by Todd Sprague
They followed the hallway until they reached a door marked Secure. John fumbled with the keys, trying them one by one until he found the right one. The lock clicked open loudly, startling Douglas. John grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up in the dim light of the Surefire in his hand. He pushed the door open, and they found themselves in a briefing room. Papers lay scattered all over the table and floor. Chairs were turned over, and a severed arm lay handcuffed to a ring attached to the wall. More blood soaked the floor in puddles. Another door lay just beyond the big table in the middle of the room, and they made their way towards it. Again, John fumbled with the keys until he found the right one.
Just as John pushed the door open, a horrible stench came wafting out of the room. The overpowering scent of rotting meat assailed the two men, causing their eyes to water. Douglas made retching sounds behind John, but the big man pushed through the smell and illuminated the room with his flashlight.
This room looked like it had been used for meetings at one time. Tables and chairs had been hastily piled up at one end of the room in front of another hallway. A pile of rotting corpses lay on the floor or tangled in the pile of office furniture. Most of them were well on their way to putrescence. John walked into the room and saw that the bodies all had bullet holes in them. Some were in uniform, others appeared to be civilians. One even had a meter maid’s outfit on, with a shoulder patch that said “Town of Windsor”. She still wore her ticket machine over one shoulder. John signaled the all clear to Douglas, and they began clearing a way through the debris. Just on the other side of the pile of desks and tables, they found more bodies. These were all in uniform, and most had M16s or pistols.
“Let’s finish checking out the building before we pick up these weapons. Something nasty happened here and I want to make sure we don’t get surprised,” John said to Douglas as they walked past the dead.
They continued through the building, searching each room as they came to it. They found offices and interrogation rooms, as well as a locked door that led to a room with dozens of M16s, shotguns, pistols and crates of ammunition. “Jackpot!” John whispered a little too loudly. John radioed his findings to Roger, who then reported the outside to still be safe.
They continued searching through the building and eventually came to a set of stairs leading down into the basement. Red emergency lights still shone in the underground part of the building, though they flickered ominously. In the red light, the blood on the floor just looked like water. Works for me, John thought to himself as he walked through the hellish hallways. They finally reached a door with a sign over it that said Holding Cells A-E. John pushed the heavy steel door open to find a scene right out of Dante’s Inferno.
Zeds wandered back and forth aimlessly, tripping over fallen dead. John did a quick estimate and thought there must have been twenty or thirty Zeds in the long hallway facing several barred cells. Dozens more lay on the ground, truly dead. As the door banged open, every Zed in the room turned its head and looked right at the two men. Douglas screamed. John brought his MP5 up, dropped to one knee to steady himself, and began firing aimed shots at the Zeds. Douglas aimed his AK 47 and began firing wildly into the room. Most of his shots hit something out of pure luck, but John’s were better aimed, and soon many of the Zeds had joined their comrades on the floor. A few managed to make it to the doorway, where Douglas had finally calmed down enough to aim for the creatures’ heads. He fired the last shot and brought down a man wearing nothing but boxer shorts and missing his right hand.
After the final blast, the two men stayed where they were, transfixed by the sight of all the dead under the flickering red light for several moments. When John was satisfied no one was getting back up, he stood back up and walked into the room.
“Good work, Doug. Stay here and watch my back.” John continued into the room, walking toward the cells. He heard Douglas reloading behind him as he noticed that one of the cells seemed to have people in it. As he got closer, he shined his flashlight into the cell and saw several uniformed men slumped against the walls. He counted thirteen of them, all seated with their backs against the concrete walls and slumped over, their heads down on their chests. Every one of them had a rifle or pistol next to them. Empty rifle magazines lay scattered about the cell floor. Then he saw the blood splattered all over the walls behind each person.
John walked up to the cell door and pulled. The door was locked. John looked inside at the dead Guardsmen. It was then that he noticed the notes. Each man had a white sheet of paper pinned to the front of his uniform. John could barely make out some writing on the soldier closest to him. He could make out the words “Mom” and “I’m Sorry”.
Douglas came up behind John noisily. He looked inside the cell. “Oh my God, what happened?”
“They ran out of ammo. They knew help wasn’t coming.” John felt a strange sense of pride in his fellow man as he looked in at the doomed soldiers. From the Battle at the Barricade, John understood the feeling of helplessness in the face of waves of undead. “I hope if the time comes, I have the guts to do what they did, what Dad did,” John muttered quietly in the red glow.
Douglas stared at John’s back and shook his head, grimacing. John turned and walked past Douglas, back up into the daylight.
John signaled the all clear to Roger. With a few men posted outside on guard duty, the rest of the Mason clan emptied the armory of its contents, loading everything into the big white trailer. John was also able to find the key to the cell where the brave soldiers had killed themselves to avoid becoming the enemy. They took their weapons, as well as the notes that had been pinned to each man.
While they were cleaning out the armory, Douglas found a map of the base and located the buildings most likely to have food and other supplies they needed. There was no sign of a base hospital, though, this being a relatively small facility. They collected the first aid kits they found in each building.
The next building on the map was a big warehouse marked “Supplies-Consumables”. Roger backed the trailer up to the loading dock, while Jack Kensington and his cousin climbed up onto the roof of the truck and stood watch. John, Morgan and two of the other survivors whose names John couldn’t for the life of him remember, entered the warehouse.
Much smaller than the grocery warehouse they’d raided before, it still represented a dangerous place where Zeds could hide.
“Morgan, take point. I’ll be right behind you.” John motioned for the other two to follow him, and together they walked through aisle after aisle of pallets filled with crates and boxes with indecipherable government identification numbers and abbreviations. Halfway down the second aisle a female Zed in uniform shambled around a corner directly in front of Morgan. The agile young man brought both of his Glocks up and fired at the monster. The Zed tumbled over backwards and sprawled on the floor, unmoving. Almost immediately a chorus of Zed moans and groans erupted all around the four men. John glimpsed movement through the racks of supplies on either side of them.
“Fall back to the doors!” John yelled and began walking backwards, his submachine gun sweeping the aisle while Morgan and the other two men ran past him. As soon as they were clear, John turned and ran after them. He imagined rotting breath hot on his neck, the sounds around them increasing as they ran.
Just as the four men made it to the open loading dock area, gunfire erupted from right in front of them. Someone yelled, “Get down!” John dropped to the ground and spun around, bringing his MP5 up and looking for a target. Zeds stumbled from between the racks right into the withering fire laid down by Jack and the other members of the group. Semi-automatic fire dropped Zed after Zed as they reached the loading area. John joined in, firing into the staggering crowd of undead. The warehouse echoed with the deafening roar of gunfire for several minutes. Zeds flowed into the open space, one after the other, most in National Guard uniforms but John saw some in jeans and flannel shirts, mechanic’s overalls, and other outfits. Finally, after several minutes, the Ze
d tide began to lessen until one single, solitary Zed with one leg crawled into the dock area. Morgan ran over to it and put two bullets in its head.
John watched the darkness ahead of him, alert for any more Zeds, but nothing moved. He walked over to Jack. “Thanks, man.”
“Heard the shooting, thought you might need a hand. I left my cousin outside on top of the truck, didn’t want any nasty surprises sneaking up behind us.”
They spent the next several minutes searching the warehouse but found no more undead.
* * *
Jack was the first to make sense of the identification numbers and abbreviations, and soon he and John had worked out which pallets to load into the truck. They moved several thousand MREs first, followed by other bulk food items that had previously been designated “Disaster Relief”. They used propane powered green forklifts to move the heavy pallets filled with priceless foodstuffs into the trailer until it was completely full. John looked with remorse at all the remaining supplies in the warehouse.
“Well, we can secure the building and make another trip if we need to. I didn’t really think we’d find this much here,” John said to Jack. The two of them were standing to one side while the others closed up the trailer and secured the door.
“We got enough here to get through winter and then some. But another trip wouldn’t hurt. Let’s throw some of these MREs into the dump truck too.
John looked through a window at the rapidly darkening sky outside. “It’s almost dark. I think we should spend the night here, and then in the morning, send you and Roger back home with the load. You can take a couple guys with you but the rest of us will continue on to the other base.”
Roger walked over, having heard what had been said, and looked at John as if he were crazy. “Jesus, John. Are you insane?”
“It makes sense, Roger. The northbound lane is clear all the way back to Brattleboro. We didn’t see any of the big packs of Zeds, there shouldn’t be anything but a few stragglers on the way. They need the food back home, and we don’t know what we’re going to face at the other base.”
“We’ve got enough here. Let’s all go home, then. Bring you back to that pretty little wife of yours,” Roger said in his most reasonable tone.
“We have enough food, true. But I’m still worried about our ammo situation, and we need medical supplies. The armory here helped a lot. Those M16s are going to come in handy, but there still isn’t enough ammo to last us until this...whatever the fuck it is, is over.”
Roger nodded. “Alright. But goddammit, I don’t have to like it.”
* * *
They spent the night in the warehouse. The chilly fall Vermont air was held off by a couple of big metal drums in which they’d lit fires. Wooden furniture from the little office in the warehouse fueled their impromptu furnaces. An almost festive atmosphere reined as the little group ate the foil packed meals the Mason women had sent with them. John happily bit into the juicy chicken Sara had made for him. Her secret recipe consisted of an unnamed mix of spices that turned the white meat almost red and tenderized it to the point where it nearly melted in his mouth.
They’d moved all of the bodies outside and dumped them around the corner, under careful guard by no less than two armed people at all times, posted on the roof of the trailer or dump truck.
Now, however, everyone remained inside, and all of the doors into the warehouse had been secured. Jill was arguing with Morgan about something, as usual. Though the two were cousins, they’d grown up together like brother and sister. That’s just how we are, John thought as he watched the two bicker. The two almost came to blows but Marta jumped between them, good-naturedely pushing them apart.
At precisely 10 p.m., John used the radio in the tractor trailer to call home.
“Mason home, come in. Anyone listening?”
Almost immediately the radio crackled back. “John, is that you?” Sara’s voice was unmistakable.
“Yeah, baby, it’s me. We’re safe. I miss you.”
“Where are you? Are you coming home tonight?”
“No. We’re at the first location. Don’t say it over the radio, okay? We decided to stay tonight. Hopefully we’ll make it back tomorrow, but no promises.”
“Dammit, John. I wanted you back here. I’ve been worried sick about you all day.” Sara sounded hurt and angry at the same time.
“I know. I wanted to be home tonight too, but we discussed this. It just wasn’t safe to rush. We’ve seen some pretty bad things here.”
The radio grew silent for a few moments. Just as John raised the microphone to his lips to see if Sara was still there, she beat him to the punch.
“I miss you. This is the first night we’ve spent apart since our wedding.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I miss you too. I love you, Sara.”
She answered, bravely keeping the loneliness out of her voice, but unable to keep the hot tears off of her cheeks. “You’d better come home to me. You promised.”
“I will. Nothing can keep me away from you.”
The two chatted a few more minutes before John relayed some of what they’d seen. He kept the scarier details to himself.
Sara responded with a report of what had been going on at home that day. “Kurt’s the same, your uncle Patrick says the fence is strong enough to hold off anything that makes it through the barricades, and Jose is off doing his own thing. Actually, I haven’t seen him since lunch.” A hint of worry crept into her voice.
“I’m sure he’s okay, sweetheart. How are Princess and the kids?”
“They miss you too. Princess misses you so much she chewed up your favorite slippers.”
“That’s it. She’s Zed bait when I get home. You tell her I said that!”
Sara laughed. John smiled, happy that he’d forestalled some of the worry she was feeling.
“Oh, by the way, your chicken is a big hit here. I’m going to return the favor and bring you home some delicious Meals Ready to Eat. How about some mystery meat in a bag?”
“How about you pick up a couple of cows on the way home?”
John laughed. “I’ll think about it. I’m going to sign off sweetheart. We’ve got to get an early start in the morning.”
Sara’s voice grew sad again. “I don’t want to sleep alone. Please come home to me.”
“I will. Nothing will stop me. I swear. Tell Princess and the kids I said goodnight.”
“Goodnight, John. I love you.”
“I love you too, Sara. Goodnight.”
John switched the radio off and made his way back inside the warehouse. Morgan let him in, then secured the door again behind him. He walked over to his backpack and pulled out his sleeping bag.
They fell asleep to the sound of wolves howling in the distance. “Maybe they’re chasing down a Zed?” John wondered aloud, and then he listened with the others as he grew drowsy.
“Good luck to them,” Jill said, nestling down into her pink sleeping bag.
* * *
The morning dawned bright and clear, but cold. John woke to see his breath fogging in front of him. The cold cement floor under his sleeping bag had managed to leech most of his body heat away. He climbed slowly out of his bag, his back aching and popping as he stood.
A quick breakfast of MREs, including hot coffee from the little green pouches helped everyone’s spirits. John devoured his meal and drank his coffee quickly. He found Roger outside with Morgan going over the dump truck. The big orange hood was propped up with a two by four and Roger’s head was deep down inside the engine compartment. John noticed one of the new guys standing up on top of the tractor trailer, scanning the area with one of the newly acquired M16s in his hands.
“Hey Morg. Something wrong with the truck?”
“Nah, Dad’s just making sure everything’s okay.” Morgan bit into a chunk of beef jerky. “Hey, these MRE things are pretty good. I got jerky in mine!” He smiled as he chewed.
“Funny...my omelet tasted like beef jerky t
oo,” John snickered. Morgan laughed.
Roger climbed down off from the truck, dropping the hood behind him. “Looks ok. Just don’t horse it and you should be fine.”
John and Morgan both nodded. Roger stood looking at them for a moment. “Dammit, I really don’t like leaving you guys way up here without me.”
“We know, Dad. We’ll be fine.” Morgan said, exasperated.
“Your mother will kill me, you know that. When I show up without you, she’s going to rip me a new one.”
Morgan laughed. John chuckled. Roger just shook his head and walked off toward the tractor trailer.
* * *
An hour later, the big Volvo truck pulled out of the gate. Roger, Jack Kensington, Roy, and Jack’s cousin Richie rode in the cab. They’d decided those four would be sufficient to see the truck through any danger it might run into. John was confident Jack would see them home safely.
Morgan drove the dump truck out of the gate right behind the tractor trailer, but turned right when his father turned left. No horns were honked, as no one wanted to draw any more attention than they already had. The last thing they did was to close the gate behind them, hoping to one day make another trip to the base.
John’s group made their way southwest, towards Ludlow, along winding country roads. Though just over twenty five miles, the trip took them nearly three hours. Cars and trucks littered the road, doors open, engines left running when the Zeds swept through now dead and empty of gas. They pushed each one out of the way with the big snow plow on the front of the truck. Finally they saw a sign that said “Vermont National Guard, Company B, 2nd Battalion.” A base, bigger than the last, appeared in front of them. A big iron gate barred the way. John noticed several bodies lay in front of the gate. As they pulled the dump truck to a stop in front of the gate, John climbed down from the cab. He walked over to the guard house next to the gate, a clone of the one at the Windsor facility. As he walked past the bodies on the ground, he stopped short. Cocking his head to the side, he stared down at one of the dead. An elderly man, gray hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, lay on the pavement, a hole in his head as well as his chest.
