Evacuation - 02

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Evacuation - 02 Page 7

by Phillip Tomasso


  “I understand, sir.”

  I felt all Secret Service-like; radio buds in my ears, a button to depress for speaking into the cuff. Kinda cool.

  “Emergency transmissions only,” the sergeant reiterated. “And you, Corporal, you understand everything I’ve said?”

  “Clearly, sir.”

  “Okay. We’re going to split up into two search parties. Lieutenant Marfione, you’re going to take McKinney and Rivera. Chatterton, you’re going to come with Private First Class Spade and me.”

  Vitale used our last names, symbolized to me that we’re together, a team.

  “Headshots people,” Vitale said. “Be smart about your resources. If you can stab ‘em without getting bitten, do it. Saves ammo and is quieter. These bastards are drawn to noise. And McKinney, Rivera, you do whatever Marf tells you to do without question. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” we said.

  “We don’t have much to go on. We’re assuming Barron is injured at best. The three of them might be hobbling around inside the compound. Look at who you are shooting before you shoot them. Not gonna have minutes, or even seconds to contemplate what to do. Split decisions, okay? Might be Palmeri, but now she’s got lifeless fucking eyes, and she is drooling black blood all over her uniform. Might think she was a cool soldier, but now she’s a zombie. What do we do then, Spade?” Vitale said.

  “Headshot.”

  Vitale clapped his hands together. “Bingo. Headshot. However, if she is just covered in blood and guts from fighting zombies, then we want to try our best not to blow her fucking brains out. Clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. It sounded comical, like a joke. This was Robin Williams improving a speech to troops. Might have come across better had he started with a big, Gooooood morning, Apocalypse! At the very least, a Na-nu na-nu.

  Sorry. Wasn’t liking it. Vitale and Keel, our leaders, were losing it. Out of control. I didn’t know if it was nervous breakdowns, if they’d been exposed to other chemical agents, or what. Their…behavior was obscure and uncomforting.

  Dave stared at me. He agreed. Was in his eyes. We’d have to have each other’s backs. Chatterton looked our way. No doubt. The three of us saw a problem. If I wasn’t reading the signs wrong, Marf also felt the same. Trust was thin in these . . . platoons. Getting thinner by the second.

  Spade? Spencer? They acted gung-ho for Vitale. Didn’t mean they agreed with or were against anything unfolding, just I hadn’t seen anything to indicate one side was preferred over the other. Except Spencer was ready to shoot a Coast Guard Captain, and Spade was ready to explode the brains of a fellow soldier on a split-second guess.

  Other than that…

  # # #

  I did not like leaving my kids on the boat. It was the very last thing I wanted to do, but there didn’t seem to be much choice. People were in trouble. They’d saved us. My kids were safer with the vessel. I had every intention of returning.

  Clouds back lit by moonlight looked iridescent in the sky. When they passed over the moon, we were plunged into darkness, but they passed quickly. The fog seemed to be settling some, too. It stayed low around our calves and as we walked, it swirled away and returned.

  Staying low, we walked several hundred yards away from the ship. I saw chain link fence and a tall wooden structure at the corner.

  “Watch tower,” Marf said. “The entrance to the camp should be on the north side.”

  Our breath plumed from our mouths with each quick and shallow breath then fell behind us. It reminded me of puffs emitted from old train engines. Felt more like a wolf out on a winter night. We resembled a pack; crouched and hunting.

  “Once we get in, Marf, you three go right. West. We’ll go east. Do a perimeter check. Listen for anything. Then we’ll start clearing the apartments, working our way to the center. Easiest thing is going to be following Palmeri, Pettenski and Saylor’s footprints. Mud’s good for something,” Vitale said.

  We followed in a row. All the rain softened the earth; wet the dirt. My dress shoes were shit in this mud. The goo gathered on the soles. I walked carefully, afraid I might lose one or worse, both. Cash was more of a gamer than I was. He liked his war games best. I’d played with him more than once. Once would have been enough. While he controlled his soldier with ease, mine always seemed stuck in one place, spinning in circles with the weapon aimed at either the sky or the ground. Can’t imagine playing a game would help now, but it did feel eerily similar. I was out of my element.

  Through the fence, I could see the apartments. They were not big, but long. I saw no signs of life. I wondered how many people were supposed to be here, uninfected, military and medical.

  Vitale’s words spun around in my head while we walked. I understood the basics. Testing the uninfected for cures. Can’t imagine the entire population gone, walking dead. The idea was surreal. Pockets of uninfected left? Pockets. The idea overwhelmed, depressed and I needed to block it off, file it away, and worry about it later.

  We rounded a corner by the second watchtower. The fence seemed to go on forever, disappearing into darkness. We had come upon the entrance to the camp soon, had to. I looked up; saw the bottom barrel rolls of barbed wire. I’d thought it early, that the place felt like a prison. Now it seemed like we were about to break into one.

  Best guess, something got in or was already infected on the inside. Hated guessing, but was all that made sense. Still -- where was everyone?

  This brought me back to my first question. How many people had been here to begin with, before we arrived?

  Chapter Twelve

  0108 hours

  The front gate was wide open. I don’t know what I expected. I thought it might be off hinges, or a cut chain with a smashed padlock disassembled on the ground. No, there was none of that. The gate was just open.

  “Okay,” Vitale said. “Footprints look fresh. Split in three different directions. Looks like they separated. First mistake. I find them; I’ve got some ass-whipping to dish out.”

  No one laughed.

  “What about going straight? One of them went straight,” Dave said.

  “Perimeter first,” Vitale said.

  “Sir, how many people were here? I mean, overall,” I said.

  “Keel has more intel than I’d been given, but he said seventy-ish. Around fifty residents. Medical and military personnel were at twenty. Makes it some seventy people here. We stick to the plan. Marf, west. We’re going east.” Vitale waved his arm. Chatterton and Spade followed.

  “We stay close,” Marf said. “I’ll take point. Dave, and then Chase, you be the eyes in the back of our heads. We’re not going to go fast. We’re going to stay close to the fence. Walk along it.”

  “Didn’t we just do that, but from on the other side?” Dave said.

  “We did and we’re doing it again. This time, we are looking around the actual compound. Out there, we weren’t focused on the inside. Only on getting to the gate,” he said.

  Again, we crouched, moved along the fence.

  The apartments looked crudely constructed with wood frames and a few windows. Then the clouds passed over the moon. Darkness fell over us like a blanket being dropped over our heads. I couldn’t even see my breath.

  I saw a beam of light. Marf must have had a flashlight. Of course he did. These guys were better than boy scouts were. Trained to be prepared. It worked for him, up in front. Back here, all I could see was the thin beam of white light. He kept it aimed down. The light was like a laser, precise and contained. It wouldn’t necessarily attract unwanted attention.

  I kept looking behind me.

  Might not be able to see my breath, but I could sure as shit hear my breathing. It was fast and heavy. I couldn’t figure out how we would be able to find much of anything in such complete darkness. I assumed Marf used his small light to follow the tracks. Aside from the tracks, we had nothing else to go on.

  If there wasn’t Marf’s light and the fence to assist, I’d be lost and stumb
ling blind. It already felt like a dream, a nightmare, with my feet sticking in the mud, the darkness and the sense that I’d never get where we needed to go. If I start hearing chh-chh-chh-ha-ha-ha, I would not be surprised, because part of me expected it. My imagination flared and it was getting the better of me. I’d wanted to help find the lost soldiers, but couldn’t help regretting it now. I wanted to be back on the boat, back with my kids and Allison. I might be surrounded by the military, but I no longer felt safe. They knew little more than I did. Only real difference was training and weapons. They had them; I did not.

  The clouds passed. The moon was out.

  There was a building just to our left. It was set out from the rest of the apartments. I tried to remember the layout that had been explained. Thinking it is the military barracks. Place where the soldiers on site slept.

  I saw Marf’s fist shoot up, so we stopped. I looked left, right and behind us. The silence unnerved me. I didn’t hear crickets. Nothing. I couldn’t hear the other group either. I wondered how they were doing.

  Dave turned around. “We’re going to clear the barracks.”

  “What about finishing the search of the perimeter?”

  Dave shrugged.

  Marf ran toward the wood steps that led to the front door. He waved us over.

  “We’re going in. Look around. Might be some extra weapons. We’ll make a note of inventory, okay? Right now, we have enough to carry. We don’t want to be weighed down, so we’re just looking, but not taking stuff. Not now,” Marf said.

  “We’re shooting though, right?” Dave said.

  “We’re not shooting unless we have to, understand?”

  “I’m nervous,” Dave said.

  “It’s okay. It’s natural. If it makes you feel any better, I am, too. Very. My heart has gotta be going twice as fast as it should,” Marf said. “We’ll go on three. I’m going in first. Dave, you follow me. Chase, you stand guard. We can’t risk all of us going in. Got it?”

  We nodded.

  Marf counted on his fingers. He climbed the three steps, and then reached for the door handle. It was a lever knob. He pushed down on it slowly.

  Clouds floated over the moon, gradually becoming darker and darker. Dave went up the steps next. I put my back to the steps, leveled my weapon and swept it left and right. Fucking zombie wasn’t sneaking up on me. No one was.

  Darkness consumed everything once again.

  I heard the door open. The latch releasing sounded like an M-80 exploding.

  Gunshots rang out.

  “What the fuck was that?” Dave said.

  I dropped to a knee and aimed my weapon toward the sound to the right. No, it had come from the left. Son of a bitch if I could tell from where it came.

  “Chase?” Dave said.

  “I don’t see anything. Nothing,” I said. I think I was whispering. Felt as if I yelled. I couldn’t tell.

  The next shots came from inside the barracks behind me.

  “Chase!” Dave said. No doubt, he’d yelled.

  I got up, spun around, leapt up and passed all three steps.

  “One down,” Marf said. “I got one.”

  He used his flashlight to play it over the room. There were no walls. Roughly ten cots. Footlockers. Two doors at the opposite end of the boxy room.

  Someone was dead. The body was splayed in the middle of the room on the slatted wood floors. Marf went down, shining his light under the beds. “Chase, you’re supposed to be outside.”

  “I heard the shots,” I said.

  “I fired once,” he said. “That first shot was from the other side of the camp. Must be Vitale’s group.”

  “Should we go help them?” Dave said.

  “We won’t. And they heard our shot and won’t be coming to help us, either,” he said. He got to his feet, approached the dead person.

  The body was face down. The back of the head displayed a large hole. Brain matter and blood flowed down the neck. Not a good sign. Not good at all.

  “He’s bleeding,” Dave said.

  “Shit,” Marf said. “He came right at me.”

  Using a foot, Marf rolled the person over. The bullet hole was squarely centered on the guy’s forehead. Could be military. The crew cut was hint, if you ask me. It was too dark to see the clothing. Marf only shone the light on the guy’s head. I didn’t see dark black veins, and although his eyes were closed, I suspected he hadn’t been a zombie.

  “Shit,” Marf said again. He knelt by the body, pulled dog tags out from under the white t-shirt. He held them in his palm and looked at them for a long time. “Soldier must have been hiding. Heard us come in.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be hidden and just shoot at you, or something,” Dave said. “I mean, why come at you?”

  “Why come at me,” Marf said out loud. He tucked the dog tags into his breast pocket and leaned forward. He used a thumb and finger to part one of the closed eyelids with his light a foot from the dead guy’s face.

  “Awe, shit,” Marf said.

  The milky eyes confirmed it. Zombie. Walking dead military guy. Marf hadn’t killed someone hiding, waiting to be rescued. He’d taken out a monster. “Must have recently turned,” I said.

  “Must have.” Marf stood. “You two, go back out front. Watch the door. I’m going to check the back rooms.”

  I wanted out of the barracks anyway, so I left. Dave was on my heels. We went down the steps. “Check that side of the building. I’ll check by the other, and along the fence.”

  “I really can’t see anything out here,” he said.

  “Just check,” I said.

  The gunshots had to have been heard back at the boat. I didn’t want my kids scared. I didn’t want them worrying that something bad might have happened to their father. Allison had them; she’d comfort them.

  I looked along the fence best I could. Maybe four feet between it and the barracks. Nothing seemed to be moving. Not toward me, not in the opposite direction. Pretty sure it was clear.

  “Nothing,” Dave said.

  I jumped. “You scared the fuck out of me.”

  “Sorry. Nothing on my side,” he said.

  “Same here. Think we’re okay.”

  Marf came out of the barracks. He stood on the top step. “This one’s empty. Now,” he said, “let’s finish this perimeter check.”

  More gunshots echoed off the nothingness of the ghost camp. They came from everywhere. Then stopped. More followed. I heard someone yelling. Could not identify the voice. Not even if it was male or female.

  “I wanna say fuck the perimeter,” Marf said. “That ain’t just a shot to put down a zombie. They’re fighting.”

  “So let’s go,” Dave said.

  It was so dark. I didn’t want to run, stumbling through the camp. There were too many structures to run past. Anything could be behind any one of them.

  “Same as before. Stay close. Follow me,” Marf said.

  We didn’t run, but we moved fast, staying low and close.

  Thoughts passed through my mind. I hated them, but there was no way to shut it off. I wish I could.

  Some seventy people had been here at the camp. Place looked deserted. Wasn’t, obviously, but I’d be shocked to find seventy people here. Gates were open when we arrived. Something could have gotten in. Spread the infection. More than likely, the infection was already here. People gradually turned until the scales tipped. It probably happened fast.

  The gates were open.

  Uninfected might have escaped. I’d wager many had and were probably off hiding in the woods around the state park. Maybe they snatched boats from slips at the dock. When we pulled up, I don’t recall seeing a single one there.

  The diseased might have escaped, as well and then went after the uninfected. They might have fled to the woods and they were out there in the park hunting for food right now.

  The Coast Guard personnel were armed. Despite a direct order to kill Captain Keel, Spencer stood guard like a centurion.

/>   It would be foolish to think there weren’t zombies in the area. I never disillusioned myself that way. The idea of seventy zombies roaming beyond the fence seemed worse for my family, more dangerous even than my searching within.

  I wanted to get back to the ship. Needed to.

  “Keep up,” Dave said.

  “I’m right behind you,” I said. I was close. In fact, I was practically up his ass, as my father used to say.

  We passed apartment buildings. They perfectly lined either side. After four sets, we stopped. Marf stood and pressed his back against one building. Dave and I followed suit.

  “Main yard is over there. I see one large structure. Should be two smaller ones on either side and just in front of the main one,” he said.

  “What are they?” Dave said.

  “The big one is the M.A.S.H. facility used for medical testing, sick bay, and that kind of thing. Mess halls will be the other two. And if I saw it right, the stage is on our side,” he said.

  There hadn’t been a single gunshot or scream since we’d started running toward the sounds.

  Marf used the radio. Talked into his sleeve. “Sergeant? Sergeant?” I heard his voice in the bud in my ear.

  “Go ahead, Lieutenant. Over.”

  “The shots. You guys okay? Over.”

  “Back barracks. Came in to find a handful of zombies. Fast ones. Got the drop on us, so to speak. Chatterton got hurt. Not bit. We’re okay. Over.”

  “Shit,” Marf said. It wasn’t into the radio. “We’re going to have to get back to our spot.” He held his cuff up to his mouth. “Okay, sir. Over and out.”

  We started back the way we had come.

  We moved slowly, checking around corners.

  Fast zombies were locked away in one of the military barracks. That was a good sign. Someone had to have lured them in and locked them inside. Vitale had disposed of them. Nice.

  The moan came from behind me. Loud. Low. A grumble into an agonizing cry.

  “Down,” Marf said.

  I dropped and splattered into mud.

 

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