The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle (24 page)

“Yep, let’s go inside.” Together they walked back in, into
the warmth. They could smell the heady aroma of frying steak, and hoped they
weren’t inviting trouble by cooking. At this point, cold, frightened and
desperate for a decent meal, they were more than prepared to take the risk.

The sirens sounded, sending men and women, most in military
uniforms, scurrying to get past the slowly closing, steel and concrete doors
that would seal them into the mountain for the foreseeable future. They had all
been hurriedly rushed from Peterson Air Force Base, the normal home of NORAD,
or North American Aerospace
Defense
Command, to the
hardened installation of the Cheyenne Mountain Nuclear Bunker. Its systems were
twinned with the primary site, so the defence of the country would not miss a
beat as the change-over took place.

Two of the men now installed in their new positions were Master
Sergeants Billy and Paul Herschel. They were brothers, and each had made it
their life’s ambition to join the army, and serve in the same regiment as the
other. They would not be separated easily. Today it was their duty to guard the
entrance to the main operations room, a huge cavern deep in the mountain,
filled with the latest technology that allowed the operators to see, in real
time, all activities across the US of A, both on the ground and in the air.

The sergeants were very proud of their duty and took it very
seriously indeed. They were known as the terrible twins, primarily because of
their infallible and indefatigable natures. Those men serving under them feared
their abilities, because to underperform in sight of these two usually meant
cruel and unusual punishment would follow. The only reason the rank and file
hadn’t quietly bumped them off for this was that the sergeants undertook the
same punishment as their men. If they could deal it out, they showed they could
take it as well.

Billy’s heart was racing, what was going on outside was
incredible; it was pandemonium, fires raged, and explosions had rocked the town
adjacent to the air force base, raising the alert level around the station. If
he hadn’t seen with his own eyes, the fires and the people fleeing in terror,
he would have firmly believed this move into the mountain was just another
interminable exercise. Stealing a look across at his brother, he could see that
beneath his cool exterior he was just as pumped; it was in the way he was
standing, radiating energy.

Earlier that morning, walking through town on their way to
Peterson AFB, they had been surrounded by, and had fought off, some fifteen
men. The gang had chosen no easy marks in these two. Defending themselves
against the onslaught had been easy, the gang members hadn’t exactly been
skilled in the art of dealing it out. He took his hat off to them though; when
anyone else would have been out cold from the beating they had received, these
weirdoes kept coming back for more. They had a strange look about them too,
something about the eyes; they looked blank, and a bit cloudy. Probably drugged
up. In the end, the two of them had just run from the affray, bored with the
crap by now; anyway, they would be late for duty if they persisted with the
brawl. It was at that moment that all hell chose to break loose in the town
and, dodging others also intent on fighting, they had run all the way to the
base’s gates, before cadging a lift in a jeep to their building.

Billy reflected on the earlier incident; guard duty always
allowed him some ‘me time’, at least in his mind. He decided that the fight had
been not quite right. What was strange was that those guys seemed so intent on
biting the two sergeants. Although it wasn’t unknown to use teeth in a fight,
especially in a brawl, they were certainly more determined than the average
Joe. And as for that last fella, he thought, that one had been particularly
dogged; he also moved frighteningly quickly. If Billy hadn’t stuck that final
haymaker directly into the guy’s face, well, who knew how long the fight would
have gone on for? The bloke had fallen to the ground like he’d been pole-axed,
and didn’t move. Billy hoped he hadn’t killed him with the punch; they hadn’t
stayed around to find out, instead heading double-time across to the base. All
the way there, it was as if people were coming out of the woodwork, trying to
grab at them as they ran. He wasn’t sure if they were trying to get his help,
which he doubted, or what. All had that slack-jawed appearance of civvies in
need of a caffeine fix.

Once safely behind the barbed wire, he had gone to the
toilets and washed a cut that had started to bleed on his knuckles, probably
from the fast guy’s teeth. That was always the risk of a face punch, he
thought, you could end up as badly off as the other fella. Little did he
realise the prophetic nature of his thoughts at that moment. Paul, too, had
skinned knuckles. They wore this badge of the fight with pride.

Watching a few officers, deep in a confab as they walked out
of the ops centre, his attention was drawn to his hands. In the last few
minutes, the skin on the back of his hands had begun to itch, the wounds from
the fight throbbing unnaturally. Small red lines radiated out from his
knuckles. They looked like they were infected; he’d have to do something about
that when his shift was over. He flexed his fingers, and winced as a pain shot
up his right arm. That’s real weird, he thought, knuckle injuries never went
this bad before. He glanced across at his brother, then looked down at his
hands, too, trying to see something out of the ordinary. Faint lines were
visible on his hands as well. Paul was flexing them, clearly feeling the same sensations.

“Bro, you okay?” he hissed.

Paul frowned at the interruption while on duty, but turned
to his brother and nodded.

“Can you feel it?” Billy persisted.

Again, Paul nodded, this time with less impatience, and more
concern. They had another two hours of this guard duty, and for once, they
would both be glad for it to end.

A thought entered his mind. “I could murder a burger,” he
whispered, which drew a smile from Paul.

“Me, too,” Paul confessed, “no fries, though, just the
meat.”

“Yeah, me too.” Although they weren’t actually twins, there
were nearly eighteen months between them, they often had the same thoughts at
the same time. This time their thoughts didn’t ring true; both loved fries, and
would eat copious quantities to supplement their energy requirements. Right
now, though, Billy couldn’t get his mind off the meat, imagining it juicy and
raw in the middle. A little saliva escaped his mouth and dribbled down his
chin, but he didn’t seem to notice.

They continued to stand in silence, observing the comings
and goings from the ops centre, the activity becoming more frequent as time
wore on. The looks on the faces of the operatives were becoming more strained,
and Billy wished he could ask someone what was going on. His chance came and he
grabbed a corporal who was rushing towards the entrance waving his access pass,
expecting a quick entry to the secure area.

“What’s going on, corporal?” he demanded, as menacingly as
possible.

“
Th
… there’s a plane coming in
from England,” he stuttered, the feral look of the sergeant intimidating him.
“I have to notify the OOD. Let me through,” he demanded, irritating Billy more.
No one spoke to him like that. Fucking corporal, he thought, wouldn’t like it
if I took a bite out of him.

He took a step back, mentally. Where had that come from? A
bite, what was that, gay? Nah, he assured himself, I like women. He had smelled
good, though. Thrusting the troubling thought away, he concentrated on his
duty.

“Get on with it then. On the double!” he barked, and the
corporal ran through the doorway.

His fury slowly abated, the little runt corporal forgotten.
Slowly, but perceptibly, the lights appeared to become dimmer in the corridor,
colours around him beginning to fade. He peered more closely; some of the
brighter colours of the signs on the wall, and on the uniforms of the passing
staff, were changing by degrees, washing out. His vision was still clear; if
anything, the edges of objects actually stood out more, cartoon-like in their
sharpness. Smiling at the effect, he felt no fear, just curiosity at the
change. The sign at the opposite side of the corridor, its background red, with
white lettering that announced the passage in front of them as out of bounds,
was becoming etiolated,
Instagrammed
almost, not
fuzzy exactly, but it was as if the red background was becoming old. His vision
slowly began to resemble the colour film footage he’d seen in movies from the
sixties. Billy’s heart was pumping hard now, feeling invigorated with every
beat as he felt changes coming upon him from within.

He watched a female soldier pass by their station, her toned
buttocks inviting in the tight skirt. Her bodily aroma was strong in his
nostrils; although she wore no discernible perfume, the essence of her made him
feel light-headed. He suddenly realised that it wasn’t his loins stirring, but
his appetite. Strange, but it felt right; it was as if his primal instincts and
abilities were awakening, and it felt amazingly good. He watched as she rounded
the far corner, wanting for all the world to follow her, and take a bite. He
grinned wolfishly.

Billy turned to his brother, and realised they were staring
at each other. Except it wasn’t his brother, or was it? Whoever it was, was the
same rank, but the face didn’t fit. Instead of the ruggedly tanned face he
expected to see, Paul’s complexion had paled, his eyes nacreous, no longer a
startling pale blue.

“Hey, Billy,” the words entered his head, “she’d be tasty.”
The voice was Paul’s, but his lips had remained closed. His uniform front was
stained dark with saliva, he seemed oblivious to the mess; he finally smiled.
Billy smiled back.

“Hey, Paul,” Billy responded. “This is pretty neat, how are
we doing it?”

“No fucking idea, you?”

Billy laughed inside, and could suddenly hear Paul’s
laughter echoing his.

“Sweet. Did you see that cute thing that just walked past?
Couldn’t you just eat her?”

“Oh, yeah. Smelt good, too. Shall we eat the next one that
comes along?”

“Let’s.”

They stood in silence, choosing the one they would start
with, as if from a sushi conveyor belt in a bar. Several people walked by,
their perfume or aftershave somehow off-putting. Then they saw one that had
potential. She was small, round-hipped, and had a swagger that was the talk of
the base. As she drew nearer, Billy sniffed gently, searching for her scent.

“Nah, she’s a vegan.” Billy thought. “She won’t taste any
good. Too many vitamins.”

Paul just smiled in agreement, their tastes had always been
for the naughtier girls. Finally, a slim, tall, brunette officer strode out of
the ops room, and away from their station.

“That’s the one. Agree?” Paul asked. Billy just looked at
his brother in approval. With blood curdling screeches, they leapt with speed
and strength that surprised even them. Like a battering ram, they hit her from
behind, driving her to the ground, and began biting at exposed flesh. Blood
sprayed from her neck, spilling forth a pungent aroma of warm, coppery, deep
red liquid. With all their senses working overtime, the sergeants were driven
wild by the orgy of killing, and the lust for their food.

The two brothers detected, rather than saw, or felt, the
presence of people around them, trying to drag them off the hapless officer.
She hadn’t even had time to cry for help; now she just lay there, twitching, as
her life-force pulsed from her body in spasms. These new hands pulling at them
were annoying, interfering with their feeding frenzy. Leaping up, they lashed
out at the guards who had come to the woman’s rescue. Biting and tearing, they
were reminiscent of the berserker Norse warriors who fought in a trance-like
fury, unbeatable in their savagery. Feeling alive for the first time ever, or
so it felt, they fought their way through the attack.

Gunshots rang out, solid punches could be felt as the rounds
hit home. With no sense of injury, they continued in their frenzy, overcoming
each adversary as they were encountered. The hallway was becoming slippery with
blood and viscera, each footstep now landing on a body. They felt good, oh so
good, their rapture orgasmic in intensity.

Separating from the rapidly thinning crowd, the two brothers
ran down the corridor, Billy careening straight through the door they had been
guarding, knocking over the soldier who had just opened it. Tearing at, and
biting every person that came close enough, Billy worked his way across the
vast cavern. Now he had allies, sensing others like him coming into the arena
of death, intent on joining in the fun.

“Come on, feel them bleed,” Billy shouted in his mind.
Others responded, much to his satisfaction. Some groaned inarticulately, but
their pleasure could be sensed. There was a compulsion in him to help them to
feed. Seeing the same unfortunate corporal he’d interrogated earlier, he
dragged him, kicking and screaming, over to a group of slow movers; throwing
him down before them, they fell upon the unlucky soldier, tearing at his flesh
and moaning in pleasure. A feeling of wellbeing flooded Billy’s renewed body;
he needed to do more.

Without warning, a blinding pain filled Billy’s mind, his
brain sliced through with a sharp, unbearable sensation, and a single word
popped into his head: Paul. Where was his brother? The feel-good sensation was
dissipating quickly now, as realisation struck that he had lost Paul forever.

“Where the hell are you?” he shouted, his telepathy
searching, eager to reconnect to his brother. Running back to the entrance of
the ops room, he leapt into the corridor, slithering to a halt. Paul’s body lay
on the floor, his brain matter and shattered skull fragments mingling with the
slaughterhouse décor. Cradling his brother in his arms, holding his broken head
against his chest, he let out a loud, ululating cry that echoed down the
corridors, and bounced back inward, off the thick, blast proof doors, to be
forever trapped underground.