Hell Released (Hell Happened Book 3) (7 page)

All of the people here had been from this area around Ft. Benjamin Harrison, or were on temporary duty here. They gravitated to the base when the deaths became overwhelming and they were hoping the military had some answers.

The military had no answers then and did not have them now.

“You’re in charge now, colonel,” the captain said to him. “I’ll gladly be your exec if that’s what you want.” Russ wasn’t sure there was any reason to have a military anymore, but it seemed to calm the 13 others so he went with the theme.

“Okay, captain, first thing we need to do is get a sustainable food supply and power. We’ll need to get a septic system going if we can, or build our own. I don’t know the power grid here, but we should look into it.”

Russ and the captain talked for 25 minutes about projects the group could and should do or at least get started. Lisa talked with the other men and women in the group. The sergeant brought the captain and colonel bottles of water to slake their thirst as they talked.

“I’m getting hungry,” Lisa finally announced. “Are you men going to go kill me a cow or something or is there food available somewhere near here?”

The captain laughed heartily and Russ smiled at the woman. She seemed to naturally put every one at ease.

“We have food back in the quarters we’ve moved into. Most of the food is MREs or in boxes and cans. There’s almost no fresh food left because we don’t have any refrigerators.”

Russ thought getting power back to the housing should have been a higher priority than zombie hunting, but he didn’t say anything. He was getting hungry too and he still had some fresh fruits and vegetables even after two weeks because he thought to fill a freezer with ice and insulate it with comforters. He didn’t say anything to the rest of them. He’d bring out the fresh, or at least freshly frozen food, sometime in the future if the chance arose.

Russ rode with the captain down to get his truck from the golf course. The HUMVEEs were nice, but Russ knew where there was a 500-gallon tank filled with gasoline, so he’d continue to drive his favorite truck. He followed the captain back to the group and Lisa climbed in. They followed the HUMVEES to the base housing where the group was living.

On the drive, Lisa told him what she’d learned. “They’re really disorganized. Most of them are in the group just for the safety of numbers. The captain is trying to be a hard ass, but really they’re just with him because he’s one of the oldest and because he got them guns and hasn’t done anything really stupid yet.”

“He gave up control pretty fast,” Russ observed. “Maybe he knew he didn’t have the experience to be in charge in this situation.”

“I think Sgt. Bare has been a real leader of the group. She’s pretty smart and the people trust her,” Lisa said. “She is scared just like the rest of them and she’s only 22, but she’s got a lot of chutzpah.”

Russ nodded at the description. He was good at reading people and it was the same impression he’d gotten from the NCO. “Hopefully we don’t have to create a military-type unit. We really need a community lead by someone who can see two to five years down the road, not just until next week,” He paused and added, “and we surely don’t need a military dictatorship.

The four-vehicle convoy pulled into base housing, past the hospital and the National Guard armory. They all stopped in front of the first house on the corner.

Every one got out of their vehicles and the captain pointed at the first house. “Most of these are empty, sir. When the president ordered martial law most of the people here went home.”

“Have all of these been cleared?” Russ asked, waving at the other homes.

“Ah, no sir. Just the ones we’ve been living in. Why?”

“Well, if what you and these others say is true, the zombies go after people. If there are dead people in these houses, the zombies are going to come looking for them.” A light seemed to come on over the captain’s head.

“I know it’s a crappy detail, but I think we should go through all the houses and make sure all the dead bodies are out of them.

“Okay sir, but what are we supposed to do with the bodies? I don’t think anyone here can drive a back hoe or anything. We can’t just pile them up somewhere. It doesn’t seem right.”

“Burn them. We’ll load them in a bus and drive it to some distant location and burn it. It’s the least we can do for them,” Russ said.

The captain nodded. Not liking the idea, but seeing the reason behind it. “We’ll get on it right after lunch.”

“Okay captain, but leave me four people, the four you think will best help getting the electricity working.” The captain nodded and pointed to the house across the street from his own. “That house is a three-bedroom with an attached garage you can use. I know it doesn’t have anyone living in it.”

“I have a place in the suburbs, but I think maybe it would be best if I moved on post to be with everyone else. It’ll be easier if we all stick together and I can go back tonight and get everything I’ll need.” The captain hadn’t even given the colonel’s personal life a thought. He just took for granted that the colonel lived somewhere on base. He hadn’t asked about the colonel’s relationship with Lisa, just assumed they were a husband and wife or some such.

He had told the colonel almost everything about himself, but the colonel had offered almost nothing about himself and his relationship with Lisa.

It took most of the rest of the day for Russ to figure out the power grid of the housing development. While he was familiar with several ways to power a small city, there was nothing that could be done without power coming in from Indiana Power and Light. They were going to have to get some other supplier of electricity.

Fortunately he’d lived in Indianapolis and knew the best places to find the equipment he needed. By the time the sun set, Russ had five diesel generators running and providing power for a dozen of the houses. Only five were being lived in right now, but Russ wanted to be able to offer a safe haven to others.

It wasn’t a pretty hook up, it wasn’t a long-term solution, and it would take days to get the all wiring made safe, but for the first night in three weeks, the people living on Ft. Ben Harrison had power for their lights, hot water heaters and microwave ovens.

For tonight, Russ was a hero to everyone.

He never had the chance to return to his home and when he finally had a chance to go into the house Eldred had pointed out, Lisa had a hot meal ready for him.

“Thanks for the power today. After cleaning out more than 300 houses, I smelled a little ripe and needed a hot shower.” He noticed she was in different clothes now and her hair was still a little wet.

“There were a lot of people in those houses?” Russ asked.

“Not many. We didn’t even fill the bus. But we cleared all the houses on this side of the road while the other group cleared out the other side. There were only about 30 bodies in each bus. The cold kept most of the bodies from decaying too much, but it still wasn’t as fun as it sounds.

“Myles had us drive them east of here about 15 miles and he set them on fire with thermite grenades. We didn’t stick around, but the fire won’t spread. We made sure of that.”

Russ, cutting up a piece of ham and covering it with gravy, tried not to think about the mass cremation. He’d seen too many others to let it bother him and he was very hungry. “You didn’t have to fix me supper, but I appreciate it. I was getting pretty hungry again.”

“By the way, which house did the captain put you in?”

“Oh, you and I are a couple. Didn’t anyone tell you?” she teased. “The captain assumed since you and I were together we are together. You seem like a pretty good guy, so to keep things simple, I didn’t tell him any different. He thinks we’ve been working and living together. I didn’t tell him I met you by stalking you this morning.”

Russ laughed out loud. The woman was a spitfire and he liked the way she thought.

“I’ve taken the master bedroom at the top of the stairs on the left. It has its own bathroom. Yours is the second room on the right down the hall. It has a queen bed and a shared bathroom with the third bedroom. We might want to work on plumbing real soon now that we have electricity.”

“That’s something for tomorrow,” Russ told her.  “Right now I am tired and am ready for bed.”

He helped her clean up the table and dishes. There must still be water in the tower because there was some water pressure, but that wouldn’t last if they couldn’t get more electricity to the base. The same was with the septic system. It was working for now, but only because of gravity. Soon things would back up in the plumbing and there’d be a mess.

He looked at his watch and it was nearing 2300 hours, well past his usual bedtime.

Lisa was in the living room looking through the book shelves for something to read. Telling her he was going to bed, she pulled a book from the case and walked upstairs with him. He walked past her door and found the one she had indicated. “I found some Army clothes for you and laid them out,” she told him. “There’s a huge store just filled with this stuff. I hope I got the right sizes.” The clothes were the newest issue of battle dress uniforms and still in the plastic. She’d even picked up the colonel insignia and several sizes of headgear. He could tell the woman had been a military wife. She’d also gotten several different sizes of boots. The largest was size 13 EEEE which was exactly the size he needed, if a little wider than usual.

He nodded at the uniforms and told her they should be perfect. “The bathroom is through there and there is a room on the other side.” Russ nodded.

She seemed like she was waiting for something but Russ wasn’t sure what it might be. He said just what he thought. “I’m glad you found me this morning when you did, Lisa. I don’t know what’s going on in the world, but you’re a real anchor and I’m glad I’ve hooked up with you.”

Lisa smiled and blushed. “I’m glad I met you too colonel. I was a little worried you were a nutcase because, seriously, who goes golfing after the end of the world?

“But it’s good to find that you’re just a normal guy with a decent head on your shoulders.” She favored him with a smile and closed the door most of the way on her way out. “I’m going to leave my door part way open,” she said from the hall, “but don’t get any ideas mister. I’ll shoot you if you come in my room.”

“I believe you will, Lisa,” he called back to her, taking his shirt off. “But just so you know, I don’t care how cute you are, I don’t sleep with a woman on the first date.”

“So you think I’m cute,” she called back. “I’m loading my gun now.”

Russ laughed and got ready for bed, turning off the lights after crawling under the two comforters. If the electricity went off in the middle of the night, it’d get cold fast in this early spring Indiana weather without the blower on the furnace working.

“Good night, Lisa.”

“Good night, Russ.”

Chapter 2

S
creaming at the desecration of his dad’s body and the bodies that had been pulled from the ground, CJ ran to the vehicles parked in the driveway. Whoever it was that had torn up the small graveyard, CJ didn’t want to be anywhere around that person.

He jumped in the smoke-gray Silverado his dad drove. CJ knew the keys would be in the ignition because his dad never took them out. It would also be filled with gas because his dad never let the truck get low on fuel. CJ didn’t think about it as he was running to the truck, he just knew it would be the one to start and get him away.

He fumbled with the shifter, first pulling forward before realizing the rail road ties would block his way. He dropped it in reverse and backed out of the parking space. He hadn’t even got the truck stopped before putting it back in drive. The pea gravel was thrown 25 feet from the back tires as CJ raced out of the driveway.

He turned left onto the main road, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. The savagery of the mutilations made him sick and that it had been done to his dad made him cry.

CJ didn’t know where he was driving, but he knew he was driving fast. The truck sped up to 80 miles per hour before CJ finally let off on the accelerator. He didn’t know where to go. His friends weren’t answering their phones; his managers, his trainer, his publicist, none of them were answering either.

CJ felt himself going crazy. After a few minutes of driving at break-neck speed, he finally slowed. There were more vehicles on the road he had to avoid and even though he didn’t know why he hadn’t died yet, he didn’t have the nerve to ram one of the trucks or cars and kill himself now.

CJ found himself driving past one of his family’s most recent acquisitions, a survival shelter manufacturing plant. CJ’s friend Jack worked at the plant as the supervisor and lived in the house that was next to the main building.

The Perry’s had purchased the plant after it had fallen into bankruptcy years earlier. Jack had been looking for a job and CJ’s dad told the young entrepreneur if he could find a way to make the plant profitable, he’d buy the plant and all the equipment.

The first year the plant built seven complete survival shelters and sold six of them. Jack had found that by using left over concrete from the trucks that were returning to the main concrete plant, he could save money on building costs. He also used off-brand water filtration units that worked just as well as the name brand. He used appliances, heaters and furniture that had been rejected for appearance issues rather than safety issues.

Working 70 and 80 hours a week with two part-time college kids, Jack barely broke even the first year, but the name was getting recognition and in the second year he hired a full-time employee and an office administrator who doubled as his web designer and computer expert. The second year in business Jack showed a profit and married his office administrator.

CJ was pulling into the driveway of his friend Jack, already knowing what he would find. The house was a simple modular ranch-style home. The grass in the lawn, which had never been manicured very well, was long and filled with weeds. Jack’s old Ford truck was in the drive next to his wife’s Camry. Without going inside CJ knew Jack would have died with his wife.

CJ couldn’t help himself. He went in the house anyhow, using the key Jack always hid under a rock in the corner by the entryway. The house was dark and silent and even though CJ knew, he had to see. We walked down the hallway to their bedroom and opened the door. The smell was terrible. Jack was in the bed, but his wife had taken her own life with the pistol still in her body’s hand. CJ closed the door.

He banged his head against the closed door and cried out “Why? Why is this happening?”

No answer came.

CJ knew Jack always had some weed around. He’d had eye problems from a poorly aimed air rifle pellet when the two were teenagers. He said the weed help alleviate the pain from the headaches.

CJ had never done drugs because of the constant testing by the NCAA and WTA, but he didn’t judge Jack on his use.

There wasn’t an NCAA anymore, or a WTA. CJ had nothing stopping him from smoking now. He also had the granddaddy of all headaches coming on so he walked back down the hall to Jack’s office. He had to search, but he found what he was looking for locked in the bottom drawer of Jack’s desk. It took some jimmying with a screwdriver, but CJ got the drawer open and pulled out the metal box.

The smell of the rotting bodies was permeating the house so CJ went outside. It was warmer now so CJ walked over the building where Jack put together the pieces for the survival shelters. There was a picnic table beside the entry door and CJ sat down at it.

He opened the metal box and found a baggy with weed, some papers, a small lighter, six or eight buds and four rolled cigarettes. CJ thought about what he was going to do. He’d been clean all his life, not even getting drunk on his 21st birthday because of a tennis tournament. He’d never done any illegal drugs because he’d seen what they had done to some many other athletes’ careers.

He didn’t care anymore. Everything he knew was gone. He’d buried his mom a few days earlier, laid his dad’s body beside her just yesterday and overnight something had ripped the bodies apart. His world wasn’t what it was a month ago and CJ felt insanity slipping from him. He was crying, he was scared, he was lonely, and he didn’t want to live but he was too afraid to die.

CJ lit the first cigarette and smoked it until it was too hot for his fingers. He’d seen Jack use the alligator clips to hold the cigarette, but he couldn’t get it to work. He wasn’t feeling anything so he lit up a second and inhaled deep. He coughed again and again, but he wanted to know what the draw to smoking the weed was.

CJ’s limbs started feeling rubbery and his ears were filling with white noise, but he could still picture in his mind’s eye the sight of his dad’s body.

He pulled out the third joint and lit it. In five minutes he’d already smoked more marijuana than his friend Jack did in three months. CJ inhaled deep, drawing nearly a quarter of the length of the joint into his lungs. His body wanted to cough, but he wouldn’t. He held his breath as long as he could.

Smoke exploded from his nose and mouth when he laughed.

He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know what it was that was funny, but something was. He inhaled on the joint again, his deepest breath yet. He held it in as long as he could until he lost concentration because of the sound of the wind in the chimes on the house. The soft music they were playing interested CJ like nothing he’d ever experienced.

The wind chimes moved lightly in the soft wind, sounding like a far distant ringing from heaven. CJ thought the sound might be the gates of heaven opening up just for him.

CJ walked over to the chimes and watched them move in the wind. He stared at them and wondered why such beauty should only be heard by him. He wished others could hear the clear tones of music and their gentle harmony with the wind. The chimes fascinated him and for minutes or hours, he didn’t know which, the music entranced CJ.

Then the wind died and no touching of the chimes by CJ could induce the music he wanted to hear. CJ fell to his knees and cried. He pounded on the banister along the front of the house and demanded that someone cause the wind to blow so he could hear the music again.

No one answered.

He stumbled back over to the picnic table. He was laughing heartily. Something about the weeds in the lawn was hilarious to him. The way they didn’t move and how tall they were compared to the grass they were choking out.

He sat down at the table and lit up the last pre-rolled joint. He took three long hits from it before it got too hot for him to hold. He burned his forefinger by refusing to drop the last bit of it. It hurt but he laughed until he dropped it.

A pang in his stomach told him he was hungry. Jack kept snack food in his shop so CJ opened the door. It was near dark inside, but the windows high on the walls let in enough light for CJ to see. Jack’s office in the shop was filled with blueprints and paperwork. Behind the desk was a small bookcase where CJ knew Jack kept his stash of cookies and snack foods.

He tore open the first bag of chips, laughing uproariously when they flew all over the place. He grabbed a second bag and opened them and ate them by the handful. There were a dozen or so fudge brownies which CJ ate next. He was thirsty and it took him several minutes to find the water cooler. He tipped his head and lifted the handle, letting the cool water drain into his mouth.

It tasted wonderful and he drank until he was full.

The silence inside the hollow emptiness began to bother CJ. His mind started making up noises and CJ ran from the building. He had to get outside so his laughing could be heard by the world. Even if there was no one left but himself, CJ believed the world needed to hear him laugh at all the hell that had befallen him.

Back in the yard, CJ spread his arms. Closed his eyes and tilted his head skyward. The warmth of the sun warmed his face and dried the water that had dripped onto his pajama top.

CJ started to spin, allowing the sun to fall on his face, then move left to right across his closed eyes. He spun as fast as he could until he started feeling too dizzy to stand.

He knew at that moment with perfect clarity that he was high. His mind was being affected by the weed and he didn’t care. Since the first person who had died in his family, CJ hadn’t felt this released from the stress. He felt free and he didn’t want to lose the feeling. He wanted to feel this euphoria forever and live right here on his friend’s lawn.

The ground beneath his feet shook. CJ recognized it as a small tremor like the dozens he’d felt before here in California.

The ground shook for a few seconds then stopped and CJ laughed out loud. Screaming at the top of his lungs he shouted to the heavens while lying on the ground. “Is that all you got?” he belted out.

The ground shook again, this time stronger and longer.

“That was barely a four point oh, you sissy bastard!” he hollered up and then laughed again. “I shake more when I’m banging some chick.”

The ground lurched.

CJ was thrown by the strength to the movement.

The ground heaved and tossed CJ. The sound CJ hadn’t noticed before was deafening. It sounded like the effects movie producers used for big avalanches. The ground shaking knocked the house from its foundation and the plant building wobbled and creaked.

CJ watched the world around him fall apart. After all he’d been through a massive earthquake wasn’t what he’d meant when he screamed to the heavens. He felt the ground on which he stood fall three feet lower than it had been a second before. His shoulder landed on a particularly hard piece of ground as he lost his balance and he laughed at the pain.

He saw the crack in the earth extend across the yard both ways for as far as he could see. The earthquake was felling trees and buildings. There was nothing to stop the raw power CJ was witnessing.

In the background of the noise of the falling buildings and bending metal, he heard the wind chimes from the house as it collapsed and fell.

The music of the chimes made him laugh.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Chuck didn’t like driving the corrections department van, but it was all he had right now and distance from the prison was what he wanted. It was still several hours before daybreak and when Chuck had calmed down enough, he figured he’d pick up something more appropriate to drive that would draw less attention of anyone else still alive.

He thought about what he’d learned over the past few days as he weaved around wrecked vehicles and dead bodies in the streets of Folsum, California.

He talked to himself as he drove, the van not having any radio. “Some people lived. We had about 2500 prisoners in the lock up when people started dying. When I escaped I was the only one left alive, but there were some other minimum security convicts who were still alive when they were released.

“And at least one guard was turned into that monster that was eating on Lake and tried to get at me. So that’s something else I’m going to have to watch for.

“This is one screwed up world,” he said to himself as he slowed the van. He saw a sign for Harley-Davidson of Folsom just south of the city and he’d always wanted another motorcycle. The first one his brother had taken while Chuck was in jail the second time.

The thought of his brother brought a pang of sadness to Chuck. He and his brother had been close as brothers two years apart could be when they were growing up. They played together, got mad at each other, walked to school together and shared each others secrets.

A rift between the two developed when Chuck went to prison for the robbery and was sentenced to life. Chuck had called Garrick after being caught and told his brother he’d done something stupid. Garrick, who was completing some advanced medical training in the Navy wished his brother best of luck and hung up on him.

Chuck regretted that the life choices he’d made were wrong. For a while he blamed his dad for leaving and dying of AIDS. He also blamed his step-dad for being abusive, his mother for not being strong and finally the alcohol and drugs.  It was only when shut up in solitary that he’d finally accepted that he’d been dealt a bad hand but it was he who had made the choices on how to live it.