Dead Strain

by Giesler, W. A.

  "What? Where are they?" she asked.

  "Connor must have them," he replied as he jumped back out of the truck and looked over to his brother. "Throw me the keys," he yelled out.

  Shoving his hand into his pocket, Connor searched for the keys quickly coming to the realization that they were not where they were supposed to be. Looking over at Hobart, "Do you have the keys?"

  Hobart shook his head as he continued to fight the ever-increasing number of dead.

  "Jameson, I don't have them. They must have fallen out inside."

  "That's not good," Jameson said aloud wondering what they were going to do.

  Hobart realized they were in trouble and needed to do something quickly before they became breakfast for the dead. Turning back to Jameson he sprinted toward the truck, "Get over there and help your brother. I may be able to get it running without the keys," he yelled, sprinting past him toward the truck.

  Nodding to the sheriff, Jameson ran to the spot he had vacated and went to work holding off the throng of dead as they made their way around the building.

  "Keep guard," Hobart told Sara as he jumped into the truck. Pulling out a multi-use tool from his pocket, he selected the screwdriver and slammed it into the ignition quickly prying it apart exposing the inner workings. Breaking the lock mechanism he forced the ignition to turn, and the truck's engine sprang to life. Stepping out of the truck he yelled to the others, "Get in. We need to get out of here!"

  Taking a few more swipes at the oncoming dead, Connor and Jameson took down a few more before sprinting to the truck and hopping inside. Hobart moved to the side allowing Sara to jump in and then followed her in, sliding behind the wheel. Once the others were safely inside, Hobart slammed the truck into drive and drove through several of the dead that were approaching the truck as he sped away from the horde and back out onto the highway.

  "Where to now?" asked Connor sliding forward in his seat.

  "Well," Hobart started, "we are only about thirty miles from my ranch, which is our final destination."

  "What do you mean our final destination?"

  "Well, kid, we need a lot more supplies than what you all grabbed back there at the store. There is a small town not too far from the ranch. It has a grocery store along with a gun and hardware store. We could use things from all three, so that is our next stop."

  "Isn't the town going to be filled with those things?"

  "Possibly, but it is a risk we need to take. We need food, ammunition, along with supplies to secure the ranch–just in cast those things find their way to it."

  Connor sat back in his seat knowing that he was right but worried about their safety, heading into a town possibly full of the living dead.

  CHAPTER 7 – SMITHVILLE

  The drive went quickly, even though everyone in the truck sat quietly, while they all reflected on the events of the last couple of days. None of them ever thought they would be fighting zombies, hell bent on making a meal out of them. Families, friends, neighbors… All had fallen victim to whatever was causing this mess, and so far, they had no idea how this all started.

  Jameson, who was sitting in the middle with Sara on one side and Hobart on the other, reached forward, switching on the radio scanning through the channels but finding only static on the local channels. "There has to be something being broadcast; we cannot be the only ones left," he said as he continued to scan.

  "Keep at it, kid; the government has to have a handle on this and should be broadcasting on one of the channels," Hobart told Jameson. He had an idea that this mess was more widespread than they knew and that there was a real possibility they actually may be the only ones left.

  As he continued to scan, he came across a channel which was sending the emergency broadcast tone. Stopping, he turned up the volume and waited for the message to start.

  "This is an Emergency Broadcast Alert: The infection continues to spread throughout the region. All citizens are to remain indoors with all windows and doors locked and avoid all contact with anyone exhibiting unusual behavior. If you have had contact with one of the infected and have been bitten or been exposed to the blood of one, you are instructed to contact your local authorities to receive immediate medical attention. Once again, you are to remain indoors with…"

  The message abruptly ended, and dead air followed for a few seconds before a voice came onto the radio:

  I had to end that message; as we all now know, it is nothing but a lie. The world has gone to hell, and the dead have risen. The government claims to have a handle on the situation, but I will tell you, that is not the case. I have seen military units go by heading south, followed by hordes of dead. They do not have a handle on it; they are retreating.

  There was a long pause, and they could all hear the man sobbing quietly in the background before he continued:

  The dead are everywhere now, killing every living thing they encounter. My family, friends, coworkers are all gone, and soon I will have fallen victim to a bite I got a few hours ago. I can already feel the changes beginning, but I needed to pass along information about this outbreak that I have been able to get, and I feel you all need to know. The outbreak is the result of experiments done in a secret lab down in Appleton. Apparently, they were attempting to find a vaccine for a new and extremely deadly strain of the flu. The experimental vaccine they created did not kill the flu strain; it just caused it to mutate, and the result is the creatures walking about attacking and eating people. The new strain got out when the test subjects died and decided to come back to life. Well, everyone, that is it for me. I can tell that I do not have much longer, so I am going to sign off and to anyone out there still alive, keep safe!

  "What the hell?" Jameson blurted out. The radio went silent as they all sat and listened to the now dead air.

  "That is exactly it, Hell," Hobart said aloud. "The dead are back to make us pay for our sins."

  "Really," Jameson muttered, "come on. Do you really believe that?"

  "I do, kid. Look at the world before this all happened. Things had gone to hell. Everyone was fighting with someone, people killing each other over the smallest things, and now it has come back on us."

  The truck fell silent while they all contemplated what Hobart had just said. The thought that hell was rising to make them pay for their sins was too bizarre of a thought for any of them to take seriously, but they all had to admit it was starting to look that way. People dying and then returning to stalk the living was definitely good cause for calling this hell on earth.

  Once again, they all sat quietly watching the scenery flash by as Hobart was wasting no time trying to get to his ranch. In the distance, they began to see a town come into view. A few minutes later, they saw the sign for Smithville pass and all took note of the population listed, five thousand.

  "There are a lot of people in this town, could be a lot of zombies to deal with," Connor announced from the back seat.

  "Could be but I am hoping that they are part of the horde following the military south. If not, we could be in for a fight," Hobart replied knowing that Appleton was only a few miles south.

  They drove into the small town a few minutes later and were greeted by a familiar scene. The roads were littered with bodies and debris, with blood smeared on almost every surface, and they just knew this had been the scene of an extremely brutal encounter with the living dead. Continuing down the road they were relieved that to this point they had not seen any zombies. Five thousand people had once filled the streets of this small town, and if they had become victims of the virus, the four of them could be in trouble if they remained in the area.

  Hobart slowed the truck, stopping just outside of the gun store. "Come on, we need to get in there and grab all the weapons and ammo we can," he said. Scanning the street around the truck, he searched for any sign of trouble before he hopped out of the truck. The area around the truck seemed quiet and free of the dead, so he opened door and stepped out onto the red stained pavement. Pulling his gun he ste
pped to the side to allow Connor out of the back, motioning for the others to get out.

  The others piled out of the truck, Connor emerging with his axe in hand, ready to take on any attacker. Looking over at Hobart, "Sheriff, where is the grocery store?" he quietly asked.

  He pointed his finger down toward the far end of town. "That way about five blocks from here, but first we need to get the weapons. I would rather we stick together, just in case.

  Connor nodded to him, agreeing completely. The foursome moved to the gun store, entering cautiously, checking every possible hiding spot for trouble before stepping all the way inside. "What kind of stuff do you think we are going to need?" Connor asked Hobart.

  "Grab anything automatic and anything with a scope on it, along with the ammo for each; I'm heading for the handguns."

  "You got it." Looking over at his brother and Sara, "You heard the man; let's get moving."

  The foursome started digging through the store, which thankfully for them had gone untouched by the looters. They piled the weapons and ammo at the front door waiting for everyone to be done before heading outside with their cache.

  Connor was looking through the selection of rifles on the wall, grabbing two AR-15 assault rifles and a high-powered rifle sporting a rather impressive looking scope. "Nice… This may come in very handy," he said to himself as he pulled it down off the rack. Looking down below the display, he quickly located the needed ammunition and started pulling box after box off the shelf, setting them on the counter behind him.

  Looking over at the others, Hobart took note of the rather impressive work done by Connor who had grabbed exactly what they were going to need. "Hey, kid," he called over, "great choices there."

  Smiling Connor gave Hobart a quick nod while he continued to look over the rifle. He reached down, opened up an ammo box and began to load the weapon figuring better to have bullets in it before heading back outside, than not. After the rifle was loaded, he grabbed the magazines from the two assault rifles and loaded them both before placing them back into the weapons. "I better find some more magazines," he mumbled to himself as he began to search under the counter once again. Finding what he was searching for, he stood back up and began to load the four that he found when he looked over at Hobart. He was stunned when he saw one of the dead slowly creeping up behind him, mouth wide open and readying itself for the attack.

  Hobart was digging through the ammo case, searching for everything he needed, and never heard the approaching zombie until it was almost too late. The loud crack of the rifle startled him just as a heavy weight landed on his back sending him sprawling to the floor. Struggling to move, he cringed preparing himself for the coming bite as he fought to move the creature from his back, but to his surprise, none came. A few seconds of terror passed before someone lifted the body from his back, and he rolled over staring up at the face of Jameson. "What the hell happened?" he asked.

  Reaching his hand out to help him to his feet, "Connor popped the critter that was sneaking up on you and a darn good shot too from what I can see," he told Hobart as he pulled him up.

  Looking down at the zombie, he saw the fatal wound, which had completely removed the upper portion of the creatures head. Turning to Connor, "Thanks, kid, and nice shot," he told him.

  "No problem, Sheriff, and just so you know, I think I will claim this thing as mine," he said holding up the rifle with the scope.

  "You continue to use it like that, and it's all yours," he replied with a laugh.

  A loud thud from the front door brought them all back to the present as they turned in unison. Several dead were standing at the front entrance pawing at the glass on the door. Hobart knew the shot had alerted them, but if Connor had not shot the thing, it would have attacked him, so he could not fault the kid. "Here," he said to the others as he started handing out handguns, "take these and load them; we may have to fight our way out of here."

  Grabbing the guns from Hobart, everyone followed orders and quickly loaded them with ammunition while keeping one eye on the front door and another on the back of the store where their dead friend had emerged. Once everyone had their weapons loaded, they stuffed all the ammunition they could into a duffle bag they had found behind the counter and prepared to fight their way out of the store.

  Connor walked slowly up to the door, cautiously gazing out into the street, trying to count the number of dead that were now swarming the front of the building. Looking back over his shoulder, "There are about ten of them, but I can see more coming," he told the others. Turning back to the door, he saw it begin to bulge inward from the weight of the creatures pushing on it. "Get ready; they are about to make it inside," he yelled, raising his rifle, preparing to open fire.

  The back door to the gun store burst open catching them all off guard. Standing in the doorway was a male dressed completely in military gear holding a rather large assault weapon at his side. "Hey, if you want to live, follow me out this way," he called to the group.

  Hobart was the first to swing around with his rifle raised, ready for action. "Who the hell are you?"

  "Right now, does it matter? You have those things out front about to come inside, and I'm telling you this direction is clear, so move your asses."

  Jumping to their feet, they all moved away from the bulging front door and ran for the back of the store. They all slowly moved past the man, still not sure whether they could trust him or not and out into the open air.

  The soldier pulled the door shut, flipping a padlock latch on the door and jamming a small metal spike in it to keep the dead from following. "Come on; follow me. I have a safe place for us to hunker down for a bit," he told them as he sprinted off waving for them to follow.

  CHAPTER 8 – SAFE HAVEN

  They cautiously followed the man as he sprinted through the backyards of houses and businesses trying to avoid the streets and hordes of dead roaming about. They had traveled for about ten minutes when they finally saw their destination: a large concrete building on the far edge of town. Several heavily armed men strolled around on the roof of the building, apparently keeping a watch on all sides, prepared to repel any assault from the dead. As they approached, the men on the roof took notice of them and quickly dropped into a firing position, not taking any chances on who they were even with one of their own leading the way.

  "Stop here," the soldier told them holding up his hand. "I need to let them know that you are not infected and with me." Stepping away he walked slowly toward the building waiting for his men to challenge him before getting to close.

  "Stop where you are, Captain. Who is that with you, and are they infected?" asked a voice from the roof.

  "Miller, they are alright. Let us in."

  It did not take long after the exchange when they all heard the sound of a heavy door lock releasing and the steel entry door of the building swinging open. Turning back to the group, "Come on, let's get inside before we attract them," waving for them to follow him.

  Hobart looked at his companions, "Come on; we should follow him," he said as he stood and started for the open door.

  Once the four were inside, the guard at the door pulled it shut and slid the heavy lock back into place, securing the building behind them. Snapping to attention, giving a quick salute, "Sir, how does it look out there, any better?" he asked.

  "Not really, Sergeant. There seems to be more of them than before, but I cannot be sure. I was too busy saving their asses," motioning to the four visitors.

  Hobart stepped forward, "First off, thanks for getting us out of that mess. Secondly, who the hell are you guys?"

  "I'm Captain James Carter, U.S. Army, and these are my men." Pausing for a moment, he looked around at the few men he still had left, "Well, what remains of my men. We were sent here as soon as the first reports of the outbreak came in and have been trying to get to Appleton ever since."

  "You are heading to Appleton? Why?" Hobart asked.

  "Well, Sheriff, we are a quick response force, specifi
cally trained for this type of mission. Our orders were get to Appleton, enter the lab and try to find out what was going on. Unfortunately, once on the ground at the base a few miles north of here, we ran into too many of those things, and our ride to the lab was damaged in the fight."

  "So you are saying the government really has no idea what is occurring?" Hobart angrily asked.

  "That is the short and sweet of it, Sheriff. We know for sure the cause had something to do with an experimental vaccine for the new flu strain, but what exactly occurred is still unknown." Looking at each of the four of them, he asked," So who exactly are you four, and where did you come from?"

  "Well, Captain, I'm Sheriff Timothy Hobart; these are Connor and Jameson Myer, and she is Sara Collins. We are trying to get to my ranch, which is near here, figuring it might be a safe place to stay until this all passes."

  "Well, Sheriff, you are more than welcome to stay here, at least until we move on. This place is pretty heavily fortified, and as you saw outside, we have it guarded pretty well."

  "When do you plan on moving out?" Hobart asked.

  "Not for another few days… We are hoping that the dead will continue moving away from the lab as they search for food, which will give us a clear shot into the place."

  Hobart nodded, agreeing with him and knowing that they were safe for now. "Alright, Captain, we appreciate your offer, and accept for now, at least until is clear enough for us to continue on."

  James nodded, "Sergeant Henry will show you the way to the sleeping area so you can get yourselves situated. Chow is at 1800, and he will let you know where to go for that."

  "Thank you, Captain." Hobart turned to the sergeant, "Lead the way."

  The sergeant looked over the group, annoyed that he was the one chosen to play tour guide with them. "Alright, follow me, and make sure you bring all your stuff, don't like crap in front of the door."

  A short time later the group was sitting inside what appeared to be an old employee lounge for whatever business formerly occupied the building. The room, lined with cots, was the makeshift sleeping quarters for the soldiers, and thankfully, it contained enough beds for the four of them.