“Then get to it,” Fish ordered, “with your permission, of course,” he said sarcastically to the woman.
She frowned but didn’t say anything.
“Come on, Boomer,” I said to the canine.
He and I wobbled up to Pitman. DJ wasn’t driving the firetruck too fast, but it was still difficult to balance ourselves as we moved.
I knelt down next to Pitman. He wasn’t coherent. The rain was soaking him and probably making his illness worse.
I grabbed Boomer’s collar and brought him over to Pitman. Boomer sniffed around the man’s head. He didn’t have a reaction. The canine then bent down and licked Pitman’s face, clearing some rain water from his dark skin.
“Get… that thing… away from me,” Pitman choked, in a barely audible, yet very deep voice.
I smiled and pulled Boomer back.
“He’s okay,” I said loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Dobson’s shoulders slumped in relief.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Fish said, smiling.
“You—” the woman said harshly, but Fish cut her off before she could continue.
“Can it, woman!” Fish said as he grabbed his ear piece. Jenna’s voice came over the radio.
“DJ, Fish,” she said solemnly. “We’re parked near Dairy Road. Meet us here ASAP.”
“What’s up?” DJ asked.
After a brief pause, she replied. “Gonzales is hurt.”
“DJ?” Fish said into the radio.
“Going now. We’re only a couple minutes away,” the big man replied.
Fish pulled out a pair of handcuffs and handed them to me.
“Alright, Christian, cuff him… just in case,” he added, staring at the woman who seemed like she was about to protest again. “Bring him and Miss Lippy over there. The rest of you ride back here. Keep your eyes peeled.”
The man in glasses seemed about to protest, but Dobson grabbed his arm to silence him.
“Can I at least get a weapon, Master Sergeant?” the Major asked in an icy tone.
Fish eyed the Major a moment, as if he passed him a silent message of warning. Dobson remained stoic.
“Give him the .45 back,” he told Chad. Chad was about to object, but a glare from Fish made him comply.
“You all pendajos,” Enrique muttered and went to sit at the back of the truck.
I helped Pitman get up and started to cuff him.
“What… what the hell…” he grumbled. Normally, I was pretty sure Pitman could pick me up and rip me in half without breaking a sweat. But the man was very weak, barely able to stand, and that was with help.
“Sorry, man, orders.” I whispered as I put the cuffs on him. His shoulders were so broad that I was forced to cuff him from the front. I noticed his other tag read Air Force, and though I didn’t know the Air Force rank structure that well, the man had a multitude of stripes on his sleeve telling me he was a higher ranked non-commissioned officer.
He just grunted as I led him back into Big Red’s cab. Boomer followed us in and the woman shut the hatch behind me.
“Coming up behind you,” Cecil’s voice blared over the radio.
“Now he shows up,” Fish muttered.
We were driving west on Route 192. The road went all the way to Camp Holly, but that was miles away. We still had to traverse through miles of Melbourne with the road packed with cars and debris.
I saw the intersection of Dairy Road fast approaching. Zombies were few in number. The rain probably had them taking refuge undercover, though I was sure Big Red’s engine was going to bring them out of their hiding spots.
Just past the intersection was the construction site we had seen earlier, minus one dump truck. Jenna’s truck was parked near a stack of cinder blocks. She was standing in the bed of the truck, guarding against a few zombies that were approaching her location. She was using her suppressed pistol.
Daniel was kneeling over Gonzales. He was working feverishly, grabbing bandages and other equipment out of his medical bag. Two zombies that were approaching the truck fell just as we pulled up a few dozen feet away from them. Jenna was reloading.
“Gardner, you’re on over-watch,” Fish barked into the radio as he prepared to disembark. “Everyone else, fan out and secure the perimeter.”
The new comers temporarily stayed put, while the rest of us exited Big Red and Vader.
I disobeyed Fish and followed him over to Daniel and Gonzales. Cecil was walking up to meet us.
“I said fan out,” Fish told him as we passed. Cecil was silent a moment, and then nodded. Fish, Boomer and I continued to march to where Daniel was performing first aid. DJ was there and Jenna had hopped out of the back of her truck.
“Ahh!” Gonzales shrieked as we approached.
Daniel moved to the side and I almost gagged at what I saw.
Gonzales’s arm was mangled. The makeshift armor he was wearing had been ripped away from his left side. Worse, his bicep muscle on his left arm had been torn out from the shoulder. Half of it was missing as it dangled from the elbow. Bite marks were scattered around and chunks of his triceps were missing.
DJ gasped and Boomer let out a hair raising growl.
Gonzales opened his eyes. The purplish tracers were slowly starting to spread across the whites of his eyes.
“How the hell is this happening so fast,” Daniel all but cried. “I’ve never see it happen this quickly before!”
“It depends on how much of the mutated strain the victim gets into their bloodstream during the attack,” the woman said from behind me. Her tone was even, almost heartless.
The woman and Major Dobson were walking up to us. Dobson was limping, favoring his good ankle.
“Mutated what?” DJ asked, but Fish interjected.
“Everyone, clear out!” he barked, and took a knee next to Daniel, who was sobbing.
Fish put his hand on the medic’s shoulder. “Go on, son,” he said softly.
Daniel wiped his eyes and stood. Jenna was sobbing and Daniel put his arm around her. The medic grabbed his bag and the two of them entered the rear passenger door of Jenna’s truck.
Fish tilted his head and said without looking back, “Go!”
DJ nodded and pushed Dobson and the woman, shuffling them back to Big Red. I noticed Dobson had drawn Fish’s .45, but now held it limply.
I didn’t leave, though Boomer took a few steps back, his hair on his neck still standing on end.
Fish looked at me from the corner of his eye, and I thought he was going to reprimand me.
“Sarge!” Gonzales wheezed, grabbing Fish’s attention. “You gotta… gotta do it.”
Fish looked down at Gonzales.
I stepped closer, and moved around so Gonzales was in between Fish and me.
His face was ashen grey. Purplish veins were protruding from the collar of his shirt, raking up his neck like cracks in a windshield. I kept my line of sight from focusing on his horrific wound.
“You did good, soldier,” Fish said evenly.
“Yeah…” Gonzales coughed. “Look… look at all the… good… it did.” A slight smirk started to form on his face.
His eyes shifted from Fish to me, and then back to Fish. He squinted his eyes tightly as a wave of pain made his back arch, but he didn’t make a noise.
“You take… take care of… Rach,” he rasped, after the episode had ended.
“We will,” I assured him.
His eyes, almost completely mutated now, stared coldly at Fish.
“Don’t… don’t let me… come back,” he told Fish.
Fish, his jaw tighter than I thought possible, slightly nodded. He then raised his hand toward me. I knew what he wanted. His .45 was with Dobson, and I had the means on my side to put an end to Gonzales’s misery.
Without thought, I removed my pistol, and handed it to Fish. I never saw him place the barrel under Gonzales’s neck. I just remember reacting when the shot went off. The oil filter on the end kept the blast suppressed, but the slight noise along with its meaning made me jump.
Fish stood and handed me my pistol.
“Breaker,” he stated. It took me a moment to comprehend what he was saying. I turned and grabbed a sledgehammer from the back of Jenna’s truck.
After I handed it to him, Fish looked up at me. His eyes were cold, but I saw through them and could feel his sorrow.
“Drive Jenna and Daniel,” he ordered me, and then keyed his mic. “Everyone mount up. No stopping until we are back at the Camp.”
I nodded and jumped in the driver’s seat of Jenna’s truck. The two of them were sitting in the back. Her face was embedded in his shoulder.
I remember wondering why I wasn’t crying. We had just lost someone. We had gone over a month without so much as a broken bone, yet now we lost someone who was an integral part of our community. Not only that, but we lost him because he put his life in danger to save all of ours. He deserved tears. Lots of tears. Lots of anger. But I felt nothing. I still don’t know why.
I do know this, though. If not for Gonzales, I wouldn’t be here. He was a true hero, and like many others to follow, humanity owes him gratitude.
Boomer jumped over my lap and into the passenger seat of Jenna’s truck. I peered out the side window and saw Fish staring at the ground. I couldn’t see Gonzales’s body from where I was, but I knew Fish was looking at it. He let out a deep breath, and then violently swung the hammer down. The sound of crushing bone and flesh was deadened by the metal head of the hammer striking the pavement below.
Fish threw the sledge back into the bed of Jenna’s truck and then jogged back to Big Red.
“I—I couldn’t have done it,” Daniel stammered as I started Jenna’s truck.
I pulled the vehicle forward and onto the road. “That’s why he did it,” I said solemnly. “He will carry the burden that none of us want to.”
I had a feeling some in the camp might hate Fish for what he did. They wouldn’t blame him, of course, but the feeling of hate cannot be helped. But I was sure all the hatred others felt was nothing compared to the disgust he felt for himself.
Chapter 16
The Monostrovis Virus
June 23
rd
Evening
The trip back to camp was mostly silent. Fish had called Campbell and requested he go to a private frequency. It was a channel only he, DJ, and Campbell knew of. I knew it too, but no one was aware of that. I didn’t switch channels, though. I knew mostly what they were going to discuss, and I didn’t want to hear the story of Gonzales repeated.
The adrenaline had all but run out of my system by the time we pulled up to Camp Holly. I was feeling tired and weak. My stomach hurt as thoughts of Rachel raced through my mind. The poor girl probably already knew that Gonzales had fallen. Campbell would have told her.
The gates to Camp Holly opened and the rescue trucks pulled in. About twenty people met us. Most had bottles of water, while others carried their firearms at the ready. Those people checked everyone for bite marks.
Rich was there with two assistants and a stretcher. Pitman was placed on the gurney and they hustled him off to a small building near the main hall. That was where our infirmary was located.
After we were checked over, Campbell gathered everyone from the rescue party together, including Major Dobson and the other two we had rescued.
The Captain cleared his throat. “Everybody get cleaned up. Gardner, take these two with you,” he said, motioning to the man in glasses and the woman. “Major, you’re with me. Command meeting in the main hall at 17:30. We’ll eat there.”
Everyone acknowledged and Campbell called for Dobson to follow him. The two walked off toward the Captain’s camper.
As we dispersed, I saw Daniel and Jenna walk toward Jenna’s sleeping quarters. I felt a little jealous. I wanted to comfort her. But I think Daniel needed comforting, too. For some reason, though, I didn’t. I started to get angry at myself for not feeling the grief everyone else seemed to be feeling. Was I becoming the monster I swore I wouldn’t become?
Fish, Boomer, and I made our way to our shack. Fish was silent the whole way. Eyes stared at us as we marched, but no one said anything. I wondered if they knew Fish had put down Gonzales. Fish was largely considered a heartless, cold bastard among the residents. They probably thought even worse of him now. If he noticed, he didn’t react.
I rushed ahead of Fish and opened the door to our quarters. Boomer hurried in and Fish followed. I shut the door behind me and sighed as I leaned up against the wood.
“Don’t dilly dally around, kid,” Fish said as he began to unload his gear. “We have an hour before the meeting, and you smell like a Zulu.”
“Right,” I breathed, and joined him in taking my gear off. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me there.”
“Campbell has warmed up to you being at our little pow-wows. Besides, even he admits that you have good input… sometimes.”
Fish grabbed a jug of cleaning water and poured it into a bowl. We had different levels of water around the camp. Clean-up water was filtered, but not sanitized. He squeezed a washcloth in the bowl and began to wipe away the grime on his face. I started to do the same.
There was something big going on, and Fish and I both knew it.
Dobson had mentioned a VIP. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Pitman. It had to be the woman or the man with glasses.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked nervously. Fish wasn’t saying anything as he dressed in fresh clothing.
“With?” he grunted.
“With these people we rescued? We lost Gonzales for them,” I said, anger starting to finally build up. “Why did we go into that building?”
Fish was silent a moment. I took the towel and began to wipe Boomer’s snout and head. The shepherd playfully burrowed into the towel as I cleaned him.
“Well?” I asked again, no longer hiding my frustration. A part of me was relieved that I was getting angry. I felt I should have been more upset back at the construction site where Gonzales died.
Fish grew angry as well, though it wasn’t at me. “We lost Gonzo because Cecil didn’t do his job. As for those four schlubs? According to Dobson, one of them is some doctor with the CDC. A specialist on this virus or something.”
“Really? Why are they here? Where did they come from?” I asked while I dressed.
“We weren’t sitting at a coffee shop, kid. It wasn’t important at the time. I’m sure we will learn that in this meeting.” Fish glanced around in frustration. “That bastard still has my .45.”
Fish would not walk around without a weapon. I managed to grin.
“Here,” I smiled, pulling out my .22 Ruger and holding it out to him.
“Thanks,” he snatched it out of my hands. “It will be useful if an army of squirrels attacks the camp.” He stuffed the small caliber pistol in his pants.
We left our shack and I sent Boomer off into the yard. Kolin was playing with his dog, Duncan, and Boomer joined in.
Most of the camp was starting to eat. Kids always ate first, and they were all sitting around the camp fire. Usually, people ate in the main hall, but I guess Campbell had already claimed it for the command meeting.
Rachel was nowhere to be seen. Though she and I never really spoke, I felt a weird kind of closeness to her. She was the only person I recognized from pre-Awakening days. Granted, I only saw her at local bars and clubs. Rachel was far too pretty for a guy like me to approach, and she always had her own clique of friends around her. But still, there was a one sided bond I’m sure that she never knew was there.
We continued marching to the main hall, both of us ignoring the stares that were directed at Fish.
We were early, and were able to get our dinner before the rest of the people showed up. It was soup, as usual. The brighter minds at Camp Holly thought soup was the best thing for everyone. Soup and bread, that is. I didn’t agree. I would have loved a good steak or pork chop.
The few vegetables we had from our garden mixed with the various meats we would get from hunts were dumped into pots of water with various spices. Evidently, you lost hardly any nutrients when everything was cooked in water, because it was contained within the soup.
There were still quite a few large bags of flour for bread in our stores as well. We were to the point where over half of our food was produced by us. The goal was to be one hundred percent self-sufficient.
Fish and I were halfway done with our dinner when the leaders of Camp Holly, along with three of the people we rescued, entered the room.
Everyone had a portion of food with them as they sat down. Two tables were pushed together to make a large square.
Fish and I sat next to each other. On my right was DJ. Across from us sat Major Dobson, the woman and the man with glasses. The three had cleaned up well. The Major had a handsome face now that it was shaven. The man with glasses shaved his face as well and had groomed his hair. I took him for the quirky type. He reminded me of Ned Flanders.
The woman’s hair was still an unkempt mess, with tangled brown and grey curls hanging far past her shoulders. Her face was pretty, but aged. I guessed her to be in her late forties or early fifties.
On the left side of the table sat Captain Campbell, Specialist Gardner and Barry, our local City Councilmen. On the right side of the table sat Kat who was in charge of all things logistic, and Preacher, our denizen engineer and the brains behind our energy generation.
The only one missing from the meeting was Rich Marino, our resident medical professional. Rich had over thirty years’ experience in multiple fields. We were very happy with his medical expertise. I had a feeling he was still working on Pitman, which would account for his absence.
With the exception of Campbell and Barry exchanging whispers, everyone else ate silently for quite some time. I could tell people wanted to ask questions, but since Campbell hadn’t ‘opened the floor’, per se, no one spoke up.
“Captain,” Dobson said, breaking the silence, “I’d like to see Sergeant Pitman as soon as possible.”
Campbell looked up at Dobson thoughtfully. “Rich should be here soon with his diagnosis. Until then, Sergeant Pitman is quarantined. I can’t have whatever he has going around the camp.”
Dobson appeared as if he was about to argue with Campbell, but DJ beat him to it.
“I’d like to know why we lost one of our best men to save your asses, Major,” the big man growled.
“XO…” Campbell said, raising a hand.
“Don’t XO me, sir. I think we’re all entitled to some answers,” DJ snapped, then softened his face. “Sorry sir, but I’ve been stewing for an hour now, waiting to hear what’s so damn important about these yahoos.”
“XO—” Campbell began again, but Fish cut him off.
“He’s right sir. The Major needs to speak up.” Fish’s face was ice cold.
“Your people need to learn some respect, Captain,” Major Dobson said, anger creeping up in his throat. “I understand DJ is a civilian, but you,” he said, pointing a finger at Fish, “are a Master Sergeant. You should know better.”
“First,
Major
,” Fish mocked, “DJ is a Marine. Second, there ain’t enough distance between us for you to stop me from shoving that finger up your ass.”
“Enough!” Campbell shouted, mainly looking at Dobson. I was impressed to hear that coming from him. He was usually soft spoken.
“Excuse me?” Dobson asked Campbell.
“Sir,” the Captain said, ignoring the glare Dobson was giving him, “they have a point. Tell them what you told me. What mission you were on, where you came from, and why you’re here.”
Dobson hesitated, though I’m not sure if it was because he didn’t want to tell his tale, or because the Captain just gave him an order.
“Major, it’s not like security clearances really matter anymore. These people did save us,” the man in glasses said. He turned to face everyone surrounding the table. “My name is Tom Ferguson. This is Doctor Julia Tripp,” he said, motioning to the woman sitting between him and the Major.
“Wait, I thought you were the Doctor,” Fish said.
“Umm, no. I’m just a civilian contractor. I was on the USS Porter, a Naval Destroyer, when the world went crazy.”
Fish rolled his eyes. He and Doctor Tripp didn’t exactly get off to a good start.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Sergeant,” Doctor Tripp said snidely.
“Heh,” Fish grunted, “not disappointed, Doc, you just didn’t seem the doctor type.”
“Doctor Tripp is the leading expert for this virus, Master Sergeant,” Major Dobson said coldly, “you would do well to show her the proper respect.”
Fish scowled. “Well, excuse me Major Dumbass if I don’t stand and bow—”
Dobson seemed about to get up, but Campbell surprised everyone again.
“Major! Fish! Everyone!” Captain Campbell roared as he stood. The room went silent.
Dobson settled his tall frame back into his chair, though his glare never left Fish. The old sniper didn’t waver either, revealing a tiny smirk that said ‘bring it on’ to the Major.
Campbell eyed everyone in the circle, and then settled on Doctor Tripp.
“Doctor, if you would please tell your story. I for one would like to hear your version.” Campbell slowly lowered himself back into his chair.
Just then, Rich walked into the room.
“Don’t mind me,” he said.
“Pitman?” Dobson asked.
“He’s stable. Please, go on with the meeting.” Rich said evenly. Rich was the calm and collective sort. His eyes were always watching everything and everyone, evaluating. He was the type of guy that liked to suck everything in and come up with a diagnosis.
“Doctor, please?” Campbell pressed the scientist.
Doctor Tripp nodded and suddenly appeared nervous. I had a feeling she wasn’t use to being the center of attention. It wasn’t exactly intimidation, as much as being put on the spot.
She cleared her throat and began. “Like Tom said, my name is Doctor Julia Tripp. I’m a Virologist with the Center for Disease Control or, CDC, as I’m sure you have heard it called.”
“You mind not talking to us like we’re idiots?” Fish grumbled.
“Fish…” Campbell cautioned.
Fish rolled his eyes, but stayed silent.
Doctor Tripp seemed to wait impatiently, and continued as soon as she felt she had everyone’s attention again.
“I first noticed the virus back in February. I was surprised when it came across my desk. You see, my specialty is rare and extinct viruses. Sometimes, in order to understand the present state of a pathogen, you have to know its past. And that was the surprising thing about this particular variant when compared to its predecessor.”
“I don’t mean to interrupt, Doctor, but you said February?” Barry asked. “I thought people didn’t start getting sick until March.”