by David Spell
“Well?” Beth asked as he got back into the vehicle.
Chuck told her what he had seen. They had talked about various contingencies, but there was no way to really prepare for large groups of attacking zombies who wanted to rip you apart and eat you.
“Same drill,” McCain said. “The only thing different is that I want you to put your windows up and just focus on driving. And don’t forget: I love you.”
Elizabeth gave a slight smile and nodded, Chuck noticing the fear in her eyes. He watched her take a deep breath, push the button to raise her windows, and start the Tundra rolling forward. She drove around assorted abandoned vehicles as they started north.
When they passed a white Plymouth Voyager, they saw that the side and the driver’s doors were open, the bloody remains of several bodies scattered on the asphalt. Beth had to maneuver around the collision of a black Ford Mustang and a gray Mercedes. The Mustang appeared empty but a decaying zombie was still seat-belted in the driver’s seat of the Mercedes. What had been a middle-aged businessman reached for the armored pickup as it drove past, his mouth moving.
When they got to the wrecked eighteen-wheeler, Chuck realized that the space for getting by it was much narrower than he had thought. He wasn’t sure that they would fit and quickly glanced around. The zombies from the southbound lanes were shuffling towards them, ten of the creatures now on their side of the road, fifty yards behind the Tundra.
“Can we get through there?” Elizabeth wondered, slowing to a stop.
“I think so. Let’s keep moving,” he answered, watching the Zs getting closer, their growling sending a chill down his spine.
Beth steered the Tundra to the right, still uncertain if it would fit through the small opening. She heard the creatures and saw them through her mirror. As the front end of the pickup cleared the rear of the trailer, a big body suddenly slammed into the left side of the Tundra’s engine compartment. It had come from the blind side of the tractor-trailer. Beth screamed but she could only see the head of a large, snarling, black male zombie. One of his eye sockets was just a bloody hole, adding to his ghastly appearance.
Another figure, maybe a Hispanic female wearing a flower-pattern dress ran into the front end of their truck, reaching over the hood towards Elizabeth, her mouth working, a sound like a rabid dog’s growling coming from her throat. Beth shoved the accelerator to the floor, the Tundra lurching forward a few feet and then stopped, the sound of metal-on-metal coming from both their left and right.
The passenger side of the Tundra scraped against the metal guardrail, while the driver’s side was wedged against the rear of the long trailer. The engine roared as Elizabeth worked the gas pedal, to no avail. They were stuck.
“What do we do?” she asked, a hint of panic in her voice.
The sound of Chuck’s rifle startled her as he picked off the closest threats through the open rear window. After dropping six of the Zs, he calmly said, “Turn the steering wheel to the right and give it some gas. Then steer back to the left. I think you can wiggle through.”
The two zombies in front of them continued to throw their bodies at the truck. Beth turned the steering wheel clockwise and pressed the accelerator. They started moving forward again, inch-by-inch, continuing to scrape both sides of the armor plating mounted on each side.
McCain continued shooting zombies, their bodies piling up in the middle of the highway. He scanned the area as he reloaded with a full magazine and saw that the second group had been joined by more of their friends. At least thirty more infected were heading their way. He felt the truck slowly starting to come unstuck.
“That’s it,” he encouraged his wife. “Just a little more.”
The Tundra was now far enough forward that Elizabeth could see the big male zombie. He was wearing a light blue shirt with a trucking company’s name on the left breast and ‘Ralph’ embroidered on the right. Sorry, Ralph, Beth thought, as the pickup finally jumped free, the side mirror being torn off in the process.
The zombie woman on the front of the truck had just gotten a knee on the bumper and was trying to climb onto the hood. As the vehicle surged forward, however, she lost her balance and fell to the road, the Tundra’s tires bouncing over her. Ralph reached for Beth, her closed windows preventing him a handhold, but he did manage to grab the side of Chuck’s open window. A 9mm hollow point to the forehead from a distance of two feet sent Ralph spinning to the asphalt.
After getting past the overturned truck, Beth and Chuck could see what was in front of them. Car wrecks and abandoned vehicles continued to litter the interstate. Several groups of five or more infected were coming towards them, drawn to the noise. The good news was that the even though they would have to dodge Zs and abandoned vehicles, the roadway ahead wasn’t completely blocked.
“Piece of cake,” Chuck said. “These are small groups and they all look like slow-movers.”
The pickup started moving again. They were able to avoid the majority of the zombies but the heavy bumper on the pickup took out four in the first mile. Elizabeth continued to steer around both Zs and crashed automobiles. After two miles, the highway in front of them was clear of vehicles and infected.
McCain consulted the satellite maps. “Okay, there’s a big interchange up ahead, maybe three more miles. After that, it’s only another four miles to Chimney Rock Road where Melanie’s at. We’re almost there,” he said, allowing himself a relieved smile.
Centers for Disease Control Compound, East of Atlanta, Saturday, 1100 hours
The sound of rotor blades got everyone’s attention and a Blackhawk with no markings was suddenly circling the CDC compound. Eddie and the others watched, seeing a crewman manning a minigun mounted on the door. Several other figures were visible inside the aircraft, peering down at the research site.
After circling the area for five minutes, confirming that the landing zone was clear, the helicopter set down on the driveway, outside the front gate. By this time, every occupant at the CDC compound had gathered outdoors to see what was going on. Besides the National Guard the previous day, it had been months since they’d had visitors, and the unannounced appearance of a helicopter aroused everyone’s curiosity.
Dr. Martin had sworn the CDC agents to secrecy about the arrival of Dr. Kim Bae-yong. He hadn’t wanted to get his staff’s hopes up about the arrival of his friend and colleague without knowing for sure that the CIA was going to be able to deliver her. As the aircraft sat down twenty-five yards away, Andy nodded at Marcel and he opened the gate.
“Jimmy, you and Hollywood hang back and cover me and Andy,” Marshall ordered. “Just in case.”
By the time Eddie and Andy reached the helicopter, four heavily armed figures had quickly disembarked, scanning the area. An Asian woman then stepped to the ground, assisted by a clean-cut young man in black BDUs wearing a holstered pistol. The new arrivals ducked their heads and approached Fleming and Marshall. Eddie immediately recognized Walker, Trang, and the other two CDC agents from the Washington office.
As soon as they were clear of the rotors, the engines on the helicopter roared and it lifted off, flying west. The young man in BDUs stuck out a hand.
“Agents Marshall and Fleming,” he nodded. “I’m Shaun Taylor. I work directly for Admiral Williams, the Director of Operations for the CIA.”
Taylor had never met the two Atlanta agents but Williams had required him to study their pictures so that he could recognize them on sight.
“We’ll talk more later,” Taylor continued, “but Admiral Williams asked me to convey his compliments and to thank you for the incredible work you and your men have accomplished. I’d like to present Dr. Bae-yong.”
The Asian woman smiled and nodded at Eddie and Andy.
“Let’s get into the compound,” Trang urged.
Shaun let the CDC officers escort them all inside. Dr. Martin and his wife, Eleanor, were waiting at the guard shack. When Kim Bae-yong saw her friends, she started crying and fell into Mrs. Martin�
�s arms. Charles led the two women inside the structure that had been converted into a dormitory.
Eddie introduced Shaun and the four Washington, D.C., officers to Andy, Darrell and Marcel. Marshall, Jones, and Estrada had all worked with the Washington agents in tracking down and apprehending Terrell Hill, the terrorist who had infected pizza slices with the zombie virus at a concession stand inside Stanford Stadium on the University of Georgia campus.
With introductions made and with Dr. Bae-yong being taken care of Shaun leaned in and spoke to Eddie. “Is there someplace we can talk? We’ve got a lot of things to discuss.”
Marshall did not have a lot of experience in dealing with the CIA. As far as he knew, he had exactly none. That’s not quite true, he thought. He just had not known that he was working for them until Chuck had required that he and Andy sign a confidentiality waiver a few months back.
McCain had informed the two team leaders that the CDC Enforcement Unit was a legitimate federal law enforcement agency but that it was funded and supported by the CIA. The reason for this was so that the Agency could continue to lead the fight against the terrorists who wanted to spread the bio-terror virus.
“Sure, Mr. Taylor. We’ll take you to our new headquarters,” Eddie replied with a smile.
Nicole Edwards had come outside with everyone else to see what was happening. When she saw the big men in black tactical clothing get off the helicopter, hope sprung up in her heart again. Maybe he’s with them, she thought.
As the armed men filed inside, however, she realized that McCain wasn’t with them. Dr. Edwards did, however, recognize Dr. Bae-yong. The two were friends, having worked together, off and on, for over five years. Having her onsite was the best news that Nicole had had in a long time.
Edwards watch the CDC agents huddle up beside the guard shack listening to another man who was only wearing a pistol. After a few minutes, Agent Marshall led them towards the main building where the enforcement unit’s small office space was located. As they walked by, all the officers nodded politely at her.
One of the new arrivals, though, was obviously checking her out, she realized. He appeared a touch shorter than Nicole, but was powerfully built with piercing blue eyes. He ran a hand through his short-cropped, light-brown hair as he walked by, his eyes never leaving hers, an engaging smile on his face.
“Hello, ma’am. How are you?”
Nicole managed to nod and say, “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
And then they were gone, Eddie leading the other seven agents inside. Dr. Edwards stuffed her hands into the front two pockets of her lab coat and stared off into the distance. It was clear that something was going on, considering all the visitors who had been showing up lately. Maybe things would soon start getting back to normal.
South of Hendersonville, North Carolina, Saturday, 1110 hours
Highway 25 had merged with Interstate 26 and the last few miles had not provided any problems. Beth had kept their speed at around fifty miles an hour unless she had to maneuver around an abandoned vehicle or a group of infected. As Chuck had pointed out, a large interchange loomed just a mile ahead. The exit signs identified it as Upward Road. Other highway signs indicated that the exit was packed with restaurants, gas stations, convenience stores, hotels, and even an RV resort park. All were now perfect breeding grounds for zombies.
Once we clear this big exit, the next one is less than four miles away, Chuck thought. We get off there, take a right and the Mitchell’s farm and Melanie will be less than ten miles up on the left. Of course, he had no idea what he’d find there, that uncertainty haunting the big man. Tommy Mitchell’s note said that was where they were going but it was also obvious that the Zs had swept through this area, with many still lingering behind.
McCain felt the Tundra slowing. Elizabeth pointed at a major roadblock, a half-mile ahead of them.
“Stop and let me check it with the binoculars,” Chuck said.
“Okay, but it looks like the entire interstate is blocked,” the driver observed, bringing the pickup to a stop in the middle lane.
His wife was right. A barricade composed of police cars and large Department of Transportation dump trucks were stretched across both the north and southbound lanes of I-26. The roadblock was set up about five hundred yards south of the Upward Road exit. Figures were moving slowly back and forth on the bridge, but the distance was too great to confirm that they were zombies. What else could they be? McCain pondered.
The federal police officer stood in the bed of the pickup, moving the binoculars slowly over the barricade, not seeing any way to get around the vehicles. This stretch of highway had been constructed for safety, with metal guardrails on both the shoulders and the median, preventing anyone from driving across it. Two pickups and six passenger cars were scattered in front of the barricade. It was hard to tell at this distance but he thought that he could see bullet holes in some of the windshields.
The roadblock looked formidable, he realized, continuing to stare through the binos. There! He could see a small opening on the left side, next to the median. A police car sat twenty feet behind the barrier, the driver’s door standing open and a body, or what was left of one, lying on the pavement beside the vehicle. It looked to McCain like the officer had been filling a spot in the roadblock but had tried to make a run for it. He didn’t get very far before the zombies managed to grab and devour him. I wish I could see behind that row of vehicles, Chuck thought. There’s no telling what might be waiting back there.
“There’s an opening on the far left, next to the center guardrail,” he told her, climbing into the backseat. “Looks like a police officer tried to escape but didn’t make it. I can’t see anything behind the barricade but there’s plenty of movement up on that bridge. As soon as we get through the roadblock, punch it and let’s get on down the road.”
Elizabeth took a deep, cleansing breath and nodded, putting the truck into drive and giving it some gas. As they got closer to the long line of vehicles, Chuck realized that there was plenty of room for them to get past it. Beth steered to the left, maneuvering around a red Dodge Ram that straddled two lanes, just twenty feet from the barrier. The front of the Ram had been shot up, the windshield shattered, and McCain saw a figure slumped behind the steering wheel.
Beth aimed their truck for the opening in the roadblock, both of the Tundra’s two left tires now on the small grassy strip next to the iron guardrail. The police car had been parked next to a yellow DOT dump truck.
Suddenly, a loud hissing erupted from outside, causing Chuck to swing his rifle to the driver’s side. The pickup truck shifted and quickly became sluggish.
“What happened?” Beth asked, feeling the truck pulling to the left.
McCain glanced out his open window to the ground and shook his head in disbelief.
“Spike strips. The police put them out to puncture bad guy’s tires. They were in the grass and now we’ve got two flats.”
Another sound quickly overshadowed the hissing. The growling of hungry zombies was getting closer and louder. McCain scanned the area but didn’t see anything. They have to be on the opposite side of the roadblock, he realized.
“Back up!” he told Elizabeth. “Those Zs are on the other side.”
Beth immediately slammed on the brakes, shoved the gearshift lever into reverse, and accelerated. Just as the Tundra started reversing with two flat tires, twenty zombies burst through the hole that they had been about to drive through. A crash jolted both of them as the Toyota slammed into the shot-up Dodge pickup, Beth looking at the oncoming zombies and not watching behind them as she reversed. McCain was thrown into the back of the driver’s seat, his backpack knocked onto the floorboard by the impact. He quickly recovered, though, knowing that the menacing figures were marching straight for them.
“Sorry!” Elizabeth said, pulling up slightly and quickly steering wheel to the left so she could get around the other big pickup and put some distance between them and the zombies.
Beth continued backing for another fifty feet before jerking the steering wheel counter-clockwise so she could turn them around and go the other way. A metal-on-metal crunching sound let them know that she had backed into the guardrail. Elizabeth turned back to the right and accelerated. Nothing happened. The fender covering the flat rear tire was hung up on the metal barrier, holding them in place, the tires spinning but not taking them anywhere.
“We’re stuck!” Beth yelled, seeing the bloody figures surging towards what they hoped would be an easy meal. “What do we do?”
McCain’s accurate fire had taken down sixteen of the tightly packed group before his rifle ran dry. He pushed the door open and exited the pickup, grabbing his pistol.
“Out!” he ordered. “Grab your weapons and your backpack and let’s go.” He pointed to their right.
He took down the remaining five Zs, only firing seven shots from the Glock. More zombies rushed through the opening in the barricade, drawn to the gunshots. Elizabeth threw on her equipment as Chuck reloaded his rifle and continued dropping the approaching flesh-eaters.
The big man glanced back into the Tundra. His backpack containing extra ammo, food, and water was in the floorboard on the far side. The zombies were just thirty feet away, though, their snarling intensifying as they got closer. He put the pack out of his mind, knowing that their immediate survival was the most important thing.
