred zombies streaming past him in their effort to reach the island, his first impulse was to quietly stay put until the tumult died down. Then, not far away, he saw Robbie, Eli, and another man go down beneath a pack of flesh eaters. Michael knew he had no choice but to help his friend, so he chambered a round in his pistol, checked to see that the hammer and knife were attached to his belt, climbed down from the control room, and set off trotting toward the scrum.
Moving in the same direction as the zombies bought him a few seconds of unmolested running time, and when the monsters finally noticed that a fresh meal was unexpectedly in their midst, Michael had reached the writhing pile of humans and flesh-eaters where his friends were fighting for their lives. Doing his best to avoid hitting the men with any bullets, Michael used his gloved left hand to pull zombies up by the hair before sending a round through their ears and tossing them aside. Since he still had to deal with the fresh creatures attacking from every direction, the process took more time than he would have liked, but in less than two minutes his friends were breathlessly climbing to their knees amid a ghastly pile of gore-covered corpses lying all about. Michael knew they only had a brief respite before they were overrun once again, and he didn’t think they could make it back to the stairs that ran all the way down from the control room to the ladder on the central hub that led to the surface of the lake.
Michael grabbed Robbie first and threw him over the side of the bridge as gently as possible under the circumstances. Fueled by adrenaline, he accomplished the task easily, and he shouted at Eli to do the same with Corey. Then, with zombies grabbing onto their backs, the two men leapt over the railing themselves, Eli deciding that he preferred drowning to being eaten alive, and Michael praying that the boat he’d requested earlier would be nearby. As he fell he was almost giddy to see a small fleet of various water-craft gathered near the bridge. The escaping humans were quickly rescued, and any zombie falling into the lake was powerless as it sank to the depths. Michael was pulled into a boat with Robbie, who was sputtering and swearing, but remarkably, he didn’t seem to have suffered any major injuries. The pilot of the boat radioed ahead that he was bringing the two men to shore, and Katie’s voice was the next thing Michael heard. “Michael, are you hurt? Is anyone hurt? My God, those things are all over the bridge . . .”
Michael looked up and saw scores of creatures swarming from the control room down the length of the structure, the bulk of them piled up at the end that would have recently led them to shore. Now that each end of the bridge led only to open water, it appeared that the zombies were trapped. Every few seconds one of the infected would plummet off the edge as creatures in the middle continued to push toward their previous destination.
“ . . . they can’t swim can they?” Katie nervously continued over the radio.
The pilot answered for Michael, “No, ma’am. They sink like stones. Looks like we found ourselves another way to kill the demons.” He handed the radio to Michael.
“Hey baby, I’m fine. Robbie here seems a little worse for wear, but it looks like he’ll be okay too.” He looked at Robbie, who pointed to the shore opposite the island. It was crowded with what looked like thousands of flesh eaters, moaning piteously at the water’s edge. Michael asked his wife, “Everybody OK on your end?”
Carolyn replied for Katie, “Except for the almost heart attack Kittiekat had when Grant and Connor sliced up a few zombies, we’re all fine.”
“They what?” Michael felt a tug in his own chest.
“Oh don’t worry,” Carolyn sounded amused, “the Robster is an excellent coach; those cannibal things didn’t have a chance. I’m sure the boys will tell you all about it.”
Michael and Robbie reached shore about the same time as the boat carrying Eli and his brother. Corey was very pale, and his pant leg was soaked with fresh, red blood. It was obvious that the two men were arguing.
The boats delivered their cargo and headed back to help search for any other human survivors. After they left, Corey was the first to speak up. “They got me.”
Before Michael or Robbie could respond, Grant, Connor, and the other teens hit the men like a hurricane. “We got three of them!” Tracy boasted.
“You didn’t get any,” her brother corrected, “but Connor and I smashed three zombies into oblivion—“
“I would have helped but you guys didn’t wait,” Alec complained.
“It was awesome!” Grant shouted. He looked over at Connor, who was smiling but silent. “Hey, man, take some credit here.”
Katie and Carolyn caught up with the kids, and each woman threw her arms around her man. Katie was crying and collapsed in Michael’s arms, but after an amorous kiss Carolyn stepped back to inspect Robbie. “Did they bite you?” she asked in a detached tone. Robbie thought she sounded like a grammar school nurse.
“Not that I know of, but you can do a thorough inspection.”
Carolyn noticed Corey, and the blood that was starting to pool on the ground around his foot. “Jesus, Corey, what happened? You’re not looking so good.”
Corey laughed a dry, humorless laugh. “You know I always look good. At least that’s what you used to tell me. Unfortunately, one of those hungry zombies took a good sized chunk from my calf. Then my know-it-all brother took my gun.” There was no affection in his eyes when he looked at Eli. “I was just sayin’ how it’s probably hard to keep up appearances when you’re turning into a zombie.”
An awkward silence followed. Even the teenagers felt the tension between Eli and Corey, and the hopelessness of the situation; they didn’t argue when Robbie finally sent them to clean and pack their gear and wait by the car. Michael asked Katie to take them home as soon as possible, and she nodded her understanding before relucta
ntly leaving her husband’s side.
Eli was adamant, “Look, we don’t know exactly how this virus works. We don’t know that every person who gets bit gets the disease. We need to take you to the hospital, get that wound cleaned up, and put you in isolation. You can’t throw your life away when you don’t know for sure what will happen.”
Corey opened his mouth to argue, but changed his mind. He exchanged a quick glance with Carolyn, then sighed. “OK, but you have to promise me that if I do start to turn you won’t object to finishing me off.” He smiled coldly, “Carolyn, that used to be your department, but I bet old Robbie here might just volunteer for the job this time around.”
“You’re still disgusting,” Carolyn observed, “and I’d rather not stand around here reminiscing all day. You’re likely to bleed out. We should take you in Michael’s car.”
“I’ve got some medical supplies in my truck. Eli, if you get my camo backpack from the passenger seat I’ll let Carolyn have her way with me one last time.”
Carolyn’s mouth twitched, but she held her tongue. When Eli turned to jog to his brother’s truck, Carolyn quickly reached her hand into her purse and clandestinely slipped something to Corey. Only Robbie noticed.
“Why don’t you drive your truck down here so Corey doesn’t have to walk?” Robbie suggested to Michael.
“Good idea,” Michael agreed. “Don’t move.”
“Not planning on it,” Corey called out as Michael sprinted towards his vehicle. Turning to Robbie and Carolyn, he added, “I’m really thirsty. Why don’t you go tell Eli to bring back some water with that med kit—make it snappy, too.”
They had walked no more than five steps toward the truck when the shot rang out. Eli came running, but Robbie blocked the path to where Corey rested in the grass. “He shot himself in the head. Eli, you don’t want to see it. You need to remember him the right way—not like this.”
Inspector Tessier suddenly realized that he could not separate himself from big brother Eli. He released a long, shaky breath and agreed, “You’re right. Can you take care of him?”
Michael pulled up as Robbie answered, “You know I will. Get on your bike, and take a long ride; I’ll find you tonight and give you any personal effects.”
As Eli walked off, Michael turned off his engine. “What happened?”
“He must have had an extra gun on him,” Carolyn answered. “I hope Eli can understand.”
“If I’m ever in the same position, I hope I have an extra gun on me too.” Robbie was staring at Carolyn, and she felt a sob catch in her throat. After a moment he turned his gaze to the creatures still on the bridge, then to the moaning horde on the other side of the lake. He slapped Michael on the back, “So, Mr. Mayor, where do we go from here?”
Michael shook his head, “We don’t go anywhere, at least not for a while. We diligently police ourselves and this island, and we do what we have to do if we see any signs of the infection. We may just be the luckiest people in the world, and I really hope we won’t be the only people on the planet when this thing has run its course. We have everything we need here—plenty of fresh water, agriculture, hunting, fishing, and decent people willing to work together. We’ll monitor the outside world as best we can with our radio towers, and eventually we’ll use our waterways to venture out and see what’s left. I believe we can survive. I don’t know about anybody else.”
Carolyn leaned back into Robbie, who wrapped her in his arms. She spoke quietly, “I don’t mean to sound cold, but we shouldn’t advertise that we’re here to anyone. I mean, we can handle the folks who just got here, but we can’t save the whole world.”
Robbie pulled Carolyn closer. “I know what you’re saying, but I think Michael’s point is that we might just be the whole world.”
Michael sighed. “We’ll keep to ourselves for now, even if anybody else is out there. If we’re not careful enough, we may be the First Nation and the Last Nation right here on this island. I think we need to come together and become the Invisible Nation—an isolated, self-sufficient place where humanity gets a chance to carry on or start over.”
Carolyn studied the blood stained grass nearby. “What if we don’t deserve to? What if humanity isn’t meant to survive?”
Robbie shrugged. “I’ve never been a particularly religious guy, but I know in my gut that these creatures weren’t meant to be—what I mean is that they aren’t natural. You know what humanity is meant to do? Fight and survive. And that’s exactly what we’ll do.” He picked up a shovel left behind by the crew that had constructed the road blocks and headed toward the shore. Not bothering to look back, he muttered, “Some of us anyway.”
Zombie Crusade
Snapshot: POTUS
In only a little over twenty-four hours, the situation at the White House had regressed from controlled chaos to full-fledged panic. General Barnes sat near the exit door leading to the helipad, and he fought to keep a self-satisfied smirk from developing on his face. He had stood beside the president on network television the previous evening as they both reassured the American people that the pandemic was being brought under control, and that everyone just needed to stay home until the virus was isolated and a vaccine made available. Apparently many viewers were either already infected, or simply chose to disregard the message, because thousands of citizens were now restlessly gathered in front of the White House fence at five in the morning. Barnes let out a sigh as he thought, the sheeple never know what’s best for them.
Presidential aides were running a gauntlet of confused security personnel as they tried to gather staff members and various VIPs to send them out to the waiting choppers. Barnes could afford to wait patiently by the door since he’d already been told that he’d been assigned to the bird that would be evacuating President Brocktin and his family. A week ago, the leader of the free world hadn’t even known Matthew Barnes, commanding general of the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID). Then the wounded Marines who’d survived an attack by Taliban cannibals had been brought home to a hospital in Washington D.C., and the leader of the Joint Chiefs had demanded answers from his medical experts in the military. Barnes had anticipated his summons and had planned accordingly.
The president’s first act had been to seek information from John Stevens, head of the CDC in Atlanta. But when the doctors there couldn’t explain why the injured Marines came off of their death beds to attack hospital workers, spreading what the media had dubbed a “zombie virus,” Brocktin had turned to his top military advisors for help. The generals knew that USAMRIID was as good, or better, than the CDC, and that the people working there also had extensive experience in Afghanistan. The Joint Chiefs had told the president about the medical unit, and Brocktin had demanded to meet the officer in charge of USAMRIID. The Secretary of Defense did in fact know General Barnes, and he didn’t care for the man at all. Still, given Barnes’ experience and alleged expertise, bringing the arrogant, medical officer into the inner-circle assisting the president seemed potentially fruitful, so he didn’t resist the Joint Chiefs’ advice to their boss.
As General Barnes basked in the reality that the Joint Chiefs had just allowed the fox into the chicken-coop, he was somewhat surprised at how easily everything was falling into place. He knew that even the best-laid plans could veer unexpectedly off course, and he cautioned himself against over-confidence. In truth, it had taken decades to get here, and there had been many missteps and surprises along the way. Still, he was here, with no regrets—not even for that first fiasco in Afghanistan. He feigned a coughing fit to hide an uncharacteristic burst of emotion—a deep, belly laugh that he simply couldn’t contain. He pulled himself together when he felt the buzz from his satellite phone and saw on the display screen that the caller was his right-hand man, Master Sergeant Devin Peterson. Barnes hit the accept button and quietly asked, “What you got?”
A somewhat fuzzy voice from the other end replied, “The CDC is now fully updated, sir. The doctors
here have been brought up to speed on everything we know at USAMRIID, and the samples have been uploaded.”
“Thank you Sergeant Peterson; are you sure you don’t want captain’s bars to reward your excellent service over the years?”
“Hey, sir, I like you well enough, but in general I don’t care for officers all that much. If you don’t mind, I’d like to remain a sergeant for the rest of my career.”
“Fine,” Barnes sighed, realizing that the privileges of rank and money were disintegrating as the world crumbled around them. “That Blackhawk still waiting for you as ordered?”
“Yes sir, they’re powering up right now.”
“Good. I want you to refuel at Fort Campbell and then fly directly to Raven Rock.”
“That’s where POTUS decided to hole up, huh?”
The acronym for President of the United States always sounded like an adolescent insult to Barnes, and he reserved his own use of the term to situations where he intended covert disrespect. He smiled as he replied to Peterson, “Yeah, he wants to stay close to Washington, so Cheyenne wasn’t an option. Besides, we aren’t facing a nuclear war here, and Raven Rock is as secure from the infected as any of the other government compounds.”
“All right, sir, we’ll be there in a few hours. Make sure the air defense teams don’t blow us away.”
“Just set your frequency where I told you to and you’ll be fine. Barnes out.”
