Gnash

by Brian Parker

  Emory grabbed the heavy rubber rain poncho that the supply clerk for the camp had issued her and placed it over her head. She unzipped the interior door to the tent which led to a roughly 5x5 vestibule area. She stepped in and zipped the interior door again behind her, then unzipped the outer door and stepped onto the wooden pallets that made the walkway between tents and makeshift buildings.

  A light drizzle fell from the sky. She crinkled her nose at the ash and insecticide-like smell of the liquid. Even though it was already into the 70’s, she was thankful for the thick rubber barrier that the poncho provided. She’d seen a few burn victims in the ward who’d been fine until they were outside in the weather and gotten chemical burns from the rain that started two days ago. She walked for ten feet before she remembered she’d forgotten to zip the outer door of the employee entrance, so she turned around and jogged back.

  Just as she reached for the flap to align it with the side of the tent so she could zip them together, she heard the inside door being unzipped. She dropped her hand and saw a soldier who looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place his face.

  When he saw her, he smiled. “Miss Perry? I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to thank you.”

  “Oh, um, well, I’m almost always in there,” she stammered and pointed behind the soldier to the entrance of the hospital. “I’m sorry, who are you?” she recovered.

  “Excuse me, I’m Hank Dawson,” he said sticking out his hand.

  Emory quickly pushed his hand down and stepped under the overhang of the tent. “Well, they don’t teach you much common sense do they, Mr. Dawson? This rain will give you chemical burns wherever it touches you,” she said as she reached down and firmly shook his hand under the safety of the tent. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m with the group of guys that was brought over a few days ago. Most of my team was killed. I wanted to thank you for being there for Cecil Owens as he died. I’m sure that meant a lot to him.”

  She thought for a few minutes, attempting to remember which one he was and then she remembered the first zombie she’d seen was Owens right after he died. “You’re welcome, he seemed like a good man,” she said with a remorseful nod. Emory remembered the look in his eyes as he accepted his fate, and the insistence that he didn’t want to become what everyone was calling a zombie. His strong faith right up until the end had been inspiring and heartbreaking. With the massive amount of death she’d seen in the past few weeks from the death of millions in an instant when the nuclear bomb exploded to the current zombie threat, Emory wasn’t sure where her views on God currently resided.

  Instead of dwelling on her emotions and the recent slipping of her perception of faith, she changed the subject. “I knew you looked familiar. Your team was the first group that came into contact with the zombies, right?”

  “Yeah, that was us. We gave better than we got, but they’ve just kept coming.”

  “They really are just like in the movies aren’t they? I mean, where did these things come from?”

  “Well, we know it started with a terrorist attack at the Pentagon, but how it actually occurred and is it now a communicable disease? Honestly, we don’t know. The doctor you met that night, Doctor Collins, he’s working on trying to figure out a cure or something, but he hasn’t had much luck with that yet.”

  “So then there might be a way to stop all of this?” she asked eagerly.

  “I don’t know. He seems to think there may be a vaccine or something we can produce once he finally figures out what the virus is, but it’s generally agreed upon that all the people who have already turned into one of those freaks are gone and have to be neutralized.”

  She frowned at that. “Well do we know how many of them there are?”

  “Eh, that’s really on the classified side of things, so I can’t tell you what the analysts have estimated. But, as I’m sure you know from working in the hospital, we’re definitely seeing more secondary infections now that at first.”

  “So you’re saying that it’s spreading?”

  “Well, I don’t know that it’s spreading like you may think. We think we’ve got the virus contained to within the former D.C. Metro area, we were extremely aggressive on setting up the containment zone, but some of the residents might have been infected before we knew what was happening in the first few days right after they escaped from the Pentagon. Their initial breakout was actually beyond our original quarantine. We also know that those creatures that weren’t killed by the blast itself have been able to survive the radiation somehow.”

  “Jeez, this is a little heavy for 1100 in the morning after a twelve hour shift. Do you want to go to the dining facility for some coffee?”

  He glanced at Emory’s rain jacket. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got some time before I have to start prepping for my next op,” he said. “Let me run back inside and pick up my jacket.”

  “Ok, I’ll meet you there in about ten minutes. I have to go to the morale tent to see if there’s any word about my fiancé. I haven’t heard anything from him since a couple of days before all this started.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that Miss Perry. I hope he’s alright.”

  “Please, call me Emory. I hope so too. I’ll see you soon.” She lifted the rubber hood back into place and stepped out into the foul drizzle.

  ***

  09 May, 1053 hrs local

  Three Pillars Estates

  Indianapolis, Indiana

  Jessica’s teeth clamped down onto the cast on Grayson’s right arm and he let out a grunt as her full weight fell on him. While her sister was fairly short and had small, toned muscles, Jessica was quite a bit taller and more heavily built. He pushed against her, but she seemed extremely strong and he couldn’t push her off of him.

  “Jamie, pull her off of me!” he shouted. Jessica clawed at him and began to shake her head from side to side and jerk backwards like a wolf would do to pull a piece of meat from its prey. The cast began to tear and a small piece of the material came away in Jessica’s mouth.

  She dove back in and began biting at the cast again. Grayson gave up trying to push her off of him and began kicking upward with his knee. It didn’t seem to affect her at all. Jamie threw a book from the coffee table at her sister. It bounced off with no effect.

  She searched frantically for something more substantial that would help her knock Jessica off of Grayson and then she saw her weapon sitting in the rack by the fireplace. She sprinted over and snatched it up. She would have to be careful with it to avoid further injury to her obviously delirious sister, but it was the only thing that she thought would do the trick. The fever must have finally frazzled her brain and Grayson was having a terrible time defending himself against her.

  Grayson pulled at Jessica’s hair in an effort to pull her face away from his arm. When that didn’t work, he punched upward into her breast, but there wasn’t any response to any of his actions. He kneed her in the pubic region in as attempt to dislodge her, but again, there was no response. Finally, he made the decision to punch the side of her head, but she turned quickly to bite at his hand so he jerked it away. Out of his periphery he saw Jamie coming towards them with a fireplace poker.

  Jessica saw as well and growled at her before clamping back onto Grayson’s arm. Jamie raised the poker above her head and smashed it down into her sister’s back. The curved part of the poker pierced her skin and got caught. Jamie blanched at the sight of the unintended wound, and jerked on the handle, trying to remove it, but it was lodged.

  Grayson continued to kick and punch from underneath as best he could. Finally, one of the pulls by Jamie on the poker combined with the pushing from his kicks was enough to get Jessica off of him. He scrambled sideways to stand in front of Jamie.

  Jessica’s face contorted into a snarl and her dead eyes stared blankly at them. “That’s not Jessica anymore!” Jamie said from behind Grayson as she realized that her sister was beyond help.

  Jessica launched herself towards the p
air, but the poker caught on the bedroom doorjamb and altered her course, carrying her into the wall. Grayson pushed Jamie back down the hallway and they sprinted out the front door. He grabbed the handle and quickly closed it behind them just as Jessica slammed into the door with incredible force from the other side.

  “What the hell happened to her?” Jamie asked.

  “I don’t know, Jamie. Run to Curtis’ house, get help over here now.” She turned and ran while her sister continued to slam her body into the interior of the door.

  ***

  09 May, 1105 hrs local

  Military Decontamination and Infection Control Site #3

  Near Culpepper, Virginia

  Emory grasped the final binder and prepared for yet another disappointment. She’d already scanned the other three and knew just as much about the whereabouts of her missing fiancé then she did before she started. She leafed through the pages until she came to the “D” section and then turned a few more pages until she was at the names that began with “D-O.”

  She slowly slid her finger down the list until it rested directly under the name Donnelly, Grayson. She gasped and closed the cover while her finger remained inserted into the book. She took a few calming breaths and reopened the binder to the page her finger was inserted between.

  There it was, plain as day: Donnelly, Grayson. The next column over stated that he was admitted to the hospital on April 16, but that can’t be right, that was days before the uprisings out there. In the status column it simply said “SUNK.”

  She rushed over to where the volunteer sat behind a folding table adorned with a laptop, printer and a three-hole punch. “Marjory, what does SUNK mean in the status column?” she asked the morale center attendant frantically as she laid the open binder on the table.

  “It’s an acronym. That means Status Unknown.” She examined the casualty list and then punched a few keys on her keyboard. “The database says he was admitted to the Comanche County Emergency Medical Center in Lawton, Oklahoma on the 16 of April, listed in Critical Condition, but it doesn’t say the extent of the injuries. This was pulled from a web server that was only recently turned back on after they finally got the power back on out there.”

  The attendant tapped a few more keys and then looked up at Emory. “The only thing I can tell you is that he’s not currently a patient at this hospital ma’am. I’m sorry,” she said with a frown.

  “That’s it? All it says is that he was in critical condition, the power went out and now his whereabouts are unknown?”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s all the info that anyone has uploaded into the system.” She scribbled a number on an index card. “Here’s the hospital phone number, maybe they can help you out”

  Emory wiped a single tear from her cheek and said, “Thank you Marjory. I appreciate all your help.” She gave a slight wave as she walked to the makeshift clothes rack and retrieved her poncho.

  As she walked across the pallet walkway she tried to sort out her feelings. In all likelihood, given the information she’d just learned, Grayson was probably dead. Hospitals usually kept meticulous notes about their patients so it was very odd that he just disappeared…unless he was dead and they’d shoved him out the door to make room for all the casualties. The fighting between the militias and the military had been particularly fierce at Fort Sill, thousands of people had been killed, both combatants and civilian by-standers.

  The only way she’d be able to find out was to call the hospital, but she hadn’t seen a phone anywhere in the refugee camp. The camp command center had about fifty antennas sticking out of it though, so they probably had phones in there, but she didn’t know anyone that had access to that building, it was surrounded by an additional perimeter of barbed wire and had guards posted at the entrance. In fact, besides the doctors and nurses on her shift, she didn’t even know any of the actual military members on the camp.

  Except, she thought, I have a coffee date with Hank Dawson, he’s one of the Special Forces guys, they can go anywhere! She rushed to the dining facility and placed her jacket along side of about twenty others. The chow hall was relatively empty since the bulk of the refugees in the camp didn’t necessarily keep to the traditional meal hours since they had nothing to do and the facility was open twenty-four hours a day offering the same unappealing food.

  She hurriedly washed her hands, focusing on where fingers had come in contact with the rain water on her poncho, then pushed her hands into the little box that was designed to detect nuclear, biological or chemical contamination. The test was mandatory for everyone entering the dining facility and they had several over at the main hospital entrance as well. Emory hadn’t seen it herself, but the rumor was that someone in the camp set off the alarm yesterday and they’d been quickly taken away and not seen since.

  She didn’t know how much of the rumor was true, but she looked expectantly at the digital readout on the monitor. After ten seconds of whirring from the machine, the readout display remained blank and a single chime sounded from the back of the box. The soldier monitoring the detection device gave her the thumbs up sign and let her pass.

  She walked inside the doorway enough to make room for others to get by behind her and scanned the room. They’d converted the high school’s cafeteria for the camp’s use since everything to receive, store, prepare and serve food was already in place. The volunteers that worked here were constantly cooking and cleaning. In fact, even though most of the camp was set up in tents on grass and dirt, everything about the cafeteria was very clean. That was one of the messages that were displayed everywhere you looked: With as many people that are staying on the camp, sickness and disease will spread uncontrollably if we don’t keep the camp sterile. It was a simple message that was adhered to initially, but after news of the zombie threat spread, it was extremely effective.

  Hank Dawson waived at her to catch her attention. He was seated at a table near the middle of the room with another soldier who had his back to her. She waived back and rushed over to the table. Hank pulled out the seat beside him indicating where she should sit.

  “Hi,” Hank said. He gestured to the man sitting across from him, “Emory Perry, this is Lieutenant Colonel Bryce Colton.”

  Bryce stood halfway up and offered her his hand. “Nice to meet you ma’am,” he said.

  “Please, call me Emory,” she said as she shook his hand and realized he was in the Air Force, not the Army.

  “Colonel Colton was my unofficial grief counselor after I lost my team. Do you want to get a cup of coffee before we start talking?” Hank asked as he gestured at his near-empty cup, “I could use a refill.”

  “Sure,” she said and stood up with the other two. Not the high school’s coffee pot, it must be Army issued, she thought as they walked towards the gigantic coffee machine that brewed gallons of the awful stuff at a time.

  “Hank, I know you don’t really know me, but can you get me access to a telephone?” she asked as they sat back down with steaming cups full of the sludge that passed for coffee in the dining facility. She quickly explained her situation and the disappearance of Grayson before the attack on Fort Sill.

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting a satellite phone, but I won’t be able to get you into the command center. That’s strictly a no-civilian area,” Hank said.

  “Really? Not even for emergencies?” she pleaded.

  “I don’t mean to be callous, but just about everybody in here has an emergency Emory. I might be able to get a sat phone, but it will take me a few hours since I’m not using it for a mission and they’ll wonder why I need it.”

  “You’re right, I’m just being selfish. Thank you for your offer to help Hank. Anything is appreciated,” she said softly.

  “You’re welcome. We’ll get you on the phone as soon as possible. But for now, we were talking about the containment zone earlier.”

  “Actually, I’d like to hear any updates on that too Sergeant. I’ve been released since we talked last time
, but I don’t have any duties or any real responsibilities and I think that Dr. Collins is keeping tabs on me,” Bryce stated.

  “Really sir? I hadn’t pegged him to be the kind.”

  “I’m not sure, but I keep seeing the same couple of soldiers over and over. I know that we’re confined to a small refugee camp, and you’re going to see the same people every day, but this just feels different.”

  “I’ll put the feelers out there, see if there’s anything going on that anyone in the teams knows about,” Hank said. Then he quickly went over what he’d talked to Emory about earlier concerning the containment zone and the unclassified knowledge of the secondary infections.

  “A positive spin, if you can call it that, is that the disease only appears to effect humans, animals seem to be immune,” Hank continued.

  Bryce looked at Hank, “And one person apparently.” Emory glanced expectantly between the two of them. “I was exposed to the virus, or chemical, we don’t even know yet, when it was initially released almost a month ago. I was at the Pentagon during the terrorist attack, actually came into contact with a couple of them too. But for some reason, I’m fit as a fiddle. They’ve done all sorts of tests on me, but can’t figure it out.”

  “And that’s why you think Dr. Collins is following you?” Emory asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. I think that they released me once they were certain I couldn’t spread the disease and that I’d given more blood and tissue samples than they could possibly use, but they still want to watch me to ensure I don’t develop delayed characteristics.”

  “So, if you’re immune, then there has to be a way we can cure these things,” Emory finally stated after a few moments of silence between the three of them.

  “Yeah, well until they can figure out why I’m immune, I don’t really help anyone,” he said bitterly. “Hell, out of everyone on this camp, Sergeant Dawson has done the most for humanity. He’s killed thousands of these things.”