Infected (Book 1): The Fall

by Caleb Cleek

  Save for last night’s incursion into the pharmacy, people were still maintaining civility. I was fairly certain things were not going as well in large cities where people were always looking for a reason to riot or loot. All they needed was an excuse, no matter how slight it may be.

  I was amazed at how quick people were to burn the neighborhoods where they lived and destroy the businesses where they shopped, businesses which were owned by people who lived in their community. Their tirades never hurt the people with whom they were upset. Like a two year old banging his head on a wall because he was angry with his parents, they only hurt themselves.

  It was only a matter of time before looting started in Lost Hills. In a few more days, it would become apparent that the majority of the population was gone. People who owned the businesses would be dead or infected. The reality that everybody was on their own, with no help coming, would set in. Food would begin to go bad. Stores wouldn’t open without owners or employees. Eventually it wouldn’t make sense to let needed commodities go to waste and people would begin to take them. I hoped it would be done in an orderly manner so that everyone who was left could benefit. I trusted that the people in town would not destroy everything in their wake. What we currently had was all we would ever have. There would be no replacements coming.

  Matt, checked in with Eve while I drove. She assured him that everybody was fine.

  Once on the highway, I sped up to fifty-five. The speed limit was sixty-five, but I wasn’t in a hurry. Gas trucks weren’t coming to fill the underground tanks. There was no need to waste a valuable resource.

  We were about to pass a rundown house on the edge of town when Matt pointed and said, “Look at that.” The ancient man who lived in the house was sitting on the front porch with the ancient woman who was his wife. He had a century old double barrel shotgun across his lap. They had seen their share of storms come and go over the decades, from the Depression to the Cold War. They had seen people panic over financial crisis, terrorist acts, and other catastrophes. They had weathered each storm that had come. To them, this was another bump in the road and they would endure it together. They were a fixture of the community, sitting in their rockers every evening, watching the sun set. The old man waved as we passed. I hoped they would still be there next week.

  For the second time, we came into view of Tuttle’s men. The guns still moved in our direction as they had before. This time they were kept at the low ready. I slowed the truck to prevent giving cause to aim them any differently. As I eyed the vehicles, I noted the lack of armor Tuttle had mentioned earlier. There was nothing to stop bullets from ripping through the vehicles if they were attacked. I pushed the thought from my mind. There was no real danger of attack. There were lots of guns in town, but nothing to rival the fire power the two fifties mounted on top of the vehicles would unleash if threatened. Regardless of what was happening in town, nobody would be foolish enough to engage in that fight.

  Tuttle left his position and walked to our side of the road block. His face broke into a grin as he raised his right hand in greeting upon recognizing us. Following protocol, he donned his gas mask as did his men. They weren’t taking any chances.

  I stepped out of the pickup and returned the wave as I approached.

  “What can I do for the Vista County Sheriff’s Department this evening?” he asked cordially.

  Matt spoke up, “We have two favors. First we would like permission to leave the quarantine and travel a couple miles up the road. Secondly, Connor needs more medical attention. We were hoping Glenn could put him back together again.”

  “Glenn will be happy to look you over and do what he can. What happened to you?”

  “It’s a long story. The short of it is, I got bit on the leg. It looks like it’s going to need some stitches.”

  “Bit by what?” Tuttle asked accusingly, his tone dropping an octave below what it had been.

  “I was bitten by an infected,” I answered, not understanding what the problem was.

  “That’s what I was afraid of. We know you’re immune to the infecting virus, but there’s no reason to assume that you’re also immune to the prion that actually causes the transformation into an infected.” He turned back to the blockade and yelled, “Glenn, get over here! We have a problem.”

  I felt like I had been sucker punched. I hadn’t seen this coming. Biology hadn’t been my strong suit. I had assumed that immune was immune. I was right back where I had been yesterday afternoon.

  Glenn came at a trot. “What’s the problem, Sir?” he asked.

  “Connor was bitten a little while ago.”

  “What bit him, Sir?”

  “I was bitten by an infected,” I said shortly.

  “What did you do after you were bitten?”

  “I shot it in the head.” I said abruptly, his game of twenty questions growing old.

  “By the fact that you are here talking to me, that was already understood,” he said jovially as if he was oblivious to the fact that my life was on the line again. “What I’m trying to get at is, did you eat the brain?”

  “Of course I didn’t eat the brain,” I answered disgustedly. “Why would I eat the brain?”

  “You would know the answer to that better than I would,” he answered, maintaining his enigmatic air. “I don’t know what motivates people to do the things they do.”

  “Glenn!” Tuttle snapped.

  “Sir?”

  “This man is concerned about his well being and frankly, I am, too. Give us some answers.”

  Even getting bawled out by the Captain didn’t diminish his carefree demeanor. “Absolutely, Sir,” he belted out, happy as he could be. “Prions concentrate in brain tissue. Prions wouldn’t be in the saliva at all. Unless you ate contaminated brain tissue, which you deny doing, I don’t see how you could have been contaminated with them. Now, let’s see that bite.”

  The weight of my immediate, impending demise lifted from my body for the second time. I released the breath I had inadvertently been holding. A sense of calm erased the anxiety that had rolled over me like a tsunami.

  Glenn pulled a pair of rubber gloves from a pocket in his pants and placed them on his hands. With the application of each glove, he pulled on the back and allowed the rubber to loudly snap against his wrist. After briskly rolling my pant to just below the knee, he examined the wound.

  “Hmm,” he said dramatically. “If you have a couple minutes, I can stitch this up for you. Follow me to the aid station.”

  I followed him around the vehicle to the back door of the Humvee. He opened it, pulled out a canvas bag and pointed to the back seat.

  “Sit down and prop your foot up like so,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to demonstrate with his own foot. The weight of the bag pulled him over and he hopped on the foot that had been planted on the ground and lowered his raised foot to keep from falling. “You get the picture.”

  Glenn dug into his bag and withdrew several packages. He opened them and laid the contents out on a makeshift table that one of the other soldiers had set up for him. After shaving the hair around the wound, he scrubbed my shin with an orange wipe and continued to talk. “When I was still on active duty with Delta, none of the guys I worked with would ever tolerate anesthetic for stitches. Even the Rangers I came across were solid enough to refuse it. Now that I’m in the reserves, people are made of different stuff and beg for anesthetic. Don’t feel like you have to prove anything to me.”

  Using a pair of clamps, he picked up the curved needle trailing suture and brought it to my shin. Just before he pushed the needle through my skin, Tuttle barked from over his shoulder, “Glenn, that’s enough! Give the man a shot.”

  “It’s okay,” I interrupted, “Sew away.”

  Without hesitation or warning, he plunged the needle deep into the skin. With a twist of his wrist, it passed through the gaping hole and out the other side. He released the needle from the clamp, regrasped it at the tip, and pulled the length of suture
through. After quickly knotting and cutting the suture, he plunged the needle in again and repeated the process. Each time the needle was driven into my skin, it felt like a talon ripping my flesh apart. By the time he was completing the tenth stitch, I was wondering why I had allowed him to bait me into a battle of the ego. Then it ended. I had maintained my pride before Tuttle and the others.

  Glenn scrutinized his work and then gave an approving thumb up. “That will work just fine. And by the way, I was just joking about Delta and the Rangers. Even they weren’t dumb enough to refuse anesthetic when it was available.”

  Tuttle shook his head and laughed. “He pulls that one every time he sews someone up. You’re the first one I have seen who was dumb enough to fall for it. I have to give you credit though. You didn’t make a sound. I’m impressed.”

  I didn’t know whether I should be embarrassed or mad, so I didn’t say anything.

  “Why do you need to pass the blockade?” Tuttle asked, suddenly becoming serious.

  My face was still burning from being duped by Glenn. “We’re going to recon Curtis’ camp. We want to approach across country and surprise him. If we start from two miles down the road, we can follow a ravine most of the way and remain out of sight. Does that work for you?” I asked.

  “I would be happy to look the other way for your little excursion as long as you take an observer. Glenn, pack up. You’re going with Connor and Matt to recon Curtis’ camp.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Glenn replied eagerly. He packed his unused medical supplies away and gathered up his rifle and equipment.

  Tuttle lowered his voice. “Keep your eye on him. He’s been looking for blood since this morning when your guy shot the baby. Glenn is the best man I’ve ever had under my command. If Curtis is there, Glenn will find a way to kill him. I haven’t been with him in action, but I know people who have. Everybody I’ve talked to who served with him in Delta tells the same story. He’s unstoppable. Once it starts, he won’t quit until everyone is annihilated. He kills with an efficiency and ruthlessness that is unmatched by anybody else. As soon as it’s over, he immediately reverts back to what you’ve seen today. The transformation to killer and back is scary. If this turns into more than recon, you won’t regret having him.”

  “Thank you. We appreciate you letting us borrow him. If he’s half the man you claim, we’ll be glad to have him.”

  Glenn walked up with a bulging pack secured to his back and his rifle hanging loosely at his chest from a single point harness.

  I turned to face him. “Alright Glenn, here’s the plan.” After I explained it, I asked, “Do you have anything to add?”

  “Let’s blow his head off. And call me Zack.”

  Chapter 39

  The high pitched whine of my off road tires against the smooth asphalt decreased as the truck slowed. A minor steering input pushed the right tires onto the shoulder. The weight of the truck was directed through the tires and into the gravel shoulder, causing rocks to grate against each other as they reoriented with an audible crunch. The sound doubled in intensity when the left tires left the asphalt. With both wheels off the road, I was satisfied with the vehicle’s position and pushed harder on the brake. The tires threw rocks forward as the wheels skid the final six inches before coming to a rest.

  Before I opened the door, my cell phone rang. I looked at the screen. The caller ID read anonymous. The bell jingled a second time. I moved my finger over the glass screen and touched the green symbol to answer the call.

  “Hello,” I answered, half expecting a telemarketer.

  “I didn’t figure you were still alive. They say this all started under your watch,” my younger brother mocked over an extremely bad connection.

  “Zeke?” I asked, not expecting to hear his voice. My brother was two years younger than me. My mom and dad were “born again” shortly after my birth. By the time my brother came around, they had devoured the Bible. They wanted to give him a Biblical name and stuck him with the moniker of the Old Testament prophet, Ezekiel. As often happens, the name was shortened to Zeke.

  “Sorry to disappoint you. I’m still alive and you’re still going to have to split Mom and Dad’s stuff with me when they croak,” I said, jokingly. “I do have some good news for you though. You’re immune to the infection. I don’t have time to explain it right now, but you’re going to be okay in that regard.”

  He paused for several seconds before speaking. “How could you know that I’m immune?”

  “Like I said, I don’t have time to explain it, but trust me, you are. I have three guys waiting for me to get off the phone so I can’t talk long. How are things in Atlanta?”

  “They’re bad, really bad. There are quite a few infected running around. The real problem is with the uninfected, though. The gangs are robbing, looting, and killing with impunity. This morning the police were keeping them at bay. By late afternoon, I think most of the cops had bugged out. I haven’t seen any law enforcement outside the office for a couple hours.”

  “You’re still at work? Why?” I prodded. “The financial system is ruined. Nobody’s going to be worried about their 401Ks today. You haven’t had a buy or sell order all day, have you?”

  “I didn’t watch the news this morning. I got to work and only a few people showed up. By the time I realized I needed to get out of the city, it was too late. I figured I would be safer waiting it out in the office than trying to navigate the streets.”

  I interrupted. “I don’t care what’s going on in the streets. You have to get out of the city. Now! The infection will spread faster there than it has here. I’ve seen over ten percent of our population infected in about twenty four hours. That only includes what I have seen with my eyes, not the ones locked in their houses. Once they fill the streets in Atlanta, you won’t stand a chance of getting out.”

  “I know,” he said. “Trust me, I know. I’ve been watching the news all afternoon. There are only five of us left in the office. We’re about to make a break for it. Are you secure out there?” he asked hopefully.

  “For the time being,” I said. “But that could change in a hurry. You’re not thinking of coming out here, are you?”

  “It looks like this could be the end. I don’t have anything holding me here. I’m going to try to get home. I haven’t been able to reach Mom and Dad, but that’s where I’m headed. If things end up as bad as they look, we’re going to need to stick together. Are you going home?”

  “I would like to, but I can’t. These people have entrusted me with protecting them. I can’t leave them when they need me the most. Are you seriously going to travel from Georgia to California?” I questioned, pondering the enormity of the task he was suggesting. It was a solid three day drive under the best of conditions. These weren’t even going to be marginal conditions.

  “I don’t know how it’s going to work out, but I’m not staying here. Is there anything I should know before I start?”

  “Not much that I can think of. Make sure your friends wear some sort of masks. I don’t know how effective they are, but it’s better than nothing. Do you have any weapons?”

  “I have a pistol in my car with two extra clips.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” I paused, encouraged by the unexpected news that he was armed. “If you have to shoot, aim for the head. Body shots are completely ineffective. Three magazines won’t last long as things start to get worse. Try to find a rifle. Move quietly and get out of the city as fast as you can. I wish I could tell you something more helpful.”

  “Look,” he said, and paused. His changed tone told me what was coming. “I know my chances of making it across the country are slim at best.” His voice filled with emotion as he continued. “If I don’t make it, take care of your family and Mom and Dad, too.”

  “You’ll make it,” I said, trying to reassure myself as much as him. “Be careful. Stay in touch. Call me tomorrow. Text if I don’t answer. I wish I had more time, but I have to go. We’ll talk again tomorrow,” I sa
id with more conviction than I felt. As I hung up the phone, I pondered whether I would talk to Zeke again. I hoped I would, but reality had set in hard over the last day. As I powered the phone off, I realized I would never hear his voice again.

  In a little over a day, I had already become hardened to the emotional distresses that were trying to rip me apart. I knew I was becoming calloused and I didn’t like it. As much as I hated it, for the time being, it was a convenient fault. I couldn’t afford to be paralyzed from the losses piling up around me.

  Matt looked across the seat at me. “Zeke’s in trouble, isn’t he?”

  I nodded. “He’s in Atlanta. He said he’s going to try to leave. His chances of getting out alive are pretty slim. Apparently the cops are gone and have been replaced with anarchy. The infection hasn’t taken hold there yet. It’s coming, though.”

  Matt gave a knowing nod. “I haven’t been able to reach my family in Chicago. I hope they’re okay, but I don’t have much hope either. The only thing we can do is take care of our part of the world.” He opened his door and joined Zack, who had already gotten out of the truck.

  Chapter 40

  Zack was adjusting the night vision goggles which he had affixed to his helmet. They were made to work in conjunction with his gas mask, which Jeb’s proximity forced him to wear. Once satisfied with his night vision setup, Zack tilted the metal tubes up so his eyes were unobstructed. When darkness came, all he would have to do was flip them back down.

  Jeb was standing beside him. He had stowed his gas mask in his pack. At this point, he wasn’t likely to be exposed again. He, too, adjusted his goggles over his eyes. It was obviously a process he had performed over and over during his time in the military. In short order, he was satisfied and tilted them up, exposing his eyes to the world around him. Matt never bothered taking his goggles out of his pack. Our night vision wasn’t compatible our gas masks. The lens of the mask prevented the goggles from getting close enough to our eyes to see through them. If Matt became separated from Jeb, he might put them on when we got close. Until then, he left them in his pack