by David Achord
“I’ll go with Zach.”
We turned toward the voice. It was Joker. He decided our conversation was not private and came outside with us. “Yeah, I said it. He’ll need someone to drive while he keeps an eye on her. We can take the Stryker.” He hooked a thumb back inside. “Flash will go with us. That’ll make three of us. Watch.” He turned toward the open bay doors. “Hey, Flash! Come over here!”
Flash came jogging up. “What’s up, Sergeant?”
“Zach and I are going to carry that infected bitch to Fort Detrick. You want to go with us?”
He looked back and forth at the three of us. “Yeah, sure.”
Justin eyed the two men. He thought about it for several seconds before speaking.
“Alright, but you guys better be careful,” he said. “It goes without saying if you encounter problems, abort, kill the woman, and link back up with us. This is on you, Zach.”
“You got it,” I said.
Justin nodded at Jeremiah, who’d been standing inside the doorway, watching and listening. He had good hearing and was even better at yelling. When Justin gave him a tacit nod, he acted.
“Sergeant Jenkins!” Justin shouted. Kirby hurriedly jogged up.
“Get the prick set up and send in a SITREP to Weather. Update our mission status as follows; both locations compromised. One survivor. No friendly deaths but one injury. And those three,” he said pointing at Joker, Flash, and myself, “are proceeding to Fort Detrick with a captive zed.”
Kirby arched his eyebrows in surprise at the last part of the message. “Aye, sir,” he said and jogged over to his vehicle.
“What’s a prick?” Flash whispered to me. “I mean, I know what a prick is, but is he talking about something else?”
I pointed as Kirby exited his vehicle. “PRC-155. It’s a military radio. We just call it a prick.”
Flash watched as Kirby attached a collapsible satellite dish and then worked to get it pointed in the correct position. Within moments, he had a signal and was speaking into the microphone.
“All right, everyone!” he shouted. “Mount up, we’re leaving in five minutes! Anybody not loaded up and ready to go will get left behind!”
Chapter 17 – Fort Detrick
We followed the convoy until Cumberland before we split off. The sleet changed to snow about an hour into our drive, which caused all of the vehicles to slow to a crawl. I asked Joker multiple times if he wanted me to spell him, but he refused.
“I got this man, just don’t let that woman get loose and bite us,” he said as he stared intently at the screen.
I watched from the command seat. Joker took no chances and maintained a slow speed. Normally, this was not tactically sound, but it wasn’t like anyone was stupid enough to set up an ambush in this weather. Josue and Jorge had installed LED light bars on all of our vehicles and Joker had this one lit up. Unfortunately, the thick snowfall reflected the light back at us, which diminished visibility even more.
It was cold, butt cold. The Stryker had a heater, but it was a living testament to that old maxim, military equipment is manufactured by the company who submitted the lowest bid. The heater only put out a fraction of the heat needed to warm the interior of the vehicle. I looked over at the woman. She’d stopped fighting shortly after we’d thrown her on the floor of the Stryker and instead lay there, staring at us malevolently for the entire trip.
The roads continued to deteriorate and the journey was slow and arduous, but Joker was an excellent driver and we arrived at Detrick an hour after sunup. It took more than a few hails on the radio before someone finally answered.
“Finally,” Flash said.
“At least they’re not infected,” Joker muttered. I could hear the fatigue in his voice. We’d swapped off driving, allowing each of us to get an hour’s worth of sleep. It wasn’t much.
I stretched my legs and looked around while we waited for someone to unlock the gate. It was Stretch who finally walked outside.
“Good morning,” I said.
She gave a halfhearted wave as she yawned and then fumbled with the padlock. I helped her with the gate and then pointed toward the decontamination station.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s all frozen up.”
I looked at her with a frown. “You guys don’t use it anymore?”
She shrugged apathetically. “They don’t seem to feel the need for it.” She saw me staring and shrugged again. “It’s not my call. C’mon, hurry up, it’s cold out here.”
General Fosswell walked outside and stood under the awning of the entrance, dressed in ACUs and a coat. When he caught my eye, he motioned me over. I cleared my throat. “Alright, guys, wait here and I’ll explain everything to him.”
“I was not advised of any scheduled visit by the Mount Weather contingent,” Fosswell said when I had walked up.
He used to be a part of the Mount Weather contingent, but last year, President Stark directed him to take over Fort Detrick. Since taking over, it was almost like he had become something of a prima donna.
“You’re correct, sir,” I said. “We were originally scheduled to return home from Ohio, but we managed to capture a freshly turned zombie.”
He stared at me a moment before speaking. “Explain, Gunderson.”
“The Ohio people became infected after they were vaccinated. We need to find out why. I figure Smeltzer and Kincaid need something to work with. So, we’ve brought them a live one.”
“You brought a live what?” he asked.
“We captured a freshly infected person.”
He continued staring with a cold, emotionless expression. “Where is this so-called specimen?” he finally asked.
“In the Stryker,” I replied.
He gazed at the military vehicle, mentally debating on whether or not he wanted to walk over in the sleet and have a look, and then pointed toward the NBAC building, which was located at the far end of the post. “Have your men carry her to those so-called scientists. Gunderson, you’re with me,” he ordered.
“He probably wants a more detailed briefing about what happened in Ohio,” I said to Joker and Flash. “Joker, you know where the labs are. You two carry her over there and lock her in one of the labs. The docs should be awake by now, but if they’re not, find a room to lock her up in.”
“You got it,” Joker said. “We’ll meet you in the mess hall. Maybe they have something good to eat.”
I gave him a grateful nod and began quickstepping to the building the general had disappeared into.
Fosswell’s office was also his living quarters, equipped with a desk, some chairs, a couch, and a single bed located against the back wall. It was utilitarian in decoration, mirroring his personality. The only personal effects I noted was a framed family photo and a Bible sitting on his desk. The photo was of him, his wife, and Junior, who looked like he was only about ten at the time the picture was taken. All three were smiling. They looked happy.
“Let’s hear it,” he ordered.
I spent the next fifteen minutes bringing him up to speed, starting with Ohio going dark, the decision to go investigate, what we discovered, and how we caught the woman and ended up at Fort Detrick. He did not take notes. Instead, he sat there, staring at me the entire time.
“Don’t you think it to be in our best interests for you to go back to Eastgate and ensure there are no survivors?”
“We’ll definitely need to go back and make an assessment at a later time, but not in this weather.”
“Yes, the weather. How long do you intend to stay here?” he asked.
I hid my emotions. It was an odd question. I mean, why was he concerned with how long we stayed? They had plenty of food, yours truly had made sure of that, and at one time, the man was not so unsociable. If we weren’t running on only a couple of hours of sleep, I would’ve agreed to leave immediately.
“I’d like for us to be able to stay here for the night, it that’s not too much of a burden, sir,” I said.
&nb
sp; The two of us locked eyes. For some reason, the general was apprehensive about us staying. I thought for a moment he was going to order us to leave, which was going to be problematic, because Detrick did not belong to him, whatever he thought. After a couple of tense seconds, he smiled.
“You know you’re welcome to stay here, Gunderson,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” I said and stood. “If there is nothing else, I’m going to get a bite to eat and then check in with those so-called scientists.”
When I entered the mess hall, or the cafeteria, whatever you wanted to call it, Flash and Joker were standing at the entrance, waiting on me.
“C’mon, dude,” Joker said. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
The kitchen crew called it beef stew, but they should’ve called it mystery stew. It tasted overcooked and bland, with an overabundance of salt.
“What’d the general want?” Joker asked as we ate.
“About what you’d expect; he wanted the details of what we found at Cincinnati and Dayton. He then suggested we go back to Eastgate and make sure everyone was indeed infected.”
“We ain’t going anywhere,” Joker said. “Not unless they’ve got some spare parts for the Stryker.”
I stopped in mid-bite and looked at him. “What’s wrong?”
“It won’t start,” he said. “I should’ve left it running, but I’m so damn tired I’m not thinking straight.”
“Wonderful,” I muttered. “Do you have any idea what’s wrong with it?”
Joker shrugged. “Let me get some sleep and I’ll see if I can get it towed over to their motor pool and check it out. Besides, the weather hasn’t got any better.”
“Alright,” I said in a hushed voice. “This is actually going to work out to our advantage.”
“How?” Flash asked.
“I want to get the scoop on what happened with the vaccinations, not wait for some watered-down report that’s been edited by Fosswell.”
“It sounds like you guys are having problems with Fosswell,” Flash said, his voice barely above a whisper now.
Joker and I exchanged a glance. He was right. Ever since moving to Detrick, General Fosswell had become aloof toward the Mount Weather command staff. It didn’t happen overnight. There were small incidences, nothing major, but there were times when it seemed like he was becoming openly defiant.
“Yeah, but keep it under your hat,” I said. “He’s always been a complex man, but he was a soldier and followed the orders of his commander-in-chief. Now, he can be downright difficult at times.”
I finished my glass of water and pushed my plate away. “Alright, I’m going to head over to the labs and see what the docs think of our present to them.”
Joker pushed his plate away too. “Well shit. Sleep can wait. I’m going to get on the Stryker. Flash, why don’t you lend me a hand?”
“Sure,” he replied.
Chapter 18 – Patient Zero
The National Biodefense Analysis and Countermeasures facility, commonly called the NBAC, is an oddly shaped building located on the northeast end of Fort Detrick. This is where Doctors Smeltzer and Kincaid had set up shop, along with a couple of other scientists from John Hopkins found by our scout teams a couple of years ago.
Their names were Douglas Throneberry and Jere Washington. They were microbiologists, which was a nice asset and a welcome addition, but, they weren’t what you called sociable people. In their defense, they’d been virtual prisoners in the basement of one of the buildings on campus for over three years. They’d survived by eating canned goods stored in the basement, but when the scout team had found them, they’d resorted to eating mice and other rodents that’d fallen victim to their makeshift traps. The isolation had done a number on them. Their personalities were detached, and they had a difficult time fitting into our quaint little society. Eventually, we moved them to Detrick where their skills could be put to better use.
The snow was still falling as I walked over to the building and there was already over an inch on the ground. I made a point of spotting the guards and making sure they recognized me so they wouldn’t shoot me by mistake. Still, I carried my assault rifle at the ready and kept a sharp eye out. Even though we’d mostly eradicated every zed in the area, one still had to be vigilant, the bastards had become sneaky and we hadn’t gotten them all.
I found the docs in one of the containment labs. They had the infected woman strapped down to a stainless-steel operating table. They’d cut off what little clothing she had on and now she was completely nude. I looked her over. She appeared to be close to my age with a slender yet athletic body, taut and muscular. She had shoulder-length brown hair which was tangled and greasy.
Her vitals were being monitored and displayed on a screen. They were all noticeably higher than normal, even her blood pressure. The docs were in their bio-containment suits and were staring at her curiously, discussing something about her skin tone. One of them bent forward at the waist to take a photograph of the bite mark, only to jerk back in fright when the woman lunged at her and gnashed her teeth. Only the restraints kept her at bay. I watched them for a moment through the protective glass and then activated the microphone on the desk.
“Hello, guys,” I said, and gave a small wave when they looked over.
“Ah, hello, Zach,” one of them replied in a tinny voice over the speaker. It sounded like Smeltzer.
“We were just admiring this fine specimen you brought to us,” he said.
I glanced at the infected woman. She had an athletic body, taut and muscular, but with a slightly distended belly. Her fingernails were broken or torn off, there appeared to be several small scratches on her arms, like she’d been playing with an aggressive cat, and there was a deep bite mark on her upper right forearm in which flesh was actually torn out. Her head was immobilized, but her dark eyes flitted back and forth like a cornered animal.
“How are the tests coming along?” I asked.
“We’ve already drawn blood and collected tissue samples,” Smeltzer said.
I gave a thoughtful nod. They had jumped right on this, which reaffirmed my decision to bring her directly here. “What’s next on the agenda?”
The four of them glanced at each other before focusing back on me. “We were just discussing what information we could discover by performing a vivisection.”
“A vivisection?” I asked in surprise.
They nodded in unison. A vivisection was a catchall word used by scientists when they performed experiments on a live specimen, usually an animal. Now, they were discussing doing the same thing on the infected woman.
It reminded me of a man by the name of Harold “Boom-Boom” Walsh, whom I had never actually met. He was a correctional officer at the Davidson County Jail when everything went bad. Suddenly, he had a bunch of infected inmates sitting in cells and a lot of time on his hands. He and a female guard conducted experiments on the infected inmates and recorded everything in a journal.
It also reminded me of a conversation I’d had with Major Grant Parsons back about six years ago. When he was at the CDC, they’d capture zombies and perform experiments on them, including vivisections. I said as much to them.
After a few minutes of talking through the intercom, they agreed to come out. Almost as an afterthought, one of them found a plain white sheet and put it over her, leaving only her head exposed. I doubted if she appreciated the act.
I watched as they exited the lab into the decontamination room. They stood under the showers, letting the fine mist rinse them down. They then stripped out of the biocontainment suits and hung them up to dry before coming out to join me in the observation room.
“Alright, guys, I have to ask. Why the biohazard procedures?”
Doctor Smeltzer gave a good-natured smile. “We’re sticklers for protocol, Zach. Even though we’ve been vaccinated, we were drawing blood and tissue samples. No need taking unnecessary risks. Besides, we may be looking at a new strain of the virus.”
&n
bsp; I suppose it made sense, which made me start to second-guess putting her in the Stryker with us and possibly exposing ourselves. “Any preliminary thoughts?” I asked.
“She’s infected,” Doctor Kincaid said with a grin. He was sarcastic at times. Occasionally, it was humorous, but mostly it was annoying.
“Freshly infected,” Doctor Smeltzer added. “Within the timeline you provided us. There are no outward signs of trauma, other than the singular bite mark, and there is no epidermal presentation of decomposition.”
“Did she get infected from the bite or from the bad vaccination?” I asked.
They swapped a glance. “We should learn more once the blood work is complete.”
“Are you really going to cut her apart while she’s still alive?” I asked.
Doctor Washington looked at me through her thick, horn-rimmed glasses. “Do you find that offensive?”
“I’m not sure what to think of it,” I replied. “But, you’ve not read any of Grant’s notes. He was at the CDC for a short period of time and watched as they experimented on zeds, including performing vivisections. They didn’t learn much.”
“Perhaps they didn’t know what they were looking for,” she said.
I gazed at her curiously. She was not an attractive woman. Her skin tone was a pasty pallor. The years spent hiding in that basement probably did it, or maybe she’d never been attractive. She’d always seemed cold, dispassionate.
“You don’t believe we should do it,” she said.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I replied.
“But you have no trepidations in killing someone who is infected, correct?” she pressed.
I gave a one syllable chuckle. “I see your point, but torturing and killing are two distinctly different.”
“The answer to your question is, we are not sure if it would be beneficial or not,” Smeltzer said. “The decision has not yet been made, and yes, we’ve read Major Parson’s notes extensively.”
Our conversation stopped when the door opened and General Fosswell walked in. He looked around. There were no chairs available. In an attempt to be courteous, I stood.
