Containment_A Zombie Novel

by B. A. Hippsley

  Eastman put his fingerto his lips and nodded his head towards the right hand corner

  of the barn. Both creatures now only feet away, Eastman peered into the unlit barn. The interior was large enough for about two pickups; enough room for him to manoeuvre around the things. He just hoped the barn was empty. He stepped forward and cautiously entered unknown territory.

  His eyes quickly adapted to the gloom and he could make out Ben’s tractor and beyond that was the hayloft entrance. There appeared to be no obvious second exits. Stacked right at the back of the barn was a small wall of hay bales. For his plan to work they’d have to get uncomfortably close to him. Too far and they’d grab him, too close and they’d definitely get him. The timing had to be perfect; there’d be no time for any mistakes.

  Allowing them to get in close, Eastman jumped onto the bales and in the same movement, jumped back onto the floor. The distraction complete, he dodged past the outstretched grasping hands. In a move that would’ve made his old football coach happy, Eastman sprinted toward the daylight. Suddenly his foot connected with something buried under the straw covered floor. In horror, Eastman saw the barn floor rushing up to meet him.

  With an impact that knocked the breath out of him, Eastman lay face down on the hard ground, stunned. After what seemed an eternity, he felt hands clawing at his boots and grasping at the legs of his pants.

  Rolling onto his back, Eastman kicked out with his right leg, catching the creature in the face. It flew backwards under the savage impact and when it sat up Eastman could see its jaw hanging down at one side. Just in time, Eastman saw the second creature about to fall onto him. Eastman brought his left leg to his chest and kicked out like a piston as the creature fell forward. He felt a sickening crunching feeling as the dead head’s rib cage crumpled. Leaping to his feet, Eastman bolted for the open door, stopping just long enough to retrieve his hat.

  “Anne, here I come!”

  As he exploded out of the gloom, Anne started to push the wooden door shut. He grasped the door and slammed it closed, while she slotted the bar into the heavy duty metal latch with a resounding crash. Anne grabbed his shoulders and pressed him close.

  “What took you so long?”

  Eastman raised his eyebrows and blew out a long sigh, holding up both hands in a mock surrender, then whipped his head around as the creatures began to pound on the door.

  “Is that going to hold them?”

  “That’s good timber. It’d take a truck to bust that open. C’mon let’s get back to town.”

  “Brad, where are Erin and Ben? I tried to get into the house but one of those guys attacked me and I ran for the barn.”

  “Guys? I don’t know what the hell those things are but they ain’t guys.”

  “I don’t know either, but until we know otherwise, they’re just sick.”

  Eastman took a long look at her. How could she think these were still people? Still, he must be as dumb as her since he’d gone along with it all. But that was just like Anne Lenski, always fixing to cure things. He shrugged his broad shoulders and gave a weary nod.

  “Ben and Erin are both safe at the hospital. Erin got bitten and so did Jehna Galway.”

  “And the others?”

  “I’ll tell you in the car.”

  “Brad, I want to know right now, what about the others?”

  “Yeah, okay. Ruby’s dead and Conrad’s missing. But the others are fine. Jill and Al got busted up a bit too, but I think they’re okay.”

  Eastman watched as her gaze shifted from him, into the distance. Her face turned to a puzzled expression as she pointed to something on the horizon. He also turned to follow her stare.

  “Is that...is that a…?”

  “Helicopter. Yep sure is.”

  In the clear blue sky a small dark helicopter was hovering just above the tree line in the distance, facing directly towards them. Although Eastman was no helicopter expert, he recognised the aircraft as the type State Troopers used for search and rescue operations. Underneath the nose he could clearly make out the orb that housed the thermal image camera. He wasn’t sure of the function of the other bumps and balls but sure as hell, this was no Sunday picnic chopper.

  “Can he see us from over there?”

  “He’s looking right at us. He can’t fail to from that distance.”

  Anne started to jump up and down waving her arms above her head. Eastman joined in by waving his hat. Maybe it wouldn’t do any harm to highlight their position. To his astonishment, the helicopter suddenly shot vertically into the air and disappeared over the horizon leaving the sky clear except for a flock of startled birds.

  “Brad, what the hell was that all about?”

  Eastman looked at her and shook his head. He’d stake his hat on the fact the chopper had seen them. It just had to have. If it was some kind of rescue team then he was sure they’d have orders to make contact. It gave him that feeling he always got in the gut when he just knew something was not right. There was a lot of odd stuff going down and he needed to get to the bottom of it. No matter that he was a cop; he hated mysteries.

  “Anne, I think it’s time we left.”

  ****

  Perched on a large rocky outcrop, Sarge scanned the area in front of him with his binoculars. Pine trees, boulders and lots of rough ground. But no kids, only the river as it coursed by. He’d trekked this region since his boyhood and there was always something to catch the eye, but not today. As he clambered down he adjusted his back-pack, then briskly walked off. Wasn’t it just typical of half-assed civilians to get it all wrong? The search grids that Benteen had drawn up were far too large, you could march a whole darn battalion between them. Where was Eastman when you needed him? He ought to have been leading the search or at least coordinating it but no, he’d gone off someplace. That left Firth as the C/O and what a clown he was. He’d probably already got himself lost or eaten by bears before he’d even found the kids.

  What was it with that guy? Why the Sam hell didn’t he guess where the kids would be? Since the flyboys had pulled out of Armstrong, the old listening post had been a magnet for kids; they got up to all sorts of antics. Kids did things and went places to get away from their parents.

  As he walked into the woods, Yardman’s wise crack still stung like a hornet. Yardman was the sort of guy that had done nothing and been nowhere but the honest truth was that half the lamebrains in town agreed with the bum. Of course none had the nuts to tell him face to face, but he’d heard the jibes: ‘here comes GI Joe’ or ‘it’s Soldier Boy’ and a hell of a lot worse.

  He shook his head; they just didn’t get it, none of them. Even now he was dressed in full combat order because it was appropriate for the job. He wore it everywhere, no additions or embellishments, just the dress code and what he was entitled to wear. He never tried to pass himself off as a ‘serving’ soldier and if anyone ever asked, he told them he was ‘US Army retired.’

  The uniform gave him a much needed purpose and a link to the military. He was never going to be a civilian. No sir! He needed to remind the town he still ‘had it’ and maybe that’s what he needed too? He wore the uniform because he was proud of his country and proud of the US Army. That was something those ‘numb nuts could never understand.

  They thought he had a bruised brain; that he’d been thrown out on a Section 8. Sure, after the war, he’d had problems – everybody does, but he’d worked with the shrinks, popped all those damn pink pills and listened to endless mumbo jumbo. Eventually, he’d been passed fit for duty, but combat was a thing of the past. Game over.

  Sarge stopped and took a drink from his canteen; he took the opportunity to quickly scan the immediate horizon. Damn kids! Of all the times to go AWOL they had to go and pick one of the hottest days this year. And it figured that brat Conrad just had to be involved -just like his Pa, a no good trouble-maker. Still, he was here to rescue, not to judge and the other kids seemed okay. Not that he was an expert on the matter; he’d never found the
time for kids. Yeah, he’d been married but he’d always been away on deployment some place or other. She’d run off with the cable guy. TV wasn’t the only thing that slime ball had plugged.

  So no kids, no wife and no job and here he was looking for a bunch of dumb kids. But at least he figured his motives were genuine, unlike others. It was election time and Firth wanted votes and this was one hell of a sure way to get them. Sarge wasn’t interested in getting credit for finding the kids; he just wanted to find them, and before Firth.

  A set of footprints suddenly caught his interest a few feet ahead in the soft ground near the river. He looked at the prints then crouched down for a closer inspection. There were a set of recent sneaker tracks but the most interesting of all were the bare footed prints. Who the hell would not wear footwear over this ground?

  The prints led alongside the river and into the undergrowth. As he followed the direction with his eyes he heard an unexpected noise to his front. The undergrowth exploded as a wide-eyed figure lurched at him, bloodied hands clutching at the air.

  ****

  Benteen was sitting at Eastman’s desk, his big arms folded on his equally powerful chest. He was studying the search grids on the map. It was a huge area to cover, difficult enough in normal times, when you had the manpower and air cover: they had nothing except good intentions. Mostly, everyone had been late at the checkpoints; they just hadn’t been able to cover the grids in the agreed times. What he didn’t want was for people to get lost and add to the situation. He needed to get out into the action, but with Brad away he was the only one left to run the show. Sitting this side of the big desk for a change gave him insight into how frustrated Brad must feel. There was a lot to be said for just following orders.

  He’d been out earlier and the streets were buzzing about with people. Folks had also gathered outside the town hall and the station house. Luckily the mood was calm, almost as if they were waiting for some kind of parade to roll on through. Benteen was still mad at Yardman for getting Sarge all fired up earlier; now he’d gone off on his own just to prove a point.

  Sarge would have been more use in town but on the other hand, at least he was out of Benteen’s hair for a while. There was too much going on for a place like Armstrong. With that Galway kid all messed up in the hospital and the possibility of Ruby Carson dead, it looked as if things couldn’t get any worse. Then there was a knock on the door; seconds later Clara walked in holding her pad. Her face was full of concern as she spoke.

  “Gerard, I got us a shopping list. I just had Jedrey and Eddy Joe on the radio; they’re with Mayor Firth and his party. They got a body but they can’t say if it’s the Carson girl. It’s in bits.”

  “Poor kid.”

  “That ain’t all. They found a camper van a couple of miles from where they are now, no bodies, but plenty of blood.”

  “Tell them boys I’m coming up. I don’t want them going off half-cocked and walking into anything. What else you got on that list?”

  “Jimmy Emmett reported seeing a helicopter near the Burke farm a while back and...”

  “Yeah sure, don’t tell me, ET was flying it.”

  “No, but Brad and Anne Lenski are up there remember? And Bill Merka reported some type of drone near the tower.”

  Things were getting stranger by the minute and he was stuck behind a desk. Then again, perhaps at last the outside had come to take a look at what was happening?

  “Clara, I gotta call the search off. There’s too darn much going on here. We need them folks back. Get the teams on the radio and tell ‘em to head back, pronto.”

  With the likelihood of more deaths at the camper, he wanted to get everyone back to town safely. If there was some kind of killer on the loose, town was the safest place.

  ****

  Sarge looked across at the wide-eyed figure sitting against the rock. Its eyes were fixed on something in the middle distance; Sarge had seen that look so many times before on people in combat, it was known as ‘the thousand yard stare.’ This boy was on the point of both nervous and physical exhaustion. It was clear he’d been to hell and back. However, what worried him the most was the blood encrusted rock the boy clutched in his right hand.

  Sarge recognised him as being the printer’s son, some kind of Jewish sounding name like, Goldberg or something. So he knew he’d found one of the missing kids. Problem was, where were the others? He looked at the blood-stained rock and started getting an uneasy feeling.

  “Hey son, I’m here to help you. I need to get us back to Armstrong for the medics to check you over. Can you understand me?”

  Since the kid’s dramatic appearance, Sarge had calmed him down and for the last ten minutes, he’d just sat there and said not one darn word. Something so traumatic had happened that the boy had all but shut down. Sarge was painfully aware of how that worked. He’d blanked the events in Syria immediately after his Hummer got hit. Sometimes the mind blocked things as protection. But they couldn’t hang around all day; he wanted to get them home.

  “Look boy, we gotta get moving. I don’t want to sit on my ass all day and you need checking over. But first I need you to drop that hunk of rock.”

  Sarge saw the boy’s eyes flicker as he let the rock slip from his bloody hand. Still watching the boy for any reaction, Sarge reached into his pocket for an empty chip packet, and carefully placed the rock in the bag. If the boy had done anything, Sarge wanted the rock for the cops to look at, besides he didn’t want any incidents on the way back.

  “Silver Star?”

  “Affirmative. That’s right boy.”

  Sarge pointed to the medal on his ribbon band.

  “Gramps won his in Vietnam.”

  “I got mine in Syria, along with a mess of other metal. I could’ve done without the last lot.”

  As the boy started to rise to his feet Sarge heard a commotion to his left, followed by a strange growling noise. The boy drew back, his face a mask of terror. Sarge didn’t know what was behind him but he knew it wasn’t going to be good. He spun around to confront whatever was there. He narrowed his eyes and his mouth opened slightly. He’d seen hundreds of guys looking like this one; the only difference was that they’d been in body bags.

  The guy’s lips had rotted away, leaving two rows of jagged, decayed teeth and fluid dribbled from the mouth as he moved towards them. Sarge noted that he was wearing some kind of hospital gown and the bare feet were worn to the bone. How the hell could somebody get to look that bad and not be in a box? As the apparition moved ever closer to Sarge, he heard the boy shout out.

  “Don’t let him touch you mister, they’re poisoned!”

  They? Sarge looked from the boy to the guy, then like a light switch he got it. This kid had come across whatever this guy was before. The dark thoughts Sarge had about what had happened to the other kids were unfounded. It was one of these guys the kid had whacked, not the other kids.

  “Hey kid, what’s with this punk?”

  “They killed Ruby!”

  For all he knew, this guy could have some kind of rabies but one thing was certain, Sarge wasn’t about to let this mush face get any closer. He only ever gave the one warning; Sarge deemed that more than enough.

  “Halt! Don’t come any closer.”

  Sarge was not remotely surprised when the nightmare just kept coming. He allowed a few steps, and then landed a hefty kick to the guy’s stomach, bowling him into a tree. Satisfied that the danger had been removed, Sarge dusted his gloved hands together and turned to face the boy.

  As he started to speak, he felt skeletal fingers grasp his right shoulder, then the boy screamed out a warning. Sarge broke free of the grip and brought his elbow crashing into the attacker’s chest. Wheeling around he saw the decomposing features of another one, inches away from him. Sarge connected a powerful upper-cut to his opponent’s jaw and his foe staggered back, showering broken teeth and part of his tongue into the air, before crashing to the rocky ground.

  Out of the corner of
his eye, Sarge detected movement to his left. The first of his attackers was now moving forward. The thing that struck Sarge the most was the injury to the chest; several ribs were poking out of the filthy gown. It was obvious the chest had caved in and yet he was still standing.

  Sarge grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him away. Sarge and the boy would have to break away and fast. However much he disliked the notion of leaving these things roaming free, if they remained then he would be forced to kill them out of self-defence. Since he’d no idea what was wrong with them, he had no intention of being saddled with murder.

  “Come on son, time we left this party.”

  “Marv. My name’s Marv Glitzman mister.”

  “Well okay then. Marv Glitzman, time we left this party.”

  Sarge looked at Marv and gave him a dry smile. This kid had guts and he was happy to have him on his squad. Whatever was wrong with those two creeps, it was pretty bad, but they damaged easy and moved real slow. Still, with a few miles left to town, this was by no means over.

  Chapter – Twelve

  Jimmy Emmett walked down Harris Street, watching the stunned faces of the passers by as he went. The news about Ruby Carson had hit the town hard. Although the search teams had returned not more than a quarter hour back, the news had gone through the town like wildfire. He’d overheard Billy Boy talking with some others about the RV and the Carson girl. Although he couldn’t recall where, or even who’d said it, he was pretty sure the girl had been cut up with a chainsaw.

  The other big news was that Sarge had brought back Marv Glitzman. Although Jimmy wasn’t a big fan of Sarge, the guy had done well. So with all this, Jimmy had already worked out the cause a while back. It was his considered opinion backed up with years of experience with conspiracy theories, the only people with the power and ability to shut down a whole town had to be Uncle Sam. He even knew where the air force base was located.

  Some weeks back, in the dead of night, he’d seen lights at the base and some kind of construction work going on. It was common knowledge that these old bases went down miles below the surface; the perfect place for their operation. Hidden away from everybody, they were conducting some sort of experiment on the town.