Forest Park: A Zombie Novel (22 page)

Having destroyed another two creatures, Steve launched after another, and with a crushing blow, he slammed his bat into the Dead thing’s shoulder blade, shattering it like a twig, and forcing the thing to list to its side, its smashed arm hanging useless.

The Dead thing now attempted to grab Steve with its only good arm, ignoring any pain it may have felt. Do they feel pain? Steve thought for a second.

With another swing, he slammed the bat down to the creatures remaining outstretched arm, snapping its forearm.

With one more swing of his bat, Steve hit the Dead thing in the forehead, cracking its skull and causing it to fall to its knees, where Steve whacked it once more, splintering the remains of its skull, and creating a large dent in the top of its fractured head.

“Steve!”

However, he wasn’t finished yet.

He wasn’t going to leave his yard until it was clear of these wretched things.

Steve stepped toward another ghoul, a woman who wore a torn blouse, which exposed her breasts and pale white-blue skin. She was a frightening image under the orange glow of the fire next door, but not as frightening as Steve.

No matter, the blood that covered her face or the hate that shone in her eyes, none of it combined compared to Steve, his face twisted, and distorted almost beyond recognition.

“Steve!”

He took another step to get an inside swing against the frontal lobe of the Dead woman’s skull and slammed the bat to her temple, popping her eyeball from its socket, which now hung by a thread of veins and sinew, swaying from side to side like a pendulum.

Steve swung the bat back again, but this time from the other direction. The impact slid her nose halfway across her face and caved in her cheek.

Steve swung again, and this time his bat connected beautifully with the hanging eyeball, detaching the eye from its tethers and sending it flying across the yard.

Kathy watched as the eyeball flew against the house and bounced off the weatherboards and on to the bonnet of the Dodge.

Kathy’s stomach begun to lurch and claw and then she released a spurt of vomit from her gut.

Steve now raised his bat above his head and brought it down through the Dead woman’s skull to the top of her spinal cord at the base of her brain.

The woman jerked and convulsed, and only stopped jiggling after Steve removed his bat from her brain.

Another one down, one more to go!

Steve swung his bat again at the last creature and missed it entirely, causing him to lose his footing on the blood and gore, which made the grass slippery as ice, and sending him toppling into the garden, by their white picket fence.

The baseball bat flew from his hands and hit the driver’s side door.

The last Dead thing spun in Steve’s direction, and for the second time that night, Steve found his feet were getting into harm’s way.

The creature made a lunge toward him.

Steve attempted to parry the thing away with a kick, but the thing somehow maintained its balance and lurched toward him again. Reaching outward with its bloody and mangled hands, it pushed Steve’s foot high into the air, straining his hamstring. Steve searched for something to defend himself with, anything to use at all. He grasped at a rock. Steve’s fingers wrapped their way around the stone, and then he threw it as hard as he could, and missed. “Fuck!”

The garden rock flew high into the air, and eventually landed on the neighbor’s roof, where it disappeared into the rising flames.

The Dead thing opened its mouth to take a massive bite from his calf.

Steve then heard a shrill sound fill the air, and saw a metal glint about five feet above his head.

Whatever it was had whizzed by in less than a nano second and lodged itself into the oak tree with a THWAK!

The creature’s mouth was agape and poised to bite. Then for a moment, it froze, its head suddenly toppling from its shoulders.

The head landed in the garden next to Steve, its eyes blinking as it stared directly at him.

The body then fell away.

Steve glimpsed over to Kathy, who was standing by the Dodge, looking just as amazed as Steve, who then glanced back to the oak and saw a Chop-Master ten-inch saw blade stuck fast in its trunk.

“Nice throw.”

Kathy smiled.

“Get in the truck, honey,” Steve said. “It’s time we hit the road.”

THE PRESIDENT’S NEW HOME

Holtz laughed once more.

“It’s just amazing. I cannot believe it --- Turner Field of all places.”

The new President reclined back into his plush, beige, leather chair as he kicked his slippers off. The Presidential Executive suite aboard Air Force One was quite luxurious.

Holtz took another sip of his aged Scotch and tried to hold back another round of laughter.

Harris poured himself another drink.

Holtz leaned forward. “I just can’t believe this. It’s brilliant. You know, Harris, I have actually been there to watch the Braves on more than one occasion, and I would never have clued.”

“Nobody’s supposed to,” said Harris, “after the Greenbrier, we decided to do a few things differently, but of course, we couldn’t begin to build a whole new complex straight away, not without the media catching on,” he gave the President a wink, “but when opportunity comes knocking you don’t ignore it.”

“The Greenbrier Resort, West Virginia,” Ambrose said. He was sitting away from the other two.

Harris nodded the affirmative. “Yes, Cornelius. I thought you would have known about it.”

“Vaguely,” he said.

“Well it’s a simple story. In the late 1950s, the Federal Government asked the Greenbrier if it could come to its country’s aid, the cold war was just beginning and the threat of nuclear war was very possible. An atomic war was a clear and present danger to the leadership of our great country, so with the help of the Federal Government, the Greenbrier added a West Wing to the hotel, The West Virginia Wing. However, under that wing, we added something truly special. We created one of the world’s greatest and most advanced bunkers ever conceived to protect the President and the entire Congress of the United States.”

“I have seen it for myself, Cornelius. It’s quite remarkable,” Holtz added.

“Indeed,” said Harris. “The complex began construction in 1959 and finished in 1962. The bunker even contained a broadcast center, complete with backdrops revealing all four seasons. However, in 1992 the
Washington Post
exposed the Greenbrier’s secret bunker, and our legislative assembly was once again left without a home --- until Turner Field.”

Holtz leaned forward and jingled the remaining ice afloat in a sea of Scotch. “Now tell me more about that. It’s just unbelievable.”

“It’s one of the reasons why people like me exist, Mr. President. Oh, and my protégé here,” Harris said as he indicated toward Ambrose.

“After the Greenbrier’s exposure in the press we had to find another place where government could continue without hindrance if a nuclear war was to happen, or an emergency such as this. We needed a place for government to continue to run safely, and to appear as if it was still operating from Washington.” Harris took a sip from his crystal tumbler. “And that opportunity emerged in 1996 when the Centennial Olympic Stadium underwent reconstruction, after the Atlanta Olympics to create a new baseball stadium for the Braves. Ted was a godsend; he loved the grandeur of the project and hence the title “Project Diamond.”

“I do enjoy all this cloak and dagger,” Holtz said.

“Underneath what is now Turner Field is the world’s most technological advanced bunker system that has ever existed. Atlanta was the obvious choice, not only did it have major roadways and rail links. It had in addition, access to local and international airports as well as Turner Field itself and the Five Points, the Marta (Metro Atlanta Rapid Transport Authority). Turner field itself allows more than enough space to enable helicopters and Jump Jets. I would furthermore like to add that Atlanta has a very strong military presence with Fort McPherson being near and supported by its own network of smaller forts and martial compounds, and let’s not forget the Centre for Disease and Control.”

“Amazing,” Holtz said.

“Once again that is a part of what I do, Mr. President, among other things, of course,” Harris said and then continued.

“The bunker itself has forty-eight dormitories, each capable of holding one hundred and ten people of which ten per cent of that figure is for military personnel. We have ten, thirty-five thousand-gallon water tanks and several diesel fuel tanks, which allow for one hundred and twenty-five days of operation without restriction. The bunker also has an eight hundred-seat auditorium, and a replica of the Oval Office, and the official White House media gallery, sponsored by Ted’s CNN. On the lower floors, the bunker has a hospital capable of treating one hundred and twenty people and a level-four research laboratory in case of an emergency, such as this.”

President Holtz shook his head in amazement as he took another sip of Scotch.

Harris continued, “We could stay under the streets of Atlanta for many months to come, nothing and nobody can get access to the bunker once the blast doors are shut, but we will still have complete access to the outside world via military and civilian telecommunications, where they exist. And we have full access to Time Warner’s movie database and programming for entertainment. The bunker is wired to detect any foreign agent released into the air, and can also detect any variables in the outer atmosphere not only in Atlanta, but also in several of our major cities throughout the country. I’m sure that’s enough of the stats for now, unless you feel otherwise, Mr. President,” Harris said.

“So we couldn’t become infected inside of the bunker?” Holtz asked, a little concerned.

“It’s extremely doubtful, Mr. President. Decontamination rules will be strictly enforced. Anyhow, it appears physical contact is the key to the spread of infection.”

Ambrose watched as the President offered a sigh of relief.

Harris continued, “As we speak, members of Congress and our leading men in the Military and Homeland Security, including the new head of Home Land Security, Martin Gibson, are making their way to the bunker via special shuttle runs we have organized. We don’t expect any trouble in getting everyone mobile, unless some have already fallen victim to the virus itself in the early days. Those men and women we cannot help.”

“When can we expect to see Carnegie?” asked Holtz. “I thought he would ride with us.”

“He’s already there, Mr. President, helping to organize everything from that end. I have also taken the initiative in organizing transport for Congressional dependants. On that note, how has your wife found her new role as the First Lady?” asked Harris.

Holtz smiled. “Well, as you can see, she’s not here with me. She’s out in the cabin taking care of the entertainment; she was born a perfect hostess.”

Ambrose watched Harris as he said, “Well that’s just fantastic, I hope she relishes the experience.”

Did any of these people even care a damn anymore? Ambrose thought to himself.

ON THE ROAD

TIME TO FUEL

Anderson leaned toward Tyler. “Most of the pumps seem clear. We may have to push a few vehicles out of the way, but that shouldn’t pose a problem.”

“Just noise and time, Lieutenant, both things we can’t afford.”

“I don’t see any other option.”

“Sadly, neither do I,” Tyler said as he scanned the area looking for any signs of life. Where are the drivers of all these cars, and trucks? He wondered. Then he saw something move, and quickly nudged Anderson, who glanced over to where Tyler had indicated.

Anderson couldn’t see anything and adjusted the light balance on his night-vision goggles. However, he still couldn’t acquire a clear view.

“What was it?” asked Cook.

Tyler shook his head; he was unsure.

“I think it’s somebody or something moving? It’s near the Toyota. You can see something moving toward the car. It looks like somebody’s crawling. Truth is, it could be anything.”

Cook couldn’t see much of anything in the dark.

It was nigh impossible to see anything with the smoke clouds covering the moon and the stars.

“I don’t see it,” Anderson said.

“You see where the Coke sign is...”

“Yeah.”

“Look to the right of that, you’ll see a Toyota.”

“I’m not good with Jap cars,” Anderson said.

Tyler pointed again. “The one behind the Chevy, to the right of the Coke sign.”

“Okay, got it.”

“Look at the front wheels, under the car, on the far side.”

“Okay. Yes, I see it. It’s moving.” Anderson paused for a moment. “How can we tell if it’s one of them?” Lieutenant Anderson asked.

“We go over and check it out,” answered Tyler, “or we wait here, and confirm,” he added.

“I vote wait here,” Cook said.

Tyler smiled in the darkness. “I guess a few minutes won’t hurt.”

“What if it’s a kid who’s scared or something?” Cook said after a few minutes, “They might need our help.”

“Are you suggesting we go and look?” Anderson asked.

“I’m laying down some options, that’s all. I was only considering that if I was a kid, I wouldn’t be too brave about moving around in the dark, especially with these things wandering about.”

Tyler agreed.

“The problem as I see it is this, the people who drove these vehicles are where? Are they dead or alive and walking out-of-town? They could be anywhere.”

“Yeah, who knows,” Cook said.

Tyler yawned, and added, “Well, if it is a kid, we can’t just wait around here.”

“We can’t wait around here anyway, Captain,” Anderson said. “I say we go down there and see what exactly it is, if it is anything at all. If it is one of those things, we’ll kill it. If it’s not one of them, we’ll score one for the good guys.”

Tyler nodded in agreement, as his mind went back to the girl playing soccer, at Fort Gillem. In his mind’s eye, he saw her fall and get up, and then fall again as her foot rolled over the ball. He considered where she was now and if she made it out? He doubted it, he never saw her again after the first few shots that had killed his men at the gates. He wished he could have done more for her; none of this was her fault, anyone’s fault, but the people who caused it all. Perhaps Susan was right, back out there on the road. Possibly, I don’t deserve their confidence, their trust. I’ve failed every test that’s been asked of me. I’ve failed everyone.