When the Stars Fell From the Sky

by David Spell

  Many of the cops who had parked near the exit ramp had found out too late that their patrol cars had sustained heavy damage. Zombies rushed these officers, reaching through the shattered windows and pulling the struggling figures out of the car. In several cases, the police were able to shoot the attacking zombie, only to be bitten and ripped apart by others from the pack.

  Other officers abandoned any idea of fleeing in their police cars, desperately running across the parking lot to where the ambulances and fire trucks were getting ready to leave. The big red trucks raced away with both firemen and police officers hanging from the rear. Chuck continued to fire his rifle until the ambulance pulled up next to him.

  Darnell waved him into the front seat. Growling zombies were running across the parking lot, only fifty feet away, chasing an FBI agent who had been on the bridge. Chuck shot the closest Zs as the agent closed the distance. Emily opened the back door and the young man fell inside, breathing hard. McCain dove into the front passenger seat as the ambulance pulled away. A middle-aged African-American man, wearing an expensive suit, threw himself, growling and snarling, at the big vehicle. Darnell smashed into the infected man, knocking him down, and then running over him. The ambulance's tires crushed two more infected as they left the parking lot behind.

  As Chuck looked in the rear view mirror, he saw several groups of Zs bent over their uniformed victims, chewing on their throats, faces, or any other exposed skin. He hated leaving police officers to their fate but he had seen that a number of them had been able to escape. He thought of Luis' broken body lying on the asphalt and closed his eyes. This should not have happened, he thought. And, God help him, someone was going to be held accountable.

  #

  Northside Hospital, Atlanta, Saturday, 1200 hours

  FBI Agent Thomas Burns was taken to Northside Hospital. It wasn't the closest to the Braves Stadium but it was out of the path of the oncoming zombies, at least for the moment. Emily and Scotty had worked on Burns all the way to the hospital. He was still alive, but just barely.

  Both Jimmy and Andy had suffered concussions from the explosion of the suicide bomber. Fortunately for them, they had been on the right side of the helicopter, closest to the exit and had been shielded by the other officers, who had taken the brunt of the blast from the suicide vest. Jones also had a large laceration on his scalp from flying glass, but fifteen stitches took care of that.

  Scotty had a severe case of road rash from where his face had planted on the asphalt. A nurse cleaned his wounds and bandaged him up. Chuck was also suffering from a concussion from the explosion of the second suicide bomber. The ER staff found several pieces of shrapnel embedded in his body armor and embedded in him. McCain didn't realize until he got to the hospital that his right arm and left leg were really hurting him. A doctor anesthetized the area around the wounds and dug several small pieces of metal out. Chuck shuddered and thanked God that these bombers had not had access to the zombie virus or he would have turned into one of those creatures. After his wounds were cleansed and bandaged, Chuck went to check on his men.

  McCain could hear loud voices coming from the examination room that contained both Fleming and Jones. Jimmy was clearly not happy about something.

  "No, sir," Jimmy's voice boomed, "we don't need to stay for evaluation. You might want to turn on the news and look at what's going on. I'd suggest you guys start thinking about what you're going to do when the dead people show up at your door."

  Andy chimed in. "Yeah, thanks for patching us up and all, but we'll be heading out as soon as they finish plugging the holes in our boss."

  Chuck walked into the examining room and saw that Fleming and Jones were already up and getting dressed. The emergency room doctor saw him and said, "Sir, your men need to have an MRI and a CAT Scan, but they're insisting on leaving. They could have serious brain injuries."

  "Yeah, doc, they're like that. They don't listen to me much, either. And for what it's worth, I thought they were both brain damaged long before today. They can fight, though, so I keep 'em around. How's that FBI agent we brought in?"

  The doctor sighed. "He's in surgery now. I don't know. He's in bad shape. Mr. McCain, I saw your chart, as well. You need to have an MRI and a CAT Scan, too."

  "Ain't happening, Doc. We've got people to rescue and zombies to kill."

  "I had CNN on earlier," the doctor replied, "and they were saying that, despite some reports, local law enforcement had things under control in Atlanta, DC, and New York."

  "First mistake," said Chuck, "is to believe anything CNN says. We were there and I watched one of my men die. We couldn't even recover his body. Our helicopter and crew were lost. We saw a lot of police officers get killed.

  "When we unassed the area, there were at least two thousand Zs heading north on I-75 or getting off the exit over where we were across from the Braves Stadium. And, we heard from Atlanta PD, the same thing was going on all over the city. Like Jimmy said, you guys probably want to start thinking about an exit strategy."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Picking Up the Pieces

  District Heights, Maryland, Saturday, 1230 hours

  Special Agent Mir Turani could not have been any happier. His boss, Deputy Director of the Weapons of Mass Destruction Directorate, Charles E. Trimble, III, had loved his suggestion that this current zombie threat be handled only by federal and local law enforcement. They had worked on the wording and then sent it up the chain-of-command.

  Trimble was easy to manipulate and usually did whatever Turani suggested. It helped that his assistant knew all about Trimble's young girlfriend, Natalia. Mir even had some "insurance" pictures tucked away on a portable hard drive of Trimble in compromising positions. That bit of information kept the deputy director on a short leash. Trimble knew that if his wife found out about his infidelity, she would divorce him in a heartbeat.

  And, that would be a bad thing all around. Turani knew that their marriage was one of convenience. Mrs. Trimble came from money and a well-connected family in New York City. Her husband's political connections meant she was invited to all the right parties and social gatherings in Washington. Trimble enjoyed spending his wife's money, especially on young Natalia.

  A messy divorce would hurt Trimble's chances of running for office in a few years or possibly being named as the Attorney General. So, Turani would guide Trimble's decision-making and policy suggestions. The deputy director normally went along with whatever his assistant put in front of him.

  Their idea had somehow made its way to the White House and the President of the United States had swallowed it, hook, line, and sinker. The President had responded forcefully earlier in the year after seeing evidence of Iran's involvement in developing and spreading the zombie virus. The bio-terror attacks in the United States had led to war between the two nations.

  It had not been much of a war, though, as the US military had destroyed Iran's military and infrastructure, leaving Mir's home country a pile of rubble. The American people had supported the war and had no sympathy for the nation that had initiated zombie terror attacks on US soil and had killed thousands of their citizens. It would be years before Iran recovered from the destruction they had endured at the hands of the Americans.

  The Supreme Leader of Iran had severely underestimated the response of the American President. The previous administration had been weak and inept. The current President had shown himself to be decisive and willing to act, even when world opinion said America should respond with sanctions or even very limited military action.

  Instead, the President had ordered his generals, "Level the entire country. Do everything short of going nuclear to make sure that Iran never poses a threat again."

  Mir had watched the coverage of the short war on television and knew that his relatives in Tehran were probably dead. Insha Allah, he thought. God wills it.

  Now that the American President had destroyed the nation that had caused so much damage to the United States, he wanted to a
ssure the citizens that everything was getting back to normal. Federal and local law enforcement were winning the war against bio-terrorism and the zombie virus. The FBI had made some arrests and the CDC police had recently prevented a bio-terror terror attack near Georgia State University and had killed or arrested a number of terrorists involved in spreading the deadly virus.

  When the policy suggestion came across his desk not to use military forces or weapons on American soil, it sounded like a good idea. His advisors assured him, law enforcement officials had the zombie war well under control. And in reality, they had- until yesterday, that is. When the double bombings occurred in the three cities, the war quickly lost whatever ground law enforcement had previously attained.

  The number of infected was now in the tens of thousands and all three cities were in danger of being completely overrun. The mayor of Atlanta was aired briefly on CNN asking for the National Guard and other military help. He said that he had issued an unprecedented evacuation order to the people of Atlanta. The danger, however, was with zombies spreading quickly throughout the entire downtown area and beyond, evacuation was now almost impossible. The interview with the Atlanta mayor was cut short by 'Technical Difficulties.'

  New York City was encountering similar problems. There were reports of thousands of zombies wandering the streets of Manhattan and Brooklyn. In the densely packed city, the infected were multiplying exponentially. When Ali had blown himself up in front of 1 Police Plaza Path, NYPD headquarters, twelve police officers and nine civilians had been killed. The explosion had also blasted infected materials through shattered windows of surrounding buildings, into passing vehicles, and down the sidewalks infecting many more.

  The close proximity of the Brooklyn Bridge made it easy for the zombies to carry the virus into Brooklyn, Queens, and eventually, Long Island. The New York City Police Department had taken eighteen casualties in responding to the two explosions. Now, they were being cautious as they tried to develop a strategy to contain the quickly spreading virus.

  In DC, the FBI was working with the Secret Service and the Capitol Police evacuate elected officials. Because so many people had been infected in the initial explosions, the number of Zs continued to increase with every passing hour. Over a hundred zombies rushed the capitol building, killing and infecting police, staffers, and even a few congresspersons and senators. Because of his position as Trimble's assistant, Special Agent Turani had not been assigned to evacuation and rescue duty.

  The J. Edgar Hoover building, the FBI's headquarters, was only a few blocks from the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum where Hassan had blown himself up. The order had been given late Friday night to relocate to Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland. Mir lived in nearby District Heights so this was actually better for him. There was a mandatory meeting with the FBI Director on Monday morning at one of the auditoriums on the base.

  The question for Turani now, was 'What next?' He had passed much sensitive information on to Imam Ruhollah Ali Bukhari and other cell leaders using coded language on a Farsi internet bulletin board. So far, Mir had not seen anything to make him think that he was under suspicion. If anything, the politically correct bureau went out of their way not to offend their Muslim employees.

  For now, he decided, he would lay low and watch things unfold. The President would eventually realize that he had been given bad advice and would want to know where it came from. Heads would roll. Not Mir's, of course. He was only Charles Trimble, III's assistant. Trimble might be out of a job, though, and that would probably be the time when Turani would need to disappear.

  #

  Chuck's house, Northeast of Atlanta, Sunday morning, 0700 hours

  McCain sat on the edge of the bed. He had slept almost twelve hours. His wounds ached and his head throbbed. He walked into his bathroom, filled a glass with water, and swallowed four extra strength Tylenol.

  He did a quick search on his smart phone for the latest on the zombie crisis. The news was now reporting that over eight thousand infected were working their way out of Atlanta on all of the interstates, in every direction. Another several thousand were wandering around the streets of the city, attacking anyone foolish enough to venture outside.

  As McCain walked by his first guest room, he could hear Scotty snoring. Sorry, Jimmy, Chuck thought. That has to suck sharing a room with that chainsaw. The other guest room also served as his home office. Rogers and Estrada were sharing that bed. In the living room, McCain saw that Emily was still asleep on the couch, covered with a comforter. They had tried to get her to take one of the bedrooms but she wouldn't hear of it. Darnell was sleeping in Chuck's recliner, covered with his paramedic jacket.

  Andy and Eddie had both gone home, Eddie driving the Astro Van and Andy taking the Jetta. They were the only two married men on the team and both lived near Chuck. McCain had asked them to come back to his house at noon on Sunday so they could discuss their next moves as a team. Emily and Darnell had volunteered to go to the store for groceries and clothes for Scotty, Chris, and Hollywood, as well as themselves. Their apartments were all either in the city or in the path of the zombies.

  After they had arrived at his house the previous afternoon, Chuck had updated Admiral Williams. While everyone had taken showers yesterday afternoon, McCain sat on his deck and spoke to the CIA's Deputy Director for Operations, briefing him on everything that had happened since their last conversation. When he finished, there was a sigh from the other end of the phone.

  "I'm very sorry about Agent García. He sounded like a true warrior."

  "Yes, sir, he was," Chuck said softly.

  "And I'm sorry about the Blackhawk crew. Of course, they worked for us. They were good people."

  Jonathan Williams understood combat and what it meant to lose friends in battle. He had been a navy SEAL in Vietnam. On his second tour of duty, he had been wounded and forced out of the SEALs. He had chosen to stay in the navy but, even now, well into his seventies, he still had the mind of a warrior.

  "So, what are your orders now, sir?" Chuck asked.

  "Rest and recuperate for a couple of days. I'm thinking the best use of your team will be for rescue missions inside the infected areas. I'll work on getting another helicopter assigned to you. Shaun will call you Tuesday with further details."

  "I haven't spoken to Tu or Jay in DC. Are they ok?"

  Another sigh. "They lost two agents. KIA. They've all pulled back, out of the city, and are in the same situation that you're in. They'll be doing some rescue operations, also. The New York CDC office took the worst damage. We lost an entire team of four in Manhattan. They got overrun trying to get to the scene. Their SUV's were surrounded by zombies and they were all killed trying to fight their way out. Our second team there lost another agent went down in Brooklyn trying to rescue some kids trapped on a school bus."

  "I'm so sorry to hear that," said McCain.

  "Were you still thinking of bringing on another officer?" Williams asked.

  "I was. He was actually scheduled to report on Monday."

  "If you think he has what it takes, go ahead and bring him in. Use the company credit card to equip him and replace anything your team lost in the fight. Rent vehicles and talk with Dr. Martin at the CDC about the best place for you to set up shop. You and your officers are still in this fight and we have a long way to go."

  Chuck got a pot of coffee going and sat down at his kitchen table, thinking over the events of the past couple of days. The image of Luis going down was frozen in his mind. How many more lives would be lost before this war was over?

  The smell of the brewing coffee woke Emily up and she joined Chuck in the kitchen. They sat at the table sipping from their mugs. Even in her gray sweat pants and blue t-shirt, she was an attractive girl. It wasn't hard to see why Scotty had been drawn to her.

  "I'm really sorry about Luis," she said, not meeting his eyes. "There was just nothing I could do. There was no pulse and it looked like he'd already bled out."

  "I
know," Chuck answered. "It's not your fault. I appreciate you checking him. You're a brave girl, Emily."

  "Thanks, Chuck. I just wished I could've saved him."

  "Well, you did a great job working on Burns. You gave him a chance. Hopefully, the doctors were able to save him. So, what's next for you? Have you talked to your parents or any of your people at the ambulance service?"

  Emily nodded. "Mom and dad are fine. They live up I-75 near Rome. I spoke to them yesterday and they were going to leave this morning and head up to my brother's house in Tennessee. I called and left messages at the office but no one has returned my call. Our ambulance service is based off I-20, just west of the city, so I guess the Zs could have gotten there by now. My apartment's over there, too, but I don't guess I'll be going home anytime soon." Tears began to run down her face.

  "Plan on staying here as long as you need to. I just hope you don't mind being the only girl hanging out with us savages."

  She laughed and wiped her eyes. "Thanks, Chuck. I really appreciate that. You know Scotty really likes you. He also said you're the only guy to ever knock him out. He laughed about it," she said, shaking her head.

  Chuck smiled at that memory. "Scotty's one of the best that I've ever worked with. He's one of a kind."

  "He is that," she smiled. "He is that."

  "And," Chuck added, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial level, "he talks about you all the time. I think you're civilizing him."

  Emily felt herself blushing and took a drink of coffee.

  "I checked the news this morning," McCain said, changing the subject, "and as far as I can tell, we're far enough out of the city and far enough away from the interstate that we should be OK for a while. There's no doubt in my mind that they'll eventually come out here, too, but for the moment, we're clear."