by Jon Schafer
“Situation normal then,” he told Jones loud enough for those close enough to hear, “everyone on the face of the Earth is surrounded. Write it up and bring it to my office.” In a lower voice he added, “Don’t talk to anyone about this until we get a chance to figure out what’s going on. Tell everyone in your squad to keep their mouths shut too.”
Jones nodded and got to his feet. Gathering his men, he headed into the compound.
After ordering the guard around the perimeter doubled and the power to the fence cut, Cage dismissed the extra troops and headed for his trailer. As he walked, he contemplated the situation they were in and decided it couldn’t get much worse. Supplies were coming in slowly, if at all, and the scavenging teams had to go further and further each time they went out to find essentials like gas and food. That was one of the reasons they only charged the fence when it was needed. On top of that, the report he’d read that morning stated that the fight for the Dead Cities was at a standstill, and this was accompanied by an order for him to transfer twenty of his people to New Orleans to assist in clearing that city of the dead. The life expectancy for this duty was calculated in hours instead of days, so it was the same as signing their death warrants.
The burden of command weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Rounding the corner of his trailer, he found a young Lieutenant waiting for him. Cage remembered his last name was Randal and noticed the man’s face was drawn and hollow. No surprise since he was in charge of bringing in test subjects for study, and the attrition rate of his platoon had been over sixty percent in the last month. When Randal had first taken command they went out on a weekly basis. Now they were now going out daily to collect four or five of the walking dead for study. The doctor running the research into the HWNW virus had stepped up his experiments to find a cure for the HWNW virus, and now everyone was working overtime. Cage had his doubts that Dr. Hawkins was really looking for a cure, but kept them to himself.
After exchanging salutes, he was told that his presence was requested at the farmhouse at 0600. Ever formal, Randal saluted again and turned to go, but Cage stopped him by asking, “How are you holding up?”
Lieutenant Randal wasn’t actually part of Cage’s command since he reported directly to Dr. Hawkins, so it would have been entirely in his right to ignore the question, but he stopped and seemed to deflate slightly. A worried look crossed his face and he seemed to hesitate before answering.
“As good as can be expected, sir.”
Cage had been trying to get the Lieutenant into a conversation for weeks about what went on at the farmhouse and had only been met with stony silence. Finally seeing a wedge in the officer’s armor, he quickly said, “Command can be tough. We’re in a situation that no one’s ever dealt with before. We lose men on a weekly basis and that can be hard. If you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open.”
The Lieutenant nodded at the offer and opened his mouth to say something but stopped. He was a graduate of West Point, where honor and duty had been drilled into him. This, coupled with the secrecy of what they were doing at the farmhouse, stilled his tongue.
“I’m good, sir,” he replied as the blank expression returned to his face.
Cage saw this but decided to give it one more try. Knowing the Lieutenant’s background, he said, “At the Point they taught you all kinds of things that don’t hold much weight when you get out in the real world. I know you’re under orders not to talk about what happens at the farmhouse, but that doesn’t mean you can’t talk about what you’re going through.”
Randal’s face softened slightly, so Cage added, “I walk the perimeter every night at 0800. Feel free to join me.” Not wanting to push too hard, he added in dismissal, “Tell Doctor Hawkins that I‘ll be there at six. Have a good day, Lieutenant.”
Randal saluted and spun on his heel after it was returned.
As Cage watched him disappear between two tents, he wondered if the Lieutenant would show up.
***
Jones looked down at the map of Russellville spread out on Cage’s desk before pointing to a spot near Interstate 40. “This is where we saw the latest group of Z’s coming our way.” Tracing a route that led around Lake Dardanelle, he added, “We followed them all the way to where the road starts up Mount Nebo but had to break off contact when it got too hairy. The woods here are full of Z’s, and we almost lost Teasdale when three of them came out of nowhere and tried to take him down. We headed back here and spent an hour trying to find a way in. I’d say we’re facing over six-thousand spread out evenly all the way around the perimeter, sir.”
“What was it you said earlier about them looking at the compound and moaning?” Cage asked.
“It was weird, Major,” Jones said. “Usually they make that whining noise, but this time they were moaning like they were in pain. It was really freaky. I’m not sure what’s going on but it seems like they’re attracted to the base and repelled by it at the same time. We know they’ve learned to avoid anything that will destroy them until they gather in numbers big enough to overwhelm it, but this is different.”
Cage nodded in agreement and said, “I noticed when your team came in that only a handful came after you. That in itself is odd. Those things seem to have learned some restraint until they see meat on the hoof, and then they’re all over it. There should have been fifty or sixty coming after you, despite being so close to the base.”
“Think they’re massing for some kind of attack like they did in the big cities, sir?” Jones asked.
Cage shrugged. “There are enough of them out there now to run right over us if they hit the compound in one spot. We should be good as long as they stay spread out, but if they congregate, we could be in trouble. Something triggers them, but no one’s figured out what it is. Like when they came up from the sewers in San Francisco. We’re going to have to keep a close eye on them.”
“Double the patrols?” Jones asked.
“Vehicle recon only,” Cage ordered. “From what you’ve told me, foot patrols are too dangerous. I’d like to do a constant motor patrol, but we don’t have the fuel for that right now. Instead, I want one of our Humvees to do an entire circuit of the base every hour. That should give us plenty of warning if the Z’s start to gather in one spot.”
“I’ll set up a schedule and have the first one going within the hour, sir,” Jones assured him.
Cage picked up a clipboard from his desk and said, “While I have you here, I want to go over the supply situation. We’ve got enough diesel fuel to run the generators for another ten days at their current output. We did get a fuel bladder delivered the other day, but I’m not counting that in the total since I’m going to hold it in reserve for the fence. I know the scroungers are doing their best, but you’ve got to push them a little more.”
Jones nodded. Since being promoted, he had taken command of the two platoons that went out in search of supplies.
“The food situation is a little better than it was, but we both know that can change,” Cage continued. “We’re in this for the long haul, so I want you to check around with the men and see if any of them were farmers. Spring is coming and we can plant crops to supplement what we have coming in from Fort Chaffee.”
Jones was surprised by this but didn’t comment. He knew supplies were coming in erratically, but he didn’t think they had gotten that bad.
As if reading his mind, Cage said, “We’re not even close to eating our shoelaces, so don’t worry. I just want to be ready for whatever might happen. We can set up a couple farms far enough away so the Z’s won’t congregate there. We have no problem getting in and out of the base by vehicle so they can get them there to do whatever it is farmers do.”
Flipping through the papers on his clipboard, Cage continued, “Ammunition is becoming a problem. From now on I don’t want anyone engaging the Z’s unless they’re a direct threat. We’ve been promised a delivery of 5.56 mm, but who knows when that might be. The good news is that Fort C
haffee is now a Dead Free Zone, and they’re planning on opening the airbase in Little Rock soon.”
“So we’re winning?” Jones asked.
“It’s give and take,” Cage replied. “We retook San Diego and Minneapolis but we’re stalled just about everywhere else. The big question is whether we can hold what we’ve got.”
Looking out the window of Cage’s office at the farmhouse, Jones asked, “What about Doctor Frankenstein over there, he come up with anything, sir?”
Cage laughed and asked, “Is that what the men call Hawkins?”
Worried he had overstepped his boundaries despite the relaxed atmosphere of their meeting; Jones stiffened and said, “No disrespect, sir.”
Cage waved this off and said, “Between you and me, I don’t know what in the hell is going on over there. I’ve been trying to find out, but they play it really close to the chest. The last conference Doctor Hawkins held was some kind of half-assed dog and pony show, and it sounded like they haven’t made any progress in finding a cure.”
Checking his watch, Cage said, “Speaking of which, I have to go over and meet with the good Doctor in about ten minutes. Get the patrols out and issue orders about not engaging the Z’s unless they’re a threat.”
Jones replied, “Yes, sir,” and got up to leave.
As he reached for the doorknob, Cage said, “I put a lot on you, Jones, but I know you can handle it. If everything goes to hell, we need to be self-sufficient, so start thinking about what we need if we get completely cut off.”
“Is it going to get that bad, sir?” Jones asked.
“I don’t know,” Cage answered. “But I don’t want to get caught with my pants down.”
***
As he approached the farmhouse from the rear, Cage eyed the doors covering the coal chute. He recalled an earlier conversation with Lieutenant Randal about how they dropped the specimens for Doctor Hawkins down the chute and shuddered at the thought of what horrors the basement might hold. Giving it a wide berth, he could still smell something rotting and rancid as he circled around it and entered the front door.
One of Randal’s men was sitting at a desk in the foyer and stood to attention when he entered. After exchanging salutes, Cage told him, “I’m here to see Doctor Hawkins.”
The corporal picked up a list from his desk, scanned it and replied, “I don’t see anything here, sir. In fact, Doctor Hawkins gave explicit orders that he is not to be disturbed. It must be some kind of mix up.”
Cage felt his anger rising at this waste of time and started to tell the corporal to get Hawkins on the phone when he was interrupted by a female voice saying, “It wasn’t a mistake. I asked for you to come.”
He turned and saw a woman wearing a lab coat standing in the doorway of what used to be the parlor. In her fifties, she was slightly hunchbacked, with blond hair turning a steel grey. Confused as to why she, and not Hawkins, had summoned him, Cage said, “And who are you?”
“Doctor Connors,” she introduced herself. “I’m in charge of finding a cure for the HWNW virus.” Spinning on her heel, she said, “Come with me, please.”
Confused, Cage said, “I thought that was Hawkins’ job.”
Connors stopped and replied over her shoulder, “We’ve expanded our research and the doctor is now busy with other things. That’s why I called you here. Now come with me, please.”
Being at the beck and call of a civilian irked Cage, but he followed the doctor nonetheless. She led him through the parlor and stopped at a white metal door with a keypad set where the knob should be. She swiped a card down its side and punched in a code. The door opened with a slight whoosh and cold air blew out.
“Before we go in, I need to know what your clearance is,” Connors said.
Tired of all the secrecy in a world where spies were a thing of the past and staying alive was everyone’s main concern, Cage answered, “Six foot one in my stocking feet.”
This elicited a smile from Connors and she said, “I know this might seem trying to you, but it’s very serious. What I’m about to show you is no laughing matter.”
With that, she went through the door. Not sure what to expect, Cage followed and was shocked by what he saw. The entire first floor of the farmhouse had been gutted and turned into one huge room that housed a laboratory. Machines that Cage couldn’t even begin to identify were lined up along the outside walls while the main floor was filled with benches and tables where various experiments could be conducted. Separate, glassed in offices filled the back wall. The change from the oak paneled and floral print wall papered parlor to this white, sterile environment was stunning.
Weaving her way between desks filled with microscopes and piles of notes, Connors said, “Everyone is at dinner right now. I don’t know what you know about this facility, but we have a staff of fifteen. The second floor is much like this and the third floor houses our living quarters and kitchen area.”
Cage had been to the farmhouse to meet with Doctor Hawkins a few times, but it was always in the parlor or the study off to the right of the entrance. Wondering why he was getting the grand tour after all these months, he said, “Nice place you have, Doctor, but could you tell me why you called me here?”
Connors reached the rear of the room and said, “It would be easier to show you.”
Stopping in front of one of the glass-fronted offices, she pointed into it and said, “Major Cage, I want to introduce you to Vanessa. She is the reason we’re here. She is immune to the HWNW virus.”
Cage looked in to the room and realized that what he thought were offices, were actually living quarters. White and sterile like the rest of the area, each room held a bed, a sink and a toilet out in the open. Only one of them was occupied, its tenant a woman in her thirties. Slightly awed by being in the presence of someone who was immune to a disease that had killed off and reanimated eighty percent or more of the Earth’s population, he was speechless.
So this is what it’s all about. This one woman who might hold the key to a cure.
Finally seeing something tangible to focus on, he felt renewed in his duties. Where before it seemed like he was simply going through the motions of command, he now had living proof that what they were doing here was not in vain. There was hope that a cure could be found. If this woman was immune, discovering an anti-virus was only a matter of time.
Finding his voice, Cage asked, “What do you need from me, Doctor?”
“A few things,” she answered. “There is a lot going on that no one is aware of. First of all, we are in a race. Doctor Hawkins is working on a device that can control the dead. It is almost near completion, and the tests have been very positive. He calls it the Malectron, and what it does is repel the dead.”
Once again, Cage was stunned. His mind spun as he took in this news and combined it with what Jones had told him. To confirm his thoughts, he asked, “Are they testing it here?”
Connors nodded and said, “It is a prototype, very crude in design, but it works. Doctor Hawkins is refining it so that it will repel all the dead. It’s only eighty percent effective right now.”
Cage beamed as he said, “That’s fantastic news. If we can -.”
Connors cut him off by saying, “In the right hands it’s fantastic news, but not in the hands of Doctor Hawkins. You have to think it through. Whoever controls the dead, controls the world. The Malectron can be used to repel the dead, but it can also be used to direct them. If you’re pushing something away, you’re also pushing it toward something. It’s my fear that it’s going to be used as a weapon to send waves of the dead against anyone who opposes whoever controls it. On top of that, it doesn’t solve the problem of the dead. You can shift them back and forth as many times as you like, but the fact remains, they’re still there.”
“So Hawkins is some kind of mad scientist bent on world domination?” Cage asked.
“No, he’s working under the direct orders of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,” Connors told him.
“So
what’s the problem then?”
Connors sighed and said, “It wouldn’t be a problem if it was the only solution. If this were the only thing in our fight against the dead, I would back it completely. But it’s not. You see, I’m very close to finding a cure for the HWNW virus.”
Seeing the doubt on Cage’s face, Doctor Connors said, “I know you’ve heard that before, but this time it’s true. I’ve isolated the structure of the virus and am able to eradicate it in fifty percent of the tests I run.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Cage asked.
“All our resources are being put into the Malectron,” she answered. “I can’t get anything to further my research. I’m just days away from a breakthrough and I can’t get so much as a test tube because everything’s being put into Doctor Hawkins’ study.”
“So where do I come in?” Cage asked. “I’ve got no control over that.”
“But you have access to lines of communication,” she told him. “What I need is another test subject. I need someone who’s immune to the disease. I need you to be my ears to the outside world since you’re privy to communications that I’m not. It’s not that they’re holding out on me, it’s more that they’re so focused on Doctor Hawkins’ Malectron that they’re overlooking what I need. I only have what they give me to work with, and lately, they haven’t given me shit because they’re too wrapped up in controlling the dead as opposed to eradicating them.”
Cage considered this before asking, “So this cure you’ve found, it doesn’t reverse the process and bring the…” He stopped as he tried to find the right words. “Dead back to life?”
“No. Sadly, once you’re infected with the virus it destroys so many of the higher functions in the brain that this would be impossible. What my anti-virus does is interact with the cells in the alcohol-based fluids that make up the blood of the dead and cause them to rupture. In layman’s terms, it causes the dead to bleed out.”
