by David Bourne
“Team Sierra calling Fort Weeks.” Chris instantly took notice. Sierra? We don’t have that many patrol groups. He waved the radio officer toward him.
He quickly came over to Chris, sat down and put on headphones so that he could also listen in.
“Fort Weeks is receiving, Team Sierra, please transmit,” Chris answered by radio.
“Scout Team Sierra sending status report. We are currently on Route 173, about three miles southeast of Saint-Martin, Canada, close to the border. We have to talk to the Master Sergeant. There is disturbing news.”
“Get the Master Sergeant,” the radio officer ordered. Chris became frantic. He looked around.
Master Sergeant Pelletier stood next to a large table with a huge map of the entire area. His back was facing them. Chris stood up and quickly walked toward him.
“Sir, there is a radio message for you. Supposedly from Team Sierra. However, I cannot find this call-sign on my list.” The Master Sergeant looked at Chris in amazement and frowned.
“Sierra, you say? That cannot be good.” William Pelletier walked over to the radio table and activated the desktop microphone. The radio operator had turned on the loudspeakers by now.
“Sierra, why are you breaking radio silence?”
“Sir, we have your package, but on the way back we were hit by heavy fire. Looters were trying to steal our Humvee. Mac and I are uninjured, but Gunny was hit. We stabilized him and he is hanging on. However, we should immediately return to base. We cannot afford to get into any more firefights. Is there a patrol in our area that could escort us?”
The Master Sergeant snapped his fingers, looked at the radio officer and pointed to a monitor. The radio officer understood him and started to transmit immediately on a different channel.
“Sierra, Team Foxtrot and Team Golf are on patrol in the North and the West. We are sending them in your direction.”
“Team Foxtrot is in their vicinity with a Fast Attack Vehicle, and they are listening in, Sir.” “That’s alright,” William Pelletier replied, more to himself. He looked at a digital map and followed the road with a finger.
“Sierra, help is on the way. The boys from Team Foxtrot are going to help you get home safely. How secure are the major roads? Lima 201 would be the most direct connection.”
“Roger, Sir.” This ended the short interlude. The Master Sergeant ordered a corporal to come the radio table and returned to his own table.
Chris didn’t understand what all of this was supposed to mean. Obviously there were missions that had been kept secret as much as possible. Even though he was trusted enough to work in the radio room, no one had informed him about any of them because he was a civilian. He sat down at the radio transceiver again and pretended to work. In his mind, though, he was far away, trying to find an explanation for the last radio message.
That explanation entered the room about two hours later. At three o’clock, two soldiers entered the command post and walked directly toward the Master Sergeant and gave him a crisp salute. One of them took a camera from his helmet and handed it to William Pelletier. Chris moved his right ear cup back a bit so that he could hear what the soldiers were reporting.
William Pelletier returned their salute and looked at the two soldiers expectantly.
“ Corporals Bourke and McPherson reporting back.”
“Go on.”
“Gunny is in the hospital, sir. But, he should be on his feet again soon. That is the good news.” The Master Sergeant nodded impatiently.
“I can hardly describe the bad news for you. You’ve got to see that for yourself. The scenes are terrible, sir. It goes beyond our worst nightmares. Horrifying Images.”
Corporal Bourke went to the large video screen and connected the camera to the system. Soon afterward, a flickering video appeared. Everyone in the room had removed his headset and stared in fascination at the disturbing images the solders had captured. Chris could not believe what he was seeing.
The video started. “Camera on,” a voice whispered off-screen and then provided commentary during the entire recording. A city panorama could be seen in the distance. The video focused on a skyline across a river. It seemed to have been captured from a distance and from an elevated position. There were several columns of smoke rising over the city. “Reconnaissance Mission Sierra. We are about fifteen miles east of Quebec City, Canada. It looks like the city has been completely overrun. We avoided major roads and only drove through small towns. This side of the river looked to be totally empty, but we were incorrect in our assumption.” The camera panned. It slowly moved along the river, until a large island could be seen that extended for several miles in the middle of the stream. “It seems that several thousand survivors have managed to flee to the large island and they have blocked the bridge with cars. This is a fucking mass grave in the making, as they stand a snowball’s chance in hell. May God have mercy on their soul.”
At first Chris thought the video quality was degrading, for on the top edge of the river massive pixelations seemed to move the entire image. Then the camera zoomed in. An incredulous murmur filled the communication center. Some people started swearing loudly. Chris could hardly comprehend what he was seeing.
The supposed pixelations were people—no, undead people. Their sheer number had everyone in the room riveted to the large screen. The entire northern bank of the river was covered with zombies. There had to be hundreds of thousands. Chris could not remember ever seeing so many people in one spot. It surpassed even a sold-out Super Bowl stadium.
“It looks like all the former inhabitants of Quebec City are assembled here. If the data are correct Quebec City had a population of about 600,000. I don’t even want to imagine what is happening in cities like Tokyo.” A second voice could be heard. “Chuck, do you have what we need? We should change position, as some of the beasts have noticed us by now.” The camera image shuddered, and then the screen went black.
No one in the room said a word. Everyone tried to understand what they had just seen.
The idea that the army of the undead pursued a common goal and hunted survivors went beyond Chris’ imagination. It was a vision of undisputed horror.
Mess Hall
Margaret Pelletier looked at the young girl with grave concern. What a brave little lamb. I hope that you will make it. The medic on duty, Private First Class Foley, came to help her.
“What’s wrong with the child, ma’am?” he asked in a worried voice.
“Sarah Mitchell. Nine years old. Just got here today. She fell, and a branch pierced her leg. She has a wound on her left thigh. The branch penetrated pretty far into the flesh. I tested her for possible infections. All results were negative. Normal body temperature, normal breathing, rather low blood pressure.”
“Nothing that shouldn’t heal by itself. She’s going to be fine,” Foley said.
Margaret gave the girl another look full of pity. “It’s not her injury I am worried about, but her medical history. Her mother told me that she is suffering from hemophilia. I am having difficulties closing the wound. She has lost a lot of blood by now. Fortunately, I found a suitable blood donor, and I am waiting for him right now.”
“Oh, I understand. Then I will prepare everything for a transfusion.”
“You do that. I hope the donor will get here soon.”
Margaret sterilized some IV lines and, together with Foley, prepared two transfusion containers. After they had been working on this for a while, Private Maddox came running through the door. His face was beet-red. He coughed and placed his hands on his knees.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I was on duty until just right now and got here as fast as I could.”
“And I already thought you had stood me up, Billy.” Margaret beamed at him.
“Never, ma’am. Billy Maddox would never do that to a lady,” he said and laughed out loud. Then he went over to Sarah. “Is that her?”
“Yes, Billy, this is the little girl whose life you will save by your bl
ood donation.”
“What’s wrong with her? She looks so pale.” Billy wiped the sweat off his forehead.
“An open wound, plus hemophilia. That’s why we need more blood. Thank you for helping us.”
“It’s an honor for me. You know, I have a little sister myself, Maggie. She is four years old and lives on our farm, and...” he stopped, and a pained expression unexpectedly appeared on his face. “I really love my family, you know? I would like to help that little girl.”
“I appreciate that. Lie down on this stretcher, and the whole thing won’t take very long.”
Billy Maddox lay down, and Foley started to disinfect his arm. Then he put in the IV line and the blood flowed into the transfusion container. Once two large containers had been filled, Margaret removed the IV line and placed a small gauze square followed by a band-aid on Billy’s arm.
“That’s really not necessary, ma’am,” he bravely protested.
“Let’s leave that opinion to the doctor on duty, shall we? An infection would not help anybody. You are needed, you know.”
“Nice of you to say that. Do you need me any further? I’m going to have dinner with a friend.”
“First, sit here for a few minutes and have some sips of juice, then go and say hi to your friend from me. Thank you for your help, Billy. Have a nice day.”
“Same to you, Dr. Pelletier.” Billy Maddox smiled when he left the medical center fifteen minutes later. He really hoped that he had been able to help the girl.
Billy was beaming when he met Han Tsui in the mess hall.
“What are you in such a good mood for?” Tsui asked.
“There’s a little girl in the hospital and I donated blood to help her recover. That puts me in a good mood.”
“Great, and I’m sure the doc will make her well again. She and the Master Sergeant’s son seem to be doing a great job. People on the base are already talking about it.”
“I can confirm that,” Maddox agreed.
The two men got in line and waited for bread and some freshly brewed coffee. All the food the supply teams managed to bring in was counted and strictly rationed. However, that didn’t impair the flourishing black market for chocolate, cigarettes and alcohol fueled by an informal bartering system. After all, what were bank notes good for now, except for lighting a fire? Han Tsui gave Billy Maddox a friendly pat on the shoulder.
“Dear Mister Maddox. As we are celebrating your heroic deed, it would be fitting if you look for a place for us and I go get breakfast.”
“Your wish is my command, dear Mister Tsui.” Billy grinned and walked toward the tables. The mess hall was pretty crowded during the morning hours with numerous soldiers and civilians sitting at their tables having breakfast. The tall guy and his slim friend three tables over stood out from the crowd. The two of them looked as if they had been through a lot in a short period of time. In the rear of the room they saw Master Sergeant Pelletier who briefly nodded at them. After a while, Han appeared with an overflowing tray filled with hot coffee, scrambled eggs, bread, butter, cheese and ham. Billy’s eyes grew wide in amazement.
“Han, who the hell did you have to kill for all that?” he asked incredulously.
“The hash slinger still owed me a big favor,” he said and winked.
“It’s incredible! What a feast.” Bill started attacking the tray and dug his fork deep into the scrambled eggs. He looked at Han with his mouth full.
“Did you finish reading that borrowed nudie mag?” he asked and smacked his lips.
“Not all the way—and of course I’m just reading it for the in-depth articles. I want to broaden my intellect, you know.”
“Sure, bud. The articles,” Billy said laughing. “Speaking of broads, the babe on the cover reminds me of that chick in the harbor town. You remember—the one you guys all chipped in for my nineteenth birthday.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember,” Tsui said and nodded with a smirk. “Fire engine red hair and freckles, and she had a fantastic body. After all, we couldn’t let a fellow brother in uniform approach twenty years while still a virgin! It’s the least we could do.” Han laughed out loud. Billy, however, was now blushing deeply with embarrassment.
“Do you want everyone to hear that, you asshole?” Billy acted offended. The he flashed a sheepish smile.
“To be honest, she laughed at me a little because I didn’t exactly know what to do. Later she took over and did everything, and after what felt like a minute it was all over.” Han snorted into his coffee and bent over laughing. Billy looked slightly annoyed.
“Welcome to the world of turning in your v-card, Mugly. You were not the first one and hopefully won’t be the last one.”
“It turned out that for being a hooker, she was really nice to me.”
“Well, that’s the most important thing—you got our money’s worth,” Han nodded and took a large sip of coffee. Han was searching for some ham on the tray when he heard Billy groan. Billy Maddox pressed his hands against his belly and suddenly looked at Han with a pained expression.
“Hey—what’s wrong, Billy?” Han asked full of alarm.
“I don’t know, my stomach is burning...” Billy said, bent over and then slumped from the bench to the floor. Han called for help, and several people started getting up.
“HAAAAAN, help me.” Billy spewed a foamy liquid, and his fingers contorted. “It’s burning so much...” he said, breathing raggedly. Tsui ran around the table to help his friend. Other people also rushed to his aid. The blood vessels in Billy Maddox’ eyes burst, and bloody tears ran down his face, while Han desperately yelled for a medic. In a matter of minutes, the expression on Billy Maddox’ face turned into a grimace of rage and hunger. He moved his head forward so abruptly that one could hear his neck vertebrae cracking loudly. Then he sat up and his teeth chattered. He looked at Tsui, as if he just saw him for the first time in his life, and a string of saliva dripped from his mouth.
Han Tsui struggled backward to get away from his best friend of several years. Everyone else moved away in panic, as Billy Maddox attempted to stand up. He managed to get on all fours and tried to crawl toward Tsui. While doing so, he made gargling and smacking noises. Han looked at him with dread and did not notice the clicking sound behind him. Then he heard the deafening roar of a shot that shattered the skull of Billy Maddox. Billy lay on his back and stretched out his arms and legs. Blood squirted from a round wound in his forehead. Han’s eyes widened with complete shock. “Billy! NO! BILLY! BILLYY!” It was only now that he could clearly see William Pelletier in front of him, armed with a silver-colored automatic pistol in his right hand. A thin trail of smoke still drifted from the barrel that had fired the fatal shot.
“I am sorry, Private Tsui.”
Han Tsui raged with all his strength to reach Billy, but four strong MPs dragged him out of the mess hall, on orders of William Pelletier. The last thing he heard was an order given by the Master Sergeant: “Take the corpse to the medical center immediately.” That was the last day Han Tsui ever saw his best friend Billy Maddox.
Autopsy
Josh scratched his head. “Who is this, dad?” He was confused at seeing a shifter in uniform on the autopsy table. Normally, shifters were burned, so there must be something special about this one. The second strange thing was that his father was present in the medical center, engaged in a vivid debate with some sergeants.
“Who is he?” Josh repeated.
“His name was Billy Maddox. He was one of my soldiers—a brave and friendly fellow. Do you need your mother for this?” William Pelletier asked in a serious voice.
“No. Mom is an excellent surgeon, but I think by now I have more experience performing autopsies than she does. Plus, she just finished a 24-hour shift.”
“Alright, then please get started because I need results as soon as possible. I am expecting a detailed report on my desk, Josh. This must be finished without delay.”
Josh stepped closer to his father. “What exactly am I
supposed to look for?” he whispered, frowning.
“Billy had no contact with infected persons, and he spent his last few shifts doing guard duty at the gate. Shortly before he changed, he had left the medical center. He had donated blood, and I want to know whether a contaminated needle is responsible for the infection. If that is not the reason, I want to know what infected him, damn it.”
“I’m going to hurry. I told you that you can rely on me.” Josh noticed his father was very upset. As soon as the group of soldiers had left the autopsy room, he started on his task.
The diesel generator hummed in the background and provided the electricity for all the equipment he needed. Josh placed all the instruments on a silver-colored tray next to him and grabbed a voice recorder.
“The deceased is one Billy Maddox. Age 19 years. Height 6 feet. Caucasian. Athletic build. No known diseases.” Josh put the voice recorder aside. If you get infected by this crazy shit, you don’t need any other diseases.
“I am now starting the examination of the exterior signs of death.” The corpse of Billy Maddox was white and had been washed. A blue cloth covered the genitals, and Josh now pulled it aside. He did not want to overlook anything. Josh examined the body meticulously, but he couldn’t find any signs of bites or scratches. An inspection of the area around the wound from the IV needle did not yield any results either. The tissue around the spot where the transfusion needle had been inserted was clean and not inflamed. The process of decomposition had already started. The network of veins was visible through the skin, as the blood had begun to settle in the lower parts of the body. Rigor mortis had already started in the outer extremities. Josh picked up the voice recorder again.
“No exterior signs of an injury. The tissue area around the wound caused by the transfusion needle is not inflamed. The infection certainly started in another part of the body. I will now open the chest cavity of the deceased. I start with a first cut at the left clavicle.”
