The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Buried Instincts

by Henson, Lynn

  He grinned at her and retreated from the bathroom. Lisa and Kim walked past him as he returned to his bed. He sniffed at his clothes and decided they would be fine for another day and picked up Bob’s empty tuna can. He collected his snack cake wrappers as well and walked over to the large trash can near the door. On his way there, he saw Gao was poking at Doris with his finger when suddenly, in less than a second, her arm moved to one side, grabbed a pillow, and slammed it into his head. He muttered something harsh sounding and got to his feet. He was dressed in a wife beater and his tighty whiteys. Blake tossed his rubbish away and headed back to make sure his stuff was properly packed away into his backpack. He then just lay on his bed and watched as everyone else got themselves into a presentable state. The designated time came quickly and the door promptly opened. The same soldier that had woken them up in the morning came back inside. “If everyone would please follow me outside,” the soldier requested politely, “We have a truck to take you to the Colonel’s office.” Everyone went outside where they saw an army cargo truck. The soldier followed them out once he’d verified that he had everyone and gestured to the back of the truck. They climbed up into it and occupied the bench like seating on either side. This is cool! I feel like I’m in an Indiana Jones movie. Once everyone was seated, the soldier got in with them and walked up towards the front to slap on the back of the cab. The truck which had been idling started forward picking up speed. Everyone couldn’t help but stare out the back as they drove around the base.

  The scene outside fell a little below Blake’s expectations. Buildings were bland and uninteresting and everything felt dated. I don’t know exactly what I had expected, I just thought it would’ve been cooler. They passed an army jeep with a soldier and an officer in it. After a little while, they passed by a Humvee that was on its way to somewhere. No one was walking around though. For such a large space, they seem really undermanned. There have to be more soldiers here somewhere. After a brief trip, they arrived at what Blake could only describe as an office building. Well, that’s kind of disappointing. I was hoping for a space-age structure with an interior that looked like mission control complete with giant screens, flashing lights, and screens displaying all manner of tactical updates and information. The truck braked to an abrupt stop outside of the office. The soldier got up and walked past everyone, hopping out the back. He then lowered the gate and waited patiently as everyone in the back of the truck climbed out at their own pace. After everyone was out, he walked them over to the entrance of the building and opened the front door for them. They filed inside and immediately noted how muggy and warm it was. The soldier didn’t follow them inside, and everyone looked around for a moment, confused at what to do next, when a wooden door with a small rectangular window opened ahead of them and a sharp looking black man wearing army green slacks, white dress shirt, and a black tie emerged. He looked at them as he strode over purposefully, face breaking out into a smile. “Hello. I’m Sergeant Apone. I’m the assistant to the base commander. If you would please follow me?” He gestured grandly back at the way he’d come from. They followed him through the door he’d come out of and led them to stairs. Apone took the stairs briskly and the group had to put forth a little effort to match the pace he’d set. Much to his relief, they only went up to the second floor where Apone pushed open the door leading out of the stairwell. He held it open until everyone was in the hallway and he led them to another door which he also opened and held for everyone. They found themselves in a conference room with seats enough for about sixteen people. “Please have a seat.” Apone waved around the room. “I’ll be right back with the boss.” He left, closing the door behind him. Everyone took a seat on both sides of the table somehow knowing to leave the head of the table open for the base commander. They didn’t wait long before the door opened again and a fifty-something bald man with a gray mustache wearing an army uniform walked into the room and seated himself at the head of the table. Sergeant Apone closed the door and took a seat near it.

  “Hello everyone. I’m Lieutenant Colonel Pritchard, US Army,” he introduced himself. “This is the Hawthorne Army Depot. I’m the commanding officer here.” He let that sink in for a moment and then continued. “I’m sure you’re all aware that there’s a pandemic going on where those infected display symptoms causing the person to lose cognitive thought and to adapt cannibalistic behavior. This behavior to try to consume healthy people and animals seems to take precedence above everything else, including self-preservation. It would also seem that the primary form of transmission is being bitten by an infected individual, so presumably saliva to blood contact.” He paused, looked at his audience then nodded, “I presume you’ve all had similar observations. I’m afraid that we don’t know much more than you do about the disease at this point. At the beginning of the crisis, I had received orders to evacuate the local populace to this location in an attempt to prevent further spread of the disease. The evacuation went without difficulty and we’ve been waiting ever since.” He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward seriously, “Two weeks ago, we lost contact with the Pentagon and have been unable to re-establish contact.” Blake felt his stomach drop out inside his body. Fuck. Worse than I thought. “We are not completed isolated, however,” Pritchard continued, “Prior to losing contact with the Pentagon, we were receiving situational updates with other military bases throughout the country. The updates have been gradually decreasing and now we remain in contact with only a handful of bases, most of them only minor installations such as this one.”

  Blake raised his hand and Pritchard acknowledged him with a nod. “Sir, what exactly do you do here?”

  “This is an ammunition storage facility,” Pritchard answered, “We mainly store current munitions and dispose of obsolete ones.”

  “How many soldiers are here, sir?” Blake asked, dreading the answer.

  “We were fortunate enough to be able to call in reserve units from the area. We now have twenty-three Army soldiers, a platoon of reserve Marines, and about a hundred and twenty contractors.”

  “Contractors?” Blake asked, confused.

  “Basically, this installation was run by a civilian company with only a minimum of actual Army personnel. Because of the current emergency, I’ve assumed command of the contractors.” Pritchard explained.

  “But those contractors... they’re not soldiers,” Blake pointed out.

  “No, I suppose not. Though several of the ones that are responsible for base security used to be in the military,” Pritchard admitted.

  “Sir?” Kim asked, “You’d said that you’ve been gradually losing contact with military bases across the country. How could that be possible? If everyone was actively attempting to stop the spread of the disease, then how could the situation continue to get worse?”

  Pritchard sighed and sat down. “I don’t have a good answer for that question,” he admitted. “We did initially think that by taking steps to quarantine the healthy populace, we could at least let the disease run its course in the worst case scenario. Unfortunately though, even after such a long period, infected people don’t appear to be dying. Once the symptoms manifest the infected person seems to be in that state for an indeterminate period of time, regardless of the state of their body. As such, just before communication is lost with a facility, they report that an overwhelming number of people in this condition approach their location and then we lose contact with them.

  “Is it possible that the zombies are specifically targeting military bases?” Lisa asked quietly.

  “I don’t see how that’s possible,” Pritchard disagreed, “People who have developed symptoms do not seem to have any cognitive functions. Their behavior seems to be completely predictable.”

  “Predictable behaviors? You mean like always trying to eat normal people? Only walking? Attracted by noise?” Blake asked.

  “Yes, all that. In addition, they seem to have a herd mentality, often moving in groups. We’ve also observed that only mas
sive trauma to the brain will kill them. Damage done to any other part of the body, regardless of how severe, will not kill them,” Pritchard added.

  “Sir? Why are you telling us all this?” Bree wanted to know, “You could’ve just quarantined us and put us with the other civilians. Why tell us anything at all?”

  “Because I wanted you to understand the situation,” Pritchard replied, “If a group of a size reported by other military bases was to hit this facility, we would have no chance of holding it despite the preparations we’ve made to bolster the existing depot defenses. We need every able-bodied man and woman to help out.” Gao exhaled at this and looked suddenly like a cornered animal. “We’re not equipped to defend against a hostile force for a long period of time. We’re not a combat facility, we’re basically a place where ammunition gets stored or disposed of. Sometimes we do desert training. That’s why the daily operation of this place was contracted out because you don’t need soldiers to do what this base was designed for,” Pritchard elaborated. He looked them each in the eyes in turn. “We’d like you to volunteer to help defend the depot.” His group at the table looked back and forth at each other. “I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this,” Pritchard continued. “A month ago I wouldn’t have even dreamed of recruiting you like this, the potential liability alone...” He shook his head. “If all of this somehow blows over and there are still lawyers and courts, then I’ll gladly take responsibility. But right now? I feel like we’re going to need all the help we can get. What do you say?”

  Blake raised his hand. “I’d like to help.”

  Bree sighed and raised her hand as well. Kim looked at her thoughtfully, then said, “Yeah, I’m in.”

  Lisa nodded, “If they’re in, I’m going to help too.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll do it,” Tiffany said.

  “I can help too,” Doris said. “But I’m not really athletic or anything.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Pritchard shook his head. “We have several non-combat roles where we need people to help out. A majority of the civilian evacuees are helping out as well.”

  “Ok, fine. I will help. I am not going to be the only pussy in here,” Gao said reluctantly.

  “Excellent,” Pritchard said, looking pleased. “Go with the Sergeant here. He’ll make sure you’re all taken care of.”

  “This way please,” Apone said as he rose and opened the conference room door. They followed him out single file. Blake glanced back and saw Pritchard exit the conference room and walk quickly away from them down the hall. They were led outside and got back into the truck that had taken them here. Apone waited until they were all seated before addressing them, “We’re sending you back to the barracks where you slept last night. Gather your belongings and we’ll be assigning you normal quarters. Don’t take too long, we need to give you some brief survival training, and I want the first part done by lunch.” He grinned at them. “Welcome to the Hawthorne Army Depot.” He closed the truck gate and walked to the front to speak to the driver.

  “Fuck,” Gao said dismally.

  “Don’t be like that,” Doris said, rubbing his arm. “We should help out. What were you going to do, lie around all day?”

  “Yeah. That was the plan,” Gao said wistfully.

  forty-seven

  As promised, they were all assigned quarters. The actual barracks turned out to not be like the building they spent the first night in. They felt more like college dorm rooms. Each room had a desk, a bunk bed, dressers, and a bathroom. Tiffany had shyly asked if Blake would be her roommate. He agreed immediately. With Doris and Gao paired off, and Bree, Kim, and Lisa all staying together, that meant they’d either be assigned to share rooms with strangers, or they could bunk together. After dumping their stuff and Bob in their rooms, they were hustled out and taken to a firing range, where the first part of their training began. Everyone was indoctrinated in small firearms safety and then shown how to aim and shoot at targets. It was fun, Blake discovered. Bree, it turns out, had already had weapons training and the range master had her shoot at targets farther away. Lisa, Doris, and Tiffany all seemed horrified once they were actually holding their firearms, but after being coddled through it they had all managed to at least get accustomed to the weapons, and in Doris’s case, actually seemed to be enjoying it.

  After the range master had grudgingly admitted that they were unlikely to shoot themselves in the foot, a middle-aged guy with an impressive five o’clock shadow named Brad escorted them from the range to the mess hall for lunch. And not a moment too soon. Learning to shoot sure built up my appetite. The mess hall was a flurry of activity, with people lined up holding their trays to get lunch. The hall itself was huge with ample seating at long tables, currently at three-quarters capacity. Blake and his friends lined up, grabbing trays and silverware. Nearby, Blake saw a middle-aged man and his young wife with their two toddlers seated at one of the tables trying to finish their meals as they attempted to get as much baby food into their children’s mouths. Two seats away from them, a pair of black men dressed in some flavor of security guard uniforms hunkered down and ate what looked like Salisbury steak with a side of greens and cornbread. A group of soldiers in desert camo almost completely occupied an adjacent table and ate quickly around jibes, jokes, and laughter. There were old couples, other families, and loners all spread throughout the hall. At least some of these people must have been evacuated from nearby towns. Possibly even the town we were trying to stay at. Blake thanked the wrinkled old woman with the hairnet, and white apron after she’d poured brown gravy over the steak on his plate. He grabbed a green apple and a cup of coffee, adding them to his tray before scouting for a table that would seat his entire party. He parked himself at a mostly empty table next to a wizened old man who had wild gray hair. He was dressed in military fatigues and smelled alright, but Blake would’ve guessed that the man had been homeless. Blake gave the man a one-seat buffer and the rest of his group arrayed themselves next to him. He cut off a chunk of steak with his fork and slid it around the gravy to sop up as much as possible before putting it into his mouth. Although he hadn’t eaten this particular dish in a long time, it held up pretty well.

  “Hey,” said the reformed bum to his right. Blake looked over at him, eyebrows raised up in question.

  “Where you folks from?” the man wanted to know.

  “I’m from LA. The rest came from Vegas,” he told them as he spooned boiled vegetables into his mouth.

  The old guy thought about this and cackled. “It’s bad then?”

  “Yeah,” Blake answered taking another bite of steak. “Those places have been completely overrun.”

  “End of days my friend,” the old man told him. “They’ll come here too. Just a matter of time.”

  Blake was thinking about how to politely ignore him when the guy got up himself, leaving his tray on the table then hobbling towards the exit.

  “Who’s your friend?” Bree wanted to know.

  “Some vagrant,” Blake surmised. “Getting evacuated here probably improved his standard of living.”

  “Blake,” she said gently, “We’re all homeless now. We might be able to learn something from him.”

  The truth of that hit Blake like a punch in the stomach and guilt washed through him. “That- was a pretty douchey thing to say, huh?”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. The world’s changed a lot in a very short time. It’s hard to keep up.”

  She’s right. People with survival skills are now best positioned to prosper. Someone society had deemed successful might not be able to make it long term anymore. Well, unless they’d planned for it. If you’re rich enough I think you can buy anything. Better not judge people on what they used to be.

  “Um, so... hey! Where’d you learn to shoot?”

  “Korea,” she answered as she spooned fruit cocktail into her mouth. Blake got the sense that she didn’t want to talk about it and concentrated on finishing hi
s lunch.

  It wasn’t long before everyone polished off their lunches and dutifully gathered their trays, walking them over to where they could throw any of the leftovers away before returning them to the kitchen for cleaning. Brad caught up to them and took them to the quartermaster where they offered everyone a couple of sets of military fatigues, desert caps, undergarments, and boots. Doris looked aghast as she was handed her sets of clothes. “Well, it’s either that or get your normal clothes dirty,” Kim pointed out to her. Doris looked at her bundle and said, “I guess they wouldn’t have anything in pink.”

  Brad ushered them out and told them, “There’s going to be a bus here shortly to give you a tour of the depot.”

  “Tour?” Gao repeated, sounding disinterested.

  “Yes. They want you to know where everything is so that you’ll be able to get there yourself,” Brad replied.

  A bus painted in Army green noisily rounded a corner and came to a stop in front of them with a loud hiss. The doors opened and the driver, a large black woman wearing a mix of army camo and a Malcolm X t-shirt looked expectantly out at them. Blake got on the bus followed by everyone except Brad. Blake heard the bus doors close and they pulled away. Brad was waving goodbye as the bus passed by him. The woman took them around the depot for the next thirty minutes pointing out buildings they’d already been in and buildings that they probably wouldn’t ever have to go to. They were already familiar with the barracks, the command center, and the mess hall, but they were also shown several buildings that contained current or obsolete munitions. Despite the brevity of the tour, Blake felt that after it was over, he knew roughly where everything was. The bus deposited them back at their barracks and everyone exited the bus which promptly took off. It had been hot inside the bus and sitting in it after lunch had given everyone food comas. They trudged up to their rooms where Blake lay in bed hoping he had time for a nap. Tiffany must’ve felt the same way as she climbed up into her bunk and lay down as well. He was wondering if the phone in the room worked when he nodded off.