Evolution Z (Book 3): Stage Three

by Bourne, David

  “Men, we have to ask for support from the USS George Washington. The communications window will open soon. Describe our situation to them–and hurry up. I hope the two-way radio has enough power for transmission since I am not sure how long our generators will be able to supply power to these searchlights.”

  Chris already nodded. Phil’s children–Robbie and Fiona–were in the officers’ mess, together with the wounded and all others unable to fight. At this instant, the men were turning around in order to fulfill the task.

  “Just a moment. Even though you might not like it, stay in the communications center. If the Washington sends help and it gets within shortwave range, I want our two-way radio to be ready. I don’t know whether I will have time to coordinate everything.” Pelletier gave them a serious look.

  Chris wanted to protest, but then Gregory nudged him on the shoulder. He also nodded, and then the two went directly to the communications center with Phil, while outside the undead army lurched toward the military base.

  5Radio Silence

  About fifteen minutes after their conversation on deck, Ray, Josh and Scott stood on the bridge of the aircraft carrier, together with General Dixon, Admiral Jackson and Dr. Abbadon. The group gathered around a huge flat screen monitor located in the center of the room. Besides them, there were also about a dozen military personnel sitting in front of many monitors, gauges and other devices necessary for operating the ship. It was a few minutes before 6:30 a.m., when communication with Fort Weeks would again become possible. Then they would have about fifteen minutes to exchange important information and to plan how to proceed.

  The mood in the room was tense. Ray and Scott did not even try to hide their disgust for Abbadon, and Josh only barely managed to control himself because Abbadon had agreed to share information about the quick test. They just had to grin and bear it. During the conversations below deck, the military leaders had made it unequivocally clear that the deal with Abbadon was valid and the scientist would enjoy absolute immunity.

  One of the officers at the communications console looked at the general, adjusted his headset and started a countdown. “Connection with Fort Weeks coming in five, four, three, two, one–connection established!”

  The large screen that had displayed the countdown in white numbers remained dark. Everyone stared at each other in surprise.

  “What’s going on there?” Dixon asked.

  “Just a moment, Sir. The base is not acknowledging our transmission. The connection has been established, the satellite is in place–but Fort Weeks does not answer.”

  Josh held his hands in front of his face and slowly shook his head. Dixon and Jackson frowned at each other.

  Abbadon cleared his throat. “Well, if you gentlemen don’t object, I will return to my cabin. I still have to finish a game against my chess computer before the battery runs out. It appears that Fort Weeks seems to be otherwise occupied. Inform me as soon as my family is safe.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, asshole,” Scott growled and stood in Abbadon’s way. The scientist looked over at Ray.

  “Mr. Thompson, could you please tell your oafish hillbilly friend that it is in everyone’s best interest to leave me alone? I have been very patient so far about his outbursts directed at me, but I cannot guarantee that this courtesy will continue in the future.”

  Ray felt intense rage rising in him, together with the old, familiar urge for alcohol. This was like his former life when he regularly got so drunk that by morning, he wasn’t completely sure what he had done the night before. He needed a drink as soon as possible, because otherwise he would take his fist and smash in the teeth of this pretentious baboon in a designer suit–right here, right now in front of everyone on the bridge. As he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting his hands on any liquor at this moment, he walked toward the scientist with his fists tightly clenched. General Dixon promptly defused the situation.

  “Your chess computer will have to wait, Dr. Abbadon!” Dixon barked. “Your complete cooperation was part of your immunity deal. And you will stay here on the bridge as long as I want you to, even if we stare at a dark monitor all day long!”

  Abbadon’s eyes narrowed as he gave the general a venomous stare, yet he remained on the bridge and turned toward the screen again. Ray relaxed his fists.

  “Keep on trying,” Dixon told the officer.

  “We are, Sir, but there is not much to do. The connection has been established from our side, and we are just waiting for the base to confirm this. We have about thirteen minutes left.”

  “When will we be able to get in radio contact again?” Ray asked, though he already knew the answer.

  “In nine hours,” the officer replied.

  “It might be too late by then,” Josh sighed.

  For a moment, these ominous words seemed to hang in the air—everyone knew Josh was right. Many questions were now left unanswered. What if the girl had already undergone a mutation? What if there were even more infected persons at the base? What if Fort Weeks had already ceased to exist?

  As if to provide an answer, the monitor that the men stood around suddenly sprang to life.

  6Darkness

  With a loud click, one searchlight after another went dark. Gradually, all the perimeter lighting was extinguished, and even parts of the interior lighting were no longer working anymore. For a brief time, everyone gathered on the outer walls was stunned, and even the snipers on the watchtower temporarily ceased firing. The following silence seemed eerie and oppressive. At that moment, the wind carried a mixture of moaning and smacking sounds toward the base which rose from numerous undead throats. The only source of light were the flames of the fire pits, which had been intended as zombie traps.

  The undead must have almost reached the exterior fence, but most of them had been swallowed by the darkness. Even before William Pelletier could order more illumination shells to be fired, a young soldier positioned on the wall lost his nerve. A loud shot cracked from his assault rifle, and the muzzle flash briefly lit up the area around him. This impulse was enough, though, to encourage other soldiers to fire their weapon in a chain reaction. They concentrated their fire on the glow of the fire pits, though some also shot aimlessly into the darkness.

  “CEASE FIRE!” The noise of the guns drowned out the master sergeant’s voice, but no one reacted. The noise level was enormous. Pelletier grabbed his radio handset and yelled into it.

  “This is Master Sergeant William Pelletier! To all fighting units! Cease fire!” He pressed the transmit button again. “Morgan! What about the light? Bring illumination shells to the wall and fire them over the zombies! Cease fire until the area is lit again!”

  He repeated these messages several times. By now most soldiers had understood, him and the firing gradually stopped. Morgan called over the radio:

  “Sir, one of the diesel generators broke down. We cannot run everything under full power. We are going to need...”

  The rest of his message was muffled by a tremendous guttural yell originating from the clearing. A new terror from the dark had entered the battlefield.

  Floop, floop. One of the soldiers at the gate had obviously found the illumination shells and began tossing them into the nighttime sky. With their loud hissing, red balls of light once again overcame the darkness. But what now stepped into the glow of these lights dwarfed even the multitude of the undead that had meanwhile reached the first row of fencing around Fort Weeks.

  A gigantic zombie stood in the middle of the clearing, just a few yards away from the outermost fence. Spreading its arms, the imposing creature roared with all its might in a sort of battle cry, just as though it wanted to drive the all the other zombies onward–or even order them to continue their massive attack.

  Pelletier was not sure whether this specimen had ever once been a human being. He estimated the zombie to be over eight feet tall, and its sheer bulk reminded him of an ogre. Its scarred arms and legs sported massive slabs of muscle
.

  The oversized zombie stepped to the exterior fence and effortlessly tore a side support of it out of the ground–together with its concrete foundation–like ripping a sapling from the soil.

  It triumphantly raised the fence post and launched it several yards over the perimeter wall. The soldiers flinched when they heard the loud clanking of steel on concrete. Luckily, nobody was hit by the projectile, as the impact of almost a ton of steel and concrete would have had a devastating effect.

  Master Sergeant Pelletier once again was the first soldier at the main gate to break the awe inspiring spell of this dramatic scene. He aimed his pistol and fired three rapid shots at the alpha zombie.

  Now hordes of undead were streaming into the next ring of fencing around the base. The giant marched ahead and also kept aiming toward Fort Weeks. The soldiers were momentarily astonished when they saw how easily the zombies were getting through the first row of fencing, but then they remembered their task and raised their assault rifles.

  Several soldiers concentrated their fire on the giant, but this did not seem to have much effect. It simply raised its huge paw and protected its face. Many of the projectiles bounced off its body without showing much impact.

  Pelletier considered his options. We need bigger guns for this fucking monster.

  He grabbed his radio handset.

  “Brown, Clark, where are the damned Humvees? We need those Fifties at the gate! NOW!”

  As on cue, the first Humvee came racing toward the gate. Clark stuck his head out of the roof hatch and racked the attached .50 caliber machine gun.

  “Sir, there are several vehicles missing, and this here was the only one we could find on the quick.”

  The master sergeant frowned briefly and wondered where these other vehicles had suddenly gone. All the same, this was a secondary issue at the moment, so he once again concentrated on the main problem, the alpha zombie. The large-caliber ammunition of the Humvee’s machine gun should be able to kill even this monster. And if this did not work, William Pelletier had another ace up his sleeve.

  “Men, listen carefully. We are going to open the main gate. You two drive the Humvee into the first circle of fencing and mow down this behemoth.”

  “Behemoth, Sir?”

  “A giant alpha zombie is standing in the exterior ring, tearing down fences. Do you understand your task?”

  In confirmation, Brown revved the engine. “Let’s show this motherfucking bastard what’s in store for it!”

  Master Sergeant Pelletier pointed with one hand to the main gate and then held his palms upward. The two soldiers stationed at the gate mechanism understood this command, and the gate started to open with a creak. Pelletier picked up his radio handset again.

  “We have to eliminate this giant at the gate before it completely destroys our fences. We are sending a Humvee into the inner fence area to fire on him. Concentrate on shooting at its skull. This creature is like a huge undead siege engine. It must not be allowed to reach the perimeter wall. Eliminate the beast at any cost.”

  While the master sergeant was speaking, the zombie hordes continued to stream into the clearing outside Fort Weeks. The original estimated number of a thousand zombies turned out to be brutally understated. The hole the alpha zombie had torn into the fence had allowed many undead to enter the outer fence ring. As parts of the fence support were now missing, the zombies tore down adjoining sections. But even in areas with intact fences, so many bodies were pressed against them that they slowly but surely bent backwards. This resembled incessant waves pounding against a dilapidated levee. Soon the outer fences would be torn down, too.

  7Upheaval

  The black-and-white image on the large monitor was distorted and flickering. The outlines of a person could be seen, but Ray was unable to determine who it was.

  “Switch the sound to the loudspeakers,” General Dixon ordered.

  The officer with the headset pressed his lips together and looked skeptically at his superior, but then he obeyed the order.

  At first, they heard some hissing and cracking noises, then word fragments interrupted by acoustic feedback and sound disruptions. This though, was not the reason the officer had given Dixon a skeptical look. It was the dull screams, the yell of people, the sound of machine guns and the explosions of grenades that almost drowned out the words and put everyone present on the bridge in a state of shock. Judging from the background noise, Fort Weeks was in a state of war.

  “What the hell...” Scott started.

  Josh sat down on a chair. All hope faded from his face. “It is too late,” he whispered.

  Ray forced himself to stay calm. At this moment, he could only be certain that there was shooting at Fort Weeks—everything else was pure speculation. “Can you filter out the background noise?” he asked the officer.

  “Not completely, but I can try my best.” After the officer pressed several buttons, the voice of the radio operator at Fort Weeks became clearer, until it could be understood and the other sounds were only a faint static noise. The man at the microphone in Fort Weeks was Chris.

  “I repeat, we are under attack. We need help. USS George Washington, please acknowledge.”

  General Dixon took the headset.

  “Fort Weeks, this is General Thomas Dixon, acting commander of the USS George Washington. What is going on there?”

  “All hell has broken loose. We are being attacked by thousands of zombies. There was also an explosion on the base. All available forces are in combat. The situation is unclear.”

  The men exchanged worried looks when they hear this. Ray stepped next to Dixon and signaled him to hand over the headset. He took a deep breath before speaking.

  “Chris, this is Ray. What happened?”

  “Ray, dammit... I don’t know. Suddenly this helicopter with a huge loudspeaker appeared near the base and played music nonstop. It had a huge number of zombies following behind it. Then there were explosions everywhere.”

  “How are the others doing?”

  “No idea. I was at the main gate with the master sergeant and most of the soldiers. He sent me here to try to call for help during the communications window. Gregory and Phil are with me, and the children and many other civilians have been taken to the officers’ mess.”

  “Chris, listen carefully. We will get there as soon as possible, but it will take at least two hours. Hold on, and we’ll give you air support. Additionally…”

  The officer nudged Ray and then pointed at the small countdown timer in the lower left corner. They only had about two minutes left before the communications window would close.

  “There is also incredible news about the virus. No matter what happens outside, the hospital is more important for you right now. The little girl that’s there will probably turn into an alpha. You have to neutralize her, otherwise the zombie horde is your least concern. Did you understand that?”

  Now only hissing and cracking noises could be heard from the loudspeaker.

  “Chris! Did you understand what I said? The hospital! Please confirm! Chris!”

  “Ray... many interruptions... hardly can understand... come as fast as you can... we will...”

  “Chris? Chris? FUCK!” Ray hit the table with his fist when he saw that the countdown had ended.

  “Scott and Josh, find the two privates and get the helicopter ready for takeoff. We’ll leave as fast as we can.” Scott and Josh were already up and left the bridge in the direction of the helicopter.

  “We have to leave right away,” Ray said to General Dixon.

  Dixon thought for a moment and then nodded. “Alright, in the light of these developments Fort Weeks has highest priority. Jackson, go see whether we can do something for these boys on the quick.”

  Abbadon vehemently shook his head and interfered. “Just a minute general, this is not what we agreed on. What happens if Thompson and his lackeys die during their attempt to support Fort Weeks? Who will then fly to Sanctuary? After all, you don’t seem t
o be willing to waste any more of your own men.

  Ray lifted his eyebrows. “Could you repeat that?”

  Abbadon once again displayed his frozen smile. “Oops, that just slipped out. I am sure General Dixon will be more than happy to explain what I was talking about.”

  Dixon briefly lowered his shoulders, but Ray saw that Abbadon had hit a sore spot. This was probably his revenge for being humiliated earlier, when he wanted to return to his chess computer.

  “You may go now, Dr. Abbadon. I will talk with Mr. Thompson in private and will inform you about our further plans.”

  Abbadon placed the side of his hand to his head on a mock salute. “Yes, general.”

  When he had left the bridge, Ray stared angrily at Dixon. The general walked to an adjoining conference room with him and then closed the door.

  8Sarah Mitchell

  Margaret Pelletier and James Nelson were hurriedly walking in the corridor leading to the little girl’s room, when an abrupt, shrill scream coming from Sarah’s room immediately caught their attention. Margaret picked up speed and dashed into the patient’s room. The private was directly behind her and bumped into her back, when she suddenly stopped right inside the door, looking into the dimly lit room. The child sat slumped on her bed, her back facing the door. It was hard to tell whether she was conscious or not, but her head made jerky movements left and right. A soft whimper could be heard, as if the she were crying.

  Has the pain returned? Margaret Pelletier instantly turned on the light switch. The fluorescent ceiling lights came on with a loud hum, but they flickered erratically like all the other lights in the building.

  “Sarah, honey, are you...”

  Margaret Pelletier quickly fell silent as the girl’s head whipped around to look directly at her. What she saw made the experienced doctor gasp. What was once the innocent, pretty face of a little girl had transformed into a hideous beast wearing a predatory grimace. Small distinctive black veins could be seen everywhere just below the surface of her now almost grayish skin, and her eyes had turned completely black. There was nothing human left in this girl, but she was also the most usual undead creature that Margaret Pelletier had seen so far. This thing that had once been Sarah Mitchell slowly opened its mouth. The doctor and the private were petrified and unable to move, so they could only stand there to observe what was about to momentarily occur. When the once-human child breathed inward, its chest rose higher than it should have normally done. The rasping sound reminded Margaret Pelletier of the rolling of far-away thunder or the growl of a predator. She took a step backward and pushed Private Nelson out into the corridor.