Outbreak (Book 1): Emerald City (20 page)

Clark looked out the bridge window at the deck below and the twelve dead infected lying there. Another two dozen infected stumbled around them. "How many people do you figure this ship had on it when it left dock?" he asked.

"Hell if I know," Rocha replied as he flipped through piles of paperwork that were scattered all over the bridge. Curious and not really wanting to stand around just watching a closed door, Clark followed Rocha’s lead and found a logbook. He took one look at the top sheet and his stomach sank. "Oh shit," he said.

Rocha stepped close and looked over Clark’s shoulder. "What?" he asked.

Clark read from the book. "It set sail from Honolulu just over three months ago with a partial load of 3,210 people,” he said.

"That’s a lot of people," Rocha said and took the logbook from Clark. “Damn, it gets worse. There was another 1,940 crew. Shit. That's something like five thousand people."

Clark did the math in his head and it was five thousand one hundred and fifty people to be exact, but he chose not to correct Rocha. It did not make much difference.

“What’s the death rate of this virus again?” Rocha asked.

“Upward of nine out of ten,” Clark said. Rocha nodded and pursed his lips, obviously trying to do the math. Clark put him out of his misery. “That means there are about 500 infected roaming around this ship. How many bullets do we have?" he asked.

“One sec,” Rocha said and looked down at his vest. There were pockets of ammunition everywhere, but Rocha still had a frown on his face. "I’ve got two hundred and thirty total for my MP5 and another fifty-five for my Beretta.”

“Even if you are one hundred percent efficient, you don’t have nearly enough rounds for what is potentially still on board."

Rocha lifted the visor on his helmet and took out his canteen. He twisted off the cap and drank deep. "Well," he said between gulps. "We may as well call it a day then."

That sounded good to Clark. “Really?” he asked.

"Damn straight,” Rocha said. “I’ll just call a cab."

Clark should have known better, but he was still disappointed. "I’ll have them bring us some breakfast while they are at it," Rocha joked and put away his canteen. “Donuts sound okay?”

Clark didn’t think Rocha was being particularly funny, but he was not going to pout, at least not in front of him. "Cute,” he said. “So what are we going to do then?”

"Forget the clean and sweep. No way we have enough ammunition, so let’s go strictly search and rescue. We only eliminate the lurkers when we have to. If there are no signs of survivors in a side room, we leave the door closed. Cool?"

"I will follow your lead," Clark said.

“Damn straight.”

TASHA

“First call,” Tanner whispered as he gently shook Tasha’s shoulder. “Keep quiet, there are vegetables all over outside. Oh, and … nice hair.” Tanner smiled at Tasha as she sat up and felt her hair with her hand. It was a strange sensation, it being so short.

“Is it really okay?” Tasha asked.

Tanner nodded. “I like it,” he said, and with a quick wink he walked back to his corner and started putting his boots on. Tasha looked around and saw Cleveland was just waking up too. Then she noticed Ortiz and Williams were fully dressed and were cleaning up their MRE breakfast. It was obvious they had been up for a while.
I wonder what is going on there?
she wondered as she reached for her boots.

Williams saw Tasha looking at him. “Eat up,” he said. “Today could be a long day. I don’t want to be hauling all of this stuff around and slowing us down.” Tasha picked out an MRE,
Southern Style Beef Strips.
It did not sound particularly appetizing, but she was sure it would still be better than a can of cold cat food. Williams crept over to one of the windows and looked out.

“Hey, Tanner,” Williams whispered. “Bring me your sniper rifle.”

Tanner picked up the weapon, checked to make sure the safety was on, and took it over to Williams. “Couple drifters?” he asked.

Williams took the rifle and aimed out the window. “Yeah,” he said. “A whole bunch of them.”

“Excuse me, but Sergeant ...” Tasha said and everyone looked at her. She put down her MRE and went to the window. “I could use the practice,” she said.

Williams stared at her, surprised. “You want to practice with a sniper rifle?” he asked.

“Come on, Sergeant,” Tanner said. “Let her have a try.”

Williams hesitated before flipping the safety back on. “Fine,” he said, and handed Tasha the rifle. “But you remember, this isn’t some kind of game.”

“I know,” Tasha said, trying to sound more confident than she felt, and took a knee at the window. “I’ve got this.”

There were creepers in the street, a floor below the window of the office where the team had stayed overnight. The creepers just milled around aimlessly.
Drifters. Probably looking for something … or someone ... to eat
, Tasha thought. She looked at the weapon. The sniper rifle had a scope on it and Tasha realized she had never looked through a rifle scope before. She put her eye to it but it did not seem to work. She tried again but when she looked through the scope lens, there was a random spot where it looked right, but as soon as she moved her eye, it went away. She did not want to ask for help, but she did not want to shoot and miss again either. “I um … I can’t see anything,” she admitted.

“Give it here,” Williams said, clearly annoyed. “We don’t have all --”

“Hold on,” Tanner interrupted. “Give us one second, Sergeant. Please?” Williams frowned but motioned for Tanner to go ahead.

“Thanks,” Tanner said before turning to Tasha. “Tasha, for the scope to work best, I want you to keep your face back a couple inches. You need to pick a spot on the stock of the rifle and put the side of your face there. This will allow the lens to fit your eye line. It will also keep the scope from clocking you in the face and giving you a black eye when you pull the trigger.”

Tasha moved her face further away from the scope and rested her cheek on the rifle stock like Tanner had explained. She was surprised to see the lens suddenly worked and she could make out everything in high magnification. There was even a little black cross in the middle of the scope.

“That’s better,” she said and settled the sight on a creeper, what looked to her to have once been an old man still wearing his pajamas.

Tanner took a knee close to Tasha and she could feel him near her. If she was not about to try to kill someone’s zombified grandfather, it might not have been so weird to have him so close. The rifle was heavy and Tasha’s arm began to shake from the strain. “Rest the barrel of the rifle on the window sill,” Tanner said. “Don’t chase your target. Pick a spot it will walk into, then wait for it. Once it is where you want it to be, pull the trigger. Don’t yank on it, but don’t hesitate either. Just pull the trigger back.”

Tasha set the end of the rifle on the window sill and adjusted her aim ahead of the creeper. With the weight off her hands, the weapon was much more steady. She clicked off the safety, watched through the scope, and waited for the creeper to lumber into view. She took a deep breath and as soon as its head slipped into the center of her scope, she exhaled and fired. The rifle made a clunking noise as the rifle’s bolt expelled and reloaded another bullet, but other than that, it was nearly silent. Tasha saw the creeper’s body crumple to the ground.

“Nice shot, Tasha,” Tanner whispered into her ear and she finally felt like she was doing more than just taking up space and eating their food. She felt like she was contributing. Like she mattered.

“Thank you,” she replied to Tanner. “How many bullets do we have?”

“Call them rounds,” Tanner said. “It’s military speak.” He opened a container of ammunition and looked inside. “Looks like a couple hundred.”

“Can I keep practicing?” Tasha asked, already looking for another target to shoot.

“You bet,” Tanner said so Tasha fired again. And again. And again. Ten minutes went by. She knelt by the window and counted eighteen kills before the rifle ran out of ammunition. She had missed twelve times, but she did not think anyone was counting. It was a morbid scene in the road with all of the dead creepers, but she wanted to keep going. She looked at Tanner.

“Got another magazine?” she asked.

“Slow down, killer,” Williams said. “We need to get a move on.” Tasha frowned but stood up and held the sniper rifle out to Tanner.

“No,” he said. “You keep it. You have a real knack for it. I’ll use yours.”

“Um, thanks,” she said.

“One more thing,” Tanner said. “This is a pretty high powered scope, good for shooting things at a distance, but not so much when they are close up.” He took the weapon from her and demonstrated how the rifle was adjustable. The scope, with the push of a button, pivoted to the side and out of the way, revealing standard open iron sights. “Now it’s just like any other rifle,” he continued, and pushed the scope back into its original position where it clicked into place. “Cool?” he asked.

“Very,” Tasha replied. Tanner quickly reviewed with her how to reload and then handed back the weapon. Tasha gathered up her stuff and waited. Ortiz was at the door, taking down their barricade as quietly as she could.

“Remember everyone, noise will get us killed,” Williams said. “Cleveland, that means you.”

“I got it, Sergeant,” Cleveland replied.

“Good,” Williams said. “Ortiz, you are on point. Find us some wheels.”

Ortiz opened the door and peeked outside. “All clear,” she said and lead them out and down the stairs. Once they reached the front door, Williams told Tasha to stay close behind Ortiz. He said that Tasha’s new job was to snipe any wandering vegetables.

“But,” he said. “You are to follow Ortiz’s direction. Don’t just go off shooting shit. She is your spotter and you kill what she tells you to. Got it?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Tasha replied.

“Good,” Ortiz said. “Because there are two coming our way right now.” Ortiz pointed them out. They were half a city block away, but Tasha knew if they spotted any of them in her group, the creepers would come running, and probably bring more. She knelt in the doorway and lined up her shot. Tasha took a breath, fired, and killed the first creeper. The second creeper turned to look at the first creeper’s dead body and let out a hiss like a cat. Tasha rotated slightly and lined up on the second creeper’s head. She pulled the trigger and the zombie crumpled to the street next to the first one.

“Nice work,” Ortiz said and looked at Williams. “Which way, Sergeant?”

Williams pointed to the right. “East,” he said. “Check any vehicle which still looks operable for keys. If we’re lucky, we’ll find one that has gas in it.” The five of them ran out through the doorway in a single file line and jogged down the street, checking the cars and trucks parked or abandoned along the road. Unfortunately, they were still in the warehouse district and there was not much to choose from. After a few minutes, they came to a tall chain link fence with a sign that read “Employees Only”. It was a full parking lot with a wide variety of vehicles.

“Sweet,” Cleveland said.

“Keep moving,” Williams ordered and they skirted along the fence to a gate. Ortiz led them inside.

“What are we looking for?” Tasha asked.

“Anything big with four doors,” Williams replied. “Look for something with a driver still in it so that we don’t have to worry about where the keys are.” The group started searching.

“Got one,” Tanner said after a minute. He stood beside a dark green truck, a sports edition with 4x4 on the side and big wheels. The passenger side window had been broken in and the rotted remains of the driver still sat behind the wheel.

Williams walked over to the truck, opened the driver’s door and the body, decomposed from the weather and picked over by seagulls, spilled out onto the pavement. Williams ignored the corpse and looked at the ignition. “Keys,” he said and got in. “Stinks like ass in here,” he said and tried the engine but nothing happened. “Battery is probably dead.”

“What do we do?” Ortiz asked.

Williams looked around the interior of the truck. “It’s a manual,” he said. “Let’s push start it.” He put the truck’s transmission into neutral. “Okay. Cleveland, Tanner, Tasha. Push. Ortiz, watch the perimeter.” Together, they navigated the truck out of the parking lot. Williams steered until he arranged the truck so that it was pointed toward Puget Sound where the road sloped slightly downhill. He set the brake. “Hey, Tasha,” Williams said from where he sat behind the steering wheel. “Kill that vegetable so I don’t have to run him over.”

Tasha looked down the road. A creeper was stumbling up the street toward them.
I’m being tested again
, she thought and checked the sniper rifle to make sure a round was loaded and the safety was off. She took a knee next to the truck and raised the rifle. She felt tense, so she paused to take a deep breath and tried to relax to make herself as steady as possible. The sun was behind the creeper and caused a glare in the rifle’s lens. She did her best to ignore it, but could not steady the crosshairs on the creeper’s head.
Not every shot has to be a headshot,
she reminded herself. She dropped her aim to the center of the creeper’s chest and pulled the trigger. The creeper stumbled backward and then looked around.

“Did you hit it?” Cleveland asked from behind her.

Tasha did not answer. She aimed at the creeper again and waited. After a few seconds, the creeper dropped to its knees and then spilled over onto its face in the street. Tasha waited a moment more for the creeper to get up or at least move, but it remained still in the road. “I guess so,” she said.

“Good work,” Williams said taking off the brake. “Now let’s see if we can get this truck running.”

Tasha got back behind the truck and started to push with the others. It was slow at first, but after a few seconds, they got the truck rolling fast enough they were all running. “Here we go!” Williams shouted and popped the clutch. The truck shuddered and blew a cloud of black exhaust, but it started. Williams made a tight turn in the street and came back for the group. He left the engine running and climbed over into the shotgun seat. “Ortiz, you drive. Tanner, you’re in the back. Cleveland, Tasha, you’re in the backseat. Move, before any of our friends show up.”

Everyone loaded up. Tanner started to climb into the back of the truck, but caught his foot on the way over and tumbled into the truck bed. “I’m okay!” he said and slapped the side of the truck twice. “All good!”

“Christ, Tanner,” Ortiz said and put the truck into gear. She stomped the accelerator and squealed the tires as she drove up the street. “Which way?” she asked.

“Take a left,” Williams directed. “Get us onto West Seattle. It’s four lanes each way so there should be plenty of room.”