Others around Phillips were experiencing the same thing. The zombies came hard and fast and there was nothing anyone could do. A woman screamed to his right as one of the infected bit a chunk of flesh off of her left breast. Blood poured everywhere as the woman tried to fight back. The creature caught the woman’s flailing right hand in its mouth and bit down with such force that it almost severed the appendage. The zombie hit an artery in her wrist, and the woman immediately fainted from shock.
“What do we do, Sir?” a few civilians and soldiers screamed as they ran past Phillips.
Phillips stood there, stunned, as he realized what had just happened.
“They… they ambushed us,” Phillips said to no one in particular.
“What, Sir?” the soldier closest to him asked.
“They divided us, soldier,” Phillips finally said as he regained his senses. “They attacked on the northeastern wall first, and when the bulk of our forces were on that side, another group of those bastards attacked us from behind.”
Phillips ran back to the northeastern wall and shot whatever was in front of him. It was like shooting into the waves as they crashed onto the beach. It did no good, and the waves just kept coming.
His pistol clicked on an empty chamber, and he was out of bullets. He did the only thing he could: he ran.
As he approached the northeastern wall, he realized he wasn’t hearing much gunfire.
Then he saw why.
The zombies had breached that side of the wall as well, and the infected were pouring in from two different directions, and trapping the humans in the middle. Most of the humans were either unarmed or out of bullets.
The zombies kept coming and kept attacking. There seemed to be no end to the continual stream of the dead as they surged over the fallen wall.
A gang of five zombies pounced on top of a fallen soldier who had tripped over one of his fallen comrades. The soldier’s high-pitched screams were quickly muffled as fingers entered his throat and tore out his larynx. The soldier drowned in his own blood as the gang of the undead ripped chunks of flesh off his body.
Phillips ran to the housing barracks where civilians and soldiers alike lived. He heard gunfire and his heart sank. He didn’t think the infected had made it this far onto the base.
Crack, crack! He heard the sounds of small calibre pistols going off around the back of one of the buildings. Phillips grabbed a shovel that had been left on the ground and ran around the corner to see a mother making the ultimate sacrifice.
Three zombies raced towards her and her two young children, and not being able to handle watching her kids be eaten alive by those things, the mother lined the children up and shot each kid twice in the head to spare them death at the hands of the infected.
With tears in her eyes, the mother then turned the gun on herself.
Click.
Empty. In her distraught state, the mother hadn’t counted her bullets.
One of the zombies jumped on top of her and wrapped its bloodied legs around her waist. The creature brought its rotten mouth over her left eye socket and bit down. As she fell to the ground, the last thing she saw were the other two zombies ripping apart her already-dead children, their little bodies coming apart like bloody piñatas.
Phillips had arrived too late to do anything. He watched as the infected ripped apart the bodies of the kids as if they were tearing apart a cooked turkey. He heard the mother scream as the zombie bit through her neck all the way to the bone.
Phillips ran over as two zombies fought over the little girl’s torso and smacked one with the flat side of the shovel. A loud crack filled the air as the zombie’s neck snapped back. The other zombie leapt up and went after Phillips, but his heavy boot caught the creature under the chin. Phillips heard the teeth inside the creature’s rotten mouth shatter and saw the thing’s jaw dislocate.
Seeing the first zombie with the broken neck start to stir, Phillips pinned it with his foot to keep it where it was. With the edge of the shovel, he thrust down and caught the zombie between the lips. A loud, wet crunching noise was heard as the blade went through the creature’s head and separated the top of its head from its jaw.
Phillips turned to see the zombie with the dislocated jaw run toward him. The shovel’s blade was stuck in the ground, and he couldn’t swing it around. Phillips felt death next to him and knew that if he didn’t do something—anything—he was a goner.
He looked down and saw the only thing he could use to defend himself. He crouched down onto one knee, grabbed the dismembered limbs of the dead children, and swung the tiny arm toward the attacking zombie without taking his eyes off it. The jagged bone of the little girl’s arm caught the zombie in the throat and Phillips pushed as hard as he could.
The bone in the arm was strong enough to punch through the rotting flesh. He held the little girl’s severed arm in place, reached down with his left arm, and grabbed one of the little kids’ leg and slammed the dismembered appendage into the side of the zombie’s head.
Phillips stood as the zombie fell. He left the tiny arm sticking out of the creature’s throat as he used both hands to swing the little girl’s severed leg like a baseball bat. Phillips beat the shit out the zombie with the leg until it stopped moving.
The beating caught the attention of the zombie on top of the mother. It looked up, its victim's optic nerve still dangling from the thing’s bloodied mouth, and charged after Phillips.
Phillips was spent. Even with the adrenaline still coursing through his body, he knew he was done. He looked around for another weapon, but found nothing. The attacking zombie was close enough that Phillips could smell its rot. He closed his eyes and readied himself for impact when he heard the boom of a shotgun. The gun fired again, and Phillips slowly opened his eyes.
Sean stood in front of him. He blew the zombie’s legs off and watched as the creature still clawed its way to Phillips.
“Sorry, Sir,” said Sean. “I couldn’t risk taking a head shot with you standing right behind it.”
“No need to apologize at all, Sean,” Phillips said.
Despite everything he’d just been through, Phillips managed to smile as Sean walked over and shot the zombie through the head.
“Let’s go,” Phillips said as he ran off to the front of the barracks. “We have something urgent to accomplish before this entire base is overrun.”
“Uh, Sir,” Sean started to say, but didn’t need to finish, as Phillips stopped running when he neared the front of the building.
“Holy shit,” Phillips said to no one in particular.
“Yeah,” Sean said. “We’re already overrun.”
All around them soldiers and civilians fought as best they could against the rampaging zombies. Phillips heard Sean’s shotgun discharge as he formulated a plan. He had to get back to the communication room. He needed to tell Butsko and Wilder about the attack and not to come back to Fort Hood.
Sean’s back was pressed tightly against the side of the building as he reloaded the shotgun. Phillips had never seen anyone reload a shotgun so quickly.
“Sean,” Phillips said as he looked toward the communication building. “It is imperative that we make it to the communication’s room. We need to warn the convoy and the other bases.”
Sean looked at Phillips, obviously confused. He’d expected to hear an escape plan, but was surprised by the man’s suggestion.
“I know what you’re thinking, Sean,” Phillips said, “and you’re absolutely right. This base is done. Even if we tried to get away, we’re not going to survive the day.”
A look came over Sean’s face, like he’d just been slapped hard.
“I’m sorry to be so blunt,” Phillips continued, “but we need to get to that room so we can save other lives.”
Sean looked over to the building that Phillips was pointing to and shook his head.
“I’m with you,” Sean finally said. “Think we can make it?”
Looking directly into Sean’s eye
s, Phillips said, “There’s no choice. We need to make it.”
Phillips bent down and grabbed an M4 carbine and two clips off a dead soldier’s body.
“What’s the plan?” Sean asked.
“We run like Death is on our tails and shoot anything or anyone who gets in our way,” Phillips said without a trace of humor in his voice. “By now,” Phillips continued, “the bodies of our friends will have already started to reanimate. You don’t have a problem shooting infected friends, do you?”
“No, Sir!” Sean said crisply. “I’m ready.”
As they ran from the side of the building, a zombie jumped out and grabbed Sean’s belt. Phillips used the stock of the carbine and slammed it into the creature’s head. He heard the thing’s teeth crunch together as he put one bullet in its head.
They made a straight run for the communication’s room with Phillips in the lead. Every few seconds he heard Sean’s shotgun go off and knew he’d be out of shells soon.
Phillips aimed for the center of the infected’s chests as he ran. He knew a head shot stopped the zombies faster, but as fast as he was running, he knew he wouldn’t be very accurate.
Phillips heard Sean’s shotgun click on an empty chamber and quickly handed him his freshly loaded M4. Phillips reached down, grabbed a bloodied machete, and ran.
As they approached the communication room, Phillips actually thought they were going to make it.
Everywhere he looked, Phillips saw nothing but zombies as they ate and ripped apart his colleagues. This was nothing short of a massacre as soldiers and civilians, men and women, adults and children died horrible deaths at the hands of the infected.
Phillips heard Sean eject the empty cartridge as he yelled to Phillips for another. Phillips quickly pushed a hand behind him to pass Sean more ammo.
“Duck!” yelled Sean as he fired past Phillips’ head and shot a nearby zombie.
As they approached the building, Phillips lowered his shoulder and ran right through the door without slowing down.
The door’s hinges splintered as he broke through the door and into the building.
Phillips saw Sean enter through the doorway, and they ran down the small corridor to get to the communications room. Phillips didn’t remember the hallway in this building being so claustrophobic as he ran.
They both looked into the various rooms as they ran through the hallway and saw nothing but carnage. Soldiers and civilians alike were dead. The bodies, however, weren’t torn apart. They only had a few visible bite marks on them.
Holy shit, Phillips thought as he realized what he was looking at. The infected are making sure there’s enough body to reanimate… they’re fucking recruiting.
They reached the communications room and Phillips slammed the door shut once they were inside. They immediately moved the couch and other furniture against the door, but they both knew the items wouldn’t hold back the zombies forever.
“Oh shit!” Sean yelled as he looked behind the desk where the communication equipment was.
Phillips saw what Sean was looking at. The body of Billy Marsh lay dead next to his station. He was a civilian who’d been a ham radio enthusiast before the outbreak, so they’d placed him on communications detail. Billy only had a bite on his left forearm. Sean and Phillips looked at each other knowing it was only a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, before Billy reanimated and attacked them.
“Keep a watch on him,” Phillips said to Sean as he nodded down at Billy’s corpse.
Phillips grabbed the handset and tuned to the frequency he and Butsko used for emergencies.
“Come in, Butsko! Come in!” Phillips frantically yelled through the radio.
Phillips was met with only static.
“Emergency, emergency!” Phillips said as he tried to calm down. “Butsko! Are you there?”
Sean didn’t take his eyes off the body at his feet.
“Goddamnit!” Phillips hollered as he tilted his head back. “Where the fuck are they?”
Through the static Phillips and Sean heard a voice answer them back.
“Thi… ne… you…” was all Phillips and Sean could make out.
“Come in, convoy,” Phillips said as calmly as he could. “Can anyone in the convoy hear me?”
Sean looked at the radio, and out the corner of his eye, thought he saw Billy’s body twitch. Sean focused his attention and gun back onto the body.
“This is Mane!” roared a voice over the radio. “Are you there?”
Phillips remembered Mane well. Mane had been a huge help in fortifying Fort Hood back when they all first arrived.
“Mane,” Phillips said into the handset, “we’ve been attacked. Repeat: Fort Hood has been attacked.”
“Come in, Hood!” a new voice barked over the radio. “Repeat your last message.”
Phillips recognized Butsko’s voice.
“Butsko,” said Phillips, relieved to have gotten through. “Butsko, we’ve been attacked… ambushed by the infected.”
“Phillips?” Butsko asked, sounding confused. “Please repeat and try and calm down. What’s going on over there?”
“There’s no time, Butsko,” Phillips said as he saw Billy’s body begin to spasm. “The infected are organized, and they attacked the base. These things are getting smarter by the day.”
Before Phillips took his fingers off the send button, Butsko heard the crack of a gun.
“Are you all right, Phillips?” Butsko shouted back.
“George… Butsko…” Phillips voice quivered. “Heavy casualties… everyone’s dead.”
Before Butsko could respond, Phillips grabbed the handset just as five zombies came crashing through the wall.
“Don’t come back for us, Butsko!” Phillips shouted as gunfire erupted in the background. “Don’t come for us… Fort Hood has fallen.”
3
Lago Vista, Texas
Butsko sat in the driver's seat clutching the CB handset. The others in the convoy were gathered around the M939 truck and no one spoke a word.
“We need to go back,” Hall said. “We need to go back right now!”
“Go back to what?” Vasquez asked. “You heard what just happened. There’s nothing left.”
“We gotta do something,” Steele said as he looked around at the others.
The group argued as they debated whether they should go back or not. Tempers flared and voices got louder.
“We’re not going anywhere!” shouted Butsko over the noise.
All eyes darted to the expressionless man sitting in the truck.
“How can you say that, Sir?” Hall asked.
“Didn’t you hear what just happened?” Butsko asked everyone as he raised the handset. “There is no one left on the base to save.”
“You don’t know that,” Wallack said.
Butsko put the handset down and got out of the truck. The convoy was parked in the circular driveway of the Lago Vista Golf Club. The Growlers each faced opposite directions on the driveway while the M939s were backed up to the clubhouse’s front doors for easy access. The group had swept the area to make sure there weren’t any surprises waiting for them inside the clubhouse when Phillips first contacted them.
“Now listen up,” said Butsko. “Stop thinking with your emotions and use your heads.” Butsko caught Melvin’s eyes as he looked at the group. “Melvin,” Butsko said, pointing to him. “What do you think about going back for a rescue mission?”
Looking around at the various faces, Melvin inhaled before answering Butsko. “I think if we went back,” Melvin said softly, “we’d be walking into a trap, and would all be slaughtered.”
“And why do you think that, Melvin?” asked Butsko.
“You heard what Phillips said over the radio,” Melvin said with more confidence. “Phillips said the infected attacked the base and that they were organized.”
“What do you think he meant?” Mears asked.
“It’s only speculation,” Melvin said, “but I think
that instead of a full-on frontal attack, the infected may have attacked many areas around the base all at the same time.”
“We all know that the infected are smarter today than they were a year ago,” continued Melvin. “Hell, they’re smarter today than they were two months ago. I’ve observed the infected since the day of the outbreak, and there doesn’t seem to be any end in their capacity to learn and evolve.”
“Evolve?” asked Jones.
“I use that word,” Melvin answered, “because it seems to be the best fit. These creatures are not the zombies of the movies,” he continued. “They are fast, they are strong, and it almost seems as though they retain some of their mental capacities from before they were infected.”
“But what does this have to do with not going back and helping out the survivors at Fort Hood?” Steele asked.
“To be blunt,” Melvin said, “I’m guessing there aren’t any survivors to rescue.”
“But you don’t know that, Melvin,” Hall said. “None of us could possibly know that.”
Butsko was about to interrupt, but Melvin silenced him with his palm.
“Phillips was a great man and a great leader, right?” Melvin asked everyone.
Everyone either nodded their affirmative or gave a hearty ‘fuck yeah’ as their answer.
“His objective was to keep everyone safe,” Melvin continued. “If he thought the base was going to be overrun with the infected, he would have gathered together as many survivors he could and gotten them to safety.”
“How do we know he didn’t?” Hall asked.
“How?” Melvin answered. “Because he was on the radio with us, warning us not to come back.” Melvin let that sink in before he continued. “Chances are, Phillips wasn’t in the communication room when the attack occurred. Can we all agree on that?”
Outbreak (Book 2): The Mutation Page 8
