When the Future Ended

by David Spell

  “Come on, guys! Let’s get out of here,” Marshall yelled.

  They stepped out of the mall into the chaos of the parking lot.

  Amir Al-Razi had watched from his car in the parking lot as the white Ford van raced up to one of the main entrances of the mall, closely pursued by the black Chevrolet Suburban. The five jihadists jumped out of the back of the van and rushed into the mall to cause as much damage as they could. He saw Farouq Farhat engage one of the CDC Officers, one of the team leaders, he had learned. He remembered watching him from down the street as he led his team into Amir's safe house the week before.

  Amir thought that Farouq had killed the big black man. He had sprayed the Suburban with fire from the AK-47. Then he watched as Farouq was shot by the other black officer. Amir saw the two officers stand over his friend’s body and then run into the mall.

  He knew he should leave before the parking lot was filled with other police vehicles. He had to watch a little longer, though. The people began pouring out of the mall. Some of them appeared to be injured. More and more of them left the mall for the safety of the parking lot. The crowd did not seem to know what to do. Some were on their cellphones, probably calling 911. Others were running for their cars to leave.

  There! That is what he was waiting to see. A older man wearing a red polo shirt grabbed a woman who was standing next to him and bit her neck. He wrestled her to the ground and was clearly ripping her flesh with his teeth. A younger guy, in his twenties, grabbed at the man trying to pull him off the woman. The older man grabbed the younger guy’s arm and bit down on it. The younger man ripped his arm out of the man’s mouth and ran away holding his torn flesh.

  Amir saw this same scene repeated twenty feet away except this time it was a woman. She grabbed a child, a boy who appeared to be about ten years old and started biting him. The boy’s mother tried to fight the crazy woman off. The mother found herself on her back trying to keep the infected woman from biting her neck. The teeth were getting closer and closer until they found flesh.

  Al-Razi started his car and headed for the exit. He saw police cars pulling in with their lights flashing. Two ambulances turned in as well. They were going to have a busy night, he thought.

  Interstate 20 Eastbound, Friday, 1740 hours

  Scotty Smith was driving and Andy was in the passenger seat holding his rifle. They were operating on adrenaline and caffeine. They had only managed a couple of catnaps over the last forty-eight hours.

  The black Suburban was several car lengths behind the white Ford van. Their van was the third one to leave the safe house. They had followed it onto the interstate and were heading back towards Atlanta.

  “You think they've spotted us?” Scotty asked.

  “A black Suburban with heavily tinted windows just like all the feds use? Of course not!” Andy answered with a laugh. “They probably made us as soon as we pulled in behind them back there near the house.”

  The white van moved all the way over to the far left lane and accelerated. There was not nearly as much traffic heading into the city as there was coming out of it heading west. Smith slid into the same lane. Now, there were two cars between the van and the SUV.

  While a good, durable work van, the Econoline was not made for speed. Smith was easily keeping pace at seventy-five miles an hour. The two cars between the van and the Suburban decided that they wanted to go faster and moved over, passing on the right. Smith and Fleming were now directly behind the van. Scotty closed the gap so that Andy could get the license plate.

  Fleming was just about to push the call button on his phone to call the switchboard and have them run the tag to get the registered owner. Suddenly, the van’s speed decreased and its back doors flew open. AK-47 fire began raking the front of the Suburban. The windshield shattered and several of the heavy rifle rounds found their way into the engine.

  Without hesitating, Smith jerked the steering wheel to the right. He felt something sting his face and something else tugging at his left shoulder. He heard Andy grunt and saw him trying to bring his M4 up. As Scotty steered to the right, he hit the accelerator and turned back to the left smashing into the right rear quarter panel and tire of the van, a variation of the police Precision Immobilization Technique maneuver. The impact of the Suburban knocked the Econoline into the concrete median.

  Two of the terrorists were thrown out of the open rear door of the van and landed on the interstate, with one of them landing on the other side of the median. Traffic began slowing down to watch the drama unfolding in front of them. Smith continued to press the accelerator to keep the van against the median. His goal was to immobilize it. Steam was already coming from under the hood of their Suburban where the AK-47 bullets had struck their radiator. He couldn't let the terrorists get away. Both vehicles ground to a halt.

  “I got the front, you take the rear,” Andy ordered bailing out the passenger door.

  Fleming slowly approached the front of the van, his rifle at eye level. He had been hit in the left side. He knew he was bleeding but he didn't know how bad it was. The soft body armor that they were wearing was only designed to stop handgun rounds. AK-47 bullets would punch through it like it was paper.

  Let’s finish this, he thought, and then I’ll have a look. The driver’s door was jammed against the concrete median. Gunfire from inside the cab blew out the passenger window. Andy couldn't get a shot at the people in the cab of the van, but he fired two shots into the door to let them know he was there. He needed to keep them contained so Scotty could deal with the bad guys in the back.

  Behind him, Fleming heard growling and then he heard Scotty’s suppressed M4 working. There was no return fire.

  “Clear back here,” Smith yelled. “Three down. They'd turned into zombies.”

  “I still have at least one in the cab of the van,” Andy called.

  Scotty joined him beside the Suburban, both of their rifles pointed at the passenger door of the van. A traffic helicopter was overhead to report on this new traffic accident. Motorists had their phones out and were videotaping the incident.

  A figure began to climb out of the passenger window of the van. He had dark hair and a heavy dark beard. He was growling and his mouth was opening and closing. Scotty and Andy could see that his hands were empty as he pulled himself out of the open window.

  "You, in the van," Andy yelled, "we are federal police officers. Keep your hands where I can see them. Come on out and lay down on the pavement."

  Fleming and Smith both saw that the terrorist appeared to have been infected. He was acting like all the other zombies that they had seen. They also realized that they were being recorded on cellphone video and news chopper video. Giving loud verbal commands was the smart thing to do. At least they were trying to get the guy to give up.

  The terrorist turned zombie pulled himself through the window and fell to the pavement. In a burst of motion, he pushed himself to his feet and started moving towards the first target that he saw. The young woman was in a Nissan Sentra and had stopped to watch the drama unfolding in front of her.

  She was fumbling with her phone, trying to get her video camera working. The zombie was almost at her car. She looked up and gasped as he growled at her, his mouth opening and closing.

  “Get out of here!” Scotty yelled at her. He and Andy ran towards the creature as the girl quickly accelerated to safety. Both officers squeezed off shots that caught him in the head. He dropped in the far left lane of traffic.

  “I guess we're going to be on the evening news,” Smith said, looking up at the news helicopter.

  “Looks like it. We need to call this in and I need to see how bad I'm shot.”

  As the team medic, Smith immediately went into first responder mode. His own left shoulder was burning but he would check it later. He helped Fleming back to the Suburban and had him sit in the backseat. He pulled out his smartphone and hit the Talk app. Scotty helped Fleming out of his kevlar lined jacket and then cut off his shirt.

&nb
sp; "Team One Charlie to Team One Alpha."

  “Team One Alpha, go ahead Team One Charlie. Talk to me.” McCain answered.

  Smith gave him their location and told him that they needed some help. They needed the local police to respond and they needed an ambulance for Andy. He was assessing him now. They had just shot four of the zombie terrorists in the middle of the interstate during rush hour. Two more had been ejected and were several hundred yards back down the road.

  “We're coming up on you now,” McCain said. “I see you. We'll be there in a minute.”

  As Chuck pulled over and stopped next to the median wall, he turned on his emergency flashers. He and Rebecca could hear sirens in the distance as they got out of the truck. Rebecca had requested assistance from the local authorities and many of the passing motorists had already called 911. The police dispatcher told her that they also had a major incident at the Arbor Place Mall, possibly involving federal police officers.

  McCain left his rifle in the truck and climbed over the median. He helped Rebecca over and they joined Andy and Scotty. Smith had taken off Andy’s soft body armor and had cut off his black t-shirt. There was a small, jagged hole in his left side. Blood was seeping out.

  Two police cars pulled up and shut down the far left lane. The officers walked over to the crashed vehicles. Rebecca went to talk to them so that Scotty could work on Fleming.

  “Andy, I think you caught a bullet fragment. It doesn’t look too bad. The fragment is still in there and we'll need to get it out. For now, hold this over it.”

  Smith handed Fleming a compression bandage. “Keep pressure on it.”

  “Man, you're bleeding too,” Fleming said, seeing Scotty's bloody shoulder.

  “Just a flesh wound. And I think I caught some glass in the face, too.”

  Chuck walked up and saw the cuts on his face and the blood on Smith’s shoulder. “Did you get shot in the shoulder, Scotty?”

  Smith reach up and touched it. "Just a little bit."

  He pulled his kevlar jacket off and allowed McCain to cut his polo shirt off. He took off his own soft body armor and they could see where a bullet had dug a furrow across Smith’s big left shoulder. It was bleeding a lot but it did not appear to be very serious.

  “A couple of stitches and another scar for the collection,” said Scotty.

  “Need some help over here!” Rebecca yelled.

  Chuck turned to see her and one of the police officers running down the interstate. About a hundred yards down the road, one of the terrorists that had been ejected was now a zombie. He had his head inside the open window of a car that had stopped to offer help.

  “You guys stay here and wait for the ambulance,” Chuck said and started running.

  The police officer with Rebecca outpaced her to the car. He grabbed the zombie and pulled him out of the car and off of the driver. The zombie was covered with blood and the driver’s head had been nearly severed from his neck. The creature quickly turned on the officer and tried to bite him. The officer kicked his feet out from under him dropping him to the pavement and pulled out his taser.

  “Put your hands behind your back! Now!” the officer ordered.

  The zombie started pushing his way to his feet. His mouth was opening and closing. The officer fired the taser but it had no effect and the zombie growled and lunged for him. A shot rang out and a hole appeared in the zombie’s forehead. He dropped onto his face.

  “This is the zombie virus! If you'd gotten bit, you would've died and turned into one of those things,” Rebecca yelled at the officer as she holstered her Glock.

  When Chuck saw Rebecca shoot the zombie, he slowed down. Then he saw another figure trying to climb over the median near where Rebecca and the officer were at. It looked like the other terrorist, now infected. The ejection from the van had broken both of his legs so he couldn't stand up. It still had enough upper body strength, though, to pull itself over the median and drop onto the same side of the interstate near them.

  McCain started running again as the zombie dragged itself towards Rebecca. As Chuck approached, the creature changed direction and came towards him, snapping its jaws and growling. Rebecca and the officer turned at the sound of McCain's Glock putting a bullet into the zombie's head.

  Chuck felt his phone vibrate and looked to see who was calling. It was Luis.

  Six Flags Over Georgia Amusement Park, Friday, 1750 hours

  Luis followed the first van that left the location. There were only two ways the vans could go when they pulled out of the driveway, so Luis waited about a quarter of a mile down the road, heading back towards the interstate. One of them would have to come this way, he thought. He backed into a parking spot in a convenience store until the white Econoline drove by. García let two other cars go by and then he pulled out.

  They merged onto the interstate heading back towards Atlanta. Luis followed but stayed well to the rear. He wasn't going to lose them, but he knew there were could be five to ten armed terrorists in that van. He didn't need to get into a firefight by himself.

  As they continued east on I-20, Luis began to see signs for the Six Flags Over Georgia Amusement Park. The target vehicle moved over to the right lane as they approached the exit for Six Flags. Luis grabbed his phone and dialed McCain.

  “Luis, are you ok?” McCain answered.

  “Chuck, I think we're going to Six Flags Over Georgia. The exit's coming up in one mile.”

  “Oh, no!” McCain exclaimed. He pictured the popular amusement park being packed on a Friday afternoon.

  “I'm out with Fleming and Smith on the interstate. They wrecked their car and got into a shootout with the perps in the van they were following. They got all the bad guys.”

  “Are Scotty and Andy ok?”

  “They both got hit, but not bad. Their Suburban is probably totalled. I'll see if I can get one of these local officers to bring me down there. We're ten minutes away but I'll call Cobb County right now. Be careful, Luis.”

  “Gotta go, amigo, we're getting off the interstate.”

  The white van exited and turned right to go towards the amusement park. García could see part of the parking lot and it was full. Luis accelerated and closed the distance to the van in his Suburban. He didn't care if they spotted him now.

  A marked Cobb County police car was parked at the entrance to Six Flags. The driver’s window was down and the officer’s left hand was holding a cigarette. He was looking at his cellphone in his right hand. The white van drove right by him and he never looked up.

  Luis turned his flashers on and stopped near the police car. He got out and rushed over to the officer.

  “Luis García, with CDC Enforcement. Did you get the lookout on the white vans involved in a possible terrorist incident?”

  “No, I'm not working for the county today," the officer answered. "This is a part-time job for me.”

  “That white van that just pulled in is involved.” Luis pointed at it. The van had slowed near the front of the park. “I think we're about to have a terrorist attack at Six Flags. You need to come help me. Call for back up.”

  A large fence surrounds the park. The only way to get inside is to park in their huge parking lot and take the small tram that carries the guests back and forth to their cars. As Luis ran back to his vehicle, he saw the van pull to the far side of the road and then accelerate into the fence, knocking a section of it down. The terrorists now had clear access to the front entrance of the amusement park.

  García looked over and saw that the Cobb police officer had seen this, too. He was talking rapidly on his radio. The black SUV and the marked police car accelerated the few hundred yards to where the six terrorists were exiting their van. Two of them stopped to fire their AKs at the approaching officers. Luis spun the steering wheel to the left and stopped sideways to the van. He grabbed his M4 and dove out of the vehicle.

  The Cobb County officer had stopped near him and was hunkered down beside his police car as AK-47 bullets punched
into it.

  “What do we do now?” the officer yelled across to Luis.

  “Shoot them!” Luis yelled back.

  García proned out on the asphalt and sighted under the Suburban’s frame. He saw the two sets of legs of the terrorists who were shooting at them. He squeezed off four shots and was rewarded with screams and the sight of the two men collapsing to the pavement. He fired six more rounds into their downed bodies.

  He carefully stood and looked through the windows of the Suburban. All clear. Which meant the four other terrorists had already entered the park. He could hear automatic gunfire from several different locations inside.

  “Let’s go?” Luis yelled over to the county officer. He quickly changed the mag in his rifle to a full one.

  “Man, don’t you think we should wait for backup? Those guys have machine guns,” the officer said, still crouched behind his cruiser.

  “They're killing people and your job is to help me stop them. And it's about to get worse. They may be infected with the zombie virus. We need to go right now.”

  García turned and started into the park. The two terrorists that he had shot should have been dead. He had hit them both multiple times. As he passed their bodies, he kept them covered with his rifle. Almost in unison, they both began to try and get to their feet, growling as Luis approached. He shot them both once in the head and kept moving.

  Luis could hear the sound of sirens getting closer. The smart thing to do would be to wait for some more officers. He couldn't afford to wait, though. Gunfire erupted again ahead of him. Every second was another life lost. He glanced behind him and saw that the Cobb officer had his Glock 22 out and was hurrying to catch up.