“No, sir. Just a deduction with the few facts that I had.” Gunny replied. “I was guessing.” Did they think he had something to do with this? That he was discharged because he had terrorist ties? That he was still pissed and had decided to kill the whole world because of it?
“If I may…” Came an Asian accented voice over the microphone.
“Of course, go ahead General Feng,” Carson said
“We were not affected as severely as much of the rest of the civilized world,” he said, his English spoken slowly and very clearly. “Our military bases did not partake in the gifts from our Islamic neighbors. When we learned of this theory from Sergeant Kowalski, we immediately began to investigate the possibility of such an act. We sent entire companies of soldiers into the town to bring back a sampling of the Salaam meats. Many of my men died but the packages they returned with that were not labeled halal were very much infected with a most disturbing contagion.”
Those bastards! Gunny thought. It was one thing to think you knew something, something else entirely to know you knew something. “Is it reversible?” he asked
The Chinese general came back to answer. “No, we do not think it is. The reanimates are truly dead as near as we can determine in the short time we have had. No heartbeat. They do not breathe. It seems that the very essence that makes one alive, makes one human, is gone. Their spirit. Their soul, if you understand. This appears to be a virulent mutation of a serum many nations have been trying to perfect over the years. A super soldier injection, if you will, that would help a wounded soldier heal quickly, ignore his pain and continue to battle in a hyper-aggressive manner. Apparently, the Islamic scientists gained a sample to alter or perhaps even created their own.”
“Now what?” Gunny said. “They won. They kept it out of their countries. Now all they have to do is defend their borders until these things die off and they own the whole world.”
“This will not be happening,” a Slavic voice said, heavy with menace and barely controlled rage. “They will not take the world as easy as that. They have released the zohmbee on us, we will be releasing Mother Russia’s fury on them.”
The conversation went on until near dawn when everyone finally signed off. Gunny made his way back to his bunk hoping to get a few hours of sleep, bone tired and weary from all of the things he had learned. It all seemed hopeless. Worse than he could have imagined.
The conversation replayed in his head. Iran had nuked Israel and was already in a mopping up extermination campaign. From the satellite images, it was wholesale slaughter. Door to door murder. The Israelis had used the Samson option and had sent their own nukes flying, but there were a billion Muslims and even the moderates were caught up in the frenzy.
This years’ trip to Mecca was the largest ever recorded. It seemed nearly every Muslim that was able had made the trip to Saudi Arabia. Did most of them even know what their leaders had done? Had they known what was coming and went to a safe area or was it just a general demand from Imams this year that all believers must go?
Were they afraid not to rejoice and celebrate and do victory dances in the streets even if they secretly didn’t agree? Afraid of being targeted themselves by the extreme religious fanatics that had taken control of their religion while they had sat back and done nothing? Too late now. The Russians had control of their nukes and they were pragmatic about it. They couldn’t maintain them. If they didn’t fire them off, they would eventually be a danger to everyone in the vicinity. They could have shot them off into space or the ocean, Gunny and a number of other voices had argued, but General Carson had told all Hams to maintain silence or they would be shut out of the one-sided conversation completely.
He or one of the other commanders would occasionally ask a specific question to various individuals around the world but that was the only input allowed. So the last living representatives of humanity had to shut up and listen while four men discussed and decided the fate of millions.
It seemed that a lot of conversation had happened before the Hams were privy to it because the Generals were uncannily honest with each other. No posturing for position. No ambiguity about how much firepower they could bring to bear. They all knew there were no more backdoor channels to negotiate through. No months of waiting for answers to questions. They all laid their cards on the table.
China and Russia had control of their ships, nukes and subs. America had no access to nukes at the moment, but it was a possibility within a few weeks. They still had the military fiber optic networks, links to the NSA databases and control of their satellites. Germany only had contact with their Navy. No one else. Russia was pushing for full nuclear annihilation of the entire Middle Eastern region. Scorched earth. Glass parking lot.
Gunny got the feeling they were going to do it whether anyone agreed with them or not but they were at least going through the motions of trying to have a consensus. By next week, another billion people would be dead. They hoped to completely destroy all things Middle East, eradicate everyone who practiced the “religion of peace.” By their reasoning, then the rest of the world would have a chance to rebuild without being slaughtered as infidels or forcibly converted.
The deciding factor for all of them, aside from the Russian General who seemed pissed off the entire time they were in on the conference, was the latest satellite imagery. It showed barriers along the borders of the peninsula of northern Turkey, completely sealing it off from Europe. By going back through the previous satellite photos, they could see the materials for it being amassed months in advance.
The Turkish Government had known it was coming and were prepared. In Egypt, the Suez Canal was heavily guarded and all crossings of it were thoroughly blocked. To the east, massive fortifications had gone up overnight in a well-planned action that sacrificed some Muslim territories but protected most of them.
There had been unprecedented movements of people into the guarded areas. Basically, the entire Middle East and all of the Muslim countries had been walled off. The people responsible for noticing these things in the various governments throughout the world must have chalked it up to the annual pilgrimage to Mecca. It was a strange few hours, discussing killing that many people.
It left Gunny with an empty feeling, knowing there were good people over there and he found it hard to believe that they didn’t try to warn anyone, that an operation with so many involved didn’t have anyone who disagreed. That their Caliphate was so important to them, they would write off everyone who didn’t believe as they did.
The remaining governments had all agreed to wait at least another week before retaliating so the Americans could gather as much information as possible from their eyes in the sky. Even though there was irrefutable proof which nations had either done it or been privy to the information and let it go forward, there were still millions and millions who had nothing to do with it.
They would all die for what a handful of their leaders had done. Guilty by association. Gunny guessed all wars were like that, though. It just seemed so BIG now. Push some buttons, a billion people die. But those same nations had banded together to send out deliberately contaminated food and it worked perfectly. They didn’t deserve mercy or leniency. Four or five billion people were dead because of their actions. Still walking around, but dead, nonetheless.
After the other command centers had signed off, General Carson asked if anyone in the Ham radio audiences had ever held elected office in America. No one had. He tried to get everyone’s names and most gave willingly although a few of the survivalist groups were hesitant at first. They gave the number of people in their group after some cajoling and being reminded that a census was Constitutional so Cheyenne Mountain could try to guess how many people remained.
Did we still have a nation if there were only a few thousand survivors left? The General offered them the only help he could. He said if they would give him their addresses he would give them the latest satellite information of their areas when they spoke again. They still had ac
cess to NSA computers and all of the imagery as it updated but he didn’t know how long that would last.
He would let them know what the areas around them looked like, if there were any huge hordes moving in their direction. Cobb had given the address of the truck stop and Gunny gave his wife’s work address, specifically the rooftop, and his son’s high school. That’s where he was heading as soon as he got his truck welded up the way he wanted. It took a while to get the information from everyone but the General pointed out that it was his job to keep the American people safe.
That usually meant big things but if it were down to individuals now, his men would do everything they could to help. They weren’t going to abandon their post in this time of need.
Gunny tossed and turned. Dead tired but not sleepy. His mind still racing with the horror of what he had learned. What had happened and what was going to happen. The Chinese had the most complete labs and personnel and they hoped to know more about the infected by tomorrow… today…. when they would once again have a virtual meet up. There seemed to be more the General wasn’t saying. But that was military men. He just hoped it wasn’t more bad news. And he hoped Jessie would stay at the school and not try to make his way home.
Jessie
Escape
Day 2
Jessie was trying to pee as quietly as possible but it was still embarrassing. They had decided to hunker down for the night, hoping the infected in the building would wander off if they kept quiet. They had moved the trash can over to one corner of the room and put the white board in front of it to act as a simple barrier for privacy but it didn’t cover the splashing noises.
Whatever. At least he didn’t have to take a big stinky poo. Yet. Wouldn’t be so bad if it was just the guys but he wasn’t in the habit of going to the bathroom in front of a girl.
It was morning, the hazy sun filtering through the quarter windows set high up along the walls. They had barricaded the door as quietly as they could yesterday and then waited. They never did get through to anyone on their phones and the longed-for police sirens coming to rescue them never came.
Late in the evening, as fewer and fewer people were trying to use overburdened cell towers, they started to get internet access although it was spotty. They learned enough, though. It was zombies that had been prowling the hallways and it wasn’t just their school.
They had surfed the net, looking for information until one by one, their phone batteries were nearly dead. By then, they knew it was over, that the world was lost and no one would be coming to save them. The game servers were empty, only NPC’s populated them. Nobody was updating their Facebook status. Instagram had nothing new. Snapchat was dead and there were no tweets on Twitter.
The news reports and updates they found on websites that still worked were all hours old. No new stories were being reported and in the end, they could only log onto traffic and city camera feeds but there were enough of those from around the world for them to know the outbreak wasn’t isolated. It was global. Sheila had cried quietly and the guys would never admit it, but they had too.
Their world was dead. It had happened so fast, was so complete, it took them a while to wrap their heads around it. They whispered long into the night about how it could have happened and why they hadn’t been affected. It must have been an airborne virus, they reasoned. And they were all immune.
Gary said that was mathematically impossible, but it was the only thing they could come up with. They had slept fitfully on the tiled floor with only books as pillows. When they awoke to the gray light of morning, they had all accepted the end of the world and were pragmatic about it.
They had watched thousands of zombie movies, apocalypse films and dystopian futures played out on the small screen. They had spent hundreds of hours in the wastelands with various video games. They understood it like no adult ever could. Sure, they were worried about family and friends but hadn’t they come through it unscathed? They were smart enough not to panic and break out of the room yesterday and lucky enough to be where they were. No one would come out and say it, but they all felt like they were the chosen ones, the heroes of the movie and they would battle their way through and come out victorious in the end.
They were teenagers and each felt invincible, to a degree. They had nibbled on their lunches, making them last through dinner. The problem was water. Sheila had brought an apple juice, the boys figured they would get a drink from the fountain if they were thirsty. Now they were all craving something to quench their dry throats.
Jessie was shading his eyes, trying to see out of the door, trying to spot any movement but was having no luck. The glass was just too opaque, like a shower door. They had tried to pick the lock like they’d seen done on hundreds of TV shows and movies but it was futile. They knew they couldn’t break the glass, it would bring the undead running.
Late last night, after the phones were nearly dead, they went over plans to escape and had decided to slip through the quarter windows. Their first idea had been to hotwire a car then drive to each of their homes to look for family. That was quickly shelved after the frustrating and useless try at picking the door lock.
They came to the conclusion that stealing a car wouldn’t be as easy as the movies made it seem and they didn’t want to be exposed in the parking lot for an hour trying to figure out how to do it. The plan they finally came up with was to sneak into the woods behind the football field and cut through them towards Jessie’s house. It wasn’t the closest by roads but out of all of their homes, they could get to it without having to go through any neighborhoods.
Jessie’s place wasn’t exactly rural but it was on a lake and the lots were huge so it wasn’t built up too much. When they had first moved, he thought they were kind of rich, having their own dock and living on the water. But in Georgia, there were so many lakes the homes on them didn’t cost much more than ones that weren’t.
The lake was between the school and his house and by bus, it was a thirty-minute ride to go all the way around. If they could steal a boat and paddle across, it wasn’t far as the crow flies. Most of the houses had kayaks or canoes on their back porches and Jon boats or pontoons tied to their docks. They only had to go on land for maybe a half mile or so.
With the last of the battery life on his phone, he texted both his mom and dad to let them know he was fine and would be heading home. He would wait for them there. He put the phone in one of the Ziploc baggies he had brought sandwiches in and offered the other bag to Sheila. She had a Lunchables yesterday. Just cardboard to throw away.
Jessie ran his dry tongue over his dry lips and tried to clear his dry throat. He was so thirsty. They all were. They had to do this today, they would be crazy with dehydration if they waited any longer. “We ready?” he whispered and they all nodded in the affirmative. The one good piece of luck they had was that the detention room was at the back of the school with only the outdoor lunch area, the football field and the soccer practice fields between them and the woods. And the lake.
And then home.
Doug pulled on the window slowly, anticipating a screech of rusty hinges but it came open smoothly and quietly. It was hinged at the bottom, opening from the top and Gary had the armrest of his chair already off, handing it to him to use as a pry bar to pop the retaining arms off so they could remove the window completely.
Doug did so as quietly as he could and in seconds had it off and handed it down to Jessie. He cautiously stuck his head out and looked both directions then quickly pulled back. He motioned frantically for the window and Jessie gave it back to him. He slipped the bottom hinges back into place and closed it, hurriedly twisting the lock shut then climbed down.
“How bad is it?” Sheila asked
“There’s four or five of them just wandering around in the patio area, kind of aimless like,” he said in a hushed voice. “I think one of them was Mr. Prater.”
“That sucks,” Jessie said. “I liked him.”
“What sucks worse,” G
ary said, “Is that he’s between us and freedom.”
“We need a decoy, something to distract them,” Sheila said. “Who’s the fastest runner?”
“That would be you,” Gary said dryly. “I’m not so quick anymore.”
“It WOULD be you,” Doug said quietly. “You run track. We don’t. You volunteering?”
Sheila realized they were right and quickly backtracked. “You saw how fast they were in the hallway yesterday,” she said in a loud whisper. “I can’t outrun that, they’re like super human or something.”
“We don’t need to sacrifice anyone,” Jessie said. “We just need a distraction, something to make them take off in the opposite direction so we can sneak in behind the bleachers. From there, it’s a straight shot to the woods and we’re kind of hidden the whole way.”
They looked helplessly around the room for anything they could use. “I could throw a stapler or something, but I don’t think I can get any distance from the angle down here.” Doug said, “It would have to go around the corner of the building to draw them away.”
“Right,” Jessie said, still glancing around the room, unconsciously running his hands around his belt line, tucking his thumbs in his underwear. Then his eyes lit up.
“Sheila, give me your bra,” he said, eying her chest. She had a pretty good set of hooters although he couldn’t begin to guess what size they were.
“What?” She whispered so loudly it was nearly a normal tone, looking at him in shock and crossing her arms across her breasts.
“Nobody wants to see your boobs.” Jessie half laughed, raising his hands in a placating manner. “We can use it as a slingshot.”
“Speak for yourself,” Doug said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing them.”
“Yeah, that will work! I made an improvised grenade launcher out of a bra in Battle of the Wastelands 3.” Gary jumped in with a little excitement in his voice as he worked the arm lose from his wheelchair again. “We can tie the ends to this.” He held it upside down and it was just about perfect. Sheila saw what they were talking about but was still too busy giving Doug her dirtiest look to acknowledge them at the moment. He wilted under her stare and mumbled something about looking for that stapler as he headed over to the teachers’ desk.
Zombie Road (Book 1): Convoy of Carnage Page 17
