This was the strangest bunch of zombies I'd seen so far. We had one zombie gazing into the yard. One was sitting on the toilet taking a crap. Another one was looking for something in the fridge. And a zombie waiting for someone to bring him his dinner. I assumed I'd just come across a group of developmentally disabled zombies gathering for Thanksgiving. I could still hear shooting outside but the gunfire from inside the house had stopped. I made one more circuit through the downstairs and didn't find anything. Then I went outside to see if the girls would need any help. The yard was strewn with dead bodies. The smell was awful. I was looking around thinking we wouldn't be able to just walk away from this one. We would have to stay and help clean this mess up.
I looked up to the roof and no one was there. I guess they were finished inside. I looked back at Rick and Connie. They were headed this way. Al came out on the porch with a scowl on his face.
“Next time, don't just walk away. Let me know when you're done clearing a room.” Al said. “Did you shoot that poor zombie while he was taking a shit?”
“I'm sorry, Al. I just wanted to make sure everything was going okay out here. And yes, I guess you could say I did.”
“Did what?” Gina asked.
“I shot the zombie it the bathroom. It was just sitting on the toilet. It looked like it was trying to take a dump. All the ones I shot after Al and Les went upstairs were acting strange. One of them was just sitting at the dining room table. And one was standing at the fridge. It was creepy. You know?”
“I've got it!” Al said. “The one at the table was hungry and the zombie on the toilet was full. Simple.”
“I don't care what they were. We've got a hell of a mess to clean up here.” Cindy said as she shot a not quite dead zombie crawling on the ground in front of her.
“We don't get to just walk away from this one guys.” Gina chimed in.
“Yeah, I thought about that when I blew some zombie's head all over the wall in there.” Al said.
“Look, you guys don't have to stick around. I really appreciate everything you did for us.” Les said as he walked onto the porch arm in arm with his wife.
“So, you're throwing us out? No dinner invite?” Cindy asked with a smile on her face.
“Of course we want you to stay.” Les' wife said. “My name is Marla. Thank you all so much. I don't know how long I could have kept that up. I must have pushed thirty zombies off that roof.”
“Okay, that's settled. We're staying. Let's drag these bastards out of the house.” Al said.
“If you men will do that, we girls can start cleaning up inside. I'm sure you all made a hell of a mess.” Gina said.
“I'll get the tractor and we can drag these bodies away from the house. I'll take them out in the fields and burn them.” Les said.
Rick, Al and I started dragging the bodies out of the house. Les pulled a trailer out front and we started loading them in. It took a few hours to get the house and yard cleaned up. While we were working, a few more zombies wandered in. Al gave everyone else hatchets and I used my sword to dispatch the strays. We wanted to keep the gunfire to a minimum. Now that the horde was gone, we didn't want to draw any more attention to ourselves. By the time we were done, we had a huge pile of dead bodies to burn. There were over sixty zombies in the fire. Les poured fifteen gallons of gasoline on them and lit the fire. The smell of the burning bodies was almost as bad as the smell of their rotten flesh. Fortunately, the wind was blowing away from the house so we wouldn't have to smell the fire all night long.
Les had a large farm to go along with his crop dusting business. A week before the outbreak, he'd finished bringing in his crops. That left plenty of open field and we were able to make the fire far away. The landing strip where Les kept his plane was in a field close to the house. When we were finished, he took us over to show us his plane. It was a Cessna 188. I didn't know much about planes but it seemed like a beauty to me. It looked brand new but was actually over thirty years old.
“I was wondering if you all could do me one last favor?” Les asked.
“Sure, what is it?” Al said.
“Could you take me back up the highway? I'd like to fly that other plane back here.”
“You have fuel here?” I asked.
“There's a pump on the other side of the hangar over there. I've got aviation fuel, diesel, and regular. I'd be more than happy to fill your tanks before you go.”
“That would be great. We have hoses and hand pumps but this would be a hell of a lot easier.” I said.
“Alright then. First thing in the morning, we'll go fuel up your plane. Then we'll get back on the road again.” Al said.
“Sounds like a plan.” Les said. “Let's head back to the house and see what's for dinner.”
“Let's go. I'm starving.” Al replied.
“When aren't you?” Rick laughed.
Chapter 8
Day3
They came and got us early. Work on the gates were complete and they were getting ready to power up the fence. Buses were steadily arriving from the Pentagon. We'd been moved out of the barracks to make room for the personnel from the Pentagon and they had us setting up tents inside the fences surrounding the airfield. Military personnel that would be remaining to secure the airfield would be going on a little camp out. Crates of rifles and ammunition from the armory were being brought to the airfield. Every man was to be issued a rifle and one hundred rounds of ammunition. I still had my side arm but was anxious to get a rifle. Reports were coming in from surrounding areas. The undead would soon be at our doorstep.
General Simmons sent word that I was to report to his office by ten that morning. I grabbed something to eat and headed over. I got there ten minutes early and ended up waiting forty five minutes to get in to see him. I sat outside listening to the General shouting at Colonel Bradley the entire time. It seemed he was pissed off that he hadn't had any input in the video conference the night before. He wanted to know why he had to have “a god damn camera crew” there if they didn't want to hear what he had to say. After knowing the General the short time I had, I could understand why they didn't want his opinion. The door to the Generals office opened and Colonel Bradley called me in.
“Have a seat Captain,” the General said.
“Thank you sir.”
“I wanted to share what we learned last night. As you may know there has been some testing done on the infected.”
“Sir, may I ask you a question?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
“These are zombies we are dealing with? Is that correct sir?”
“Yes, for all intent and purposes, we are calling them zombies. Once bitten you become infected with the virus, die, reanimate, attack people, bite them, try to eat them, then those people die and reanimate. So yes, god dammit we're calling them zombies.”
The Generals voice raised steadily so that by the time he finished he was shouting. “Sorry sir. I just wanted to be clear.”
“Well are you?”
“Am I what sir?”
“Clear god dammit.”
“Yes sir. Crystal clear.”
“Good. Then let me finish briefing you. The Indian government has been running tests on these sons of bitches since the outbreak started.” This was all information I already knew. Major Stevens had told me some of it and the rest I'd read in the report I'd stolen. “They captured about ten of the zombies.” He emphasized the word zombie for my benefit, “And they've been running tests on them. Some they starve, others they feed.” I started to say something. “Don't you dare ask me what they're feeding them. You know damn good and well what they're feeding them.” He read my mind. “The zombies that are denied feeding remained lethargic. They're appearance worsens but they remain surprisingly strong. Once feeding resumes the deterioration stops. It's too soon to tell but it appears that if these things keep eating they may never die.”
“How long have they been experimenting on these things sir?”
“It's been five days. So who knows? Maybe they will rot away like any corpse and eventually die. On the other hand the ones that have been steadily consuming human flesh get faster and stronger. We watched a video of one that was moving around his containment area pretty damn fast. The bastard ate five people in a little over an hour. After finishing the third victim the rate at which it ate the other two was amazing. None of the first five reanimated. I imagine they were too severely damaged. When a sixth victim was put in with it, all it did was rip his throat out and leave him to die. In under two minutes the dead man turned.”
“When they shoved the next victim in with them, the first zombie let the second one kill the poor bastard. As soon as the guy died, the first zombie made the second stop eating. In a few minutes the victim reanimated Do you realize what that means? These things have some sort of a thought process. They were making zombies. Thank God they shot the son of a bitch. They shot the third zombie too. What was horrible was what they did to the second zombie.”
“What could be worse than what you've already told me?”
“They sent this big bastard in there with a sword and he chopped the lower two thirds of the remaining zombie off. It was left alone in the cell for about ten minutes. It didn't die. It just drug itself around the cell. Not once did it try to eat any of the dead bodies in there with it. Just kept crawling over them. Then they threw some old lady in the cell. She was able to avoid the zombie. So they sent the big guy in there with the sword and he hacked one of her feet off.”
“Oh my God.”
“I said it was horrible. The zombie caught her pretty quickly after that and ate her. It had no stomach left. Hell I doubt it even had a heart. I kept looking for the pieces of the old lady to come out behind the zombie. None ever did. That's where the next part of the report comes in. Our scientists, shit Captain I'm here to tell you, our government knows more about all this than they're letting on. Anyway, our scientists say the zombies don't digest what they eat. They absorb it like some kind of fucking amoeba. This virus that's going to turn us all into zombies is some kind of cross between an amoeba and a virus. And the shit thing is. We made it!”
“A few years ago a pharmaceutical company was looking for a cure for some obscure disease.
Professor Jeffery Parks
was in charge of the project. All he succeeded in doing was creating a virus that killed a bunch of people. The CIA decided they wanted to stockpile some of this wonderful virus, just in case. First they would need a cure or a vaccine. So they hired the Professor to reverse engineer the cure. Why they would have the same idiot work on the cure is beyond comprehension. But that's what they did. I really don't understand the science. They took some DNA from an amoeba and inserted it into a virus of some sort. The new virus combined with a bacteria. Long story short, the zombies are created by an infection caused by this mutated virus.”
“A few days ago the FBI apprehended Professor Parks returning to the U.S. on a flight from China. There were several vials of the new virus in his luggage. He had just finished seeding the infection in China. Before that, he had been to Australia, Germany, and Japan. He's the reason the virus is spreading so fast. They have him in a lab somewhere working on a vaccine. They should just execute the crazy bastard. The powers that be think he's our best chance at stopping the spread of the infection. I personally think he can't be trusted.”
“The rest of the report dealt with the government's plans on fighting the zombies. The details of which you'll be advised of when the time comes. Right now our job is to keep this airfield open and protect the Pentagon employees and their families. That's all I've got Captain. Any questions?”
“No sir.”
“Good. Report back to your unit. The fence is done. You and your men can help finish building the shooting towers. From what I've heard, Fredericksburg and Richmond are reporting infestations. The cities will fall soon. When that happens the hordes will be headed this way. Somehow these zombies know where people are congregated. We have a day or two at best. You're dismissed.”
“Thank you sir.”
I'd read the report and knew that in a day the General and the rest of the upper brass would be leaving the base. Most of us here weren't considered to be essential personnel. They wanted us here to keep the airfield open. Bases across the country were making the same preparations we were. The military wanted a series of airfields open to run bombing missions from. The plan was to fire bomb the hordes of zombies. The Army had decided the zombies couldn't be stopped with ground forces. In other parts of the world, nations had tried fighting using traditional combat techniques and had failed.