Degeneration (47 page)

26

             
A
t a military checkpoint located on NC State Route 719, situated on the North Carolina/Virginia border, two bored soldiers played cards on the hood of their Humvee. The NC 719 checkpoint was minuscule compared to the massive I-85 blockade just a few miles away. The NC 719 checkpoint consisted of two soldiers, two halogen flood lamps, and two Humvees. Concrete highway dividers and rolls of barbwire blocked off both lanes of the small road. A sign in the middle of the road read ‘Road Closed – No Thru Traffic’. Even at the height of the outbreak, the checkpoints along on the rural routes hadn’t seen much activity.

             
The distant glow of the massive controlled-burn forest fire, that corralled the ‘red zone’ in its entirety, gave the midnight sky an ominous red glow and filled the air with the stench of smoke.

             
One of the soldiers manning the checkpoint slapped an Ace of Hearts down on the hood of the Humvee, grinning.

The other soldier groaned and tossed down his cards. He pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill from his pocket.

             
“I swear you’re fishing me, Young,” the soldier said as he tossed the bill on the hood.

             
“Nah, Diaz, you’re just green,” Young said as he collected the money. “Don’t worry; by the end of the night, I’ll have you schooled.”

Diaz looked at his wristwatch and shook his head.

             
“Man, this night is dragging,” Diaz said. “Why couldn’t we get a real post? I
wanted
to be on the burn detail.”

             
“Just be glad we didn’t get trapped inside the red zone like Yate’s crew. I hear those boys are all sorts of fucked up,” Young said.

             
“Yeah,” Diaz said, sighing, “But playing with those chemical flamethrowers would be badass.”

“Fuck that shit. The flame guys still have to wear those sweaty biohazard suits,” Young replied casually.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. At least way out here we don’t have to wear those bulky suits,” Diaz reasoned.  “Man, if one of those assholes trapped inside the red zone bugged out, ran through the fire, and shot his way through the I-85 blockade… could two jerks like us really fuck with him? That dude would be a new level of crazy.”

“Well, hell yeah I would try to stop him. He’d be infectious and shit,” Young said as he scooped up the playing cards and started to shuffle them again.

             
“Could you really do it though?” Diaz whispered.

             
“Do what?”

             
“Shoot ‘em. You know… another one of us.”

             
“Fuck yeah,” Young said without hesitation. “I don’t want to catch whatever it is they got. It’s us versus them, survival of the fittest, and all of that shit. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Young dealt the cards.

             
A large flock of Canadian geese flew high overhead across the border into Virginia in a broken formation. The soldiers glanced up and then went back to their cards. Lots of frightened birds were flying out of North Carolina ever since the outbreak and especially since the military started the forest fires, so it was not an uncommon sight.

             
“Think it will reach us way out here?” Diaz asked as he laid a Ten of Spades down on the table.

             
Young slapped down an Ace of Spades and shook his head.

             
“Nah, man, they’re going to spread the flames inward and barbeque the fucking place at sunrise. That’s the rumor I heard, anyway.”

             
Diaz laid down an Ace of Diamonds.

             
“At least they won’t nuke it, you know? I don’t trust all that radiation and stuff.”

             
Young slapped down an Ace of Hearts.

Diaz groaned, defeated.

             
“Even if they did, I don’t give a shit. My family is in Nevada. It’s survival of the fittest. Speaking of which…” Young said, smirking. “I’ve beat you again. Pay up, bitch!”

             
As Diaz reached into his pocket, a Jeep sped towards them from the direction of the I-85 blockade.

             
“Vehicle! Shit!” Young shouted. He hastily unslung his rifle and sighted-in at the approaching vehicle.

             
The playing cards scattered on the ground.

             
Diaz fumbled with his weapon and quickly sighted-in, heart beating madly in his chest.

             
“Stop! Stop your vehicle damnit!” Young shouted.

             
The Jeep rolled to a stop a few yards away from Young and Diaz.

             
A man wearing a flame r
etardant
white-suit stepped out from the driver’s seat with his arms raised over his head. He reeked of gasoline and his vehicle was covered in soot.

             
“Easy, you fucks!” the white-suit said. “I’m in Lance Corporal River’s detail!”

             
Young and Diaz hesitantly lowered their weapons.

             
“You’re in the burn detail? Why are you way out here?” Diaz asked.

             
“Besides, you know we can’t let you pass without permission from command or else it’s all of our asses on the line,” Young added.

             
The white-suit lowered his arms and laughed.

             
“I’m not AWOL, you shitbirds! I’m here to see if you two are interested in buying something,” the white-suit said. He walked to the back of his Jeep and pulled out a metallic case marked ‘PT-12a’.

             
Young and Diaz walked over to the back of the Jeep, curious.

             
“Woah,” Young said, stepping back. “Is that the fucking virus?! Are you crazy?!”

             
“No, it’s the
anti-
virus,” the white-suit said. “They’ve been secretly testing it inside small towns trapped inside the red zone this whole time.”

             
The white-suit broke the CDC seals and opened the case.

             
“I fucking
knew
they had a cure hidden somewhere!” Diaz said.

             
“This is some serious shit. How did you get ahold of it?” Young asked, wide-eyed.

             
“We lifted some crates off of one of the CDC transports headed into Butner earlier, but does it really matter? I’m offering salvation at two-hundred dollars a vial,” the white-suit said. “The limit is four. You want in?”

             
Young and Diaz hesitated.

             
“Come on, man, it’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Make it fast. I have to drive to six other checkpoints manned with more people then you two shitbirds. I just came here first because you were the closest,” the white-suit said.

             
“Alright, alright,” Diaz said. “I’m in.”

             
“Yeah, me too,” Young finally said. “And I’ll take another one for my girl.”

             
Diaz looked at Young.

             
“I thought your wife and kids were back in Nevada,” Diaz said.

             
“They are,” Young replied, smirking, “but my girlfriend is up in Norfolk, Virginia.”

             
All three men laughed.

             
Diaz and Young reached for their wallets.
             

In the midst of their transaction, none of the men noticed as another disorganized flock of geese flew overhead into Virginia.

One of the ill geese stopped flapping its wings and tumbled out of the sky into the forest across the state line.

2
7

             
T
he helicopter hovered low over the roof of Crabtree Valley Mall, scanning the area with its bright searchlights.

             
The searchlights revealed a few staggering corpses on the roof and a few sloppily painted messages pleading for help that never came.

             
As the helicopter lowered its altitude, the corpses stumbled underneath it, standing in the center of the searchlight’s beam.

The corpses, most wearing blue nylon FEMA windbreakers, raised their hands towards the light, moaning.

             
“Bravo-Echelon to Falls Lake, Bravo-Echelon to Falls Lake, we have arrived at Hotel One but we do not detect any survivors. Do you copy, over?” the pilot said into the headset.

             
“Falls Lake to–
[gunshot][screaming in background]
–Lake to Bravo-Echelon, do you see any sign of the two targets?
[static]
Son of a–
[gunshots]
Keep that goddamn door secure!”

             
The pilot hesitated a moment and then keyed his mike again.

             
“Um, Bravo-Echelon to Falls Lake, are you guys okay? It sounds like you have a situation over there.”

             
“Never mind about us! This is Yates!
[static] [automatic gunfire]
Do you see the civilian?!”

             
“Negative, sir, we just see some scattered reanimates on the roof of the mall. No sign of the Primary One or Two. We did see some crash wreckage near the parking deck, but the area is full of Tangos, over.”

             
“They have to be there, damnit!
[heavy static]
–out the ones on the roof and–
[gunshots]
–the crash site. Do you–
[static]
–me? They’re about to blanket the city with firebombs and
that civilian is
our
hope
out of the red zone! If we don’t –
[gunshots] [screaming] –
they will never let us leave! Find
whatever is left of him
!”

             
“
Bravo-Echelon copies all, over,” the pilot said. He clicked off the mike and turned towards the soldiers in the crew cabin behind him. “Clear us a path, we’re landing on the roof and securing the high ground.”

             
“But they’re going to carpet-bomb us soon,” one of the soldiers muttered inside his hazmat suit.

             
“Well, we better be fast then,” the pilot said, “because we’re not taking off without that civilian. If we don’t find him, we’ll burn alongside Yates. I don’t know about you guys, but I want to get the fuck out of this city.”

             
The soldiers nodded in agreement.

             
The sliding cargo door on the helicopter slid open and one of the hazmat-suited soldiers leaned outside, wielding a sniper rifle.

             
The soldier fired and took down one of the corpses on the roof.

             
“Jesus!” Mathis shouted, head pressed against the exhaust shaft. The gunshot echoed loudly down the shaft. A second shot echoed down through the vent, followed by a third and a fourth.  “They’re clearing a path on the roof! I think they’re going to land!”

             
Richard crawled closer towards the vent.

             
“But… how are we going to get to the roof?” Richard asked.

             
Mathis unslung the DSN satellite phone off of his shoulder and stared at it for a moment, thinking. He gripped it with both hands and bashed the bulky hardened military-grade satellite phone against the aluminum exhaust shaft, yelling.

             
The infected below started to go into frenzy at the sound of the screaming and bashing.

             
Mathis slammed the bulky phone as hard as he could against the shaft, repeatedly. The hardened casing started to chip away and the phone’s screen shattered, but finally one the welds in the exhaust shaft snapped and a section of aluminum bent inwards.

             
Mathis dropped the mangled phone and pressed his body weight against the bent section.

             
The aluminum section folded down into the shaft and created a space large enough for both Mathis and Richard to crawl through.

             
“Come on!” Mathis shouted. He crawled into the shaft and started his difficult ascent, using the exposed weld lines inside the shaft as meager footing.