by David Spell
Paul glanced over at his dark-haired companion with new respect. "Yeah, level three is almost impossible without the grenade launcher. Did you find it at the end of level two?"
Maggie shook her head. "No, but that helps. I'll go back and do level two again and look for it. That is, if we don't get eaten by real zombies first."
Paul nodded. It would be nice to have a real grenade launcher about now, he thought.
#
Atlanta, Friday, 1805 hours
The Blackhawk circled the scenes of destruction caused by a car bomb, a suicide bomber, multiple secondary explosions, and now, an unknown number of zombies unleashed upon an unsuspecting city. Andy and Scotty peered down through the smoke and tried to get an idea of what had happened. The large crater where the car bomb had detonated was easy to see.
A hundred yards further up the exit ramp, several charred vehicles marked the spot where the suicide bomber himself had exploded. The entire interstate was shut down because of the devastation at the 17th Street exit. The officers also saw that 17th Street itself was completely gridlocked and the bridge going back over I-75/I-85 into the city was blocked by vehicles, bodies, and zombies.
Fleming and Smith saw hundreds, maybe thousands of Zs shuffling, walking, or running in every direction. Many were crouching and chewing on dead bodies. Others were hunting survivors still trapped in their cars or chasing down those who had decided to abandon their vehicles, trying to escape on foot.
"At least we've got a target rich environment," Scotty said over his headset to Andy.
An hour earlier, Smith was driving their black Suburban south on Interstate 75 towards Atlanta. The FBI and ATF had a command post at their scene in Gilmer County, almost two hours north of Atlanta, where earlier that morning they had engaged the suicide bombers. The two CDC officers had been there all day, assisting with the investigation, and were happy to finally be heading back to the office to drop off the company car before calling it a day.
"You and Emily going out this weekend?" Andy asked Scotty.
"Yep, we're having dinner with her parents tomorrow night. Some nice French restaurant. She said I need to wear a blazer."
"That sounds serious."
"Yeah, I don't think I've ever eaten at a place where I needed to wear a jacket."
"Not that," said Fleming. "The whole having dinner with her parents thing. That sounds very serious."
The big man tilted his head sideways and shrugged his shoulders. "I really like her and it's not like I can tell her I don't want to meet her folks. At least, not if I want to keep seeing her."
Andy patted his friend on the shoulder and said, "I've got first dibs on being your best man."
"Dude, we've only been out a couple of times. I'm not planning on getting married any time soon."
"You may not be, but Emily wants to run you by mom and dad to see what they think. A couple of pieces of advice. Close your mouth if you have to burp. Sip your wine, don't gulp it. And try not to spend too much time talking about shooting zombies in the head."
Both of their smartphones started vibrating at the same time. Andy called in to their contact at the DHS and got the notice that Atlanta, New York City and Washington, D.C., were being attacked again. By 1715 hours, traffic had started backing up and they got off of the interstate near the SunTrust Atlanta Braves stadium, still ten miles from downtown. For many years, the Atlanta baseball team had played in one of the worst areas of the city. Recently, a state of the art stadium had been built north of downtown in a much safer area. There was no game tonight and one of the parking lots would serve their purpose.
Andy's phone vibrated again, this time with an incoming call. He put it on speaker so Chuck could speak to both of them. McCain needed to send them to a skyscraper adjacent to where the bombs had gone off. People were trapped inside and reporting that Zs were killing everyone in sight. Survivors were hiding in offices, closets, and restrooms. A few brave souls had managed to get to the lobby but soon realized their mistake. Besides the many infected that were already in the lobby waiting for some more victims to show up, the area outside the building was swarming with zombies. There was no place to go.
The Atlanta Police Department was trying to formulate a response to the incident but, with the infected wandering around and creating more zombies, the scene still wasn't safe. The first two fire trucks and ambulance onscene lost their entire crews.
Four responding police officers could not get their patrol cars any closer than three blocks from the scene of the explosions. Not knowing the scope of the destruction, the sergeant and his three patrol officers approached on foot with the intention of rendering aid to those injured in the blasts. The sergeant was soon calling for help over the radio. He said they were being attacked by a mob of zombies and were trying to get back to their police cars. Every other officer on their radio channel could hear the gunshots, the screams, and the fear in the supervisor's voice. Within two minutes, there was no response from the sergeant nor the other three officers.
The SWAT Team was enroute in their truck but were not sure how long it was going to take to get there or even how close they could get. APD dispatch requested the CDC's help in securing the Wells Fargo building. Since the interstate was impassable, McCain had their Blackhawk helicopter on the way to pick Fleming and Smith up in the stadium parking lot. Their insertion point would be the roof of the building. After getting off the phone with McCain and while waiting on their ride, they pulled up the building specs on Andy's laptop and tried to memorize as much of the floor plan as they could.
"Isn't your apartment near Atlantic Station?" Andy asked Scotty.
"Yeah, it's probably half a mile from where all the excitement is today. You know, this is the nicest place I've ever lived. We have a security guy in the lobby who calls me 'Mister Smith.' Can you believe that? Looks like I'm going to be in the market for a new home."
The warriors reloaded from the extra ammo they kept in all of their SUVs. Both men also shoved a few extra rifle and pistol magazines into their cargo pockets. When the helicopter touched down, they rushed to board. Scotty stopped suddenly, holding up one finger to Andy and the Blackhawk crewman and ran back to their SUV. He opened the rear door and lifted up the backseat to reveal a Remington Model 870 pump action shotgun, secured in a special case under the seat. Smith retrieved the shotgun and a bandolier of shells. He slung them both over his shoulder, locked the vehicle and jogged back to the aircraft.
The crewman of the Blackhawk had attached his mini-gun to a side mount, pointing out the left side of the helicopter. The six-barrel rotary machine gun was capable of firing over two thousand rounds a minute of 7.62mm bullets. This powerful weapon covered Chuck and the CDC agents in their recent fight on the University of Georgia campus, cutting down hundreds of zombies.
The Blackhawk and their crew would provide air support for Andy and Scotty as best they could and help with evacuating survivors. The copilot monitored the radios for the latest information from the Atlanta Police and the FBI. After circling the Wells Fargo building twice to confirm the landing zone was clear, the pilot touched down to let the two warriors out.
"Be careful, gentleman, and we'll be in the area to provide assistance," the pilot said.
Andy and Scotty threw salutes to the aircrew, ducked under the spinning rotors and ran to the door on the other side of the roof. Smith clutched a pry bar he had brought from the helicopter. The big man used it to force the locked metal door open. They did not want to start shooting yet and needed to stay as quiet as possible. After listening at the open door for three full minutes, the two men entered the unknown.
#
The Wells Fargo Building, Atlanta, Friday, 1830 hours
Paul Kowalski and Maggie Warren had quietly worked through the entire supply closet to see if they could find anything useful. Each now had a pair of scissors in their back pockets. They had also found a flashlight, a small first aid kit, a roll of duct tape, and a metal letter opener. S
ince they did not really know exactly how their co-workers had been infected, they also used a couple of bottles of hand sanitizer to wipe down all exposed skin.
While better weapons were a definite priority, they would also eventually need some food. There was a case of two dozen Dasani water bottles in the closet so they could at least stay hydrated. A plastic trash can would serve as their toilet. Paul tried to reassure Maggie that it was just a matter of time before the police came to their rescue, but they both realized that spending an awkward night in the closet was highly likely.
Kowalski had attempted several more times to speak with a 911 operator, but none of his calls went through. The recording advised him that his call was important but all operators were busy and that he should stay on line. Paul and Maggie, even though they were together in the closet, felt a growing sense of isolation. They were cut off from the outside world and couldn't even reach 911. Another problem they were facing was that the battery in Paul's phone was down to nineteen percent so he could not really afford to sit on hold for thirty minutes.
From time to time they heard a growling zombie wander by their hiding place. Up till now, they had been able to remain undetected. The looming question was: how long would that last?
CHAPTER NINE
Two Against the World
Staging Area near the Braves Stadium, North of Atlanta, Friday, 1845 hours
Emily Clark sat in the passenger seat of her blue and white West Metro Ambulance Service ambulance in the big parking lot that was quickly filling with emergency vehicles from multiple Metro Atlanta agencies. The Atlanta Police Department had picked this large parking area just across Interstate 75 from the SunTrust Stadium, next to the northbound lanes for easy access. The command post was set up at the rear of the lot with federal and local police and fire commanders trying to coordinate a response. The attacks in downtown Atlanta were almost two hours old, but after losing several police officers and firemen already, the authorities were unsure how to proceed.
Emily and her partner, Darnell Washington, had been glued to their smart phones, watching the events unfold. When they had pulled into the staging area, Emily immediately recognized a black Suburban, parked off to the side, as one of the CDC Enforcement Unit's. Of course, other government agencies used those kinds of vehicles as well, but Emily somehow knew that Scotty, or one of his colleagues, had parked it there.
Emily and Scotty hadn't spoken since the night before. She had seen him on the news, in video captured by the local news helicopter, leading other officers in terminating a large group of zombies in Virginia Highlands, near where the two of them had had their first date. The part of the video that kept being replayed showed Scotty and his team of SWAT officers standing in the middle of the street as a group of Zs charged them. The officers had calmly dropped all of the infected. Smith had called her when he had gotten home and they had talked for an hour.
In typical Scotty fashion, he had asked her all about her day. When she asked him about his, he was nonchalant.
"You know. Work is work. Same old, same old," he said.
"I saw you on the news, Scotty," her voice rising. "I watched all those things running at you. And, why did you flip off the news chopper?"
Emily heard him laughing. "Did you see that?" he asked. "I've never liked reporters. As far as work goes, that's what we do. We shoot the zombies and save people."
"It scared me," she said quietly. "I'm glad you're ok. I...I know what you do but this was the first time I've seen you doing it," her voice broke. "I started crying when those zombies ran towards you."
Scotty heard her trying not sob into the phone. He had a sudden epiphany that what was just a normal day at the office for him had created a terror-filled few moments for someone he cared about deeply.
"Emily, its ok. Really, I'm sorry. Please don't cry. I'm fine. I promise. I'm always careful and I work with some of the best operators in the world."
There was a long silence but he could still hear her sniffling. "Say something, Emily. I'm so sorry I made you cry."
She sniffed and laughed. "You didn't make me cry, you big goofball. I just, I was worried, that's all. I'm sorry I lost it."
After they hung up, she realized that the reason she was crying was that she had fallen in love with the big goofball. She texted him earlier Friday morning. He sent a short reply saying he was involved in another situation and would call her tonight.
Emily looked out her window at the police, fire, and ambulances assembling for the moment they would be needed. Scotty is already out there, she thought. The CDC officers did not wait until the scene was secure. They moved in and were the ones who tried to secure the scene. She felt the hot tears again running down her face as she closed her eyes, and said a silent prayer for her boyfriend and for all the other warriors who were already in harm's way.
#
The Wells Fargo Building, Atlanta, Friday, 1845 hours
Fleming and Smith listened at the stairwell door for the 19th floor. Each floor plan was identical, office space on both sides of a marble corridor running the length of the building. Glass-encased elevators anchored each end of the hallway, built to run along the outside of the structure. On any other day, the views of the city would be spectacular.
The staircases at either end of each floor acted as emergency exits. Some of the bigger tenants rented out an entire floor, while other, smaller businesses only needed a quarter or half a floor.
The elevator on the north side of the building had just started climbing towards the 19th floor when Ramzi's vest went off. The lift contained a four man and one woman Japanese delegation on their way to meet with their biggest American client. Infected ball bearings and screws punched through the thick glass on the elevator. All four people were struck by shrapnel and knocked to the floor. When the elevator doors opened, five Japanese zombies lunged for the smiling CEO, CFO, and COO.
The first floor that the two officers cleared was the 23rd and only housed a few infected. A large law firm occupied the top level of the building and by the time the bombs had gone off, most of the lawyers and paralegals had left for their weekend. Sixteen secretaries and administrative personnel were still working late on a Friday afternoon.
Four had been injured and infected from the first blast and they quickly reanimated, attacking five of their co-workers. Andy and Scotty had easily eliminated those nine Zs and helped the seven survivors find a secure place to wait until they could be rescued. Those they left behind all wanted to come along with the two heavily armed police officers.
"We've got twenty-two more floors to clear and the reports are that the lower levels are crawling with Zs," said Andy. "You guys sit tight. It might be a few hours but your floor is secure now and you'll just have to wait it out."
One young law clerk, who barely looked old enough to drive, asked them, "Where's the rest of your team? The internet says that there are thousands of those things outside."
Scotty looked at him disdainfully. "Son, I'm not a very religious man, but the Good Book tells us that one warrior can put a thousand enemies to flight and two warriors can handle ten thousand. And we aren't putting them to flight. We're shooting them in the head. But thanks for your concern."
The 22nd floor had no infected at all because the offices on the side of the explosions were unoccupied. The business on the other side was a twenty-four call center offering customer service for a satellite TV provider. Scotty instructed the operators in no uncertain terms to stay put and wait to be rescued.
"You have no chance against the zombies if you leave this area," the big man told them. "Please wait for law enforcement no matter how long it takes."
The next two floors contained a total of twelve infected and a handful of survivors. When the CDC officers got to the 19th floor they could hear the distinctive zombie growl of a large pack of the creatures from the other side of the stairwell exit. The small window on the door did not allow Fleming and Smith to see the length of the corridor.
They could hear them growling and banging on something but could not see any of the infected. Andy eased the door open to peer down the walkway. After surveying the scene for a few seconds, he motioned for Scotty to have a look at the group of Zs clustered further down the hall.
They quietly shut the door and spoke softly. "I figure roughly thirty in the hallway," Andy whispered. "It looks they were having a reception or something and some Zs decided to crash the party."
"Looks like it. You want to just start shooting them?" asked Scotty. "I think we can drop all of them before they know what happened."
"Let's do it. Just be ready to duck back into the stairwell if they get too close."
Most of the infected had been in the corridor waiting to welcome the Japanese delegation. They had tables set up with refreshments and drinks. The group in the hallway had actually been much larger but when the infected visitors got off the elevator and started attacking people, some employees had fled to the safety of their offices. Others, who had tried to help, ended up becoming zombies themselves.
Now, the zombies were pounding on the heavy wooden doors on either side of the corridor, trying to get to the living people inside. Fleming and Smith stepped through the stairwell doorway and began engaging targets. Even suppressed, the M4s were loud in the corridor. Their 5.56mm rounds punched through the heads of the closest zombies, blood spraying their infected comrades.
The horde immediately turned and began surging towards the two men. Several of the creatures tripped over the fallen bodies of their zombie friends. Andy and Scotty sighted and shot as fast as they could but the large group was quickly racing towards them.
"Back into the stairwell," Fleming ordered.
