by Lee Ragans
3 days later the truck ran out of gas just 15 miles from her goal. Pulling into a neighborhood, she hid the remaining MREs and ammo in a nearby house. She slept for a day, ate her fill and waited to see if anyone was in the area.
Well rested and fed she set out at dawn with a backpack full of MRE packets, a knife strapped to her leg, a pistol tucked in the back of her jeans and another pistol in her bag. 4 clips of ammo and she was ready. The full water bladder was the last of her clean water. It was now or never.
The walk in let her know that nukes had hit the area. Most of the glass windows were shattered. There were not too many corpses walking around. So few that she was able to stay ahead and lose them. Only once did she consider pulling out the knife, and then she was able to make some space and avoid the fight altogether.
She immediately thought of ‘The Road’ by Cormac Mcarthy. It was required reading for field agents in her day. The instructor made them read passages aloud. The reason given was that it was the outcome if they failed. To the silence she yelled out, “We failed anyway!” She half expected a response. Happy to still have her sanity when there was none.
By 10 AM she could see the television tower. It was still standing, or it had been rebuilt. The trees nearby that had been blown down made her wonder if it had been rebuilt.
She had never been to this location, but she knew there would be an out building with non-descript door and a keypad. It took a few minutes of walking around to find it. The 10-foot by 10-foot building had no cameras or obvious sensors.
Dr. Morris tapped in her code, and the door clicked as it unlocked. Anyone inside was now alerted to her presence, and they would know who she was. The codes were unique to each person or team. She had no team, so it was just her.
Stepping in she had no need to draw a weapon. Showing aggression around hyper-aggressive people was a way to end up dead. It was better to be helpful and friendly.
There was no one present inside the door. Just a staircase descending into the floor. The lights on the side of the long circular staircase let her know the facility was active. At least there were batteries working if not a generator. They were no glow strips, so there was some kind of power source in the facility.
When she found the bottom of the steps, she estimated she was at least 300 feet underground. The stairs back up were not going to be fun. There was probably an elevator that let out somewhere else, but that place may not be accessible.
At the bottom of the stairs, she found another door, it had a keypad like the one outside. Keying her code, it unlocked the door with another audible click. Behind the door, she found another set of stairs, but luckily these were straight and only two flights of stairs. They were obviously designed for a trap. If the area was penetrated, this was a good killing zone. A few well-thrown grenades and then light arms fire and no one was walking in.
At the bottom of the stairs, she was met by a woman in her late 50s in a sundress and wearing a baseball cap, “Dr. Morris.”
Dr. Morris smiled and said, “You have me at a disadvantage as I do not know your name.”
“Field agent Cheryl Long. Nice to meet you.”
“May I come in or do I need to turn around.”
“So long as you don’t plan on killing me and eating me you are welcome.”
“I am no cannibal. Have you encountered any? I mean other than the corpses of everyone we knew.”
“No, just our dead friends. And I noticed how you did not say you were not going to kill me.”
Dr. Morris smiled, “I have killed a lot of people I did not want to kill. Some I wanted to kill. I have learned to never make that promise to a fellow professional.”
“Good, I was going to just step back and let the poison gas take you out if you promised not to kill me. No one in our shoes can promise that these days.”
“Is there a team inside waiting to throw me in a cell?”
“No, no. Just you and me. You’re not gay, are you?”
“Just for pay. Never for play.” Field agents learned that sexuality was a good way to control people and men and women never ruled out having flexible sexuality when needed. Amongst their own, it was joking called “gay for pay” as it was in the porn industry. Well as it was in the past. The porn industry was probably permanently dead. People were too busy trying to eat.
“Good… good… we will get along just fine then.”
Once inside Agent Long pointed to the bathroom, “You can clean up in there if you like or we can sit down, and I can tell you all the bad news at once.”
“I will take the bad news first if you don’t mind.”
The complex was only about 4000 square feet. Most of it was made up of storage space, but a small sleeping area just off the communications room also served as a kitchen. Dr. Morris caught a glimpse of a large amount of canned food. Enough to let her eat for years, maybe decades if she did not exercise too much.
Sitting down in the communications room at the map table Agent Long said, “You made it here. You deserved to know why I never responded.”
“I was wondering.”
“We have no orders. Langley fell before anyone could make a decision. There were plans, but no one put them into action. Though now, who knows if any of it would matter.”
Pointing at the red circles on the map, “Russians nuked New York, D.C., Philadelphia, Boston and for some unknown reason Albany, New York.”
“What about Norfolk?”
“It is still there, but the fleets port that pulled out had infected on it. They went dark. There are still a few boomers out there, but they already fired on their targets. Moscow, Stalingrad, Beijing, Pyong Yang, London, Paris, Munich, Berlin are all gone.”
“Guess we struck back.”
“We wiped the chessboard. Enemies and allies.”
“Hmmm… What is the bad news?”
“You are a damn cheery one. The bad news is we have only a few agents out there, and the Army, Air Force, and Navy are all either dead, or they have gone broken back. There were reports that the 18th Airborne Corps was trying to keep order in the major southern cities, but they were overwhelmed. Green Berets and Delta force scattered to the winds, well those that survived. The news is that there is no news. You have probably seen more than I have been out on the roads.”
“I have. Mostly just dead. Some tough survivors. They are either thriving or about to die.”
“What happened to the soldiers you were traveling with?”
Dr. Morris was immediately nervous she kept her breath even and did not hesitate, “They did not make it. We thought we had a vaccine. We were wrong.”
“Sorry to hear that. A vaccine would have been helpful.”
“Hmmm… Any idea as to where it started?”
“There were multiple strong theories. The leading was someone embedded something into a flu virus. Activates some old part of the brain, but that does not explain how the corpses are dead and keep moving.” Agent Long took a breath and added, “There is still lots of data coming down from the birds, but it just shows one dead city after another.”
They sat silent for a moment and then Dr. Morris said, “I think I may go clean up now. You won’t mind if I stay for a while?”
“No, I have been alone for too long. I can use the company.”
As she got near the shower, she dropped her bag and looked at the shower for a moment. Behind her, she heard footsteps and then heard, “I know you said only for pay, but It has been a long time. Can I join you in that shower?”
Dr. Morris did not turn around. She nodded and said, “Okay.” She felt Agent Long’s arms go around her waist and then she turned quickly drawing the knife from her hip and drove it up between Agent Long’s last two ribs, twisted and hit her heart. She turned her dying body and put it in the shower. As she tried to step back, Longs hands were slow to let go. A small pang of guilt swept over her and then was swept away as she saw the garrote in Long’s left hand. Her heightened survival instincts saved her ag
ain. Pulling the knife out she let her bleed out into the shower.
Considering Agent Long’s dying eyes, she asked, “Why did you bother to tell me anything?” There was no answer. Just twitching eyes and eventually death. A fast jab of the knife into the skull to make sure she was not going to be dealing with a zombie in a few minutes. Dr. Morris was done.
She looked at the sundress and thought aloud, “Damn shame you did not take it off, I like that dress.”
She stared at the dead agent and thought aloud, “Why did you have to try to kill me. I would have left. Well, with some food.” Dr. Morris kicked the dead agent, “That was it. You were unwilling to share even a small amount. It cost you your life, you idiot.”
Looking around the small bunker, she found a burn pit in the back of the storeroom with cans of LP gas to make it a crematorium. She folded Agent Long into the small pit, closed the cage, then the doors and hit the big red burn button. She breathed a sigh of relief thinking she was going to have to carry her body up to the surface.
Taking stock of the supplies and the area, she noticed the equipment was running, and the air conditioner made the rooms comfortable. She wondered where the power was coming from. Her answer came when she opened the equipment room. In the far corner, clearly marked with radiological warnings, was a plutonium generator. It produced a steady flow of power the charge the batteries that ran the equipment. If she shut most of the equipment down it would charge up the batteries, and it could run everything. Only the CIA would put a nuclear generator underground in the middle of a highly populated area.
Checking the systems, she was able to override the entry system. No other agents could enter. Just in case Agent Long had a friend. Once she was sure she was safe, she found food in the storeroom. Giant cans of food would mean she had to eat it all before moving on to the next, but that was far better than starving or MREs.
She slept deeply in the bed. She wished there was a washing machine. She did not like smelling the now dead Agent Long. She had killed a lot of people, but few that close. Killing with a knife was far too intimate. She hoped that was the last person she would kill.
The next day she went over the logs and changed the automated message to say, “Send location and will send sit-rep for the locale. Current mission orders: Stay alive, help where you can.”
Over the next few days, a handful of agents checked in. Tacoma, Arizona, North Dakota. The North Dakota was the most interesting. They were embedded with a tribe that moved away from the city. They also suffered no losses.
When she got the message from Atlanta, she replied, “Glad you are alive. The vaccine was a failure. I have taken over the central office.”
The reply was quick, “Sorry to hear it was a failure. What can you tell us about the area?”
It took an hour for her to look at recent reconnaissance photos, “No other agents in the area. No hordes. Some soldiers to the East but they look dug in. Some farms trying to grow north of the city. What can you tell me from the ground?”
“You are seeing more than we can. No new people in the area. Just our friends at the hotel.”
“Where are you?”
“Not sure I want to tell my vengeful ex-wife where I am living with my new family.”
“Probably for the best. Systems are on-line 24/7. I will send updates if I spot anything.”
Dr. Morris started a log and filled with the few details she got from the field agents. She spent her days and nights talking to agents and gathering data. She walked to the surface every other day and scavenged in the area. She was tempted to just hide underground but knew that if she went 3 days in a row underground, she would lose her nerve and never go up to the surface again.
The Land and The People
It has been 134 years since the outbreak that ended most of the lives on earth. The Spirit Lake Tribe while being highly connected to the surrounding communities closed its roads and cut themselves off from the world at the first sign of the outbreak. Four tribe members died in the first days, and the word spread quickly how to deal with the dead.
Joel Running Trees walked up the small hill looking over the gathering area that was the home of the tribe. They had not had contact with the outside world since the first days. One shaman would make the walk into town every year and observe. Today was Joel’s first walk by himself.
He did not want to be a Shaman, but his father Saul Goldberg, Son of Ira Goldberg, knew that the Shaman position had become the most important one aside from a tribal elder, which Joel would never be allowed to ascend to political power as he was still very much an outsider.
Joel’s mother was a member of the Spirit Tribe, and his father was still a full-blooded Ashkenazi Jew. Thanks to his parents working at the casino the day of the outbreak they were alive and invited to stay.
Running Trees was not even a Spirit Tribe name, it was given to Joel on his birth to create a new name to recognize an outsider who had been born into the tribe.
Years of study and deep thought and running lead to this day. He would walk to the top of the hill, look down on the town and study it for 3 hours. If anything or anyone moved toward him, he would run at full speed back toward the guards placed away from the tribe. They would fight and kill anything following him, and they would stay there for 3 days to make sure nothing followed them to the tribe.
It had been 100 years since anything followed. Joel’s teacher said that this was probably not necessary any longer, as there was no one left outside of the Tribe to die and become the zombies that killed the world.
Joel was unsure. He looked at the maps. He learned math. He did the meditations. He was certain that other people were alive. They were just nowhere nearby. North Dakota was far from everywhere back in the time before the outbreak.
The written stories said there were seven billion people before the outbreak. They said the disease was 99% fatal. That meant that 70 million people survived the outbreak. That meant that there had to be people alive in the rest of the world. They just had not found the Tribe.
At the other end of the bridge at the edge of town, the chair that had been put there 50 years ago was waiting undisturbed. Joel wiped off the dust and sat down. He watched. The city of Fort Totten was as dead today as it had been the last time he came with his mentor.
He had been warned that he should never go into town. He knew the map, and the faded pictures showed him that there had been a thriving community before. The roads were overgrown, but you could still make out where they had been. The harsh winters never let anything grow too large on the packed ground.
The wind was coming from town. He could smell nothing. The elders talked about the smell of the dead. He knew that they had never smelled it themselves. They were all too young. The hordes of corpses rotted away long ago. Young warriors that ignored warnings and went on long treks reported seeing some corpses still trying to move, but they were few and far between.
Joel sat listening and thinking. His friend Nicholas Hammer Fist talked about going to the big cities. He constantly talked about what he would do and then did none of it. Nicholas worked the farm with his father and was known as the gather of eggs. The Name Hammer Fist was a joke, he was really quite delicate, and his half Spirit Tribe half Asian descent made him stand out almost as much as Joel’s appearance.
Nicholas would have walked into the city. He would have ignored the teachings. Joel sat and observed. He waited.
The sun moved, and Joel checked his watch. He had only been in the seat for 1 hour. In the distance, he watched as 3 birds circle and then land. They were hawks. They were hunting. There was probably a pack of rats or maybe rabbits. There were still packs of feral cats that sometimes strayed away from the city. It was unusual to see 3 hawks hunting together. They were solo hunters.
One hawk dove and Joel could hear a scream. It sounded human, but when the hawk climbed into the air with a small cat in its talons it was obvious that it was the cat. Then he heard the scream again and was sure it
was words. He was sure he heard, “NO!”
He stood. He was sent to watch for the dead. He was not expecting to see people or hear them for that matter.
Walking quietly and quickly into the town. The Hawks spotted him and decided that there were too many predators in the area.
Walking up as he got close he could see a shadow first, and then a woman rounded the building. Her eyes were streaked with tears. Her hair pulled back under a baseball cap. Joel could think of nothing to say other than, “Hello.”
She jumped then spat, “Where did you come from?”
Her voice had an accent he had never heard.
“I am a shaman of the Spirit Tribe. This is our land.”
She was younger than he first thought. She had acne like one of the girls from school. She had to be a teenager.
