Cindy came back, carrying a large kettle pot full of water. She placed it down by Helen and walked toward the front door. “I’ll go see if I can help outside.”
Frankie came down and handed Helen some towels, who placed them in the kettle to soak in cold water. She took one out and placed it across Christina’s forehead, then reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a rough sponge and a brown bottle of liquid.
“John and…you,” she pointed to Sims, “I need you both to hold her down. John, come around the front and place your hands on her shoulders.”
John did.
“And you hold her legs down by the ankles.”
Sims placed his two large hands around Christina’s ankles and pushed down with as little pressure as possible. “What are you going to do? Or why do we need to hold her down?”
“I need to clean this wound as much as possible. It’s a bite, and it looks deep. A lot of tissue damage. I need to clean it before we treat it to stave off the infection. And this may hurt a bit, so if she’s at all aware of what’s going on, she’s going to jump because of the pain. Last thing I want is this wound thrashing around the place and touching any of us.”
“Roger that.” Sims pushed down harder and turned his head away.
John did the same.
“Here we go…” Helen poured some iodine onto the sponge and then poured some onto the wound, giving it an orange-dyed look. She brought the brush down and started scrubbing up and down the wound, lightly at first, but then her strokes started increasing in speed and intensity. “My god…” Helen stopped and pulled up the sponge. It was caked with a layer of dead flesh. The wound now took on a darker gray and brown color. “I’ve never seen this before.”
John had looked down, as had Sims, who said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Suck it up! If I can do this, so can you,” John said.
“You’re not by the smell. I am. We can switch if you want?” Sims stared back at John.
John looked down at Christina’s forehead. Her pale translucent skin was starting to develop bluish-green streaks. They had started from her torso and were working their way up, like rivulets of water down a wall, her veins carrying the infection.
He remembered the face of the man who had attacked him at the park. The pale color of the skin mottled with blue veins was unforgettable. How long had it been for him before he became infected?
John didn’t want to take any chances.
“Helen. Stop.” Helen ignored him. “Helen!” She stopped and looked up. “We need to stop!” John let go of Christina’s shoulders and stood up.
“John, why are we stopping?”
“I’ve seen this before. It’s too late for her.” To Sims, he said, “We need to get her out of here. She’s going to turn any second.”
“Roger that.” Sims grabbed her by the ankles and John bent down and wrapped his arms under Christina’s shoulders and lifted. Christina started to thrash around, making it difficult for John and Sims to carry her out.
Helen hurried to the kitchen, carrying the kettle with the sponge and towel inside of it.
Christina began taking in more rapid breaths and making deep guttural sounds, her movements becoming more violent.
“Oh hells, no!” Sims yelled.
He started sprinting backwards, John trying to match his speed, as they went barreling toward the front door. Cindy was standing outside with the front door open to allow them through without having to stop. They made it down the porch steps and started running toward the front yard and the wooded area.
“The heck’s going on, ya’ll?” Boogie asked from the porch. John ignored him.
John and Sims reached the tree line and stopped. Christina’s eyes opened and looked up at John. They were bloodshot and dilated. She let out a deep primal scream and started thrashing around, clawing, trying to get at John.
Sims was having problems holding onto her legs.
“Drop her!” John yelled. Sims did and Christina landed heel first but then stood up, facing the tree line. John followed Sims to the house and felt around for his pistol but realized it was still in the Scout.
“Jesus, you just dropped her! She’s not a bag of trash!” Kat had come running over, but was pushed back by Sims who said, “Kat, trust me.”
John and Sims reached the house with Morgan passing them as he walked toward Christina. John turned and watched Morgan reach down to his thigh holster and pull out his pistol. Without breaking stride, he brought his pistol up and pointed it at Christina’s head.
“Hey,” Morgan said.
Christina turned around, focused on Morgan and let out a scream. She went to lunge at him but her momentum was stopped with a gunshot to the forehead, spreading blood and bone out into the trees. Her body dropped with a sickening thud.
“No! You animal! What the hell is wrong with you?” Kat was crying and yelling.
“Jesus Christ. How high am I right now?” Frankie said.
Morgan walked back toward the house, ignoring Kat, who was being held back by Russell.
“What kind of person are you? Where are your damned morals?” Kat screamed.
Morgan passed John and went inside. “Fuck your morals.”
* * *
John felt that the situation had spiraled out of control after Morgan shot Christina. Everyone was inside Frankie’s house, and, while nobody spoke, the tension was thick in the air and emotions were running high. He wanted to talk with everyone about what the next steps were because one, it needed to happen and two, he wanted everyone to focus on something else.
“Okay, people, listen up.” Everyone turned their focus to John. He continued, “I think we all know that our situation is much different than it was just a few days ago. Emotions are high, some of us are scared and none of us know what to expect from here on out.” To Kat, he said, “Kat, I’m sorry about Christina, but what Morgan did was necessary.”
“He didn’t have to do it so coldly, though!” Kat said through tears.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Morgan replied.
“You’re a psycho – ”
“Enough!” John yelled. “What’s done is done. Can’t change it. Now, from here on out, we’re all going to have to pitch in if we plan on surviving whatever the hell this is. First things first.” He turned to Helen and asked, “Do we have room for our new guests?” Helen said she did, so he continued, “Good. Secondly, security. Fortunately, our location is naturally barricaded in. We’ve got Mount Si to our north, which is a difficult climb for most people, and the Snoqualmie River just south of my place. The only way across that river, without having to go deep into the mountains, is over the bridge, which we have partially blocked.” To Russell, he said, “I notice you and Reggie – ”
“Sims,” Sims said, interrupting. “Best to just call me Sims.”
John continued, “Fine. Like I was saying, I notice you guys had guns already. I’m assuming that’s an AR-15 and then the Glock and Sig, right?” Russell nodded, so he continued, “Good. I’ve got plenty of ammo for that. We’ll get you all loaded back up. We also need twenty-four-seven security. Who knows what the hell happened to all those people at the mall, but I’m assuming the worst. If that’s the case, then there are hundreds of zombies in North Bend now. If we have to go back out there, I want us to be ready, whether or not they decide to come this way. We have to be ready.”
“What about a gate?” Boogie asked.
“What gate?”
“We should build a gate. I notice you got a workshop. If you guys can find some scraps to put together, I can maybe build us some sort of barrier to put across the hay. Will buy us some time.”
John nodded. “I’ve got plenty of stuff. After we leave here, you can head over there and see what you can do. If you can’t do anything, then it’s no big deal.”
“What about food?” Steve asked.
“That was my next topic,” John said. “Frankie and Helen have the greenhouse wi
th a large garden inside – ”
“And weed!” Frankie chimed in.
“Yes, Frankie, and weed. I know he’ll need help with the garden, and, since we’ll be eating that food, there’s no reason he shouldn’t get that help, right?” Everyone nodded. “Good. Frankie, Helen and I also have a community freezer full of meat that we’ve collected. It’s about half full, so we’ll eat that and do some hunting and fishing if possible. Surviving is surviving.”
“Speaking of food, I think it’d be a good idea to make a large dinner tonight. I’ll be cooking and could use some help,” Helen said.
“I can help with that,” Cindy said.
“What about Christina?” Kat was sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around herself in a hug. “We can’t just leave her out there.”
“We can dig a grave for her,” Frankie said. Sims said he’d help. Frankie continued, “And, not to pry, but we could really use that gas. Who knows when the power is going to go out, you know?”
John was nodding before Frankie was done talking. “That was my final thing. Morgan and I can go back out and get the full cans we left on the freeway, assuming they’re still there. If not, we’ll bring some more with us.”
“Count me in,” Russell said, and stood up.
“Uh, Dad?”
“No, I’m going. They saved our lives; it’s the least I can do.” To John, he said, “As long as you got enough ammo for me, I’m good to go. I’m at least an extra gun.”
John looked at Morgan, who shrugged, so he said. “Okay, that’ll work. We all good?” Everyone nodded except Steve.
“Seems there’s too much testosterone going around, so I’ll hang back with the other girls and help to take care of dinner.” He got up and walked to the back, ignoring Morgan.
John sensed an uncomfortable silence coming, so he said, “All right. Let’s roll.”
Chapter 27
Raider took one more look around to make sure no one else was nearby. The entire property was a mishmash of structures, fields, trees, gardens, livestock, and underbrush.
Raider continued on the natural path, both sides saturated with dark evergreen trees which provided a natural barrier to any onlookers. The sound of rushing water intensified as the river came into view.
Just across the river, a medium-sized two-lane road lay unoccupied, the raging water producing the lone sound.
Raider bent down and dipped both hands in the river, and, with cupped hands, brought the cold water up to chapped lips and drank, and then massaged a tense neck and upper back.
Satisfied, Raider knelt and retrieved a satellite phone from the backpack and fired it up. The iridium satellite phone was a newer model, but it functioned the same as the older ones. Its constant search for linked satellites for line-of-sight communication always took a few extra seconds, but once this was complete, it was easy to operate.
Raider had memorized the number – had memorized all the necessary phone numbers – and punched it into the keypad, then sent off a simple text message. “Embed w/8. Ack.”
The job had been simple. Become embedded with survivors during the first phase of The Bern Project and report in. HUMINT – human intelligence – was almost a lost art in a world that had decided to go crypto-espionage, ones and zeros battling it out in place of deceit and human behavior. It was a dangerous game, trying to use technology in place of actual surveillance and espionage, and the latter is what Raider was best at. Having been all over the world, this operative was an expert in all terrains and environments, had even mastered several languages and their dialects and managed to blend in with any group without raising suspicion.
The perfect actor.
So far, nobody in the group had shown any signs of being suspicious, except for Morgan. Morgan was a different breed and the type to not trust anyone. He had the look of a killer and Raider would have to be careful. Morgan’s best friend, John, seemed like a strong person and the de facto leader of the group, who had Morgan’s trust. Raider had also learned that John was a former outlaw biker and an expert in martial arts, which was evident in the loose way he carried himself. He would have to be watched out for, too.
Heck, both men had shown courage in battle already, having killed countless infected individuals in order to save the newcomers. Men that operated with little fear instilled fear in others, just by their actions.
These thoughts were interrupted by a loud growl just ahead. Several zombies were staring across the river, clawing their way toward Raider. Four in total, they rushed forward, unaware of the raging river, and were swept away and out of sight in a matter of seconds.
Raider let out a quiet laugh, then heard the shrill electronic sound coming from the satellite phone. Redmond’s response. “Problems?”
Were there any problems? Of course, there would always be problems. No operation ever went off without a hitch. There would always be unforeseen obstacles that weren’t accounted for in the planning phase and would force the operators to improvise and adapt.
Raider knew firsthand how badly an unplanned insurgency could ruin things. Iraq was the perfect example. What was supposed to be an easy “mission accomplished” had turned into anything but that. Thousands of lives on both sides had been lost, not to mention the financial toll it took to both correct the insurgency and implement change.
This time around, any insurgency, whether potential or kinetic, would have to be dealt with before it became something that was uncontrollable.
Raider thought back to arriving in North Bend. Frankie and Helen had been more than welcoming and the operative had taken a liking to them right away. An older hippie couple, they made one feel at home with them, a testament to the family atmosphere that Raider had never experienced.
Raider also remembered John talking about what he had seen in Seattle, and how he had to fight his way back. Most important, was John talking about seeing the patrol boat and the red-headed and bearded man with beady black eyes and mutton chops standing behind the cannon, spreading the virus around. What had struck Raider most was the indifferent look in John’s eyes as he had described the scene. And how, for the first time in many years, Raider had felt a pang of fear.
“Problems?” Redmond had asked in the message.
Oh, yes, there were problems…
…and they had to be dealt with.
Raider starting typing.
Chapter 28
John drove the Scout across the bridge and was heading west toward the freeway when Morgan stood up in the passenger seat.
“Contact right,” Morgan said.
John looked and saw three zombies ambling around in the parking lot of a medium-sized car dealership. The majority of the cars in the parking lot had broken windows, and debris littered the aisles. Several large Ford F350s lined the back parking lot closest to the main building, one of which had a zombie thrashing around inside.
“Fuck em, Morg. We need to save our ammo,” John said.
“Oh, pretty please?” Morgan said, sarcastically.
John smiled and shook his head. “There’ll be plenty of time for that.”
John accelerated and went to turn left onto Bendigo Boulevard, but instead, slammed on the brakes. The four-lane road was crowded with hundreds of zombies scattered all the way down to the Outlet Mall. The nearest ones were one hundred yards away. But being in the Scout, he wasn’t too worried. “Christ, I’m glad we didn’t stay with them.”
“They’re not as active as before,” Morgan observed.
John noticed it too. The zombies seemed to be in a more confused and tired state. Many were shuffling their feet as they went from one side of the road to the other, while others were standing and staring at the fronts of buildings. A few were seen walking through the broken windows of several storefronts and very faint crashing sounds could be heard coming from inside.
“Looks like most of them are like that. There’s a few, though, that seem to be full of energy.” Two of the zombies turned down Bendigo an
d faced the Scout. Both of them took off at a fast jog, arms out and yelling, while the zombies behind them looked on, but stayed put.
“Well, let’s get out of here and get that fuel then. I don’t want to eye fuck them all day.” Morgan sat back down.
John drove the Scout over Bendigo and continued on to the same onramp as before. “I want to get those cans we left, first thing. Bring them back, then we’ll get the other cans full.” John spoke over his shoulder to Russell. “How many empties we got?”
“Four.”
“So that’ll be eight cans.” He pulled up to the onramp, but instead of backing up the ramp, he continued under the overpass. He did a U-turn and parked up on the low-angled bridge abutment and behind some trees at the gore point, out of sight of the main road.
“I’ll be surprised if the cans are still there.”
“You remember where yours are?” John asked. Morgan nodded.
John turned to Russell and said, “Why don’t you pull security here? You have a view of the town and the freeway. Holler if you see anything.”
Russell nodded and brought the AR-15 up. “Got it.”
John walked down the shoulder and saw a red gas can sitting on the freeway just past the semi truck. He grabbed it and put the cap back on. He walked a bit further, finding the other can.
Both were full.
He carried them both down the onramp and saw Morgan carrying his cans out of sight under the overpass.
John got to the Scout and stowed his cans, exchanged them for two empties, and both he and Morgan walked back up.
“Which side do you want to hit?” Morgan asked.
They got to the top and stood next to Russell.
John nodded his head toward the east and said, “Why don’t we walk east? There are more cars. We can’t drive there because of those zombies on Bendigo and the road is too littered with cars to drive the Scout.”
“Here, let me take one or two. It’s quiet out here and you guys have already done more work than me,” Russell said.
“Since John is Mr. Muscle, here,” Morgan handed a can to Russell, “he can carry two and us two normal men can carry one.”
Inception_The Bern Project_Volume One Page 22
