Daniel sat up and asked, "Could it be an error in the data sample? We went through a population decrease once before. It was followed by an explosion of re-ans in areas where we thought we had eliminated them."
"I don't think this is the case here." The young officer shook his head as he glanced at the chalkboard again. "This is a compilation of numbers from all over the country and a few sites in Canada. We haven't received any hard figures from Europe, but we hear they are finding the same thing in areas where the anti-virus has been distributed." The young General set the slate down on the table and addressed all those at the table. "It looks like the momentum is finally going our way." He quickly pointed to the scientist. "Thanks to Dr. Cronsworth and his colleagues, the anti-virus they developed is working."
Daniel responded, "However, the living are still taking a big hit from the Omega virus.
Do you have any numbers on our total population?"
The young General rubbed the back of his neck and let out a sigh. With hesitation in his voice, he said, “These are all rough estimates of course, but I hear the population in the United States is somewhere around seventy million.” Those around the table mumbled their surprise. “It’s hard to get data out of Europe; so many countries have gone dark. The numbers I've heard are that England might be down to eight million and Germany is somewhere around ten million.”
An officer with shoulder length dark hair, sitting at the table, across from Pink asked, “What about France?”
“All indications right now are that France has gone dark. We haven't heard a thing from them in over two weeks. There are no more refugees coming out of the country and living animals have not been seen around the borders. This seems to be the final indication in most countries that they are off the grid.”
A civilian man wearing a worn flannel shirt with a few torn holes and dirty jeans walked in the bunker and whispered something in the General’s ear. The officer shook his head and brought his attention back to the table. “We’ve been experiencing some outbreaks of violence from civilians at some of the distribution points. We need to assign more men to the food rationing stations to help keep the crowds under control. Coronel Frank has asked if we can post some units along the highways. There are reports of pirates attacking refugee caravans along the Interstate routes. They’re getting bold and not only going after civilians, they’re attacking military trucks as well. A lot of our corn and sugar has been showing up on the black market. Its value for making alcohol appears to be greater than its value as food.” He pointed to one of his officers at the far end of the table. “John, can you take care of that for me? We are losing enough men to the re-ans, we don't need to lose more from our own kind.”
The older man with a gray beard nodded his head.
The young officer glanced down at his chalkboard and continued, "Here's something strange. There are reports from Texas, New York, Iowa, Oregon and even here in Colorado of re-ans attacking military food caravans and only stealing coffee. For some reason, the meat bags are attracted to the stuff. Some units have mentioned using the beans as bait to lure them into a trap, but nobody wants to give up any of their rations."
A soldier sitting next to Daniel said, "Coffee is one of the most valuable commodities right now. With Brazil going dark, it's going to be scarcer and we could even see it being used as the next form of currency. People are already using it as a bartering unit."
The general nodded his head in agreement and ended his meeting with, "That's all I have for now. Remember to tell your people to walk when possible and use horses if they have them. We need to conserve all the fuel we can."
As the people around the table stood to leave, the young officer said, "Dr. Cronsworth, I need to speak to you outside."
As she skirted past all the military men, Pink kept her head down and then ventured out of the entrance into the daylight.
Outside, under the gray sky and smoke filled air, the general stepped to the side of the bunker to pass on additional information. Nearby, a steam engine turned an electrical generator providing power to the radio tent. The coal fire under the boiler coughed out black smoke, which towered high into the atmosphere. Next to the corral of horses, mash was still cooking in a large pot, turning it into much needed alcohol fuel. At the far end of the camp, Daniel noticed a six foot high stack of dead bodies waiting to be placed in the crematorium, which had more smoke bellowing out the top. The General noticed the scientist stare at the corpses and said, "Those are the most recent nightly drops."
"What do you mean?" The scientist asked.
"Over there by the front gate to the compound where the fence lights can't reach." The young officer pointed to the razor wire fence next to the edge of the forest. "Those who have given up on this world come here at night to commit suicide so we will burn their bodies and keep them from turning re-an. During the day, we get some travelers who will drop off a few bodies. We try to torch them as quickly as we can, but in the morning when we go out to scoop up the drop-offs, some of them get up and stagger away."
Scanning the area to make sure no one was within hearing distance, he changed the subject. "I didn't want to get people's hopes up, especially when I don't even know what this means, if it means anything at all. Maybe you can do something with it."
Daniel glanced at Pink, trying to hide her face while standing over by one of the military horses. He turned back to the officer. "What up?"
"There's this strange report out of Florida in one of the areas that received the anti-virus a few weeks ago. Seventy some people were trapped in a building surrounded by re-ans. The damn meat bags tied the civilians down, while this dead park ranger went down the line biting each one in the arm. For some reason, he didn't eat them, he just bit them. Luckily, they all had been vaccinated. The zombie went into convulsions and expired within seconds after gnawing the last civilian. It must have scared the other meat bags, because they took off without feeding on their captured prey. The medicine did its job, because nobody died from the bite."
The doctor nodded his head. "Yes, it sounds like the serum worked well. We tested it thoroughly on captured test subjects. Our observations were that when the other re-ans saw one of their own die such a violent death, it terrified them."
"The effectiveness of your potion is not why I'm telling you this story. Here's the strange part." The general let out a deep breath, as if he didn't believe what he was about to say. "Remember, this is Florida. There's still a good population of older and elderly folks living there. The majority of these people who had been captured suffered from gout or some type of arthritis. They all reported to the soldiers who pulled them out of the building that the pain in their joints had disappeared. The swelling in their fingers, knuckles and knees had simply evaporated. They felt like they could go run a marathon." He shrugged his shoulders. "I thought you'd want to hear about one of the side effects of your drug."
Daniel pondered the information as he stared at the ground. "If it cured arthritis, we would have heard about it from people all over the world. There had to be something different about these people in Florida. Maybe it was their diet, or something they've been exposed to in the environment. It's possible there could have been a contamination in that particular batch of serum, which resulted in positive effects. It happens all the time in my line of work." He turned his attention back to the young officer. "Did the report mention anything else, anything unusual?"
"No, nothing out of the ordinary. The people who were captured did say this dead park ranger had full blue eyes, rather than the usual milky gray, but that was it."
Daniel noticed Pink, trying to wave him over without calling attention to herself. "Thanks, I'll keep it mind. When this is all over and we get our world back, I'll be in a better position to study the subsidiary effects of the drug. Who knows when this is all over and they start giving out Nobel awards again, maybe I'll get two."
* * *
With a sawed-off shotgun strapped to her back, heavy l
eather boots, and a full-length black duster, Hellion walked through the dark underground tunnel with two undead soldiers with holes pierced through their bodies caused by the pit traps she set up through the city. Water dripping from the old bricks echoed through the corridor lit only by the occasional candle. Along with her guardsmen, a short woman, wearing civilian issued olive green clothing, tagged along. As the group approached Bartholomew and the others gathered around a table, Prometheus stepped forward and said, "Our sister from Clan Titus has come to pay us a visit."
Hellion brought her attention to their leader. "Hey Captain, I have a new fish for your group. She's a believer just like you and quite scrappy. She'll make a good addition to your merry little bunch of do-gooders."
Prometheus opened his mouth to ask a question, but Hellion cut him off. "Save the ancient speak, Socrates." She placed her hand on the new arrival's shoulder. "Tell them your story, sister."
The new woman stepped out of the shadows into the flickering candle light. Her dirty clothes and matted shoulder length sandy hair showed what living condition must be like for the humans. She had welder's goggles draped around her neck and wore scuffed motorcycle boots. The dried blood under her nose and ears indicated the former tenant of this body died from the Omega Virus. She said to the group as she scanned the tunnel, "So this is the legendary re-an lair. There were rumors, but not many believed it existed. I always pictured it a bit more sinister than this, with zombies feeding on body parts and humans trapped in cocoons for later consumption." She scanned the group in front of her and said, "My name's Cathy" She stuck her hand out to Bartholomew who appeared confused by the gesture.
General Brown explained, "She wants to shake your hand. It's common in this era for women to greet men in this fashion. They stopped doing the curtsy a hundred years ago."
Bartholomew slowly reached out and shook her hand. Cathy continued, "I've been told to explain my bio, because apparently, we are all from different centuries. I happen to have died only a few days ago, when Hellion and her mob raided my camp. I don't know why I had to come back in this lady's body when mine was so much nicer," she glanced at her clothes and ran her hand down her shirt, "but here I am, a full blown re-an. I guess it's time for me to learn all the secret passwords and why we seem to be obsessed with coffee. I'm not looking forward to eating people, but I guess that's what we do."
The pirate captain stared past the newcomer and asked Hellion, "Other than she be believing in our cause, why you think you be thinking, she would make a good addition to me crew? I be getting fresh swabs every day."
Hellion motioned her head toward the new arrival. "Tell them what you were in the middle of doing when we raided your tent."
Cathy smirked a bit. "I was in the middle of a session with a client."
"These guys didn't understand when you wanted to shake their hand. You're going to have to be more specific with them." Hellion explained.
"I was in the middle of a torture session with a client." She noticed the blank expressions on the faces of those around her and added to her explanation. "There's still a need for my services, even in this world. People still have needs even after the collapse of society. I actually moved up higher on the social ladder and not just because I was rich," she hesitated and glanced at her surroundings, "at least by today's standards."
Hellion saw the bewildered expressions on the faces of the ancients and jumped in with more explanation, "She's a dominatrix."
A big smile spread across General Brown's face as he stepped closer to Cathy. "Hi, I'm Chris. We should go drink some coffee and talk about… whatever."
Bartholomew glanced at Cathy then to Hellion with a quizzical look. "I still not be understanding your line of work."
Brown continued his lines to Cathy, "Or if you feel I'm not talking enough, you can try to make me talk in whatever fashion you think is necessary. In my past life, I had all kinds of classified intel. Maybe you could get me to give up some of those secrets."
Trying to ignore the General, Hellion explained to the ancient pirate, "Men would pay her to torture them."
Cathy added, "I was right at the pinnacle of the session, when my client," she paused to choose her words, "asked me… to beat him harder."
Still confused, the pirate asked, "So, what I used to do to me captives as punishment, men be paying you to do for fun?" He threw his hands in the air. "This world be getting stranger every day."
Brown chimed in again, "If you have to beat me harder for intel, I don't care. Really, let's go get some coffee. Wait till you see what it does for you."
"That's the basics of what I do." Cathy put her hands on her hips. "And, I would like to say, I was well compensated. I never had to worry about food, electricity credits, clothes and I had enough coffee to have a cup every morning."
"Coffee!" Brown fell to his knees. "This is already torture. Please tell me you have some coffee with you."
Wearing leather chaps, an old bomber jacket, tall boots, and a suede top hat with brass gears attached to the band and welding goggles draped around her neck, Salsa moved into the flickering light from the shadows of the tunnel. Two dead soldiers acting as bodyguards stayed next to her as she moved through the group. She scanned Cathy while walking around the new arrival, keeping her hand on top of the pommel of her sword strapped to her hip. "You know," she spoke to Bartholomew, "little miss Beat Me Harder here, can be of some use to us, seeing as how she can make the humans talk, and I can understand what they're saying. We could be a nice pair."
Chapter 23
Prometheus walked with Patricia through the ruins and rubble of the city as though they strolled in the park on a Sunday afternoon. The always-present smoke and haze covered the sky turning the sun into a reddish orange glowing ball. Scatted re-ans staggered and wandered in and out of the shadows cast by the large piles of concrete, dirt and twisted metal. Small wisps of smoke swirled up from various impact craters created from the previous night's battle with the humans. Ravens peppered the landscape as they searched for scraps of human remains usually found on these battlefields. Prometheus continued with their conversation. "So in your time period it was common to sail between all the lands?"
Patricia stepped over a rotted severed leg. "All the nations and lands traded goods with each other. This drove the need to build ships to bring all these products across the seas. This also brought the rise of privateers and pirates, the occupation which I chose to join."
"Even though we didn't sail across," the Athenian paused for a moment, "or I should say around this world, we also had our share of pirates on the waters. I do not recall hearing of any female pirates."
Patricia replied, "Even in my day, there were very few woman sailors, let alone lady captains. I know of only three other women who commanded their own pirate ship as I did.
Prometheus glanced at Patricia's face. "I see we both share the trait of green eyes. How long have you had them?"
“A few nights ago, in the raids, I took a test bite out of one of the livings to see if he would be safe for Salsa to feed upon. Midnight said he appeared to be free of the fire. When I did not burn from the inside, Salsa and the others in her court feasted on him. The next morning, Bartholomew commented on my green eyes that, even death could not hide their beauty." She glanced down and tried to hold back a slight smile.
"The complexities of emotions after one's death are far beyond anything I could have imagined during life."
Prometheus saw Greg and several others returning from the previous nights scavenging raids in the forest. Greg wore a heavy canvas kilt, and a martial arts ghee with the sleeves cut off. All the soldiers appeared worn and scarred from a fierce night of battle. As she noticed Greg carrying Bartholomew's sword, Patricia ran toward the group. She stopped in front of the Samurai and quickly asked with fear in her voice, "Why do you carry the sword of our Captain?"
Greg lowered his head and replied with sadness. "We found a small group of non-soldiers traveling the road. As we m
ade our attack, it turned out to be a trap set for us. The living poured out of the trees and surrounded us. We were outnumbered ten to one."
She noticed all the blood splattered on the sword sheath and grip. "What happened to the Captain?"
"He led us into the battle and became the first victim. The humans had spring traps hidden in the road. One grabbed his leg with its sharp metal teeth and kept him from moving. He bravely fought off many with his sword, but he soon became overrun and his body torn apart by several pikes. We had to retreat or suffer the same fate."
Patricia asked to see the sword. After Greg handed it to her, she strapped it around her waist and asked, "Where did this attack occur?"
Greg pointed to the south and replied, "A few miles from here. The place that the modern's call the town of Littleton. But, there is nothing left of his body, because the humans…"
Before he could finish, Patricia ran off to the south with the Captain's blade. Greg motioned to some of his soldiers. "We must go with her."
* * *
Patricia ran through the trees with her sword drawn as she entered the small clearing occupied by a band of humans. They sat around a fire laughing and drinking, so they were caught completely off guard. As the first person stood to confront her, she sprang off a rock, sailed through the air and rammed her sword through his chest as she landed in front of him. With smooth quick motions, she pulled the blade out and sliced across the throat of another living. A man charged with a long wooden pike, which impaled through her abdomen. She ran up the shaft toward the man and with a backhand swing of her sword, she decapitated her attacker.
The Village of Dead Souls: A Zombie Novel Page 20
