by JE Gurley
The numbers were staggering and she prayed she was wrong. Since WWII, the U.S. population had increased by about 2.5 million people. Now, that was all that remained. All the survivors would barely fill Houston. She did not know what future awaited them in San Diego, but for the sake of her team, she would cooperate. She could not let them die horribly and awaken as zombies. She would find a vaccine that prevented the disease, even if she had to forgo sleep. She wasn’t certain she could sleep anyway.
23
The Humvee made the treacherous journey from Yuma easier, but not less dangerous. Zombies proved no real threat and with the Humvee’s winch and a little sweat, they managed most obstacles and barricades blocking the roads. However, coming through the mountains of eastern California, they stumbled across a band of Hunters. It was not the Gray Man, just four men in a pickup truck. Vince spotted them first, parked in a strip mall parking lot with three prisoners, two men and a woman. They had chained one of the men to a lamp pole, betting on who would win as he fought off two hungry Rottweilers with a short stick. The man was obviously tiring and the hungry dogs were slipping past his weakening defenses and biting at his legs. Before they could stop him, Vince leaped from the slowly moving Humvee and raced toward the men, leaping over the guardrail highway and racing down the embankment. Using cars in the parking lot for cover, he approached to within fifty yards of the men.
Mace stopped the Humvee and glanced at Jeb. Without exchanging a word, they grabbed their weapons and followed him.
“I’m coming, too,” Renda called out and as she climbed out the door.
Mace stopped her. “You get behind the wheel and keep the motor running. If we run into trouble, come save our asses.”
Renda stared at Mace and for a moment, Jeb thought she would refuse, but she backed down. She had become an excellent driver and she knew how to fire the M60 as well as any of them, but her mood swings had become more frequent and today was not a good day.
“That man is going to get us killed one day,” Mace grumbled angrily as he watched Vince head into the parking lot, but Jeb knew he was only blowing off steam.
Vince saw them following and motioned for them to spread out around the men. Mace went left and Jeb went right, finding cover behind a low brick planter. When all three were in position, Vince fired first, killing one of the dogs as it savagely ripped into the exhausted man’s arm. Jeb shot the other one. Mace took out two of the Hunters with two quick, perfectly aimed shots. The other two reacted quickly, ignoring their fallen comrades and hid behind their truck.
Mace called out to them from the safety of his cover. “Release the prisoners and you can leave.”
Their reply was a burst of gunfire that stitched holes in the car that screened Mace. A few seconds later, one of them called out. “You from the man in gray? If you want to share, you can have the girl. We’ll take the two men. We’re not greedy, especially since we don’t have to share with Atkins and Ramirez anymore.”
“We’re not Hunters, you slimy bastards,” Vince replied. “Let them go or I’ll stake you out for Zombie bait.”
One of the men chuckled. “If you rush us, we’ll kill all three of them.”
For a few seconds, Jeb thought Vince might ignore their warning, but he swore loudly and sat down behind a car. The injured prisoner was down on the ground, barely moving. Jeb figured he would bleed to death if they delayed too long. The two men knew where Mace and Vince were, but he didn’t think they had seen him. He quickly surveyed his position and saw that if he moved carefully, he could make his way inside one of the nearby stores with a broken second-floor window facing the parking lot. From there, he had a clear shot down on the two Hunters. He motioned for Vince to remain where he was, and then pointed to himself and the window. Vince nodded.
Jeb hoped there were no zombies lurking in the buildings, but he suspected the Hunters knew the area well. They would not have been so relaxed if zombies were in the vicinity. Treading carefully over the broken glass littering the front of the store, he entered the building, a women’s clothing store. The escalator was not working. He climbed the steps and moved to the front of the building. Getting an inspired idea, he took one of the mannequins, a blonde woman wearing an evening gown, from a display and stood it in front of the window. The two men, blithely unaware of him, huddled behind their truck deciding their next move. Their two remaining prisoners sat together in the open about twenty paces away, easy targets if the men decided to carry out their threat.
Kneeling behind the upright mannequin and resting the barrel of his rifle on the window ledge thrust between the dummy’s legs, Jeb sighted in the farthest man with his scope. Taking a deep breath, he slowly squeezed the trigger on the Marlin 366, trying not to dwell on the fact that he was about to kill two human beings. That they deserved death, he was certain; that he should act as executioner was another matter entirely. However, there was no one else. He slowly exhaled and pulled the trigger. The rifle bucked into his shoulder as the Remington .35-caliber bullet struck the man in the left temple, spraying blood over the truck’s rear tire. He collapsed against the right rear, fender panel, smearing it with blood as he slid to the pavement.
As he expected, the second man followed the report of the rifle, spotted the dummy in the window and fired. The mannequin toppled under a fulisade of automatic gunfire, just as Jeb took his second shot, hitting the man squarely in the chest. The Hunter had just enough time to stare at the window with a surprised expression before keeling over dead. Jeb stood and waved to his two companions.
Mace rifled through one of the dead men’s pockets and found the key to the padlock for the chains, while Vince went to the man fighting the dogs and took his pulse.
“He’s dead,” he said. “He lost too much blood.”
Mace walked over and released the man’s shackles, then folded the dead man’s hands over his chest. The other two prisoners were bruised, beaten and half-starved. The woman had been raped repeatedly and was in a state of shock, but happy for her freedom.
“Are you from around here?” Jeb asked. Given time, he could have helped the woman recover from her ordeal, but time was one thing they did not have. She would have to rely on others to her.
The man nodded. “We live in a commune about five miles up in the mountains with a few others. It was our time to look for supplies. These men captured us. Jason,” he looked at the dead man, “tried to strangle one of them with his chain. They decided to get even.”
Renda drove up in the Humvee, saw the woman, guessed what had happened and went to her. Jeb was glad the two former munies had others to whom they could turn. He didn’t want to leave them on their own, but in good conscience couldn’t include them in their dangerous task. Mace brought water and freeze-dried food packs for the two, as well as stacking up the four Hunter’s weapons and ammunition. The man saw what Mace was doing and said, “We’re a religious commune. We don’t believe in harming others.”
Mace pointed his rifle at the woman and pulled back the bolt. “Would you try and stop me from killing her?”
The man’s face wrenched into a mask of horror. “Of course.”
“Would you kill me to stop me?”
The man looked at the woman, who was oblivious to the conversation. He nodded and said, “Yes.”
“Then take the weapons. You won’t survive long without them. You may have to hunt wild game for food.”
“We don’t eat meat.”
“Then you’re kind of worthless.” Mace pointed his gun at him. “Maybe I should just kill you both and end your suffering. At least, I can keep a zombie or two lean by keeping you out of the food chain.”
The man cringed.
Jeb stepped forward. “Mace,” he said softly.
Mace sneered at the man. “I’ll let you live because you’ve still got time to learn. There’s only one religion now,” he barked, “survival. You had better learn to eat meat, bugs, and rotten vegetables and kill zombies and men who try to kill you. O
therwise, you’re not worth the air you breathe.”
Mace stalked off. Jeb followed. “You were kind of harsh on him.”
“He deserved it. There’s no place for people like him. In times like these, you have to make hard decisions. I’m not sure he can make them.” He looked at Jeb. “You made one back there.”
Jeb winced. “I didn’t like it.”
“Did you think I would have shot the woman to prove a point?”
“Would you?”
Mace smiled. “You’ll never know.”
Renda came back with the woman. The man held her in his arms while she wept. “I think she’ll be okay. She’s tough.”
“Like you,” Mace added, as he reached out stroked her cheek. She jerked back at first; then leaned in to allow him to touch her. “They can take the truck. We need to leave before we attract attention we don’t want.”
Vince walked up holding a paper in his hand. “Look what I found. It’s a map of San Diego with a circle around the naval air station. I also found a ledger book. It seems our friends have been busy. They’ve delivered twenty-five people to someone named the Captain over the last two months. Name sound familiar?” He glanced at one of the bodies. “I wish I could interrogate one of them.”
“You should have thought of that earlier,” Mace said.
“Oh, well,” Vince replied, shrugging his shoulders. “They look so peaceful. Why don’t we just leave them here?”
Mace and Vince helped the man place their dead friend into the back of the truck. “Thank you for saving us,” he said as he got in on the driver’s side. He looked out at Mace. “We’ll remember.”
Mace closed the door. “See that you do,” he warned.
They watched as the two drove away. Jeb hoped they made it back to their commune. After they disappeared, Vince turned to him with a big grin on his face. “I thought that was you they shot in that evening dress.”
“It wasn’t my size.”
“Nice trick.”
“Does the store have any jeans and boots?” Renda asked.
“I wasn’t shopping,” Jeb replied.
“I could use some new clothes,” she mumbled and headed toward the store.
Mace shook his head at her odd behavior. “We might as well eat something. She dearly loves to shop.”
* * * *
The others were asleep as Jeb sat on a blanket spread on the grass in the chilly, early morning hours watching the helicopter fly overhead toward the naval air station in San Diego. The station was the only source of lights in the entire blackened city. Since arriving the day before, they had sat atop Cowles Mountain, the highest point in San Diego, and watched helicopters and planes coming and going from the station, a hive of activity in a deserted, darkened city. A few naval ships anchored in safety just off the island instead of the naval base across the bay where dozens of ships bore the marks of fires and destruction. Two large warships listed to one side, nearly sunk.
Jeb understood why the military had chosen the station as their base of operations. The San Diego Naval Air Station sat on the tip of Coronado Peninsula in the middle of San Diego Bay. Only two roads entered the island – the bridge from San Diego to the east and the highway along the peninsula from the south, both easily barricaded against zombies. Vince had assured them that if Karen were anywhere, it would be there. He hoped Vince was right.
Behind him, dawn bloomed over a land that had seen many sunrises, but now few eyes remained to observe this simple act of wonder and beauty. Because of the proximity of the San Diego Airport, FAA restrictions kept downtown buildings under 500 feet in height, but as the first golden rays swept over the city, the Manchester Grand Hyatt, the Electra, One America Plaza – it looked like a fairyland castle beside the ocean. Then, the sun revealed telltale signs of the city’s destruction. Many of the buildings had gaping holes in their sides. Some had fallen against neighboring buildings like tired guards or collapsed into splinters of twisted steel bone protruding through folds of brick and mortar flesh. Bomb craters stitched obscene patterns of deaths in the city streets. From Imperial Bay to Mission Bay, from La Mesa to Point Loma, the city resembled WWII Dresden, a forest of blackened tree stumps, tumbled masonry, jagged walls and scorched earth. Balboa Park, once the cultural center of the city, was gone. The San Diego Airport was gone. Nothing of it remained, but burned out jets and cratered runways.
The city was not without its citizens, however. Through his binoculars, Jeb watched thousands of zombies pouring from their nighttime lairs inside bombed out buildings and spilling into the city in search of prey. Thousands lined the streets along the entrances to the naval air station attracted by the rumble of the helicopter approaching the island. The morning silence erupted in the staccato chattering of machine guns. Soon, even those fell silent. Little more than animals, the zombies connected the sound with death, and fell back to eye the island’s inhabitants with a growing hunger. Fights broke out among the zombies and many of the weakest became breakfast for their fellow creatures.
Jeb heard stirring behind him and saw Mace walking in his direction.
“Did you get any sleep?” he asked as he stopped, unzipped his pants and urinated on a bush.
Jeb shook his head. So near, yet still so far away from his wife, he could not sleep. “I’ve been watching.”
“I heard the helicopter. That’s what woke me. Anything interesting?”
In reply, Jeb handed Mace the glasses. After a few minutes, he let out a soft, low whistle. “How are we going to get through that?”
Jeb sighed. He had been asking himself the same question all night. “Well, we know they’re less active in the early morning hours, say two am until just before dawn. We might be able to make it to the bridge.” He saw Mace’s dubious glance. “Or we could try for a marina and find a boat.”
“They might just blow us out of the water.”
“Oh, I think they might be eager for any munies that might show up.” He smiled. “After all, we are a rare commodity.”
Mace lowered the glasses and said, “You have a plan, don’t you?”
With a shrug of his shoulders, Jeb revealed just how much confidence he had in his idea. “I was thinking maybe we could convince our friend Vinny to reenlist.”
“And offer us up as a housewarming gift,” Mace added. “It might work, if we’re lucky, if we can get there and if they don’t simply slice our throats and drain our bodies on the spot.”
“There is that possibility,” Jeb admitted; then paused. “I’m not asking you to come. I can go alone, or if Vinny doesn’t agree, I’ll swim over.”
Mace turned as Renda and Vince crawled out of the Humvee. Renda stretched as she yawned. “Let’s discuss it over breakfast and coffee.”
* * * *
For the sake of her friends, Erin smiled at the commanding officer of the naval air station, as he greeted their helicopter upon its arrival. It felt strange for her to think of her companions as friends. Once, they had simply been colleagues, people with whom she worked. Now, after months of close-quarter living and all they had been through together, they were friends, if not family. The man, wearing two stars on the shoulder of his immaculate uniform, was short and stocky, but not fat. A cigar protruded from the corner of his mouth. He blew out a cloud of smoke and waited for it to clear before speaking.
“Hello, Dr. Kostner. My name is General Edmund Perry. Welcome to the Haven. I’m certain you and your team are anxious to resume your work as quickly as possible.” His brusque manner left little doubt as to the penalty for refusal. “I’m sure Captain Hurley has apprised you of the situation here.”
The general ignored or did not notice Erin’s quick withering glance at Hurley, but the captain did. On the trip from Colorado, his description of the goal of the Haven had made her shudder. She bit down on her anger.
“Yes, he did. I’m amazed at the progress you’ve made.”
“Yes, yes. The new vaccine lasts several months, but each drop is precious.
You received your dose, I assume.”
The veiled threat of no further doses did not escape her. “Yes, we did.” She looked around. “I heard gunfire as we came in.”
The general laughed. “Our neighbors are nosey and eager to make our acquaintance, but the bridges are covered by withering machine gun crossfire. None of them ever manages to get close enough to present a problem.” He chuckled. “And of course, zoms can’t swim.”
“Not yet,” she replied.
The general shot a cold, hard glare in her direction. She felt Samuels nudge her in her back.
“Well… er… I’m sure the captain will assign you quarters, acquaint you with the rules and show you to the labs. Captain.”
“This way,” Hurley said, leading the way. The general whispered quietly in the captain’s ear, broke off from the group, and headed for the command center.
Samuels, who had said nothing to the general, pointed south and said, “I noticed several neighborhoods on the island. Where are the people?”
“The Coronado peninsula,” Hurley pronounced, emphasizing the word, “like most of the country, Mr. Samuels, was lost during the plague. We came close to losing the naval station as well, but held out, slowly wiping out the zombie population and securing the station. The Naval Supply Center on the north end of the peninsula is a nuclear warehouse. The authorities deemed it too valuable to lose control. Several nuclear sites, dams and reactors across the country have become centers from which we can rebuild the country. We must remain diligent. Other countries might attempt to exploit our weakness.”
