Chapter 28
January 4, 2014: Saturday, 10:22 AM – Mount Hope Research Facility, Bangor, Maine …
“This place is so beautiful,” Mandy commented.
She walked hand-in-hand with her husband down the crooked dirt path leading from the research facility to the base of the small hill. The day was strangely warm and the couple took advantage of some free time to enjoy just being outside. Soon their daily walk would come to an end, like it always did, as they reached the fence at the bottom of the hillside. A towering chain link fence ran around the entire complex providing an adequate barrier against unwanted visitors – human or otherwise.
As she looked out into the distance through the fence, she could see the gorgeous rolling hillside lazily crawling up the horizon to meet her. She no longer heard or saw “them” standing outside the gated area. A few months of being surrounded by the undead, she had learned to look past their hideous, foul bodies that lined the entirety of the fence.
“I agree,” Craig said as they reached the bottom of the tiny trail.
Craig and Amanda now stood mere yards from the fence. While they did their best to avoid seeing or listening to the rotting creatures, their noses were not yet trained to be so dismissive…the zombie’s foul, pungent scent permeated the area. Amanda held her hand up to her nose briefly as the smell began to infiltrate her nostrils.
“That’s enough for me today,” she said.
“Yeah it was good while it lasted. I hate those damn things.”
BLAM!! BLAM!!
Two shots rang out overhead; Craig and Mandy barely reacted – Craig glanced over his shoulder as he saw two zombies crumple headless to the ground. All the residents had become accustomed to the deadeye shots of the snipers. Sure, the sturdy chain link fence provided pretty good protection, but the snipers positioned around the facility added more of a human touch for the inhabitants. Each day, the sniper squad would take out a few zombies that had become seemingly cleverer in their attempts to breach the fence. The fence/sniper combo had well served the safety concerns of the tenants living within the complex.
The couple retraced their steps back towards the research facility. Craig thought back, as he often did, to how terrible the first three months of the pandemic had been. The two of them along with Theo had stayed on the run, hiding in various rest stops and abandoned buildings to keep concealed from the authorities. At the end of July, Theo postulated that no one from the Rochester facility had reported anything. In addition, he proposed that the police were considerably more occupied with maintaining order than searching for them in connection with the bloody night that Julie and Alexander had been killed.
The trio cautiously tested the theory and it turned out to be correct. With the coast clear, Craig led the group to Mandy’s parent’s house hoping against all odds that they were OK. The group arrived at Mandy’s childhood home; the house was empty. It had been completely ransacked by looters and rioters. However, there was no sign of her parents at all. The not knowing seemed to bother Mandy the most. She had no idea if her parents were alive or dead.
Mandy, Craig and Theo stayed at the house for about two weeks. They gathered supplies from other houses in the neighborhood that had fared better during the initial and subsequent waves of rioting humans and droves of zombies that had passed through. At the end of the second week, they moved onwards after picking up a static-filled radio broadcast promising safe haven for travelers. They made their way to the Mount Hope Research facility. They had spent the last half of the year living and working at the complex.
“Hey guys!” Destin smiled as he waved at the couple.
Destin Anderson was a tall young man in his early twenties with dark black hair and a friendly smile that put people at ease. He had worked at a nearby church for a few years preparing to go overseas to preach with his Bible group. At the onset of the undead rising, Destin was forced out of his church, not by the zombies, but by so-called religious fanatics that burned his church down. He helped a few members from his congregation escape and they ended up at the Mount Hope facility. He was saddened that he was unable to save his pastor – his mentor who died in the ensuing church fire along with more than half of the congregation. The surviving members had turned to Destin for guidance.
For a few weeks, he struggled realizing his lifelong dream of spreading the word of God to the far reaches of the globe had been cut short before it really even began. The plague made all types of mass travel nearly impossible. In addition, he felt awkward that the congregation looked to him for guidance – he felt that he was too inexperienced, too young to lead anyone. However, he knew and trusted that God worked in mysterious ways; the young man may not have been able to minister to faraway lands, but he was more than capable and willing to share the word with those around him. It had been his idea to set up the repeating radio transmission to guide others to this safe haven.
“Hey, Destin,” Mandy replied, hugging the young man.
“Are you guys coming to service tomorrow?”
“We’ll be there for sure,” Craig replied as he shook the young man’s hand.
“What about Theo,” Destin inquired. “Do you think he’ll come?”
“I would tell you to give up on him,” Craig said, “but I know that isn’t your style. He told us that religion makes no sense to him. He said something to the effect that religion was some kind of man-made oppression tool or something like that…”
Destin smiled. He had been trying since day one to persuade Theo to come to some of his lessons but had failed to convince the man to even attend one session. If anything, Destin was determined that everyone, now more so than ever in this time of peril, needed to be right with the Lord. Destin was never rude or pushy as he told of his loving God. Many people that had not worshipped prior to the zombie apocalypse had quickly found a need to hear and learn more about God. Destin felt that given a bit more time, with some of his peaceful prodding – that even Theo would find his way to the light.
Destin looked up on the rooftop and saw that Major Pavlik was on sniper detail. The young man waved and the old soldier nodded. “Nice shooting,” Destin said. The soldier grunted something inaudibly and backed away from the edge of the building.
The three friends at ground level entered into the building through the south entrance and walked up the stairs to the cafeteria on the second floor. It was close to lunchtime and it was their weekend to set up the dinner tables and chairs. The cafeteria served two purposes: one - it was a place to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner and two - on Wednesday and Sunday, it was set up for church services.
January 5, 2014: Sunday, 1:22 AM – …Mount Hope Research Facility, Bangor, Maine third floor research station room 301…
Theo poured over the results in defeated frustration. It didn’t make any sense to him. Since last week, it appeared that their efforts had been going in reverse. The other scientists were just as baffled. Two weeks ago they felt confident that the path they had chosen had tremendous potential for producing a universal remedy to combat the Z1N1 infected creatures. The lead scientist at Mount Hope - Obadiah Jennings - had excitedly presented the research and data via email to Dr. Ferguson and his team at the Langston Research Facility in St. Louis. The hope was to “weaponize” the solution. The scientists of these two locations were confident that there was no way to save the infected after months of failed attempts. The only sure fire way to reclaim the planet for humans was to eradicate the plagued victims.
“I don’t understand,” Theo said in disgust.
Obadiah looked up from his lab station suppressing an overwhelming urge to cough; he had been sick for the past three days and his throat and chest was sore from all of the coughing. The lead scientist had worked in this facility for twenty five years. The older gentleman was seventy two years old, had a full head of gray hair with matching almost-chest length beard. He wore thick, black rimmed bifocals and a yellowish tan cowboy hat. The older scientist removed his hat, brushe
d his hands through his hair in frustration and cleared his throat; he put on a good face to keep morale up. Even though his cough had visibly worn him down, he continued to move forward with the agonizing tests – his attention to detail and perseverance energized the younger folks around him. He had become a father figure to the entire community.
“It’s just a minor setback, Theo,” Obadiah said in a cool, monotone voice. “We must have missed something…something little. Let’s go back over the last week worth of tests.” The elder scientist entered more data into his always present laptop computer. All of their work, all of the tests and various data regarding samples used on zombies were all stored on the device.
The other scientists in the room groaned but they pushed forward. These eight men and three women knew they were close. If they could finalize their work and mass produce the universal remedy – people of the world could eventually come out of hiding once the creatures were destroyed. Then everyone could focus on rebuilding communities at the local level and then, over time, be able to reinstate the federal government.
“Even if we figure this out,” Theo began, “and make this a viable option – how will it be mass delivered?”
“You worry too much young man,” Obadiah said. “Our colleagues at Langston assure us they can get the compound airborne and expeditiously delivered onto the infected masses.”
The scientists at Mount Hope had been working to create a compound that would destroy the zombies at the cellular level. The role of the Langston facility was twofold: one, procure aircraft to disperse the remedy as quickly as possible throughout the United States – then when feasible – to the rest of the world and two, communication overseas. Langston had actually been able to send and receive emails from the United Kingdom’s Center for Disease Control. These three facilities operated at thirty percent or less of their pre-crises capabilities which impeded progress. In addition, sporadic movement of the functional communication satellites orbiting the Earth hindered the transmission of data to and from each facility; Obadiah believed that this was the limiting factor keeping them from communicating directly with the UK.
“You should get some sleep, Theo. Church comes early you know?”
Theo looked up briefly from the last email he had received from his peers at Langston. “I still don’t understand how a man of science like you can even stomach that mumbo-jumbo hocus-pocus tripe.”
Obadiah understood where Theo was coming from. The old man had only recently made the journey to Christ. While he didn’t fully understand all the nuances and details of his newly found faith, he had seen the light – his young friend, Destin had spent many long nights sharing the Gospel with him and others.
“You know that organized religion is just a way to control the masses, right? Promise the lower- and middle classes that if they are ‘good’ here on Earth – then heavenly riches await them on the other side; that single promise keeps the masses from uprising against the wealthy.”
“How very Marxist of you... Theo, you are way too young to be this jaded - even with everything going on around us these days. Come to Church with me later this morning. You will see that science and religion can be balanced. I don’t think they were ever meant to be separate.”
Theo shook his head and returned to his results. He heard Obadiah close up his notebook computer for the evening and the old man walked over to Theo placing a caring, firm hand on the young man’s shoulder.
“I’m off to bed now – I hope to see you in church later today.”
The old man exited the room and Theo heard him cough one time as he walked down the hallway. Soon the night was quiet and still and Theo began to browse through his notes on previous serums that had failed to meet their needs. Something was missing and he needed to find out what had gone wrong.
January 5, 2014: Sunday, 11:22 AM – …Mount Hope Research Facility, Bangor, Maine- the converted cafeteria for church services…
Destin stared out into the multitudes taking their seats. He was visibly nervous, not because he hadn’t prepared his sermon, but because this morning brought the most attendees he had ever seen since he began teaching many months ago. From a quick glance, at least fifty people sat in the makeshift pews. There were only seventy five people total living in the complex. Destin knew each and every face. He nodded as he made eye contact. As usual, the “no shows” like Theo and some of the military folk didn’t find the time to attend.
“Good morning everyone,” he began.
“Good morning,” the crowd cheerfully responded.
“It’s good to see my regular faces in the crowd and I’m grateful to see some newer faces as well. Welcome.”
Craig and Mandy sat near the front next to Obadiah. The three of them had helped Destin earlier in the day to transform the cafeteria into a reasonably apportioned venue for today’s sermon. They had removed all the round lunch tables and stored them in the back closet. Obadiah’s cough began acting up, so he had to rest frequently. Mandy and Craig finished the rest of the setup by dividing the sixty stackable chairs into two sections; each section consisted of five rows of six chairs. There were only a few Bibles available but pens and scratch paper was laid beneath each chair should anyone care to take notes.
Destin began today’s sermon with a prayer wishing for the well-being of his friends and asked God to end the blight currently ailing the world. As he finished the congregation raised their heads in unison saying “Amen”.
“Today I want to talk to you about the Book of Revelation or sometimes referred to as the Apocalypse of John. We’ve all suffered our own personal losses over the past year. The zombies easily have us outnumbered now. Maybe this plague is some kind of judgment on us? It’s easy to give up these days. Why should we continue to fight?”
Destin could sense the crowd’s confusion. He could almost read their minds. Many thought to themselves why would the preacher bring up such a downtrodden message today? They all needed a message of hope – not one of vague imagery and despair.
“I know what many of you are thinking. Hear me out. Sure Revelation portends terrible seals and judgments upon mankind. Why would I bring up this message now? Simple. With all the turmoil in our lives, the Spirit of the Lord has moved us all together to worship and pray in his name. In the Book of Revelation, many terrible things are visited upon humans, but the Lord promises his swift return. Maybe our current test brings us one step closer to being with the Lord?”
Destin found his voice for the day and continued for the next twenty minutes non-stop telling everyone of the glories and riches waiting for them in the next life. Obadiah found a bit of irony in the statement considering the last conversation he had with Theo the night before. However, he felt the love and meaning of the words, not the jaded interpretation that the younger scientist rambled off last night.
After the sermon ended, a few parishioners stayed behind and set up the cafeteria for lunchtime. Today’s menu, like every Sunday was special. A whole smorgasbord of fresh vegetables from the garden on the east side of the complex was served. Broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage and collard greens littered the buffet table. The garden was the pride and joy of the Mount Hope community.
The garden had been started a few months ago during the middle part of summer. The first month, the garden produced very little. Hopes for fresh produce dwindled. With a bit of patience and caring, the garden began to provide for the community in its second month of existence. As winter approached, fears again began to rise that they would have to go without vegetables, but a creative young woman remembered back to an article that she had read many years ago about growing crops and how to harvest in the winter time.
The woman took some bricks to the edge of the garden. In the center she placed a few bricks one on top of another. Then by stretching a thick plastic sheet from one end of the garden to the next, she created a pseudo-cloche like enclosure that protected the plants from the deadly frost. The ends of the plastic sheet were wrapped around the base
of the bricks keeping it in place. The raised center allowed for some air circulation. Today’s lunch was proof that her idea worked to perfection.
And just like each Sunday for the past half year, everyone in the complex showed up for “Vegetable Sunday” to enjoy their little weekly miracle. Even the kids at the complex had no dislike for any of the vegetables. Children often had a second and sometimes even a third plate. Even the adults piled their plates high with unstable leaning towers of vegetables – there was plenty to go around for everyone.
“Ha! That’s funny,” Craig said whimsically as he sat down with a plateful of food next to his wife.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Mandy inquired.
“It only took a zombie apocalypse to get these kids to eat their vegetables without complaining!”
Chapter 29
January 9, 2014: Thursday, 4:22 PM – outside a small elementary school, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania …
Agrueling, taciturn week passed as Kara, Corbin and Nikki slowly trudged along inconspicuous access roads heading northeast. The weather had been fairly decent precipitation wise over the past few days, but the cold temperatures were not so accommodating. The ice and thick snow on the roads continued to retard any meaningful forward progression. Anything that did manage to thaw quickly refroze during the frigid nighttime hours.
The van’s old heater had done just enough to keep frostbite from setting in during the daylight hours, but they knew it was reckless to let the van idle all night – doing so would quickly drain their finite fuel reserves. Frequent stops along the way yielded only small amounts of gas; fuel had to be conserved whenever possible. At night, the group huddled together in the middle of the van under heavy blankets to generate as much body heat as they could; the aphonic nights were long and silent except for sporadic fits of crying from the bereaved within.
Z1N1: The Zombie Pandemic: 2012 Was Just the Beginning Page 27
