The Beginning of the End (11 page)

Dr. Marcil, now
slightly offended said, “It’s not for you, Sir. It's for you to
give to a sick person.” “Where the hell am I supposed to find a
sick person? The hospitals and city have been overrun with the dead,
and you expect me to go out there and find someone that’s showing
symptoms?” Sophie stepped in between the two men, “It’s time
for you both to put your penises away! We’re scientists. We need to
put our heads together and figure this thing out!” Bob interrupted
Sophie’s lecture, “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the
one who has to go out there and find a symptomatic person! You can
just lock yourself in your nice and safe protected laboratory while
the world out there dies around you!” Sophie’s eyes began to fill
with tears, and she stormed out of the room. Bob went to chase after
her, but stopped when Dr. Marcil grabbed onto his arm. “Colonel,
you need to let her go. She’ll be fine. I’m sorry for being blunt
before. I too, am under a great deal of stress, I blame myself for
everything that’s happened. I understand your predicament. It may
be a difficult task acquiring a symptomatic patient who hasn’t been
drinking water. It might very well be an impossible task, but you
have to try.” Silence fell over the men as they searched their
heads for a solution. The speaker above their heads clicked on, and
MARIA came to life, “Colonel Aiken and Dr. Marcil, Dr. Simone would
like you both to meet her outside of the isolation room.” The two
men made their way through the maze of security doors and keypads,
finally reaching the isolation ward. They entered to find Sophie
sealed in one of the glass isolation rooms. Sophie held down the
button on the intercom, “Gentlemen, please don’t attempt to open
the door. I have infected myself with Miranda’s strain of the
virus. It’s already attaching itself to my cells and without
treatment, I will begin showing symptoms in 24 hours. If our
calculations are right, administering ZMapp would essentially kill
me, and reanimate me into one of the dead. In theory Doctor, this”
Sophie held up the syringe filled with Dr. Marcil’s new Emapp
serum, “should save me and prevent any onset of symptoms.” Bob
slapped both of his hands against the glass wall, “Sophie! Why?”
he screamed. “We could have figured something out!” Sophie walked
over to Bob, and put her hands on his, separated by the glass, “I
am sorry, Bob. This is the only way.” Sophie leaned in and kissed
the glass between Bob’s hands. He moved in and kissed her back. A
tear rolled down Sophie’s cheek. Bob's mouth opened to say
something, but nothing came out. Sophie reached down to the gurney,
grabbed the syringe and thrust it into her arm before either of the
men could say anything. The red liquid vanished into Sophie’s vein.
She removed the syringe and sat down on the gurney, “It’s done
gentlemen!” Both men’s heads dropped, knowing inside that it had
to be done and cursing themselves for not having the courage to do
it. “Gentlemen, if the serum produces any adverse effects, we
should know in the next three hours. In the meantime, if you’ll
both excuse me, I’d like to get a little sleep.

October 11th 10:45pm

The darkness gave way
to street lights as Sidara Cruel passed into the Plattsburgh City
limits. A town she had never heard of. Sidara felt like she was
walking through a ginger haze. The orange color of the high pressure
sodium street lights tainted the darkness surrounding her. Sidara had
been on the back roads trying to escape her Potsdam dorm room in a
stolen vehicle. Now, lost and out of gas, just a few miles away
wasn’t helping her situation. She was starving, needed a smoke, and
a warm place to sleep until she could boost another car in the
morning. Sidara had stolen the car six hours earlier after being
attacked by her roommate and half the Potsdam campus. She knew of the
Ebola outbreak, but couldn’t understand why all of her dead
classmates were coming back to life eating everyone they could find.
She packed a bag, stole a car, and got off the campus as fast as she
could.

She found herself
stopping ten miles outside of Plattsburgh. She had come across a
Humvee that had crashed and was laying on its side. The vehicle was
deserted, so Sidara took a chance searching the Humvee, looking for
supplies that might help her on her journey.

She left her mother and
thirteen-year-old sister in Virginia to go to college. She didn’t
like the idea of being so far away, but it was hard to say no to a
full academic scholarship. Now her mission was to get back there, to
take care of her mom and sister.

She was just about out
of gas and couldn’t afford to be out here on foot with no weapons.
Sidara climbed onto the trailer hitch and pulled herself onto the
side of the Humvee. The door was too heavy to pull open, so she
dropped in through the open passenger’s window. The vehicle was
empty and in shambles. She found a duffle bag and pulled out the
contents. There wasn’t anything in there except BDUs and a pair of
boots. Everything looked like it was too big for her. Sidara threw
the duffel bag to the back of the rig, revealing a military rifle
with a small scope on it. A little more searching turned up an ammo
bag containing fifteen loaded magazines and a twelve-inch knife that
looked like it had come out of the movie Rambo. Sidara pulled the
knife from the sheath exposing a blackened steel blade. Etched in the
steel across the backbone of the knife were letters spelling out
REAPER! Oh, the irony. Sidara slid the knife back in the sheath
clipped it to her belt. She slung the rifle over her shoulder and
threw the ammo bag out of the passenger’s side window. She saw the
bag hit the ground through the windshield giving off a metal twang.
It was a five-minute struggle to work her way out of the Humvee and
back onto solid earth. She laid the rifle on the ground in front of
her, trying to figure out how it worked. She had handled plenty of
firearms in the past, but this one was a little different.

Sidara grabbed a
magazine from the ammo bag and inserted it until she heard a click.
She flipped the safety to fire and stood up. She lifted the rifle up
to her shoulder, and pulled the trigger, waiting for the loud bang.
Sidara was more shocked by the silence when the gun didn't fire. She
pulled the gun away and hit the side of it. Nothing happened. She
inspected the outside of the rifle, finally coming across the
charging handle on the top, just below the sight.

As she pulled the
handle, she felt the spring pulling back, and she knew she had it.
Sidara lifted the M4 to her shoulder again and looked through the
small scope on top. She pointed the rifle at the Plattsburgh 10 miles
sign, and put the red dot in the scope in the middle of the zero on
the 10. She pulled the trigger and the gun went off. To her surprise,
there was very little kick. She lowered the rifle and saw a small
hole in the middle of the zero. A natural! She thought. Sidara
snapped her head around when she heard something rustling just off
the road in the wooded area. She dropped to a knee and brought the M4
up to her shoulder. She watched in silence as the sound grew louder.
Sidara knew it was one of the military soldiers by the camouflage
clothes that were beginning to appear. When the soldier finally
emerged, Sidara could see his skin had started turning gray. His left
eye was missing, and a deep black hole was left in its place. Moans
came in between each snap of the soldier’s teeth. She took in a
deep breath, released half of it, and held the rest. She maneuvered
the red dot on the M4’s scope until it was centered in the black
hole of the soldiers missing eye. Sidara pulled the trigger, and a
single round passed through the eye socket. The head did not explode
like she had imagined it would. A light mist of black spray came out
as he fell over backwards. Sidara rose to her feet and walked over to
the fallen soldier. She gave him a light kick on the leg to provoke a
response. He didn’t move. The soldier was dead.

Sidara searched the
soldier looking for more supplies. She started by removing his
sidearm, a Sig-Sauer 229 with three magazines, each with twelve
rounds. His MOLLE vest was full of large pockets. The first pocket
gave her three more magazines for the M4. Each pocket after,
continued to give up its bounty as she opened them. Sunglasses,
binoculars, an empty canteen, two grenades, a GPS unit, two MREs, a
first-aid kit with quick clot, a multi tool and lastly a second large
knife. Sidara packed all the bounty back in the MOLLE vest and
released the Velcro straps. With a little work, she got the vest off
the soldier and tried it on. It was a little big, but manageable. She
pulled out one of the grenades and was fascinated by its weight. She
examined the pin and imagined removing it and hurling the grenade
into a group of dead. Sidara had never felt so powerful as a woman.
She tucked the grenade back in her vest and headed to her car. She
got in, started the vehicle, and surveyed the scene one last time
before she drove away. She was convinced there was nothing left for
the taking. As the vehicle crept away, a flash by the speedometer
caught her attention. She looked down and saw blue flashing letters,
“10 Miles to empty!”

October 11th 11:05pm

I crossed the street
and caught up to Chevy, giving him a slap on the back, “Hey Chev,
you know I love ya, Man!” Chevy, still pissed off and a little
embarrassed, looked over giving me that look. The one that let me
know that everything was going to be okay. We walked for the next ten
minutes and didn’t see anything. A light breeze had picked up and
was blowing away some of the putrid smell. I stopped when I thought I
heard something in the distance, “Do you hear that?” I whispered.
Chevy tilted his head lifting an ear, “It sounds like a police car
siren.” Chevy’s eyes widened, “Ty, maybe it’s your dad,”
and he took a step toward the sound. “Wait! What if it’s not? I
mean, that siren is a long way away, and we’re heading in the other
direction.” Chevy drove his spear into the ground and leaned
against it for support, “It’s your call, Ty. What do you think?”
All the possible scenarios ran through my head. If it’s him, we’re
saved. If it’s not, we’re twice as far from home, and who knew
what could be waiting between us and that siren.

“I don’t know
Chevy, the way I see it. It's risky. What do you think?” Chevy
pulled his spear from the ground and pointed it toward the siren,
“That police car could be five miles away, and it may not even be
your dad in that car. If it’s not, then we’re stuck walking back
here, plus another three miles to your parent’s house. I’ve got
to be honest. I don’t feel like walking all that way on a hunch. I
say we head right for your parent’s house, so your mom can make us
food.” I didn’t have to think about that for very long. I didn’t
feel like walking either, and hearing Chevy talk about my mom gave me
a sudden urgency to make sure she was alright, “Let’s go see what
mom’s making for dinner!” Chevy gave me a slap on the back, “I
like the way you think!”

With that, we were off
again.

We had an upcoming
problem, and neither one of us wanted to talk about it. The only way
to get to my parent’s house was to pass through the center of the
city. Until now, our travels had been rather quiet. However, as we
approached center city, screams, crashes, and scariest of all
gunfire, seemed to be coming from the route we had to take. We didn’t
speak much, listening to the sounds of death ahead of us. My insides
were churning with fear, and I knew Chevy’s were too. The
protection of our dark yards was giving way to lighted apartments and
office buildings. Our casual stroll has turned into a duck and cover
operation.

We didn’t stop, until
our last house gave way to the final hurtle, the light polluted city
parking lot, “What do you want to do?” I said, motioning to the
lot. Chevy surveyed the scene already knowing what he’d see.

We drove by this
parking lot every day, and we knew there was no way around it. The
only thing between us and the lot, was the Saranac River. We stood at
the foot of the bridge looking across. It was only a hundred feet
across, but it was a wide open hundred feet that would leave us
exposed and vulnerable.

“We don’t have a
choice, Ty. We’ve got to cross the bridge and get through that lot.
I say we go fast and hard!” Chevy said, as he glanced over looking
for my approval. I gave him a nod and put my fist out. Chevy gave me
a fist bump, and we were off running. We jumped over the white picket
fence that surrounded our last protective yard. Once over the fence,
we were in the street, and completely at the mercy of the city. I
sprinted as hard as I could, barely keeping up with Chevy. Halfway
across the bridge, I glanced over the railing and saw bodies
floating. One of them was that of a young mother. She was floating on
her back, clutching a dead baby she had wrapped in a quilt. The dead
and rotting infant was glaring at me while it reached its arms out,
clawing and smacking its gums together. Chevy screamed at me, “Come
on! Let’s go. You can’t help them! They’re all dead!” When I
looked ahead, Chevy was a good twenty yards in front of me and
already over the bridge, heading toward the parking lot. I tried to
speed up, but my legs were on fire. I couldn’t breathe. It must
have been the extra weight from the pack slowing me down and making
my legs hurt.

I watched as Chevy
stopped at the edge of the parking lot, and dove head first into the
runoff ditch. A few seconds later, I collapsed into the ditch next to
him, fighting for every breath.

“Stop breathing so
loud! There’s someone by that car!” I concentrated on my
breathing and peeked over the top of the ditch. There wasn’t one
person there, there was a small group of dead. They were crouched
down next to a car eating something. I couldn’t tell what it was,
“Chevy, what are they doing?” I asked, rolling onto my back
again, still trying to catch my breath.