Medora: A Zombie Novel (28 page)

“Shit!” He yelled, backing the other way, deeper into the dark kitchen. The four shuffled in slowly but deliberately. Dave knew by the waddling movements of their silhouettes that they were infected. Considering his options, he lifted his gun in one hand and the flaming paper towel roll in the other and slowly walked up to them.

The disfigured face of an older woman in a large fur
coat was the first of the group into the kitchen. Dave walked up to her with his gun and was about to fire, but then quickly opened the inside of her coat and shoved in the flaming paper towel roll, knocking her backward into the others behind her. The woman fell as Dave gave the entire group half dozen shots from his gun and backed away. The woman’s coat quickly caught, engulfing her in flames within seconds. The other infected had fallen on top of her and were slowly trying to crawl over her but were quickly set ablaze. They became a slow moving mass of fire, inching towards Dave.

The small entryway of the kitchen was now full of flames and black smoke was beginning to fill the air. Dave turned a
nd ran through the now well-lit kitchen and found a small metal stairway that led upwards. Without looking back, he climbed the stairs, hoping that whatever door was at the top wouldn’t be locked, which turned out to be the case. Pushing the heavy door outward, he once again found himself on the roof of a building with the infected on their way up. This time, however, he knew he would find a way out. There weren’t any bolts of cowardice that shot through him or panicked fear of dying. He thought back on the thousands of the sick that fell hundreds of feet in front of him on top of a skyscraper. He had learned that there was always a way out of any situation. He just had to be clever enough to find it or dumb enough to stumble into it.

Looking over the side of the shallow building where he had entered, he saw large flames licking out of the doorway, which was attracting more of the infected towards the building. Large cracking sounds of gunfire drew his attention to the front of the building and he could see short spurts of gunfire from within the British barricade. The fire was directed towards where he last ran from the arguing Medora One. The gunfire then quickly died down.

An eerie silence fell over the street before being interrupted by the sounds of approaching helicopters in the distance. Dave spun around, looking to see if any of them were approaching the building, but his eye was soon caught by five trails of bright light flying in the sky. His heart sank when he realized that they were heading for the darkened football stadium. Slowly, he got on his knees and then lay on his belly, wondering if his exposure to movie explosions would prepare him in any way for the real-life destruction of an entire football stadium.

There was brief silence followed by a thunderous cracking sound that shook the entire building. Dave peered over the ridge of his building and saw orange billows of clouds coming out of the stadium. The whole scene seemed less dramatic to him than he would’ve imagined. It was simply some small explosions and fires happening several blocks away in a city that he really had nothing to do with. He also thought that those paltry missiles probably wouldn’t even come close to eliminating the threat of an entire stadium full of the infected. 

After the initial strike, Dave looked down again onto the street and saw several bodies in fatigues sprawled across the pavement. He recognized the dark rimmed glasses of Clarence who lay on his back, motionless. Whatever had happened, Dave was certain it was for ridiculous reasons. The attack had seemed hasty. How could Ortega be arguing with everyone at once and then suddenly the Brits fired? None of it was making sense.

The door to the roof slowly squeaked open and Dave knew it was time for him to go.
Time to get clever or die. He was confident he could simply let himself down onto a dumpster on the street and steal away in the Humvee. It was too dark to see who was coming out the door and Dave didn’t want to know. He was just moving along the side of the building looking for a dumpster.

“Boomtown
,” someone said.

Dave stopped and walked over to the door and saw the bulky shoulders of Ortega hunched over on the tar surface of the roof.

“I’m shot,” he said, rolling over onto his back.

“Where?
How the hell did you get past the fire?” Dave bent over, examining him with his hands. His clothes were charred with burnt edges.

“Abdomen, here, on my lower right side.”
He led Dave’s hands to the bloody entrance wound.

“Okay, do you have a first aid kit?”

“First aid kit won’t…” his breathing was labored, “won’t do shit. Just put pressure on it.”

“Okay.” Dave kneeled over Ortega, pressing both his palms deeply into the wound.

“Extraction should be coming.”

“Oh, that’s great, looks like we can get the hell out of here.” Dave cleared his throat. “How’s the rest of the unit?”

“Dead.”

“
All of them? From the Brits?”

“Yes.”

They let silence enter the conversation for several moments. Dave looked down at Ortega’s closed eyes. He seemed relaxed, no teeth clenched or moaning from pain. Seeing Ortega in a weak moment prompted Dave to speak more candidly with him. He also had no idea how close to death the man was and felt that he needed to pump him for information.

“
Why did you command the unit to attack the Brits?”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing, I’ve been up here the whole time.”

“The British fired on us
first.”

Dave just looked down at him, trying to read his face.

“My name is Raul,” Ortega blurted out.

“
Raul,” Dave repeated, nodding his head.

“My name is Raul.”

“Raul, why did you do it?”

“Do you know what’s been running through my head all day?”

“What?”

“Did you ever have to read Macbeth in high school?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Macbeth,” he said, shuddering, “he was a good man at the beginning.”

“Oh.”

“Things just got out of hand for him, you know? Little by little and he couldn’t keep up.” Ortega’s spoke loosely now, drunk off the blood he was losing. His voice sounded innocent and mild like a father talking to his child. “It’s much better for me to die now. It’s better for everyone.”

“I think you’re going to be fine, Raul. Just stay awake.” Dave could hear another helicopter moving closer to them. “Do you hear that? That is the chopper you called in.”

“I see then,” Ortega melodramatically said to the sky
. “I accept this but I will try everything I can to escape. I’ve gone this far, so I will not turn back now.”

“Just stay awake
. You’re going to be fine, you crazy bastard.”

The helicopter approached closer and soon the heavy beating
sound of its blades was over their heads. Two men quickly repelled down with a cloth stretcher and loaded Ortega onto it, securing it with ropes. He then floated up into the bright lights of the helicopter. The men then secured Dave with a harness and prompted someone up above to lift him as well. He was hoisted higher and higher until he could see that an entire façade of the football stadium had collapsed.

When the levee breaks, he thought to
himself, reciting song lyrics, mama you got to move.

In the
helicopter, he could see that the missiles had only created a way for all the infected to escape back into the city from within the stadium.

And that’s how Baltimore was taken, he thought. The helicopter ascended and flew out, leaving the city behind them.

Doubt and insecurity were unfamiliar emotions to Rambert. The last time he could remember feeling this way was when he applied for college and was waiting to hear back from all the big name schools. He didn’t think he would get accepted to any of them and would have to rely on his fall back plan of working for his dad’s insurance company while he paid his way through a state school. He remembered loathing himself for months, waiting to hear back whether he got into Harvard or Yale. What a beautiful problem to have, he thought, laughing at himself. It was the same cold lack of confidence that had him doubting everything he had done up until that point. Now his problems grew exponentially by the minute and they would affect the entire world.

“Mr. President
,” a woman came into the room.

“Yes, Diane?”
Rambert replied.

“We’re getting reports of Canadian forces coming down through Maine within the last couple of hours.”

Rambert was silent for a moment. “I see.”

“The British have also invaded Baltimore.”

“I probably would’ve led with that piece of information,” he said, without humor.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“And what’re they doing? Why didn’t they tell us?”

“They may have tried, but you know how communications are right now.”

“Yes, I know all too well. What are they doing in Baltimore?”

“It’s not clear at this
point, but we believe they have fired from their naval force into the city.”

“
Into the city?”

“It’s not confirmed, but
yes, we think so.”

“Where is this
intel coming from? How could we not possibly know for sure? Baltimore is just right around the corner.” Rambert got up from his chair that was facing a boarded window and turned to the woman.

“Medora One was there.”

“And where is Medora One now?”

“They’re mostly dead except for one survivor.” She paused and then added, “
Well two actually.”

“Is it one or is it two?”

“Captain Ortega has survived as well as a civilian that they had with them. They were extracted from Baltimore after a skirmish with the British.”

“A skirmish?
Where are they now?”

“On their way to Richmond via helicopter.”

“Okay. I’m assuming you still haven’t heard anything from Secretary of State?”

“No, she is still missing.”

“And what about Doug?”

“The Chief Staff of Army is on his way here.”

“He is? How did you find him?”

“He just called in on the satellite phone, says he was able to get a chopper out of Providence and he said he’s coming to discuss nuclear options with you.”

“It’s going to be a short conversation.”

The breakdown of the government had been swift,
Rambert thought. We are suddenly a chicken without a head. But isn’t that how it usually happens? Every great nation suddenly falls when no one is expecting it. That’s the only way it can really happen. The rudder has broken clean off this ship, he thought. I can’t even find out what’s going on a few hundred miles away.

There suddenly appeared a secret service person at the door to the office.
“Sir.”

“Yes, what’s up?”

“There’s someone at the front gate for you.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It’s someone in a van outside. Take a look.”

Rambert
stared at the man for a moment, slowly got up from the desk and peeked through a three-inch crack between two metal planks covering the window. A large delivery van had crashed through a sandbag barricade and was becoming surrounded by the sick. He could faintly make out a figure in the driver’s seat. Crudely spray painted on the side of the van was large wording:

RAMBERT:

IT’S STARK

Rambert
turned to the agent. “Go cover for that man and let him in immediately.”

“You know him?”

“Yes, he needs to be in here right away. You make sure he doesn’t die.”

“Yes, sir.”
He left the room.

Rambert
watched out the window as a small SWAT group surrounded the van, shooting down the infected and helping the man out the driver’s window. Rambert recognized Stark’s glasses and forehead wrinkles as they huddled around him and escorted him into the building.

Within a few short moments, there was a knock on the door and Stark stepped in, tired and disheveled.

“Larry, you’re alive,” Stark said.

Diane awkwardly interjected with a formal introduction. “Dr. Stark, the President of the United States.”

Stark looked at her and then slowly brought his eyes to Rambert. “What?”

“It’s
true, I’ve been given the presidency temporarily. Or indefinitely, I’m really not quite sure at this point.”

“What happened to the president?”

“He died in a plane crash a few hours ago.”

“
Oh, my gosh.” Stark looked down. “Who knows about this? Is this public?”

“No, not yet.
We don’t really have the capability of making it public right now.”

“I don’t believe it.” Stark leaned over, his arms resting on his knees. “Wait a minute. You’re just the Secretary of Health
. There’s no way you can be the president. You must be like tenth in line or…”

“Eleventh, actually.”

“Well, where in the hell is everyone else, the Speaker, Attorney General?”

“Presumed dead or missing.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

Stark kept looking at him, mouth ajar, and then slumped down into an oval office couch.

“What can you tell
me, Dr. Stark?”

“No, no, no. What can you tell me, Larry?” Stark’s tone of voice changed from surprise to accusatory.

“What do you mean?” Rambert sat on the opposite couch to Stark. The room was dim from the blocked windows.

“I know everything about Medora. I know everything about
Beckfield.”

“And just what is it that you think you know?” He brought two pointed index fingers to his lips.

“Dr. Beckfield was involved with the Medora clinical trials this whole time. He already knew everything about the virus. Hell, he helped develop it. And you had him working with me just to cover it all up, probably trying to make me a patsy. You’re a son of a bitch and I know all about it now.”

Rambert
studied Stark’s face for a moment. It was normally friendly and agreeable, perhaps even mistaken to be weak looking. Now his face was vicious without a glint of humor or understanding. He felt for a moment that he had completely misunderstood what type of man Reginald Stark was this whole time.

“Dr. Stark, there are things that I have known about, yes. I’ve been fully aware of the outbreak in Medora and I’ve known that the survivors were here in D.C. But the things you’re suggesting,
no, I have no idea what you’re talking about, clinical trials with Dr. Beckfield? I honestly don’t know. Our former President must have kept those details from me.”

“I’m not just suggesting these things, I’ve seen it. I’ve talked with the Medora survivors myself. I even took a little tour of
Beckfield’s office not an hour ago and helped myself to all his files. I read about Virulex and Lantus and everything. You can’t hide it from me.”

“
Virulex? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Dr. Beckfield was appointed by the President himself. Before that, I didn’t know the man from Adam. I know very little about his past.” Rambert stared straight at Stark.

“Where is Dr.
Beckfield?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“He caused the D.C. outbreak. He let Danny out of that cell and I know why.”

“Why?”

“The man was trying to frame me. He had already lost containment with the other Medora patients just hours before. The infected had already gotten out on his watch so when he saw me bitten and lying on the ground, he saw the perfect opportunity to just let me die and let Danny out of the cell, which everyone would believe caused the D.C. outbreak.”

“
I did think that the outbreak here happened sooner than when you called me to tell me you were bitten. Care to guess how the New York outbreak started, because I’m still trying to crack that nut.”

The two
exhausted men looked back at each other from across a coffee table. They both felt defeated, wanting to know who and where the enemy was and knowing that it was not the person in front of them.

Rambert
spoke up again, “What can you tell me about the virus? What is Virulex?”

“It’s a
nano-virus made by a pharmaceutical company called Lantus. Medora was their first clinical trial of the virus. They brought in dozens of very sick leukemia patients from all over the country and it mutated inside of them, infecting everyone else at the compound.”

“But the Medora survivors had immunity, right?”

“They did, but only temporarily. They’re all dead now. I put the last survivor down before she turned. A girl named Eli.” Stark looked down at his hands.

“Oh, I see.”

“It turns out there’s another European pharmaceutical company that might have gotten involved with Lantus. Lantus was being extremely secretive about the Medora trials, not just because the FDA hadn’t approved clinical trials with nano-particles, but also because this other company has been trying to do the same thing. I read files in Beckfield’s office about outrageous sums of money offered to Lantus employees to sell them some of Lantus’ technology. They even thought that there were spies in the company and it sure looked like there was. There’s also something else…” Stark waited for him to respond.

“Well, what is it?”

“It’s about the Mad Cow disease in the eighties. It definitely wasn’t Mad Cow which is what I thought this whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember how I told you there were some clinical trials in England during the same time as the Mad Cow outbreak?”

“Yes…”

“They were the same clinical trials using a similar type of nano-virus as the one used in Medora. Mad Cow was a complete cover up for a mutation of the chemo delivery virus that they were using there. The exact same thing is happening over here now, but with a newly developed nano-virus, Virulex but it’s mutated just like it did in London. It must be a very unstable technology. That one doctor I told you that I had worked with was Dr. Crimmel.”

Rambert
paused, trying to recall the conversation.

“He was at the head of those clinical trials and according to Dr.
Beckfield’s notes, he’s been trying to steal this new nano-virus from Lantus for the last five years. This guy, Crimmel has been working on this same stuff for the past thirty years.”

“So there was no Mad Cow disease?”

“No, it was totally made up, just a cover up. Apparently, they got a better handle on the virus over there than we did here though.”

“I don’t believe it. How did you not detect the virus when you were in England?”

“I was blocked and doubted by Crimmel the entire time. He allowed me very little access and I didn’t have the equipment to know that it was a nano-virus at all. But I knew it wasn’t CJD. The bastard…” Stark stopped and clenched his jaw. “That bastard ruined my career and was fully aware of it.”

“So why did Danny and all of the Medora survivors not turn?
”

“Leukemia, they all had leukemia giving them a high white blood cell count which was able to allow their immune systems to stave off the virus for a few weeks. But it gives out
and the virus eventually takes over. There’s nothing special about them, they turn just like anyone else.”

Rambert
stared straight forward over the glossy table of the oval office.

Diane appeared at the threshold of the room again with a telephone. “Mr. President, I have finally been able to get the Britain Prime Minister on the line.”

“You’re kidding me, how? I thought all lines were down.”

“
He managed to call us on the satellite phone.”

Diane handed the phone to
Rambert who got off the couch and went into an adjacent office to talk.

Stark was kicking himself for trusting
Rambert again so quickly. As he barreled through the decaying streets of D.C. from the research facility, he had planned an entire speech about how what Rambert had done was unconscionable to the American people. However, Rambert seemed so earnest that it was irresistible not to trust him again. At this point, it didn’t even matter why or how this all happened, he thought. It only mattered about what we did about it.

Rambert
returned to the room and sat down again on the couch. “Dr. Stark, you’re now an official cabinet member of the President. I’m going to make you… White House Chief of Staff. How does that sound to you?”