Jen glanced at Mark. He raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. "OK, Doc," Jen said. "Let's see what you have."
Doc hit a key on the keyboard and the video began. It was a shot from the sky looking straight down. Buildings, roads, and trees zipped by before it seemed to slow.
"Watch for it," Doc said.
The drone hovered over a group of three humans. They picked their way through a parking lot of abandoned cars.
The picture widened, and Jen recognized a midtown bookstore. The lot was half full of abandoned cars and the survivors ducked down and weaved their way between them.
The picture widened further. Jen wasn't sure if it was the camera widening its angle or the drone climbing higher.
When it showed the whole parking lot and building, a half dozen figures shambled at the top of the screen. Jen's muscles tensed as the group of humans slowly made their way toward the zombies.
"Watch the zombies," Doc said.
First one, then all of the zombies sniffed the air and turned toward the humans. When one of the humans stood to look over a car, the zombies all tilted their heads back and opened their mouths. Seconds later, they streaked for the humans.
The picture switched to another view. It took Jen a second to realize it was of a department store parking lot across the street from the bookstore.
There had to be thirty zombies spread across it, and they all raised their heads and opened their mouths, before sprinting in the direction of the humans.
"Wait for it," Doc said.
When the zombies disappeared from the shot, movement at the side of a car caught Jen's attention. A zombie milled around the lot as if it hadn't heard the call.
Doc paused the video. "We know the zombies shriek when they spot prey, and that other zombies who hear the shriek respond with shrieks of their own."
"Other than the sound being different, it reminds me of wolves howling," Jen said.
"That's a great observation," Doc said. "A zombie howl."
Mark grunted. "That's a good term for it."
Doc nodded. "So at least one zombie spots a human and calls the others. They respond with howls of their own and run off to the chase."
"Sure," Jen said. "Same as Point Wallace. Like swarming wasps."
"Y'all are just great at naming things," Doc said. "A zombie howl and a zombie swarm. I'll be sure to attribute you in my notes." He rubbed his chin. "But what about that one that didn't howl, and didn't chase after the humans?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, didn't join the swarm?"
Jen studied the picture on the screen. "That happened in Point Wallace, too. Almost like the zombies that didn't run off were deaf."
"Or left behind in case any humans made a break for it," Mark said.
Doc pointed at Mark. "That's what I think. While it could be because they don't hear, I'd have to assume that the rate of zombie deafness is roughly equivalent to the rate of human deafness."
"Makes sense," Jen said.
Doc put a forefinger in the air. "But, the rate of human deafness is less than one half of one percent. And yet, we see it in this video, and Jen reported the same at Point Wallace. That would be a far higher rate than humans."
Jen's heart skipped a beat. "So you're saying these things are smarter than we've thought."
"They are," Doc said. "But I think it's more of an instinctual intelligence than any real smarts. Problem is, I can't be sure without more data because we need to eliminate the possibility that the virus itself is mutating and making them smarter."
"Holy shit," Mark said. "Bad enough these things have overwhelming numbers and are hard to take down, but if they're getting smarter, too..."
Jen took a deep breath. "You're just full of sunshine, Doc. Any other good news?"
He turned to the screen. "Watch this."
He unpaused the video, and it switched to an overhead view of an area Jen couldn't identify. The drone flew over industrial buildings backed up to a green belt of fir trees.
Two people ran full tilt from the trees and toward a building. Seconds later, four smaller dark figures burst from the trees in pursuit.
"What the hell are those?" Jen asked.
Doc said nothing.
The camera zoomed in on the small figures, then brought them into focus.
"Dogs?" Jen said.
Mark leaned closer to the screen, squinting. "They look like huskies to me."
Doc froze the picture and zoomed in. One of the dogs must've sensed the drone because it looked up in mid-stride.
Its eyes were yellow.
7
A week later Jen sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes while Doc loaded another video. "So once the zombie swarm has attacked the victim, it slowly disperses, but not all of them. Other than that, I don't think I know much more today than a week ago after we watched the first drone videos."
"You're as right as rain," Doc said. "But here's the latest footage we have. You'll find it interesting."
The video displayed a treeless greenbelt. "It looks like the park strip downtown," Jen said.
The drone had zoomed out to capture three blocks. Zombies wandered alone and in groups at the far left and right of the footage.
Doc pointed to the top middle of the screen at the entrance to an alley. "Watch here."
Two figures appeared there. They peered out, then walked slowly across the park strip in plain view of the zombies. The zombies continued to wander around.
"What the hell?" Jen said. "They should be zombie poop by now."
The figures reached the other side of the strip and disappeared into a backyard.
Doc paused the video. "Best I can tell is that the zombies have a limited distance where they can detect prey. I think the two people we saw there weren't detected because they were far enough away, and because they moved slowly and didn't attract attention."
"How far away do you have to be?" Mark stood by the door and had been so quiet Jen had forgotten he was there.
"I don't have enough data to make that determination," Doc said. "I wish we could send more drones up, but we don't have the time."
"What do you mean we don't have time?" Jen asked.
Doc stood and stretched. "Spoke to Cartwright on the satellite phone this morning. They're sending a convoy to pick us up and take us to JBER tomorrow morning. Seems she's anxious to get my research into the spores and the mycovirus. Imagine that."
Jen grinned. She'd become used to Doc's laid-back ways. He sounded a bit like a hick, but he was smarter than any professor she'd had at college. "Sounds like it's time to ask for a raise."
"If you don't mind, I need to collect all my data and get it ready for transport." Doc gathered the strewn papers on his desk and stacked them.
"Oh, sure." Jen stood and turned to Mark. "How about some time on the roof?"
Doc chuckled. "Hatcher's going to bust a vein if he catches you up there."
Jen shrugged. "Then that'll be one problem solved."
Mark opened the door and led Jen into the hallway. They passed by an open doorway a minute later where Hatcher sat at a desk, studying a sheaf of papers. "I swear that man wears the same damn suit every day," Jen whispered to Mark.
"Or maybe he has a bunch of the same suit," Mark said.
Jen's laughter echoed down the hallway.
They exited the elevator on the fifth floor, and strode down the hall, rounded the corner, and stopped at a door with a security card reader next to a sign that said Authorized Personnel Only. Mark looked up and down the hall, then ran his card through the reader. A loud clunk came from the door and he pulled it open.
Jen hurried in and climbed the stairs in front of her. She waited at a door with a small wired window until Mark ran his card through another reader and pushed the door open.
She stepped onto the roof, spread her arms, and took a deep breath. Ever since coming to the roof almost a week before, it had become the highlight of her day.
High clouds passed overhead, but the sun
peeked out every few minutes. Late July was Jen's favorite time in Anchorage. Still plenty of sun and the rainy season still off by a few weeks. She walked past the solar panels and sat on a wooden bench, then patted the spot next to her. "Take a load off."
Mark sat and leaned forward, planting his elbows on his thighs. "Guess we'll be out of here by this time tomorrow."
"You knew about the convoy?" Jen asked.
"Found out just before I went to your room this morning."
A little pang of disappointment stung her. Why not tell me? She frowned. She'd let herself think these people were becoming her friends and that she belonged to the group. She shook her head. But no one takes care of number one better than number one, herself.
The breeze picked up and with it the rank smell that had been there every time Jen had been on the roof. A mixture of burned wood and something else she couldn't place her finger on, it had become fainter as the columns of smoke in the distance had died.
"Where will they take us?" Jen asked.
"They have a setup at Fairchild Air Force Base near Spokane. Doc said they'll probably quarantine us for a short while, then he'll head to the CDC and you and I can go wherever we want."
A gunshot sounded in the distance, followed by zombie howls. The dinner bell has been rung. "So you'll head to Biloxi?"
Mark nodded. "Check in on my folks and my sister and check out the situation. See if I need to get them someplace safer."
He leaned back on his arms. "How about you?"
"I don't have any relatives left that I've ever met. Besides, I've pretty much been on my own since I was a kid, so why mess with what works?"
"Everyone needs help." Mark glanced back at the door to the stairs. "We shouldn't stay up here too long. It may be funny, but I still don't want Hatcher popping through that door. He can make a lot of trouble for us."
I need more time out of the damn suffocating building. "What'd you do before this? I mean, before you did security for the government?"
Mark's jaw tightened and he stared into the distance.
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked.
Mark chewed his lower lip, then his shoulders relaxed. "No. You didn't. My past is just something I don't talk about."
Jen grinned. "As long as you're not a serial killer or something."
Mark's eyebrows shot up.
"You're shitting me." She slid away from him.
He put out a hand. "Not in the way you think."
"You need to explain right now." No way she could fight him. Too damn big and strong. She eyed a three-foot-long two-by-four laying next to a solar panel.
Mark closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He took a deep breath and exhaled it. "I'd spent a few years in Army infantry, but was eventually accepted to fly drones in the Middle East. I'd sit safely back at an air base, recon for ground troops, and take out terrorists with missiles."
He straightened his head and opened his eyes, staring in the distance. "I was able to get the position because I'd already been certified for light planes and so the transition was simpler."
Jen leaned forward and looked at him. "That was war, not serial killing."
Mark squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. "It was, until a particular mission. Intel reported a convoy of Al Qaeda taking place. They believed top leadership were in the vehicles."
He cracked his knuckles and wrung his hands. "I was given the mission. The convoy stuck out like a sore thumb as it traveled across the desert between towns. I identified the vehicles and was given the clearance to engage. I sent three Hellfire missiles at that convoy, keeping the last one for any cleanup. I didn't need it. Those cars and trucks were blown to shit."
Jen sat entranced by Mark's story. For the first time since the shit had hit the fan, she'd forgotten about zombies and the end of the world. Her breathing slowed and her heartbeat quickened as the story went on.
"At the end of my shift," Mark said, "I stopped and had a couple beers, then hit my bunk. The next morning, it was all over the news. That convoy had no terrorists. It was families, women and children, fleeing for their lives. None of them survived."
Jen put a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault. You didn't know."
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I still did it. But then it got worse. My major called me in and congratulated me on a job well done. I'd followed my orders. He said there were unfortunate casualties, but I did my duty."
Mark turned toward Jen with watery eyes. "Unfortunate casualties? There were eighteen dead children and five dead women." He jerked a thumb to his chest and raised his voice. "And I killed them. No one else."
Jen softened her voice. "What happened then?"
"I beat the shit out of that major and was court martialed. I got busted down in rank and assigned to convoys. Guess they thought I'd never make it home. Problem is I did, but eleven of my buddies didn't." He rolled up his shirtsleeve, exposing a ragged scar across his forearm. "One piece of shrapnel was all I got. Doesn't seem fair that I killed those innocents and this was all that happened to me."
Jen squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry I asked. I didn't mean to bring this all back up for you."
Mark stood and wiped his eyes. "I live with it every day. I think that I can't make it up to the ones I killed, but maybe I can keep others alive. With my court martial on record, I couldn't get into any law enforcement, so I went with security."
"You can't save everyone, Mark. No one can."
"I know," he said. "I've had to become hardened to that fact to keep my sanity, but I will at least protect my family and those I'm hired to protect."
A screech of tires came from nearby. Jen jumped to her feet. "That sounds like the front of the building, on the Old Seward Highway."
They ran to the highway side of the building, where a stand of trees kept it hidden from the road. Jen stood at the four-foot wall that ringed the rooftop.
A zombie howl came from the same direction as the tire squeal. Two people burst from the trees and made a beeline to the building's front door. A man and a woman, who both looked to be in their twenties. The woman held something to her chest. Jen squinted to get a better look.
A baby.
Multiple howls came from the trees. Jen leaned on the wall. The door was right beneath her, six floors away. The man beat on it and yelled, "Let us in. Please!"
The baby wailed as the mother tried to calm it. "We've got a baby," the man screamed.
Jen grabbed Mark's arm. "We've got to open the door."
Mark swallowed. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do. The doors are welded shut. Even if we were down there right now with all the equipment, we couldn't get it open in time."
The zombie howls grew louder, and Jen turned back to the tragedy unfolding before her. Five zombies raced from the trees. The man pushed the woman behind him. Bare-handed, he attacked the lead zombie, a thirty-something man in bloody jeans and a shredded flannel shirt.
The man swung and knocked the zombie back. Before he could recover, a female zombie tackled him to the ground. The thirty-something zombie and the female zombie leapt onto him and ripped the flesh from his chest as he struggled and screamed.
The woman screeched. "Why didn't you help us?"
Jen tore her eyes from the dying man and looked to the woman and baby. The woman glared at her. "Why didn't you help?"
Jen's mouth went dry and her lower lip trembled. Speechless, all she could do was watch as three zombies slammed into the woman, knocking her into the door. The woman turned her back to them and wrapped her arms around her screaming child.
The other two zombies joined in as they tore her shirt off, clamped their jaws on her, and ripped chunks of skin and muscle off her back. The baby cried and the woman shrieked as they feasted. She never took her eyes off Jen.
The woman staggered, then fell to her knees. The zombies piled onto her, and she disappeared beneath them. The baby let loose with a long keening wail that felt like a knife slicing down Jen's
spine.
Jen stumbled back from the roof's edge, tears streaming down her cheeks. Mark caught her and led her to the door. Just as she was about to step through the doorway, the child's scream cut off.
8
Jen spent the next morning watching her father through the blinds and wondering what it would've been like to have had the chance to get to know him better.
She wept. Not just for him, but for the couple and their baby. She couldn't do anything for them, and she couldn't save her father. But she'd make sure she granted him his final peace.
Hatcher strode by, no doubt checking to make sure Mark watched over her. What an asshole.
Mark stood in his normal position, leaning against the far wall and whistling his tune over and over. Jen had begun to hear the damn thing in her sleep. She'd asked him to stop earlier and he had, but he'd picked it back up within minutes. He didn't even know he had.
Doc walked up the hallway. "The convoy will be here in a hour." He stopped in front of Mark. "I want you to lead the evacuation coordination."
"Me?" Mark said. "Isn't that Hatcher's job?"
Doc leaned in to Mark and whispered something Jen couldn't hear. Mark nodded. "OK. I'll be right down."
Doc nodded at Jen and walked at a clipped pace to his office.
"Let's go." Mark hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm needed in the lobby."
"What did Doc say about you taking over Hatcher's duties?"
Mark's gaze was intense as it met hers. "Doc doesn't trust him. This trip will be dangerous enough without that bureaucrat screwing things up."
"Doc's smart in a lot of ways," Jen said. She glanced back at the blinds. "You know what I have to do, and the quickest, most painless way would be with a gun."
Mark looked in both directions, then spoke softly in her ear. "We'll each be armed when the convoy gets here. You can come back up and take care of business."
That's an interesting way to put it. "OK, but don't leave without me."
Mark smiled. "Never. I figure it's my job to get you and Doc safely to JBER. This is a mission I won't fail."
The Gauntlet_Book Two in the Zombie Uprising Series Page 4
