by J. Thorn
I’d seen handfuls. I’d seen hundreds. But five thousand zombies was something I just could not wrap my mind around. I thought back to that first morning as we passed through Vancouver. There had been so many of those things on both sides of the freeway. Maybe a thousand or two. But they’d been spread out.
“I’m still a bit fuzzy on why you’re here, Mister Smith,” I said.
“I want you to bring Emily with you.” What I imagine passed for a smile tried to break through his normal stoic face. “And please, I think at this point it will be okay to call me Randall.”
“I don’t follow.” I was so very confused.
“My daughter. Emily. I want you to bring her with you when you and your group leave the facility.” He gestured at my row of bags. “I assume it is tonight from all the activity at your residence this evening.”
“There could be a number of reasons I’ve had friends over.” I sounded defensive, and even in my own ears I could hear how weak and flimsy my statement was.
“And Doctor Zahn?” Mister Smith, or Randall, was all business now. “She doesn’t make house calls. Has no known social circle. Yet, she was with Sergeant Wimmer for about an hour, then came to your place only after waiting for that young lady to leave.”
“Are you having me watched?” I asked angrily.
“Having you watched?” he laughed just a bit. “Goodness no. I’ve been doing it all myself. After all, I’m entrusting you with the dearest thing in my life.”
He a moment to ponder all that I’d just taken in. Even with this gesture, I had trouble envisioning him as the doting father.
“So why would you send her with me?” I finally asked.
“I believe her chances for survival are greater than if she stays here,” Randall answered.
“Then why don’t you leave with us as well?” I wasn’t getting any less confused.
“I’m sure you’ll think me the perfect bastard,” his voice was just a bit quieter as he spoke. “As I’ve said, I have a duty. One that I take seriously. If I abandon my post, I remove one more obstacle for these abominations. As long as I do what I was assigned, I give anybody who remains working on a solution just a while longer. By walking away from my responsibility, I, in effect, surrender my daughter to this new world. That is something I am not prepared to do.”
“But just putting her in the care of a total stranger?” I objected. Some of my objection felt genuine. Yet, another part of it had to do with my own fear of responsibility. I was already quite overwhelmed with Thalia.
“I’ve listened to the debriefing interviews that every civilian who’s arrived here underwent. I heard enough to know you were my choice. I can assure you I did not make this decision lightly or without research.” Randall stood. I thought he was going to end our little meeting. Instead, he stepped around the chair and walked towards the door that led to the bedroom. To Thalia!
“Whoa!” I sprang to my feet, scrambling to get myself between him and the door. I planted my feet and my hands shot forward. He was close enough that I made contact and rocked him back a bit.
“That, Steven, is why I’m entrusting my daughter to your care.” Randall folded his arms across his chest and fixed his most serious gaze on me. “In the event that this location is overrun and I’m unable to escape, I want to know I’ve given Emily the best chance of survival possible.”
My appraisal of this man changed. The look we shared said it all. He knew he would die here, but he was willing to risk everything. If, by holding out one more day, he improved some think-tank or governmental lab’s chances of finding a way to beat this or whatever…then he would do so. Randall Smith took his job seriously. It would appear that he took his responsibility as a father equally serious. In that moment, we both knew one thing with certainty. Randall Smith was a dead man.
“I’ll do my best,” I promised.
“I have no doubt.” Randall extended his hand, and we shook. That was the physical act of a vow made and accepted. With a final curt nod, he headed to the front door.
“Don’t you want that escort home?” I asked as he opened the door to a gentle gust of night air.
“No,” he turned with a smile that suddenly reminded me of a mischievious school boy, “I like to keep the sentries on their toes. Besides, I think I’ll pay Sergeant Wimmer a visit.”
With that, he left. I had no doubt in my mind that I’d never see Randall Smith again. I returned to the couch and flopped down. Reaching over to the coffee table, I grabbed my book, flipped to the bookmark and began to read.
***
The drone of my alarm clock woke me. Ten minutes later, Doctor Zahn arrived in the company of a sleepy-eyed girl with slightly Asian features. Her straight, black hair was cut shoulder length and poking out from underneath a dark green stocking cap. I ushered them in, and it was quickly decided that Emily could be put with Thalia. Once we had everything ready, the last thing would be to grab the girls.
Barry and Randi arrived with Jamie and Teresa. Aaron was next, followed by Dave who I noticed kept trying his hardest not to look at Doctor Zahn. Ain’t love grand? Last was Melissa, but she wasn’t alone. Sergeant Wimmer walked in behind her, and I felt the tension level in the room ratchet up several notches.
“Paul.” I walked up and shook the man’s hand.
“I’d like to wish all of you good luck.” Sergeant Paul Wimmer paused a moment to give the group time to relax a bit.
“Your vehicles are fueled and waiting. I figured that you might fare better with a pair of Hum-vees. Also, I have this.” He produced a map and handed it to me. “It has fueling locations marked based on our latest intel. The ones circled in blue have the least amount of traffic.”
“Traffic?” Dave Ellis seemed to suddenly snap out of his trance.
“Zombies,” Teresa said, not hiding her exasperation.
“Oh.” Dave glanced sheepishly at Doctor Zahn and quickly began polishing his glasses, though I doubted they had even the slightest smudge.
“Also, I have indicated in black the locations and general directions of the herds we are aware of,” Wimmer announced with emphasis.
“Thanks for everything, Paul.” I tucked the map inside my leather jacket’s inner pocket.
“Randall Smith conveys his best wishes as well,” Paul said.
Once again the tension in the room spiked. “It’s okay, folks.” Now was as good a time as any to reveal the surprise. “We’re bringing his nine-year-old daughter, Emily, with us.”
My gaze went around the room and I hoped it looked resolute. This wasn’t going to be a debate. It could have been some lingering issues playing in my head, but I thought I saw a touch of disapproval on Barry’s face for a moment. Still, nobody said a word.
“Y’all best get movin’.” Paul was suddenly as un-military as I’d ever seen.
“Y’all?” Doctor Zahn smirked.
“Right now I’m just Paul Wimmer, farm boy from Tennessee. If I was Sergeant Paul Wimmer, United States Army, I’d be preventing your departure,” he said with a broad smile.
“Can I ask a question…uh…Paul?” Aaron asked with more timidity than I’d ever seen in the boy.
“Shoot.”
“Do you think there’ll ever be a United States again?”
“If I didn’t,” Paul placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “I’d be leavin with you.”
“Time to get rollin’,” I announced. Gathering up all our things, we’d loaded out in just a couple trips. Patrolling sentries walked past us like we weren’t even there. I guess the word had gone out. On our last trip, we scooped up Thalia and Emily. I wondered how our departure would play among the general population. I was certain that Randall Smith and Paul Wimmer would put a nice spin on the situation. They’d keep the population calm and prevent any sort of mass exodus.
Doctor Zahn, Dave, and Melissa climbed in to the Hum-vee with me. Of course that was the vehicle we’d put Thalia and Emily in. Both girls managed to remain asleep as we
got the vehicles started up and rolling through the main entry-gates. I was only a little surprised to discover Randall at the checkpoint shack with the man who opened the inner gate. He glanced in the back before coming to my rolled down window.
“There’s a Forestry Department service road about a half mile down. Take it,” he said. I noticed two things immediately: first, his voice had just a slight tremor, second, a line of perspiration was visible on his upper lip. “No matter what you hear, and that includes on your radios, don’t come back.”
“Take care of yourselves,” I said. Randall stepped back and I pulled forward into the sally-port. The Hum-vee with Jamie, Teresa, Aaron, Randi, and Barry nosed in behind us. The gate closed and, after a moment’s wait, the outer gate opened.
We rolled forward and emerged onto the two-lane road that served as the only way in or out of this pencil-dot-on-a-map of a town. The darkness swallowed our former home in seconds. I glanced up to see thick clouds roll in front of the moon.
The patrols had done an excellent job of dropping any roamers that may have been in the area. We saw absolutely no movement in our headlights as we drove down the gentle slope of the hill this town sat perched upon. We turned onto the service road, and were quickly engulfed by the canopy of a pine forest.
Less than five minutes out, we heard the first distinct sounds of gunfire. I slowed to a stop and dialed in what I knew to be the compound’s emergency frequency on my radio.
“…up from three sides!” That sounded like Anton Maxwell. I realized that I had seen very little of him since our arrival at Serenity Base. He seemed to prefer the company of the soldiers.
“…bring the heavy machinguns to the south wall…”
“…is that an armored Greyhound bus?”
“…RPGs incoming, I repeat RP—”
A few seconds later a series of muffled explosions sounded.
“Perimeter is breached on the south barricade,” the familiar voice of Sergeant Wimmer crackled on my radio.
“We’ve got undead inside the wire!”
So was it a herd, or was it raiders? Could it be both? What the hell was going on? The radio crackled to life, but whoever pushed the button hadn’t likely done so intentionally, because one of those screams sounded, follwed by wet ripping sounds, and the all-too-familiar moans of the undead.
The headlights behind me flicked, snapping my attention away from the radio. Everybody in the Hum-vee was staring at me with uncertainty. I switched the radio off and continued deeper into the forest along the heavily overgrown service road.
***
Morning found us parked on a ridge that allowed us to look into the tiny burgh of Kamela. This was the last known location of our friends Ian, Joseph, and Billy…along with the rest of their group.
The rising sun revealed the burned out vehicles we’d heard about, along with a scattered remnant of zombies walking among the charred husks and decaying corpses scattered on the ground.
To our north, a plume of dark smoke is clearly visible. The radio has been silent for over an hour. Whatever happened wasn’t good. The attack was by zombies as well as the living. I have no idea what that means, other than things are really bad.
Once we felt it was okay to stop, we all got out—except for the still sleeping little girls—and had a discussion. We would do our best to reconcile what has happened to our friends.
We’ve found this location, and it is far enough away from that dark smudge of a town that we should be able to observe things for a while. As I sit on the hood of this Hum-vee with a rifle across my lap I wonder…what do we expect to find? And, even if by a miracle we locate our missing friends and discover that they are alive…what do we do next?
7
Francis?
“This place is a bust.” Barry wiped the blackened filth from the bayonet he’d fixed on his M1.
“I’m with Barry,” Dave chimed in.
So was I, but seeing the pained look on Aaron’s face, I couldn’t bring myself to put the final verbal nail in the coffin.
“I don’t like saying this,” Barry’s eyes locked on mine, “but it just doesn’t seem likely that we will find Ian or Billy…or anybody. Whatever rolled through this town—”
“And the camp!” Dave blurted.
“And the camp,” Barry agreed, flashing an annoyed look at Dave who appeared absolutely clueless as to how his comments—while fairly accurate of what all of us except for Aaron felt—were dashing the remnants of hope any of us had of finding our friends. Dead, alive, or undead.
“But we’ve accounted for everybody else on that patrol except for Billy and Ian,” Aaron insisted.
“That’s because they made sure to put every single soldier from that foraging team on display,” Barry said. That’s how we’d been able to account for Joseph. They’d hung him from a street sign, more accurately, they’d hung what was left.
“They wanted to send a message to the United States Army,” I added. “If you ask me, I think that this is the work of one of those nutjob militia types. Those groups have waited for some sort of apocalypse for years. They have some misguided fantasy that the Constitution allows them to avoid getting a driver’s license, paying taxes…all sorts of fringe crap under some mythical Sovereign Declaration.”
“What in the hell are you going on about?” Dave asked.
“Remember Oklahoma City and that federal building that got blown up?” Barry piped in. Dave nodded. “Well, there’s groups all over the country that are like those assholes. Everything is a conspiracy; Waco, Ruby Ridge, 9-11…I imagine that they’ve pinned this nightmare on the government as well. Most of ‘em are closet KKK members.”
And there it was. I was wondering why Barry had jumped into this so suddenly.
“I’m just saying that, whoever attacked our foragers and our camp were well organized, but they have an obvious dislike for the boys in uniform. My guess is a local militia. That means they are very structured. Our best bet is to put this place behind us.” I slung my M4 over my shoulder.
“And just abandon Billy?” Aaron’s voice trembled.
“And Ian?” Barry added. “We aren’t just abandoning them, Aaron. But we have a responsibility to ourselves…each other…like Thalia.” That made Aaron’s head snap up. “We looked, now we pray for them. If they’re alive, we hope and pray for their peace.”
Neither Dave nor I had anything to add. I was more than a little surprised when Dave went over and put his arms around Aaron in a comforting hug. Aaron’s shoulders slumped, and his muffled sobs were barely audible.
Footsteps approached and I turned to see Jamie and Teresa coming up the grassy hill. They’d insisted on making one last trip down to Kamela. I didn’t see the reason…we’d been on this hill for ten days and not seen one single sign of anything living. We’d gone so far as to torch a pile of zombies that we’d dragged to where the party’s burned out vehicles sat. At night, we’d scanned the area with the pair of night-vision equipped binoculars that Paul Wimmer had given us.
The only thing we’d truly accomplished in the week-and-a-half that we’d been here was a drastic thinning of the zombie population. Every day we’d gone down to the outskirts of Kamela and picked off the stragglers. There was absolutely no bunching up here. That was another clue that our friends weren’t holed up anyplace in town.
Today had been agreed upon as the last day that we would try to make contact. It had been just as fruitless as the previous nine. The look of resignation on Jamie’s and Teresa’s faces was simply more finality.
“Aaron?” Jamie placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s time to go.”
The young man took a deep breath, stepped out of Dave’s awkward hug, and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. He looked at Teresa, then back to Jamie who both nodded. The three teenagers came together in a little huddle for a moment, sharing something exclusive amongst themselves.
***
We’ve picked up a transmission. We’ll move
in with caution because there is just no way to tell anymore. I would’ve never expected that a scenario like this could happen. I certainly would not have thought that humanity would crumble so quickly. I was no optimist…but I certainly didn’t anticipate such barbarism and wickedness.
***
I can see La Grande. The town is a nightmare. Fires have done spectacular damage. The undead are all over the place. Looking at my tattered AAA Road Atlas, this is the largest concentration of population for miles.
“Think that’s them?” Teresa moved up beside me, peering through her own set of binoculars. She pointed at a tan warehouse sitting beside a big rail yard.
“Mm-hmmm,” I grunted. All that open space was a mixed blessing. It made it tough to cross without drawing considerable attention, but it also cut down on possible hiding places for zombies or ill-intentioned survivors. “The warehouse has one large roll-top door in the center of the east and west facing walls. The building runs lengthwise north and south. I’m guessing it to be about fifty feet wide and at least a football field long. It’s probably thirty feet tall and, fortunately for those inside, the windows are in the upper third.”
The walking dead are ten or twenty deep in places and have the building completely surrounded. I could see hundreds more scattered about. The folks trapped inside have certainly tried to shoot their way out. Judging by the hundreds if not thousands I see just wandering around the town from where we sit parked on a ridge in relative safety, for every one they dropped, they probably attracted two more. And they weren’t alone. I could make out at least a dozen more clusters around everything from what looked like a church, to an apartment complex that appears to be a big open square with iron gates at the two courtyard entrances.
