by Jacy Morris
Had a couple of men kill themselves today. They were smart about it though. They put the bullets right through their brains so that they wouldn't come back. We buried them behind the security building. I talked to the men, tried to let them know that suicide wasn't the way out... but hell, it's not like I haven't thought of it from time to time.
The only thing that keeps me from doing it is the hope of an afterlife. I don't know much about religion, but I know that you don't get to heaven by killing yourself. If there's any truth to religion, I hope to see my kids there... of course, I'll probably go the other direction for leaving them, but if there's a chance, I'll take it. Maybe I should start doing some good things.
****
June 25th
Nike found out about the suicides. He blames me. He says that the news spread to his employees. He still calls them employees. What an asshole. Now he's worried that they're going to start offing themselves. He's probably right. But what can I do? Dammit, Jim! I'm a soldier, not a counselor.
Even if they did start killing themselves, it might be a good thing. I had one of the men go poking around to take stock of our supplies. There's not enough food here to feed all of us for however long we're going to be here. At this point, this might be my new home. Hell, the way things are going, I'm probably going to die here. I'd rather do that with a head of gray hair, but it is what it is. Anyway, there's not enough food here to feed us all, and last I checked, it's a long way to spring if we're planning on growing things.
I'll have to start thinking about putting together teams to do supply runs... but that could mean more men dying, which I'm not keen on. But people have to eat. All I can do is shrug my shoulders and wait.
****
June 27th
It happened. One of those damn employees offed herself. Nike says she took an overdose of pills and went to sleep... the selfish bitch. Wasn't long before she was awake again. Now we got a whole building locked down full of the dead. We're lucky they didn't spread across the campus. Nike assures us that the building is secure.
Fuck, my heart never pumped so hard as when we were running across to secure the building. If it wasn't for Nike and his damn cameras, we never would have known. I'm going to start putting guards on patrol on the perimeter. If this happens again, it could easily overrun this whole campus. There are just too many people here. On the bright side, that's a hundred less mouths to feed. I feel like an asshole saying it, but things are different now.
I had my men tear down all the cameras in our building. We're keeping this place safe. I don't need that asshole spying on us. He's got Harper for that. Pretty sure Harper is relaying everything we do and say to Nike. I should probably just get rid of him, but that's a precedent I don't want to set.
****
June 30th
It happened again. Only this time, way worse. Nike says this time some old person just up and died in their sleep. We fought like hell to get this place under control. The dead were thick. I lost a lot of men, and still the dead are all over. The lake is filled with them. A group of Nike employees tried to survive by sailing out to the middle of the lake. Damn thing is no more than six-feet at its deepest point. Probably due to some sort of liability issue.
I'm glad they went out there though. The water slowed the dead down. It was, for a lack of a better phrase, like shooting fish in a barrel. We couldn't save the poor bastards on the lake, but they saved us. I'll have the men fish them out tomorrow, give them a proper burial. If it wasn't for them, we'd all be dead.
Still, I lost a lot of damned good men yesterday, more than I should have. I think we've got a traitor. Several of the men I had placed on guard had their throats slashed. I suspect Harper. He's the only one that could have gotten close enough to kill those men. I should shoot him in the head now, but I've been too busy making sure these buildings are locked down tight.
The people are scared out of their minds, and I have to admit I am as well. This is a shit show, plain and simple. Things are about to get pretty hectic, but first we have to get all the buildings locked down.
****
July 2nd
Things have calmed down now. Harper works for Nike. It's official. Nike says that Harper is under his protection. When I asked to see the security footage, Nike just laughed at me, said this was a corporate matter and that the footage was off limits for someone of my pay grade. I almost shot him right there.
Things are coming to a head here. It's us or them. The poor employees here are going to be caught in the middle. They're not bad people. They're just fucking useless. I feel like I'm guarding a bunch of cattle... maybe sheep is more accurate.
****
July 3rd
Nike ordered it. My men carried it out. We rounded up the old and the infirm. Executed them on the lawn. It was Nike's order, but I'm hearing from the men now that Nike's telling everyone we did it on our own.
That's the last straw. Tomorrow we take this place from Nike. I'm gonna send his privileged ass outside the wall, see how long he lasts. The men are done here. Most of them want to leave. But where the fuck would we go? We haven't heard anything on the radio for days. Hell, even that old-timer's radio station went dead. It's just a bunch of static on the frequency. We haven't even had to shoot anyone trying to get over the wall in a while.
Maybe we should just leave. We could do it tonight. Take the food and the supplies that we need, blast our way out of here. I want to, but I can't just leave Nike in charge of these people. Who knows what will happen with Nike and that monkey Harper in charge? We'll figure this shit out in the morning. The men are too amped up, too raw to make good decisions. I don't want them killing any employees if we don't have to. They're suffering right along with us after all.
****
July 4th
Happy Independence Day. That's a laugh. I woke up to the sound of yelling and screaming in the night. They must have drugged our food. I can see no other way that they would have been able to kill this many of us. I don't even hear any gunshots.
When I went to investigate, I found myself surrounded. Damn bastards bit me, so I know I'm writing on borrowed time here. I never should have come here. I want to put a bullet through my brain to keep myself from turning into one of them, but then there's that whole heaven and hell thing.
The infection is moving fast. I can feel it inside, burning. It's only a bite on my hand, but I know what's going to happen. No one who has been bit has ever not turned, so it's curtains for me. Haha! Curtains for me! Apparently this disease turns you into some sort of '50s gangster.
I hope that when I turn, I'm completely dead. It worries me that I'll be stuck in my skull, conscious but unable to do anything about it. Sue, Jeff, Natalie... I'm coming for you. Any second now.
****
Tejada closed the journal and set it on his desk. He had everything he needed. Conscience was no issue now. He would finish what this man had started.
****
Allen watched as Harper strode across the Nike campus.
"Shit," he heard Epps say next to him.
"Tejada said to shoot this bastard," Allen replied.
They looked at each other. "You want the shot?" Epps asked.
"Not especially," Allen said.
"Then we'll both do it. On three." They aimed their rifles at Harper who kept coming right along, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "One." Harper raised his hand in greeting, and Allen felt sick to his stomach. "Two." When they didn't wave back, a strange look flitted across Harper's face. It was almost as if he knew. "Three." They fired in unison. Both shots took the man in the chest, and he fell backwards onto the green grass.
"I'll make sure he doesn't come back," Allen said. Epps stood guard while Allen ran across the short distance to where Harper lay. He was on his back, his legs flailing weakly in an attempt to get himself upright.
Underneath the smoke of the burning body pile, everything had a sepia feel to it, everything except for blood. Harper's life
squirted onto the green and brown grass, vivid and otherworldly compared to the drab feel of everything else. Allen stood over the dying man, offering no words, no comfort. When the man finally stopped struggling, his head fell to the side and Allen knew he was gone. He pulled his sidearm free, aimed it at Harper's skull, and pulled the trigger.
He dragged the dead man to the burn pile, and after going through his pockets, Allen tossed him on the smoldering mess. He didn't think anyone would mind.
It took a while for his body to catch fire, but it went up eventually. He watched as the fire caught his clothes first. Next would come the flesh itself. It would sizzle and pop before it turned black. The lips would peel back from the man's teeth, shriveling up like the feet of that witch that Dorothy had crushed with her house. He began to see shapes in the flames, and he didn't notice when Nike approached him.
"What the hell did you just do?" Nike demanded.
Allen blinked, looked at the old man and then went back to looking at the flames. He watched as the skin split on Harper's skull and steam rose from his eyeballs. It was really a beautiful process.
Nike grabbed Allen by the front of his uniform and began to shake him. Allen looked down at the foolish man, grabbed him by the wrist and forced him to release his grip on his uniform. He shoved him backwards gently, and when Nike was out of range, he went back to staring at the fire.
At this point, Nike turned to head to the security office, presumably to find Tejada. He needn't have bothered. The door to the security building banged open and Tejada came striding out with Masterson and Gregg behind him. His face was devoid of any sort of emotion, and he strode forward purposefully, his hand on his sidearm.
"You!" Nike said pointing an accusatory finger at Tejada. "What is the meaning of this? Your man killed Harper. What are you going to do about it?"
Tejada didn't smile. He didn't lord it over the pathetic figure of Nike. He was matter of fact as he said, "Nothing. As far as I'm concerned. He got what he deserved."
"What are you talking about?" Nike sputtered.
"And you're going to get what you deserve as well. Nike, you're under arrest." Masterson and Gregg moved to take hold of Nike. When their hands touched him, he sank to his knees, unable to keep his mind and his body working at the same time.
"No! You're making a mistake!" Nike screeched, as he attempted to shake off the hands of Gregg and Masterson.
Tejada bent down to look into Nike's face. "The only mistake I made was not killing you when I first saw you." He hauled the man to his feet.
Allen watched as a crowd started to gather on the lawn. They had worried, confused looks on their faces, and Allen could sense that they didn't like what was happening to one of their own. The Nike employees' faces were easily readable. The confusion and worry faded to outrage. They were angry at how Nike was being treated. Diana was there. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she wouldn't look at him.
The crowd pressed forward at some silent, unknowable signal. Allen held his rifle at the ready, covering the crowd should they do anything violent.
"Everyone take it easy now!" Tejada yelled to the soldiers and the crowd. But the crowd didn't want to hear any of it. Tejada, sensing that a massacre was inevitable if they stayed outside, gave up trying to reason with the mob. "Everybody fall back to the security building."
The crowd, emboldened by the fact that they hadn't been shot yet, pressed forward. Allen could feel that things were about to get ugly. Masterson and Gregg took control of Nike from Tejada, and they basically carried the man up the steps to the security building. They opened the doors and carried the man inside, as the other soldiers followed suit.
Allen and Epps were the last ones inside. They stood at the door, watching the angry mob outside.
"You think we're going to have to shoot these people?" Epps asked.
"God, I hope not," Allen said.
The mob spit at the door and threw objects at it, but they didn't dare come close enough to place their hand on it. They hurled vile words at Epps and Allen. Allen hoped that this would all be over soon.
Chapter 16: Death in the Compound
Clara tried to get through the next day like nothing awful had happened the night before. The men all gave her a little more respect than they had the day before, so that was something. They still undressed her with their eyes every chance they got, but at least she wasn't being eyed like a piece of meat anymore... it was actually more like a piece of meat that could also kill things.
She stepped into the big house to check on Dez and see if she needed anything. According to Dez, she needed a big bottle of pills and a bottle of wine to wash them down, but Clara didn't think that would be such a good idea for the baby or for Clara's own personal safety.
"Fuck the baby," Dez said.
"Now why do you want to go and say a thing like that?" Clara asked.
"Because it's half son of a bitch, and I don't want that bastard's spawn inside me," Dez spat.
Clara set about cleaning up Dez. With a moist sponge, she wiped down her skin. She held the bedpan for her while she went to the bathroom, and the whole time, they argued about whether or not she should live.
"You know, even though it's half his kid, there's half of it that's yours. Who's to say it won't be more like you than him?"
"Why would I want it to be more like me? So it could wind up falling for some psychopath? So it could wind up knocked up and tied to a bed?"
Clara removed the bedpan from under Dez, placed it on the floor, and she cleaned her up with a rag. "Listen. I don't have the answers. I'm just here until my friend heals, and then I'm out of here."
This set Dez to laughing. "You think you can leave here? You think Chad is going to let you leave? You're madder than he is."
Clara had nothing to say to this. So she continued cleaning up Dez. She knew what would happen if she stayed here. She would wind up like Dez sooner or later, only there was no one here that she would willingly let impregnate her. No, when the time came, they were getting out of here one way or another, even if that meant leaving bodies in their wake.
She sensed a presence in the doorway, and she turned to find Chad standing there. His face was grim. His eyes were two chunks of coal. "My brother never came back," he said.
Clara felt no sympathy for this man. He was a piece of shit as far as she could tell. "What do you want me to do about it?"
Chad's face became even more grim, even though Clara didn't know how that was possible. "Those people, the black man and the pregnant lady, what can you tell me about them?"
Clara just shrugged her shoulders. "There's not much to tell. Mort was a homeless man before this all began. Katie, she doesn't talk about her past, but she has housewife written all over her, right down to the mom jeans." There was much more to tell. She could have told him that Mort was a warrior, capable of killing the dead with a single hammer blow. She could have told them that Katie was a coldhearted killer when she needed to be... and sometimes when she didn't need to be. She could have told him that Mort was the most gentle soul in the world, and Katie, quite possibly, was the most damaged. She could have told him that if Reed had crossed paths with those two and tried to do them wrong, that he would most likely be dead by now. But she didn't tell him any of this because there wasn't time enough in the day, and she didn't want to help him in any way. Let Chad think they were just a pregnant lady and a black man.
"Do you think they would have killed my brother?"
Clara laughed at this. "Listen, I barely know the two. What I do know is that they're probably long gone by now. Besides, what would your brother be doing looking for those two anyway?"
Chad didn't answer. He just turned and left, purpose in his stride.
Dez, speaking calmly for the first time ever said, "I don't know who your friends are, but I know what's going to happen to them." There was a slight pause, and then she said, "He's going to kill them."
Clara threw back the curtains to let some su
nlight into the room. Dust motes danced in the air as weak shafts of light found their way through the boards on the windows and flooded the dim chamber, splashing across the yellowed, sickly skin of Dez. "He can try, I suppose."
When she was done, Clara went to find some food for herself and Dez. As she exited the big house, she saw Chad and some of his men throwing their rifles over their shoulders. She crossed her fingers and hoped that Mort and Katie would be alright.
****
Chad was furious. He knew that those two had killed his brother. He put his money on the black man. Maybe he should have been nicer to the man, but no, fuck that. He didn't know this guy from a fucking hole in the wall. But maybe... no, he wasn't to blame for this.
He shook his head and then signaled for the others to spread out. They circled around the compound, one person dragging a body while another covered them with their rifle. In no time at all, they had the bodies stacked up and ready to be burned. But it was too soon for that. The smoke inevitably drew the dead, and before they lit those bodies on fire, he wanted to do a little scouting and see if he could find his brother anywhere.
He looked off into the woods. "Reed... where are you buddy?" They fanned out in the forest, walking in pairs, just in case anything happened. The rules were simple, don't use your gun unless you have to. They carried short spears with them. They were a good five feet long, but slimmer, more maneuverable than the ones they used to clear the compound. One gun shot in these woods could have dire consequences with the growing number of the dead in the area.
Chad felt jumpy and pissed off at the same time. Each shift in the wind, each rustle of the branches around him, made him more tense. He scanned the underbrush, pushing aside bushes with the butt end of his spear. Reed had to be out here. He should have been home by now.
They headed west, pushing towards the old road. When they stepped onto the road, he sent men to the north and the south after a quick radio check. He took Dale along with him as his backup. He liked Dale. He didn't talk, never argued with his orders, and he could kill them dead things like nobody's business.
