The Living Dead Series (Book 2): World Without End (15 page)

David frowned. “In a nuclear blast only those within a three mile radius get obliterated.  Outside of that you’re going to get lots of structural damage and fallout but there is no guarantee these things will be destroyed. Do they really think the fallout will kill them?”

“I don’t know but I do know that rural isolation is
our
best bet. What I really want is to get back home as soon as my wife is well enough and try to wait it out. Obviously it’s not perfectly safe there but at least we know the terrain and can gather food.” Ian wadded up his lunch bag and tossed it in the trashcan. “Hey, guys,” he spoke to Daniel and Anna. “Let’s go see if we can find the doctor and see how things are going.”

“Wait a minute.” David accompanied him to the door where he took a gun from his waistband and handed it to Ian who nodded and pocketed it.

“So where are you going now?” Bea asked. She felt purposeless here and felt that she and Brian had already outstayed their welcome but they had no place to go. Last night they had slept in an office with a small sofa the soldiers had grudgingly allowed them to use. She was unfamiliar with any type of isolation, rural or otherwise but it sounded great compared to the streets they had made their way through to get here. She had never heard from Evan and was beginning to doubt she ever would and her thoughts turned increasingly in the direction of escape from the city. She no longer felt they could hold out for rescue or for the military to come in and restore order.

“I’m still scheduled for California unless something changes. We’re getting even less info than before but we know there are battles of some sort going on out there. It could be gangs trying to take control of the cities or it could be the Chinese trying something similar.”

“Gangs? Are they that well-organized? Enough to take over entire cities?”

David looked surprised. “Of course they are. They’re a huge, violent sub-culture in this country and in Mexico. They have weapons and transportation and they’re absolutely ruthless. Before this they stayed more or less in the shadows because that’s how drug dealers and thieves make their money. They love a good economy as much as anyone so people can buy their product. Now it’s not about money, it’s about territory and goods so there’s no reason to stay in the background anymore. The only partially good news about them is they are just as vulnerable to this plague as we are.” David’s phone buzzed and he left to take the call.

Bea started an absentminded foosball game with Brian but she couldn’t concentrate. Letting her imagination run wild she pictured living in a mountain paradise something like the scenery in the movie,
The Last of the Mohicans,
but with zombies stalking them instead of Indians or French-Canadians. She had always liked the hats the women in the movie wore but she couldn’t picture-

“Got you!” Brian crowed in triumph.

She didn’t feel like another game and they wandered back to the office where she had seen David. He wasn’t there but a desktop computer was. Looking around she saw no one so she sat down and hit Enter on the keyboard. The dark screen glowed to life; a blinking cursor hovered over a file icon labeled
Z
. She tried to open it but it was password protected.

The flash drive was still in her pocket. Inserting it she scrolled down to see what Sylvie had added to it while they had been at the gallery. Brian read alongside her.

T
he execution of Louis XVI in 1792 ended over two hundred years of a contiguous Bourbon monarchy in France and by 1798 the country, after much turmoil, was nominally under the rule of a three man Directory. That year a young Napoleon Bonaparte formed an army and left France with the avowed intention of conquering Egypt. The political situation in France was fluid at the time and the general felt that another victorious campaign could do nothing but add to an already lustrous public image and would better his chances of gaining political office in the future. The following account is from a captured French mail pouch. It was never made public, unlike a letter in the pack which detailed the progress of Napoleon’s wife, Josephine’s, affair with a young lieutenant, Hippolyte Charles. This latter missive was published in the British press, arousing much ridicule in Britain and Europe. Although far less salacious, the account below written by Louis Antoine de Fauvelet Bourrienne , a personal secretary of Napoleon, still holds much interest for its revealing of some rather remarkable events of the campaign.

The army, some forty-thousand strong and staffed with artists, engineers, and scientists in addition to the veterans of the Army of Italy, set out for Egypt on 3 May 1798. The general intended to spend several years in the country, bringing in engineers and builders to modernize the city and to give them an entirely new system of government. All this, of course, would be after he defeated the currently ruling Mamelukes, an Islamic warrior class that had held power in the country since A.D. 1250.

On the way to Alexandria, Bonaparte found time to conquer the supposedly impregnable fortress of Malta, liberating much of the treasury of the knights there and taking it with him. Some knights chose to join the French army then and were welcomed into the ranks of officers.

We left Malta and continued on our way and that evening on board the
Oriente
, celebrated with some of the excellent burgundy the General had laid in with as much care as he had the cannons.

On 2 July, at one o’clock in the morning, we landed at Marabou and soon arrived within gunshot of Alexandria. With the assistance of our cannon we soon breached the walls and the city was ours. Although we did not pillage the city as many later accused we did find quarters and appropriate food as needed.

The atmosphere of the city was one of hostility and savagery. It would be hard to find a filthier spot on earth. The General, staying in the sprawling, rude, and odorous home of a local merchant, asked the man why he lived in such squalor. He replied that under the Mamelukes a man must hide his wealth under dirt unless he wished to be taxed without mercy. Bonaparte laughed at that and remarked upon the greediness of governments everywhere.

After several months we set our faces toward Cairo and after many dusty marches the awe-inspiring pyramids arose in our sight like mountains springing from the desert. Initial resistance from the warriors was heavy but with the skill of our General and the assault of our cannon, we prevailed, liberating the city from its Muslim rulers. A portion of the forces assembled against us retreated toward Syria, leaving us to explore our ancient surroundings and learn more of this exotic land. Napoleon spend much time in conversation with the Muslim clerics, discussing politics and religion. Indeed he spent so much time discussing their prophet, Mohammed, that rumors of his conversion abounded. None of them were true.

The artists in our train sketched in detail the terrain, the soaring columns and stacked pyramids. We found that the people of the town knew little or in most cases nothing about their long-ago ancestors who had built such monuments and none could interpret the writings on the great stelae* found scattered about the town.

Having spent some months in the region, we learned, to our dismay, that the British devil Nelson had attacked and destroyed our ships left behind in the Bay of Abukir. We were now cut off by land and sea. The population at Cairo remained hostile and launched almost daily street attacks on our soldiers. When word came that Turkey planned an assault we decided to leave the city, marching toward Syria in order to intercept their forces before they could reach Cairo where we had no doubt that the residents would join their liberators.

Upon reaching the walled city of Jaffa, we offered the defenders terms of surrender which they rejected, whereupon we breached the walls, our soldiers slaughtering and pillaging at will. Bonaparte then sent his stepson, Eugene de Beauharnais, to restore order and dictate terms to the Turks manning the citadel. All agreed to surrender upon offer of safe passage and turned over their weapons.

Now came the real difficulty. How to leave nearly 3,000 hostile soldiers at our rear as we continued to Syria? The situation was impossible and the General reluctantly gave the order to kill all prisoners.

We waited until evening in order to create as little fanfare as possible. Our tents and supplies were already loaded as we planned to march that night. It was the most horrific evening of my life, breaking honor and killing those to whom we had given our word of safe exit. Using our bayonets as much as possible in order to save bullets we proceeded with our job. The cries and the pleadings were almost more than the men could bear and many became sickened and vomited upon the bloody bodies lying on the sand.

At last, our grisly task completed, we set out. The more distance we put between ourselves and our gruesome deeds the better and our men marched as if
le Diable
himself were at our heels. A full moon hanging low over the desert wilderness aided our quickened pace.

Close to four hours into our march, rear pickets reported the presence of a company of men following slowly behind us. They were not in formation, nor were they armed inasmuch as the pickets could determine in the darkness. We continued on until midnight when we found a slight rise in the terrain and the General ordered a halt for the night. The pickets reported our pursuers still advanced and we formed a ring of armed men at the edge of camp to wait.

Staggering across the dunes in the moonlight, our pursuers numbered at least seven hundred strong. Old Pierre Bauduin, a veteran of the Italian campaign, swore as he fired then dropped to his knees, making the sign of the cross (even though the Assemblies had outlawed such archaic, unenlightened gestures) when the man he had just shot stood up and came forward gnashing broken teeth hungrily before biting and tearing the flesh from Bauduin’s throat. Blood arced onto the sand and a whole swarm of the creatures joined their fellow and the poor man’s screams soon stopped.

The enemy, now emitting a howling chorus of moans, fell upon the line. The men fired but the Turks, though hit, did not die. Unarmed, they used hands and teeth to great effect and rolled upon us like a wave in the darkness. Overwhelmed, unable to reload, the men first bayonetted then used the butts of their rifles to smash in the brains of the loathsome creatures. A stench arose from the black clots of blood on the sand.

The General fought alongside his men and destroyed many of the creatures with enthusiasm, sending out an order that all of the enemy were to be beheaded. After all the Turks were destroyed and our wounded dispatched to
l’hopital
I retired with Napoleon to his tent where we drank more of his excellent burgundy. The General was in a state of great excitement and spoke at some length about the events of the night.

“Bourrienne, that we should see this is beyond my expectations! The Mohammedans spoke of a disease that sometimes afflicts the dwellers of the desert but indicated they seldom see it. I believe these are the unfortunates we put down in Jaffa. These people are very difficult to kill and must be destroyed by decapitation. Jaffa is a very old city as you know and is supposed to be named for Noah’s son Japeth who established it after the Great Flood. Do not look so surprised, mon ami, I know my bible stories as well as any.”

He waved an admonishing finger at me and continued. “How I wish for more time to explore this wondrous land but I fear our time here is almost up. Events at home are calling me back. Soon it will be time to take our opportunity and step into our destined role. For now, though, I must ask you to take a message from me to
l’hopital
.” He scribbled a note on a piece of paper, folded it and handed it to me. I saluted and left.

The attending
medecin
read the message and looked at me incredulously. “This is from the General?”

“Indeed. I left him not five minutes ago.” I affirmed.

“I must have confirmation for such an order.” He turned away and beckoned to an orderly who soon returned with another folded note from Bonaparte. The
medecin
took it reluctantly.

“I have confirmation but I cannot do this on my own. The General must send some of his own men to assist.”

The messenger nodded and departed, returning with two burly soldiers armed with swords. With military efficiency they beheaded each wounded soldier, the heads falling to the dirt floor where they rolled until stopped by the tent walls. The eyes and mouths continued to move until the soldiers smashed them into fragments.

I, having had no inkling of the contents of the message I carried, stood aghast and trembling. Why had the General ordered this? I retreated back to Napoleon’s tent, grief and anger striving within my bosom.

He was working on some papers when I came through the tent flap and when he saw my face he asked me to sit on a camp stool and with his own hands poured a glass of cognac, standing over me until I drank it down.

“Good Bourrienne, I know what you have seen. I had no choice. According to the wise men of Cairo, anyone bitten is infected with the disease for which there is no cure. The wounded would have become living corpses spreading the foul contagion throughout our camp and that I could not allow.”

I saw the strain and the grief on his face and my doubts fled. The General would not have ordered this unless he truly had no choice.

“I will be glad to leave this accursed sand pit. The land holds much evil, evil so old it is beyond fathoming.” I stood but the brandy, combined with exhaustion, was having its effect and I staggered.

The General caught my arm, helping me to stay upright, and called for his adjutant to help me to my tent.

Researcher’s notes:

The official report and letters of condolence blamed the deaths of the men on an outbreak of plague. Rumors swirled for some time that Bonaparte executed his wounded so that the army would not be slowed down but these were finally silenced by lack of proof as well as repeated denials.

*Pierre-Francois Bouchard found the Rosetta stone, the eventual key to translating Egypt’s ancient language, during this campaign. The British took the stone from the French after their defeat at Cairo in 1801. Unique in that it displayed a decree issued by Ptolemy V and rendered three times, once in ancient Greek, secondly in Demotic script and repeated a third time in ancient Hieroglyphs, it was not successfully deciphered until twenty years later by Jean-Francois Champollion and it was thus that the history and literature of ancient Egypt became known throughout the world.

“Bea, this is the second thing we’ve read that says it might have come from Egypt.” Brian said.

“True. The scary part is that it’s been around for such a long time and as far as we can tell, no one has ever found a solution other than quarantine and beheading. Medicine has really progressed since then but still...” She shrugged and unplugged the stick.

“If you’re all done, may I have my desk back?” David stood in the doorway, looking faintly annoyed.

“Sorry, David. I wanted to read the rest of Sylvie’s British docs.” She held up the stick.

“So you guys found them?”

“Yes, you’re welcome to read them if you want.”

She plugged the stick back in and stood up, surrendering the desk to David. Booted footsteps came down the corridor. Several men carried boxes to the end of the hall, turning a corner and then the footsteps faded away. Brian looked down the hallway after them and wondered aloud, “How big is this place?”

Bea shrugged. David, engrossed in Sylvie’s docs, didn’t even look up. There was no one in the corridor at the moment and she followed Brian, taking great care to be quiet, down the hall and around the corner the men had turned down. There were a few darkened, small offices much like the one David was using but no one was in them. Footsteps sounded ahead and they ducked into an office, waiting in the shadows until the soldiers passed before they crept down to see what was at the end of the corridor.

At the end of the hall, metal rungs mortared into the concrete-block wall formed a sturdy ladder that led up to a ceiling with what looked like a hatch at the top.

“That’s the escape hatch for this section. I wonder what’s up there? Do you think it goes into the White House?” Brian was excited by the discovery.

Bea could tell he wanted to explore. “Brian, don’t start. There could be infected up there.”

“The soldiers didn’t even have their guns out so they didn’t feel there was much threat. Do you think they’re carrying those boxes up there? There’s probably someone important out there, maybe the president.”

She sighed. “I really doubt that. The president is long gone to another command center or some place like that. It was the smart thing to do. It’s just too easy to get cut off here in the city.”