When the Stars Fell From the Sky

by David Spell

  The other seven survivors were all trying not to snicker as their obnoxious boss was put in his place. Andy lined them up. This time, Smith took the point and Fleming brought up the rear. The climb from the 15th to the 23rd floor had all the survivors huffing and puffing. Stanley Poole was in bad shape, having to stop and catch his breath several times.

  "You know, Stanley," Scotty said matter-of-factly, "it would probably do you some good to take the stairs a little more often."

  The manager glared at him but was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself. As they worked their way to the top floor, Andy and Scotty stopped at each floor where they had left survivors and added them to the group, escorting them all to the 23rd floor. When they got ready to start evacuating, it would be better to have them all together. For the moment, thirty-eight people would wait together on the top floor.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Floor After Floor

  The Wells Fargo Building, Atlanta, Friday, 2030 hours

  As the helicopter lifted off the roof, Andy and Scotty led the rest of their teammates to the stairwell. Gunfire suddenly sounded from one of the nearby apartment buildings.

  Chuck pointed in the direction of the shots. "APD SWAT is over there trying to rescue people in those apartment buildings. I heard on the radio, right before we landed, that one of their teams lost an officer. The sergeant said they were about to get overrun and one of the guys stepped out in front of his teammates and sacrificed himself. That gave the other officers just enough time to waste the Zs."

  The CDC officers stood silently for a moment, digesting this information. "There's no greater love than to lay your life down for your friends," said Chris Rogers.

  "Yeah," said Scotty, "but let's try not to play that game over here."

  They took the stairs down to the last floor that Fleming and Smith had cleared, the 15th, where they could meet and discuss how they wanted to proceed. The officers had to step over several bodies as they entered one of the empty offices the survivors had just vacated.

  "Looks like you guys have had a time," said Eddie, nodding at Andy and Scotty.

  "You know, winning hearts and minds," Fleming replied.

  As everyone grabbed a chair and sat down, Andy and Scotty gave them a quick briefing. When they were finished, Eddie asked, "How many survivors upstairs?"

  "Close to forty," said Andy. "From here to the roof, all the floors are secure. As we find more people hiding, we can keep sending them to the top."

  When they got up to go back to work, Estrada asked Smith, "How'd you tear your rifle up?"

  Scotty shook his head. "A broken extractor. The good news is that this shotgun works great. At least, until I run out of shells." He had put his broken M4 on the Blackhawk when they met the others on the roof. He still had over forty shotgun shells.

  "What do you guys think about splitting into two groups?" Chuck asked. "Eddie, you and your guys and I'll go with these two," pointing at Andy and Scotty. "That way we can clear two floors at a time. Let's stay in close contact on the radio. If one team get in trouble, we'll only be one floor apart."

  Marshall nodded and glanced around at his men. They were all ready to go. Everyone was tired and emotionally drained from the last two days but their job was to rescue as many people as they possibly could.

  "Perfect," said Eddie. "How about if we go ahead and start evacuating the survivors that are upstairs? Luis could coordinate that. From what we saw on the flight in, it doesn't look like anyone is going to be driving out of here anytime soon. The roads are gridlocked and the Zs are everywhere. Maybe our pilot, the good Major Campbell, could even put some other air assets into play."

  "Good idea, Eddie," said Chuck. "I'll call Air One and Luis to get that happening."

  Andy, Scotty, and Chuck started with the 14th floor. There was one large marketing business on the floor. The corridor was clear but they could hear the familiar sound of zombies coming from the open office doors. The officers moved quietly but they knew from previous experience that the infected used their sense of smell to track their victims.

  Suddenly, twelve bloody, former marketing professionals burst out into the hallway, running straight for them. Andy's and Chuck's suppressed rifles and Scotty's suppressed pistol coughed out their rounds. The last one, a tall black woman, fell at McCain's feet. His shot had hit her in the face and she went down hard. Her arms were still moving, however, grabbing at Chuck's leg. He put two more 5.56mm rounds into her head and she was finally still.

  "That was different," he said.

  "Let's finish clearing this floor and we'll tell you what me and Scotty saw earlier," said Andy.

  Eddie and Team Two went down to the 13th floor. An accounting firm and another law firm shared the level. The CPA firm was on the side of the building where the explosions took place. Eddie motioned that they would start there.

  Normally, Jimmy would take the point position but Eddie had insisted that he stay in the middle of the stack. The blast of 00 buckshot which had hit him less than twenty-four hours earlier had left Jones with some severely bruised ribs. Hollywood moved up to point, with Eddie number two, Jimmy number three, and Chris securing the rear.

  The doors were closed and the business sounded quiet. Maybe this one was empty, Estrada thought as he slowly pulled the door open. Suddenly, a bloody, snarling face pushed into the doorway, inches from Hollywood's own face. Several of the creatures were right inside the opening and started growling loudly, shoving against the partially opened door.

  "Contact," said Hollywood. "Need some help here."

  One of the former CPAs ran and threw himself into the group of infected who were trying to get to the officers. The combined impact knocked Hollywood backwards as the door flew open, sending the officer to the floor. Marshall, Jones, and Rogers all began firing into the group of seven zombies that blasted through the opening.

  All of the infected accountants wore blood-saturated white shirts with standard issue ties. The gunfire exploded several heads as they burst out into the hallway. An Indian-looking zombie threw himself onto Alejandro Estrada, still prone on the slick marble corridor, his teeth aiming for the officers throat. Hollywood managed to get his rifle up and catch the infected man under the chin. Estrada felt the almost supernatural strength of the creature but was able to turn to the right and use the rifle as leverage to knock the creature off of him.

  As soon as the zombie was clear of his teammate, Chris fired a quick double tap that struck the Indian Z in the forehead, dumping him onto his back.

  "How you doing, Hollywood?" Jimmy asked. "That was a little too much drama, if you ask me."

  "I'm good but I don't need a repeat of that. Thanks, Chris."

  There were no survivors inside the CPA firm, just a number of torn and ripped apart bodies. Eddie assumed the point as they moved through the offices and shot two infected women who were feeding on a large, middle-aged man. The doors to the law firm on the other side of the floor were locked tight and no one responded to their knocking.

  "Maybe everybody left before it got nasty," said Jimmy.

  "Let's hope so," said Eddie, "otherwise they got eaten in the lobby on their way out."

  #

  Roof of the Wells Fargo Building, Atlanta, Friday, 2100 hours

  Luis García was glad that he had a role to play. He could move well enough on his injured ankle to help the survivors get to the roof and onto the helicopter. To evacuate the current thirty-eight survivors would require three trips by the Blackhawk crew. Of course, the rescuers all hoped that number would increase dramatically as the team cleared the remainder of the building.

  Co-pilot and former army captain Jessie Webb had told McCain that they would transport the people to the Atlanta Braves stadium where the local police, the CDC, the FBI, and other EMS personnel had established their command post. Now that night had set in, the authorities were even more in the dark as to how to proceed. Since the infected were mobile and had spread out into the city, the
y were not even sure that setting up a large perimeter was the answer.

  Of course, the FBI was now calling the shots but they had no idea where to start either. With all the roads shut down around ground zero and since the virus had spread so quickly, there was still the possibility of survivors trapped in cars. Other than the CDC Response Teams and the Atlanta Police SWAT Team, however, no first responders had ventured into the area.

  When the helicopter touched down, García and crewman Bobby Walsh exited the big bird, both heavily armed, and cautiously descended from the roof to the 23rd floor, following the directions they had been given by Fleming. Luis knocked at the door for Berenstein and Associates Attorneys-at-law. "Police officers," García called out.

  A minute later, he and Walsh were inside the large reception area, dividing the survivors into three groups. Stanley Poole positioned himself in front of several women, hoping to get out first.

  "Go to end of the line," Luis told him. "The women go first."

  "You can't make me do that," he replied. "I have a heart condition and I need to be on that first helicopter."

  He had not dared stand up to Scotty, but the narcissistic manager was a little taller and much bigger around than García. Stanley poked a finger into the chest plate of Luis' body armor. "I'm leaving in the first group and you can't stop me."

  Suddenly, the stocky, middle-aged accounts manager found himself face down on the carpet, with the smaller Hispanic officer jamming a knee into his back, handcuffing him. Luis stood, grabbing Stanley by the collar of his brown blazer, dragging him off to the side.

  Poole immediately began to scream, "This is police brutality and excessive force! I've got witnesses. You'll pay for this!"

  By now he was red-faced and breathing heavily. "I have a bad heart and I need my medicine!" His voice rose to a fevered pitch.

  García knelt beside him. "I don't know who you are, amigo, and I don't really care. At this point, you might want to worry about how you're getting home. I'm not putting you on that helicopter. I think you're mentally unstable and a danger to these nice, calm people."

  Poole's face went white at the idea of being left behind. "You can't do that to me. You're a police officer and you have to protect and serve."

  Luis smiled, "Si, jefe, and right now I'm protecting all these other people from a selfish, crazy man. Buenas noches."

  The first thirteen, all women, were escorted up to the roof. The remaining twenty-four had to wait and endure Stanley pleading for help and not to be left behind. All wondered secretly if Officer García would really leave the crying, handcuffed man behind.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Luis was notified that the Air One was inbound for the last group. Walsh started to lead them out the door. Stanley Poole was now in tears, begging not to be left there. García paused and walked over to the man.

  "So, if I let you go, are you going to cause any problems or are you just going to sit quietly on the helicopter and be a good boy?"

  "I promise I won't cause problems. Please, just don't leave me here."

  "Before I take those handcuffs off, I think you owe everyone here an apology for your behavior."

  "Yes, yes, I'm very sorry for my actions. There's no excuse for the way I was acting. Please, forgive me, everyone," the now contrite man begged.

  Luis took the handcuffs off and helped Stanley to his feet. "Ok, let's get you guys out of here."

  #

  The Wells Fargo Building, Atlanta, Saturday, 0225 hours

  The floors all began to blur together but, finally, they were almost finished. Over one hundred survivors had been sent to the top floor, where Luis waited. He would babysit them until transport could be arranged. The CDC's helicopter had left to refuel but Major Campbell said there were two Air Force Blackhawks enroute from Dobbins Air Force base, located north of Atlanta.

  The two teams met up on the 4th floor after it had been cleared. They needed a breather before finishing the last three. They sipped water, sitting with their backs to the wall, quietly sharing what they had encountered.

  "Let's stay together for these last few floors," Chuck said. "We're all exhausted and I think we'll be better together. We're almost done but we need to stay sharp."

  Team Two led the way as they entered the 3rd floor. This level contained the corporate gym on the side closest to the explosions and the management and security offices for the building on the other side. The fitness center had floor-to-ceiling glass walls and they could see movement inside. The glass appeared to have an opaque finish.

  In the corridor, four infected people were bent over a prone body. The zombies, three men and a woman, were all wearing workout attire. Their victim had been an older African-American woman wearing a beige pants suit, although, by now, there was barely enough left to recognize her race or gender. As the door opened from the stairwell, one of the infected men turned and got to his feet, staring towards the opening. Chris was leading the way this time and quickly brought his rifle up, engaging the zombies.

  Rogers' quick and accurate gunfire brought down three of the fitness zombies and Marshall shot the last one. Both teams were in the hallway now, listening. They could hear growling coming from the direction of the gym. Suddenly, a large figure slammed into the glass wall, cracking it. A second try and the zombie crashed into the corridor. The broken glass ripped him up but did not slow him down. The muscular white man, wearing a tank top and shorts, sprinted towards the officers.

  Several other figures darted through the opening he had made, following him. The CDC officers fired quickly, making good head shots on the zombies, stopping all of them. Hours before, these twelve people had chosen to exercise after work before starting for home. They had found that normally, after they trained for an hour or so, traffic died down enough to make their commute a little easier.

  Today, however, the suicide bomber and the car bomb had blasted infected shrapnel through the fitness center as they had trained. After the second explosion, the woman in the pants suit had walked across the hall from the management office to see if everyone in the gym was ok. When she opened the door, the first four dove onto her, knocking her back into the corridor and killing her.

  The officers listened for any other zombies that might be on the floor. Everything was quiet. Chris led the way towards the fitness center. The glass wasn't opaque. Blood splatter from two other victims coated the glass.

  "Check this out!" exclaimed Rogers. "This glass is at least half an inch thick and that guy was able to break through it like it was nothing."

  "Scotty," said Chuck, "can you take a mouth swab or two from some of these infected? Do one on that big guy who smashed through the glass and maybe one more. We'll get them to the lab to see what's going on. I'm wondering if these bombs came from DC, where Team Two found the radioactive materials and the zombie virus side-by-side."

  Three women were hiding in the management offices. They had seen their friend and supervisor killed and partially eaten as they had watched through their window. The zombies had not realized they were nearby or they would have probably become victims also.

  One of the survivors was a very obese woman who had to walk with a cane. Andy directed the three women that they needed to take the stairs to the top floor so they could be evacuated. The big woman balked at this.

  "I can't climb those stairs. I have knee problems."

  "Your choice, lady," said Fleming, clearly agitated. "Climb the stairs or stay here and become zombie food."

  "But, you don't understand. I need help. Can't I take the elevator?"

  "The elevators are off-limits. They've been infected with the virus and were possibly damaged in the explosions. They're not safe. We still have a few floors left to clear so you better start climbing now."

  Eddie spoke to the other two women. "There's another officer on the top floor who will get you on a helicopter that'll fly you out of here. This building is overrun and it's not safe to leave through the lobby. You ladies can try and help yo
ur friend but you need to get going. Go straight to the top. Don't open the doors for any other levels. We think we've killed them all but we could've missed some. The stairwell is safe all the way to the top."

  Chuck stopped the women as they were for the stairwell. "I see the security office," pointing to a closed door. "What happened to the security officers?"

  A petite Asian lady replied, "Normally, there's always one of them in that office, monitoring the cameras. A few minutes after the explosions, he ran out saying the officer in the lobby needed help. He never came back."

  The door to the security office was locked. It was made of wood and the top half was frosted glass. McCain pulled the metal expandable baton off of his utility belt and flicked it open. One strike broke the window and gave them access to the office.

  A bank of nine television monitors were hanging on the wall above the desk. Andy Fleming was the closest thing the enforcement unit had to a computer expert, having worked for an IT company in the year between getting out of the Marines and coming to work for the CDC. The camera feed for the lobby had all the officers looking on in disbelief. There appeared to be over a hundred Zs milling around the lobby of the skyscraper. The doors had a sensor opening device, and they could see the infected wandering in and out.

  "Do they have outside cameras?" Chuck asked. "It would be good to get a real-time feel for what's going on out there."

  Andy played with the system for a few minutes and then four of the screens started showing the four sides of the building. Street lights illuminated the area to show that the infected were everywhere. Many were standing motionless in the street in front of the building. Others were walking quickly towards the downtown area. Another large group was congregating near the entrance to the apartment building next to the Wells Fargo building. That was the one that Atlanta SWAT had been clearing.