The Z Strain

by Matthew Isaiah Crawford

  “You ready?” Carl asked Floyd.

  “Yep, let’s do it.” Floyd ran across the courtyard and pointed his handgun in the air. The resounding crack echoed through the corridor. Every head inside the garage whipped around towards Floyd, they streamed out of the garage like a flood as Floyd ran around the building on the far side towards the truck. Their hope was that if he made that and ran around the other side they would be blocked by the fence. Floyd could drive down the road leading them away. Then the hope was that Carl was to rescue his brother and take one of the vehicles that had been prepped to go back to the compound.

  Carl stood back and watched as the plan seemed to be working perfectly. The flow of undead had flowed to a trickle be the time Floyd was about halfway to the guard post. He still had a fair lead on the fastest of the zombies. Carl began to move inside of the building, it appeared to be clear.

  Floyd made the turn at the guard shack and jumped into the truck and started tearing down the road. The massive flow of undead moved like a torrent of humanity moving over and around everything it encountered. When it hit the large military grade, perimeter fence it backed them up for a few moments and then the fore became too great and the fence slowly bent until the flow moved overtop taking down several more sections of fence along the road.

  Moving through the garage he could hear a pounding coming from the back of the bay. He slowed his pace and slid quietly to the base of the stairs. Carl peeked around the corner and looked up the stairs with sweat dripping from his brow. There seemed to be about four or five that were still fighting to get through the door at the top of the stairs and had not been distracted by the gunfire. It looked as though they were close to succeeding as well. The top of the door was broken in and one could be seen climbing through the opening. Carl lifted his handgun and began firing. Two feel quickly, the two remaining turned and rushed down the hallway towards him. His heart began pumping, and his hands began shaking. Round after round came out of the gun, few met their mark. He turned and looked to his right, several more were coming from the other side of the building.

  Having no choice but to flee, he ran back into the garage area. Upon exiting the bay, he turned and used the front of a truck using it to steady his arms and fired off several more rounds. The handgun slide locked empty. He let the handgun drop to the floor and turned towards the exit pulling his rifle off his shoulder as he ran.

  He turned, aimed and fired, taking off the top of the head of a woman in a red dress. There were at least two more behind her. Carl turned and ran again, reloading along the way. Again, he stopped, turned, aimed, and fired, this time striking the right eye of a postal worker. With only one more coming. Seeing one coming from the other direction, Carl pulled a knife from a sheath on his back and ran it through the head of a middle-aged balding man with a brown tie.

  He had run in one large circle around the parking lot, turning to execute two more of them as he went, but he only succeeded in alerting more of them. Now there was nearly a dozen giving chase, and he wasn’t in the best shape. He saw a chance to make it back into the garage. There was a window, a narrow one, which might allow him to get inside, and get the garage door closed.

  Running through the bay doors, he leapt over a corpse and turned towards the door. Though they were automatic, it looked like he could just pull the chain and lower the doors. He yanked on the chain and it didn’t budge. He yanked again and something snapped. The large garage door came slamming down severing the corpse lying on the ground in half. Carl’s ears were ringing from the noise. He walked back towards the stairs picking up his handgun up from the ground next to the truck. He reloads the clip as he walks up the stairs.

  He can hear a struggle coming from inside the room. As he reached the top of the stairs, he looks through the top of the broken door. Climbing over the broken door he alerts two of the undead in the room. He pauses halfway through and shoots each of them in the head. The gunfire alerts the last of the undead in the room. His friend Mac turns and faces him. His eyes wild and hungry. Carl waits, thinking that there would be some recognition, he knew this man, but there was no hesitation. Mac ran straight for him, moaning and growling all the way. Carl waited for the last second before pulling the trigger. He had to step out of the way as Mac’s momentum took him almost to the door. He looked around for his brother but saw no sign. Though there were several bodies.

  “Larry?” He whispered. “Lar?” No one responded. “Larry, are you here?” He asked a little louder. Carl listened closely for a moment for a response. He heard a low moaning, he couldn’t quite make out where it was coming from. He though it sounded like his brother, he thought maybe Larry was hurt.

  Carl began sifting through the bodies, looking at face after face that wasn’t his brother. Then he pulled up a head and it snapped at him narrowly missing his flesh. He pulled his hand back quickly and looked at what had just bit him.

  Something vaguely resembling his brother was pushing itself of the floor and pulling itself towards Carl.

  “Larry?” He asked, but there was no recognition in the grey eyes that looked at him. “I love you brother.” Carl said shooting him between his eyes.

  Carl was wiping some blood spatter from his arms as he got to his feet. He looked out the second-floor window towards the parking lot. He was amazed to look at the massive flowing sea of humanity moving down the street towards him. The first thought that ran through Carl’s head was that Floyd had lost them too fast and they had been drawn back this way by the gunfire. He hurriedly ran down the stairs and out the front door. He jumped into a Hummer with “Bitterroot Valley Survivalists” painted on the driver’s side door.

  As soon as he turned the key starting the engine there was an instant reaction to the flow of undead on the road. The dark torrent turned his direction immediately, more sections of fence along the front of the property came down as the undead piled against them. Carl put the Hummer into reverse and stepped on the gas pedal. He only made it twenty feet before he began running into them. His foot presses the pedal down to the floor, the vehicle leaps and jerks before sticking. The rear wheels spinning like they were stuck in the mud, but they weren’t. They were tearing through flesh and bowel and scraping against bone.

  Carl pulls down on the shifter and put the Hummer into drive. After sticking for a moment, he lurches forward. He attempts to make a U-turn in the driveway, but he didn’t quite have enough room to make the turn. Carl threw the transmission into reverse again and hit the gas. As soon as he began to re verse the flow of undead hit the side of the truck. It felt as though he had just been t-boned by another car. Carl backed up about ten feet, put it back in drive and pushed the gas pedal down to the floor. They were at his window now, clawing at it, and pulling on the mirror.

  Without much of a running start he had no hope of plowing through the flow of undead heading towards the building. The vehicle was soon swarmed with undead like a crazed colony of ants. The truck could no longer be seen when the sound of breaking glass echoed through the air.

  On the street, the powder blue pickup truck cruised by. Floyd’s mouth moves to form an obvious curse word. He drives past, pushing the truck up to seventy he speeds away from the base heading back towards camp.

  Saturday, August 12th, 9:12 PM

  Poudre canyon near Laramie

  Andrea Martin had followed the trail of smoke until she lost the daylight. She then just continued on the same road she was on with only a vague hope of running into the people that set off the explosion. According to the latest sign she had just passed the entrance of Poudre Canyon.

  She began seeing debris in the roadway, and she slowed her car down to a crawl. The headlights illuminating large chunks of rock in the middle of the road. She had been driving through the debris field for what felt like five minutes before she saw it. A damn of rock and earth blocking the entire roadway about a hundred yards high. She stood in front of her car in silence for a moment contemplating her next move, debating on if
she should climb over to see what’s on the other side, or abandon this this route and resume her trek to the North.

  Andrea never saw where the soldiers came from, but she jumped and nearly screamed when a voice came from behind her.

  “On your knees!” A voice shouted from behind her. She began obeying immediately but glanced behind her to see a soldier in a Ghillie sniper suit with a large caliber rifle pointed at her head.

  “Yes sir, yes sir.” Andrea got to her knees and her held her hands straight out to the side.

  “Have you been bit?” The soldier asked.

  “No.”

  “Any wounds, scratches.” He began patting her down.

  “No. I don’t think so. No.” The soldier yanked her to her feet slapping a pair of handcuffs on her wrists. “What are these for?”

  “Just until we get you checked out.” One of the soldiers said. “Up the hill, go.” Andrea began hiking up the steep incline with her hands cuffed in front of her. She heard the men follow behind her, though she dared not turn around again.

  “What do you mean check out.” She asked.

  “With medical, they got to check your blood.” The soldier responded.

  “Oh. Okay.” Andrea assumed that they meant to check her blood for infection. So, whatever was making people kill each other was viral, and detectable in the blood now.

  It took nearly fifteen minutes to scale the barricade. Andrea was out of breath by the time they reached the peak. Looking down into the canyon Andrea saw that there were hundreds of people, some soldiers, some civilians, all working together setting up layer after layer of defenses, from piles of sandbags to rows of razor wire and long sharpened spikes. Along the sides of the valley there were snipers nests every hundred feet or so. In the distance a small city of tents and campers can be seen. It took another ten minutes to walk to where the camp began. Every soldier that she passed followed her every move as if they expected her to attack at any second.

  Andrea was directed into a green tent with a screened in entrance with soldiers on either side. There was a large Red Cross symbol painted on the side. Inside there were two people in lab coats. Other than the fact the exterior is a tent, she would have thought that she had walked into a hospital. One of the doctors was sitting at a table on the far side of the room looking at slides in a microscope. The other was standing at a nearby filing cabinet, he appeared to be filing paperwork. The second man looked to be in his mid-thirties with red hair and freckles. He looked over to the entryway as they passed through.

  “Survivor at the barricade.” One of the soldiers says. He gestures towards a canvas chair sitting near a small metal table. Andrea walks over and takes a seat, her eyes darting around the room. The soldier walked to the middle of the room and stood with his weapon trained on Andrea’s head which was making her shake uncontrollably. She decided to try to ignore it and start a conversation to distract her.

  “Are you allowed to talk to me?” She asked looking over at the soldier, he was preparing a tray with a needle and some blood ampules.

  “Yes ma’am.” He responded

  “So, this camp, is this a government operation?”

  “Yes ma’am, we believe the last of the US government resides within this canyon.” He said looking out the door.

  “Wow.” Andrea considered what that meant, she clenched her hands together trying to still them. The tent held a very pungent chemical smell.

  “Does that mean the president is here?”

  “No ma’am. I don’t believe the president made it out of D. C.” He replied.

  “Damn.” Was the only response that came to mind. “Everything else is gone?” She asked moving her gaze to the ceiling. The soldier was sitting in front of her now and was positioning the tray in front of him.

  “Yea, we know the White House was overrun.”

  “Sargent!” The soldier in the middle of the room said harshly.

  “Sir. Sorry sir.”

  “Sir?” Andrea directed her gaze to the soldier in the middle of the room. “If I swear on the bible that I haven’t been bit could you please point that thing elsewhere?”

  “Protocol ma’am”

  “I understand protocol, but you’re freaking me out, how about just away from the face?” He nodded in agreement and eased off his weapon a bit. The doctor wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Andrea’s arm and began inflating.

  “Is every city gone?” The soldier next to her looked to the ranking soldier in the middle of the room who gave no response.

  “Sorry ma’am. Security, you understand.”

  “Sure.” The doctor asked, he had filled two vials of blood and was working on a third. They sat in an uncomfortable silence wile he filled the last.

  “There. All done.” The doctor removed the needle from her arm and wrapped a bandage around her elbow.

  Andrea followed his movement as the doctor picked up the tray with her blood, stood from his stool, and stepped to the counter with the tray of blood.

  “How many survivors are there?”

  “We don’t have an accurate total. We’re too spread out and communication has been spotty at best.”

  “Well, it’s pretty impressive what you’ve accomplished here either way.” She remarked.

  “Only impressive if we can hold the canyon.” The doctor said slowly. He had put a drop of Andrea’s blood onto a slide and was looking at it through a microscope. He repeated the process three times.

  “Hold it? Hold it from what?” Inquired Andrea.

  “The swarms.” The other doctor across the room interjects not removing his face from the microscope.

  “Swarms?”

  “Um, yes. Well, they move to sound, any sound. So, what we’re seeing is that as a group passes by, they pull in stragglers like a magnet. Then the group swells and makes more noise drawing in more undead, well, you get the point.

  “Wow.” Andrea was stunned.

  “We see this as both very dangerous, and helpful at the same time.” The doctor continued.

  “I don’t understand.” Said Andrea. She glanced back at the soldier in the middle of the room for just a second, he still had the gun pointing in her general direction, but at least it wasn’t trained on her head. She gave it an uncomfortable look the soldier caught it.

  “I am sorry ma’am, but I have orders. Until you’re cleared from Doctor Chucky here, I have to keep you under close guard, you know, in case you.”

  “Turn into a mindless killing machine, yea, I get it, I just don’t like it. I’ve never had a real gun pointed at me before. It’s rather unsettling.”

  “Most haven’t. Again, apologies.”

  “So, Doctor Chucky huh?” Andrea said hoping to change the subject.

  “Ah yes, must apologize for that as well. The name is Doctor Charles Beckworth, but some of the men here have pointed out that I bear a striking resemblance to an animated doll serial killer.”

  “Funny huh?” Asked the soldier in the middle of the room.

  “Can’t say it’s a first, sadly. It’s been an ongoing joke since I was a child, though of course the Doctor part is relatively new.” Dr. Beckworth pulled the slide from the microscope and looked over at Andrea. Even though she knew she hadn’t been bitten she was still terrified that somehow, she’d been infected and this doctor that looks like a homicidal doll is going to give the order to shoot.

  “Your blood is clear.” He said rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes. The soldier immediately relaxed and pointed his weapon away from Andrea. She could almost instantly feel her heart rate slow. The soldier moved to the door and began speaking on a handheld radio. Andrea couldn’t hear what she was saying. Seconds later he signaled for her to join him at the door. When she arrived, she saw that another soldier had joined them, this was a young woman who appeared to be no older than twenty. She had her auburn hair up in a tight bun and stood at attention.

  “This is Private Callahan, she’s going to take you to get cleaned
up and over to your temporary housing. You’ll receive your work assignment and further briefing in the morning.”

  “This way.” The soldier said and began walking away. Andrea followed, but watched as the soldier from the tent ran towards a helicopter that was starting up. Just before they were out of sight Andrea turned and watched as it lifted off the ground and headed back over the barricade. She watched as the helicopter disappear over the damn. The sound continued reverberating through the canyon for another few seconds and then a quiet descended into the canyon unlike any Andrea had ever heard. Every sound seemed to reverberate off the canyon walls and echo back. The sound of the river gently running by seemed almost deafening.

  “This way.” The young female soldier said as they both disappeared through the flaps of another green tent. She glanced to her left to see what appeared to be a command center. There were several men talking excitedly. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they sounded angry. She decided later that they sounded scared.

  “This way.” The soldier motioned into an area around the back where portable showers had been set up. “There’s a fresh set of clothes there. Just let me know when you’re done, I’ll be right over there.” The soldier motioned to the entryway of the tent.

  “Okay. Thanks.” Andrea smiled at the woman, but the soldier just turned and walked away.

  Somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee

  Saturday, August 17th 11:54 PM

  Dennis and April Robertson sit quietly at a small dining room table with a single candle lit on the table between them. Their small cabin in the woods was quiet, the only sound were the crickets and frogs outside. Their son Douglass sleeps on a cot in the back of the room. They had sat in silence looking down at plates of cold uneaten pasta. Dennis’ usual plaid shirt and blue jeans are covered in dirt. His cowboy boots are off siting over by the couch. Around the room all the windows and doors had been barricaded and re-enforced by numerous two by fours. Dennis had been sure that the hammering would draw attention, but so far no one, alive or dead, had shown up.