The Ugly Beginning - 01

by T. W. Brown

  “I suppose that last remark was directed at me,” Angela snapped.

  “Yep.” Mike dusted his hands together and stood as well. “And if you don’t help—”

  “What?” Angela cut him off with cold contempt.

  “We’ll leave you,” Mike shrugged.

  With that, he and Darrin picked up their weapons and disappeared into one of the RVs. Kevin glanced at the four faces that now all turned to focus on him.

  “Guess I better go,” Kevin broke the silence. “I’ve got first watch.”

  Feverish whispering started before he’d even climbed between the front and rear bumpers of two RVs. He had no idea what was being said, nor did he have the desire to be the sole target of feminine scorn. He found a picnic table that sat apart from everything and took a seat. Laying his longsword on the benchseat, resting the bat across his knees, Kevin watched the moon slowly climb across the sky.

  Before too long he found his mind drifting—thinking of Ruth. So engrossed in his thoughts, Kevin never heard the footsteps coming closer. His chin came to rest atop his chest and his eyes closed.

  A hand clasped his shoulder shattering the pleasant state of relaxation. Not fully in control of himself, Kevin yelped in fright. His body flew forward gracelessly and sprawled on the ground. Instincts came online quickly and he rolled onto his back, fumbling for the handle of the bat or the longsword. Both of which had fallen to the ground. A shadowy form loomed above. The creature hissed and reached down for Kevin who discovered, much to his dismay, that neither weapon landed within arm’s reach.

  13

  Illusions

  It has been two weeks and, try as I might, I just can’t find anything wrong here. I live in a modernized version of the Old West. People work, play, and fight as they have done since time began. There are soldiers scattered throughout the population, but they aren’t the only ones carrying weapons. In fact, yesterday, a party of about forty people were brought in—five had to be put down—and now the civilians outnumber the soldiers.

  Here at Serenity Base, everybody is expected to pull their own weight. If you are older than fifteen, you carry a weapon …after you’ve been through formal training. The soldiers aren’t stingy with their gear either. I’ve been checked out on a .50 caliber machinegun. One of my jobs is manning a watchtower, covering incoming and outgoing patrols.

  Our group has maintained a loose sort of cohesion. We live in the same section and get together when schedules allow. Ian is the hardest to meet up with as he is already part of the external foraging team. Also, Joseph Wiser and Aaron Doss both left today on their first mission. It was strange seeing them suited up in all that protective gear with weapons jutting out from every direction.

  Barry and Randi Jenkins work at the school. Judging by the stuff that Thalia brings home every night, the curriculum is partially survival skills mixed in with the classic “Three R’s.” Dave declined a position at the school and took a job in the infirmary. That is where Teresa and Jamie work as well.

  Speaking of those two, I consider myself a fairly progressive guy, but I was the only one who seemed to show any concern that those kids, Teresa and Jamie , chose to live together in the same apartment. I guess it’s just another sign of this crazy new world.

  All in all, this place isn’t bad. The worst part is dealing with what happens with the survivors that are brought in. This is the only aspect of operations that the military has exercised that I have a hard time with. If somebody is infected, they have two choices: medical execution via lethal injection; or, they are quarantined until they turn…and then drilled in the head.

  Don’t get me wrong, I understand the reason. Only, it just seems so harsh when you’re watching it being done. I’d like to think that I could be strong enough to do what’s right. I still have bad dreams of that first night and that girl in the sports car.

  Today is one of those days. Those five people from that large group were put down this morning. One of them was a child. Only six or seven years old. He was in a coma when they arrived. At least nobody had to look in his eyes when they plugged the needle into his IV.

  Doctor Zahn oversees most of the autopsies, and Dave has been on hand for a couple. After somebody is given the lethal injection, a surgical drill is used on their forehead—saves on bullets. Then, Zahn goes in and looks around. I was surprised that one of our group was given access to something like that. I guess I keep waiting for the military to act shady…withold information like they do in every thriller or apocolypse-type story. But here, it just ain’t happening.

  ***

  It is almost sunset, and there’s been a buzz around the compound since just after lunch. The airbase in Idaho was overrun. There is little doubt that almost everybody there is gone. Only one helicopter and two jets made it out. The helo landed here about thirty minutes ago.

  This is what we know according to the pilot who is being hooked up to an IV this very minute. He has a bite on his right hand, but he wanted to make a very detailed report before being put down. I was in the infirmary picking up vitamins for Thalia, so I overheard most of what he said.

  “…they came in waves unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It was like an entire city population gathering and coming at our fences with too much mass for anything other than solid concrete to stop them. There were hundreds already up against our perimeter, but this…mob…yeah, a mob of undead, literally flowed over them and crushed ‘em underfoot.”

  The rest of his account was scattered. The bottom line was that whoever was in charge felt that they were safe behind that fence. The consensus is that the coming and going of the various aircraft was like a dinner bell. Not only did they draw the local population, but it seems they attracted zombies from miles away.

  I’ve noticed a single-mindedness in them that would support those theories. In fact, we’ve been using that to find possible survivors. If zombies are crowded around a particular location, an attempt is made to contact any individuals who may be inside.

  On his last patrol, Ian said they rolled into a small town. Of course that is a relative term that has changed in definition. What used to mean less than fifteen thousand now means less than two thousand. He said that there was a small mom-and-pop store, an outdoor supply place that once specialized in hunting and fishing gear—it was entirely gutted by the time they arrived—and a couple of local businessess like the town real-estate agency and a souveneir shop. There were also a few homes, and a couple dozen trailers scattered on wide-spread plots of land.

  One of the homes had about a hundred of those things around it; all of them milling around trying to get close enough to slap on the walls, doors, and windows. The team cleared them out and went to look inside. Obviously whoever had holed up in there did so after being bitten. An emaciated woman was discovered in a bathroom clawing at the door; a nasty bite on her left forearm the evidence of her fate.

  I imagine this rumor about the Idaho base’s demise will cause quite a stir. I don’t imagine that news like this will stay confined for long. This place is lousy with keeping secrets. Nobody can hold back even the tiniest morsel of news—whether it holds a grain of truth or not.

  ***

  I hate being right. I had to get Teresa to come over because we are tripling the guns around the peremiter. Even with the trenches, razor wire, electrified fencing, and our remoteness on this hilltop, there is renewed concern of being overrun by zombies. The last thing I wanted to do tonight was leave Thalia. Strange. I’ve never been a parent, never wanted to be a parent. Now, well…I’m sorta in that role, and it is super weird.

  When I was putting on my gear, I heard a little sniffle behind me. I turned to discover Thalia in my doorway. She had that giant stuffed bear Ian had given her under one arm, but the other hand was planted firmly on her hip (a gesture she’d gotten from Teresa no doubt).

  “Papi?” she just started calling me that one day. I tried to correct her and get her to call me Steve, but every time I did, she’d devel
pop this peculiar language barrier.

  “What is it, sweetie?”

  “Are the monsters coming?”

  I stood there for a moment. There’d once been a time where it was okay to lie to your children in order to give them piece of mind. Rules change.

  “They might.” That was as close to full-disclosure as I would get for now.

  “Me and you and Teresa take the truck?” She walked in my room and picked up the webbed belt that held my spare magazines and handed it to me. As I strapped it on, she went to my dresser and grabbed my chain-mesh lined, studded leather gloves.

  I sat at the foot of the bed and laced my boots tight, “If it becomes necessary.” I glanced up at the little girl standing patiently before me with a pair of reinforced gloves designed to prevent being bitten on the hand by a zombie. We were going through this like I was heading to the office. And, I guess, in some way, that is how we had come to deal with it.

  I took the gloves and scooped Thalia up in my arms, setting her crossways in my lap. I leaned my forehead against hers in what had become our version of a kiss and hug. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Thalia. I promise.”

  She pulled back just a bit, her eyes blinked, and I noticed just how long and dark her eyelashes were. “I know, Papi.”

  For her, it was just that simple. The adult that she counted on…relied upon…had spoken. My words were sufficient. Then, she wrapped her little arms around my neck and squeezed tight. I think that is the most profound hug I’ve ever experienced.

  “Anybody home?” Teresa called from the living room. In a flash, Thalia was off my lap and racing out to greet her.

  I scooped up my gloves in one hand, 30.06 in the other. Even though I man a .50 caliber machinegun, I always carry my own arsenal: rifle with a scope, a pair of Navy Colt .45 semi-automatics, hand-axe, and three-foot machete.

  “Joseph just radioed in…they are bringing in seven with their supply haul. He says they found a fuel tanker.” Teresa held Thalia in her arms and had produced an honest-to-goodness Hershey bar which was accepted with the giggle and squeal that I’m fairly certain can only be produced by little girls.

  “So he and Aaron are doing okay?”

  “He said he wants to learn how to drive the Bradley APC,” Teresa laughed in that way she has that reminds me of how my mom would react when I was little and would say I wanted to be James Bond or Han Solo.

  “Who? Joseph or Aaron?” For some unknown reason, it made a difference to me.

  “Aaron.” Teresa seemed to understand why I asked. “Can you even imagine?”

  Considering that all of them, Teresa included, were in high school just about a month or so ago, I couldn’t honestly imagine any of this. Which reminded me—

  “So…how’s Jamie ?” I couldn’t resist.

  “Let’s not start this again.” Teresa set Thalia down and walked into the kitchen.

  “I’m only asking.”

  “No,” Teresa made no attempt to hide her exasperation. “You’re prying, and that will lead to you lecturing.”

  “Look…I just feel…” I struggled for the right word.

  “Responsible?”

  “In some ways, I guess.”

  Teresa emerged with a foil pouch of raisins, popped a few in her mouth, and then handed Thalia the bag. She stepped up close and placed her hands on my shoulders, “And if ever I need to turn to somebody…to ask for advice or something…yours will be the first door I knock on. Now, get out there before Wimmer comes looking for you all in a tizzy.”

  I knelt and gave Thalia my best attempt at a stern look, “Behave for Teresa.”

  “I will, Papi,” she said absently, focusing on the raisins.

  Standing and doing a quick pat-down inventory, I made eye contact with Teresa who had a peculiar smile that I had no idea how to interpret. She nodded once, saying a million things that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

  ***

  As it is, there is usually very little activity on any particular watch shift. Thing is, when you’re dealing with zombies, they don’t sleep or have need for any rest. They wander up whenever. Nothing about tonight has been any different.

  The one thing about tonight that made up for the inconvenience of the extra shift was that I was there when the scavenger run with Joseph and Aaron came into the compound. Aaron spotted me while they were inside the first checkpoint where some of the medical personnel do the full-body check to ensure nobody is bitten or scratched.

  Aaron is really quite a character. I hope he lives long enough to grow into that six-foot, lanky frame of his. I noticed that both he and Joseph have adopted the military high-and-tight haircut.

  As a rule, there are a few of the armed sentries on hand during inspection in case somebody comes in bitten and tries to refuse “treatment.” It has only happened a couple of times. It reminds me of somebody withering as they finally confront the gallows.

  I was surprised as I let out a breath I’d not realized I’d been holding as Aaron was checked, and again for Joseph. I was also supposed to have my gun trained on them during their check-up. It was pointed at the ground. I don’t think anybody noticed.

  “Heard that the airbase is gone.” Joseph looked up at me as he finished lacing his boots.

  “Yep,” I said with a nod.

  “And that there was only one helo that landed here.” Aaron shouldered Joseph aside playfully, sending his friend toppling over.

  “Seems you got a fairly detailed report out there in the wilderness.” I was only slightly surprised at the degree of detail that had been passed. Like I said, no secrets here at Serenity Base.

  “Some of the soldiers want that helo either gone or moth-balled.” Joseph was dusting himself off, taking care that most of the dust was going Aaron’s way.

  “Sergeant Wimmer has already made that call,” one of my fellow sentries, I think his name was Tim, said as he walked past with a push-cart of supplies already being unloaded from one of the big trucks.

  Aaron, Joseph, and I pitched in to help get all the newly accquired supplies unloaded and delivered to their designated locations. It was while that took place that Sergeant Wimmer found me. He looked tired, stressed, and just a bit annoyed.

  “Steve.” He motioned me over to the doorway to his office-slash-living-quarters.

  “Yeah, Paul?” I didn’t like seeing this person who, in my mind, was the epitome of Army badass, look like something was wrong.

  “Get a few people together and ensure that every vehicle that runs is topped off. Also, get your stuff ready so you can leave at a moment’s notice.”

  “What’s going on?” This didn’t sound good at all.

  “I’m organizing an emergency exit strategy. For the most part I’m going to try and coordinate things so we leave as a group. However, there are a few people here that I am asking to see to their own preparations. If something sudden happens, I want folks in the compound to be able to scatter.

  “Shouldn’t you be telling everybody?” This was the first time I knew of that seemingly important information was being withheld from the population.

  “I will. I assure you that everybody will be told over the next couple of days. I just don’t want to create a mass panic or cause a run on supplies.” Paul glanced over to the currently vacant playground.

  “Do you think we’re in any real danger way out here in the middle of nowhere?” I watched Paul to see if he would make any attempt to be deceptive. His gaze lingered on that play-ground, and before he said it, I was certain not only of what his answer would be, but also of his conviction in believing completely in it.

  “Yes.”

  ***

  I arrived home to find not only Teresa and Thalia—both fast asleep on the couch—but Melissa as well. Of all our group, she had—not surprisingly—been the most reclusive. My concern was that she is more than just a little unstable. While she displays moments of clarity, more often than not she simply stands outside of the periphery of what go
es on around here. She seldom speaks, and always seems just on the verge of tears.

  Like right now.

  “Is it true?” Her voice was a whisper. Whether out of renewed fear, or out of not wanting to wake Teresa and Thalia, I had no idea.

  I walked to my bedroom, motioning her to follow. Stripping off my weapons, I gave each a cursory inspection for both cleanliness as well as readiness. “Since you are being so vague, I’ll assume you are referring to the reports of large mobs of zombies and the possibility that Serenity Base might eventually be overrun.” She said nothing, only chewed nervously on her bottom lip. For only the most brief of seconds I could see just how sexually attractive Melissa could be if she wasn’t a total wingnut.

  In that second or three, my eyes took all of her in. Maybe the fact that she can be as odd as a football-bat had kept those observations from happening until now. Who knows. But she is very curvy. Her body is what I would consider perfect. She has a very appealing “thickness” like girls from back in the Eighties, before Ally McBeal and liposuction turned women into walking skeletons with breast and lip implants. I just knew if I pulled Melissa close to me I’d feel that feminine softness that has been replaced by ribs that poke and hip bones that leave bruises.