The Rise of Macon: A Zombie Novel (Macon Saga Book 2) (19 page)

Chapter 20

Kyle came to consciousness slowly, sluggish, not sure where
he was, not sure if he was dreaming or not. Pain. Pain brought him back;
quickly. He tried to open his eyes, no dice. They were heavy, stuck together. He
moved his head and a sharp pain, like a knife being stuck in his temple, shot
through him.

He stopped moving.

He tried to raise his arm, the pain shifted there. The ache
in his arm was different, more dull and throbbing. Even his breathing hurt. Any
movement threatened agony. He stopped moving everything but his eyes. The lids
came apart like a wet bandage, sloppy and sticky. He could see yellow lights, a
white room. Confusion threatened to overwhelm him. He briefly wondered if he'd
been dreaming. A horrible dream. Maybe he'd been in a car accident, sending his
unconscious mind to replay the many horror novels he’d read.

His brief and happy delusions crashed as he heard and saw
movement through his blurry vision. He tried to focus, but his eyes wouldn’t
cooperate.

"Hey," called out an annoyingly cheerful voice. "The
nurse told me you were coming around. You don't look so good."

Patrick. Kyle didn't say anything, just closed his eyes. It
wasn't a dream. Letting go of his fantasy was hard. The truth hurt too much. Reality
crashed in and he remembered. Abe. It hurt more than his body. He opened his
mouth, tried to talk, but his throat felt raw, like he'd been drinking sand. "Water."

He heard Patrick stumble across the room and a straw was
guided to his lips.

"Drink this, it's water. The doctor said just drink a
little at first."

Kyle sucked the water. He'd never tasted anything so
delicious. Water had never tasted like this before. He drank more, trying to
get it all. The straw was pulled away.

"Slowly, man!" said Patrick. "The doctor
said-"

Kyle started coughing, water shooting back out of his mouth.
Pain raced up and down his body, as if confused about where to attack him.

"The doctor said a
little
asshole,"
Patrick said excitedly. He waited for Kyle to finish coughing, dabbing his
mouth where the water had spilled out. Kyle coughed a few more times, and then
cleared his throat. He settled down and lay still.

"Kyle?" Patrick said. "Kyle? Nurse he's not
moving!" 

Kyle started to laugh, but quickly stopped when he
discovered laughing also caused pain. Of course it would. "Idiot."

"Hey, that's not funny man." Patrick pouted, standing
up in indignation.

"Sorry," Kyle said, his throat feeling better. He
could speak easier now. "Can I have some more?"

"Take sips or I'll take it away!"

"Yes, mom."

Kyle felt the straw placed against his lips again and tried
to take slow sips, he didn't want to cough, too painful. He sipped a few more
times and felt the straw being taken away. He made a last ditch effort to get
it all. Water ran down his face as it was taken away.

"I swear, you don't listen at all."

Kyle smiled at the indignation in Patrick's voice. He was
the weirdest nurse he'd ever had. He tried to open his eyes again, but they
were still heavy and sticky. "Patrick, what’s wrong with my eyes?"

"There’s nothing wrong with your eyes,
Lieutenant," said a woman's voice. The voice seemed strict, old.
"You've just been sleeping for a long time and haven't opened them. I'll
clean them for you. And now that you're awake, you can have some pain meds. Are
you in pain?"

"God yes!" Kyle said.

Kyle heard Patrick laugh at this and ignored it. He figured
Fort Macon didn't fall since Patrick was here. By his chipper attitude, his
wife and family must be alive also. It felt like a weight had been lifted from
his chest. He hoped everyone else made it but didn't want to ask, didn't want
to know right now.

Other questions leaped to his mind though. Lieutenant?  Who
was this woman? Where was he?  Definitely not at Macon. The bed was comfortable
and he heard medical machines softly beeping. A hospital, but where?  More
questions surged through his mind as he felt his body easing, his pain drifting
away. He sighed, physically relaxing as the tension and pain lifted off him.

"Better?" questioned the nurse.

"Yes, much. Thanks," Kyle said. He never
understood the tough guys in the movies, who would shake their head at
medication, as if they could handle the pain or needed to keep their mind clear.
Only a person who'd felt debilitating pain and the miraculous relief of
medication would understand. He accepted that his body needed to heal, and
would gladly take something so he wouldn't have to feel it constantly.

"Good," responded the woman. He felt something
wet wipe his eyes, much gentler than he would have expected judging from the
voice. She spent a minute on one eye, then the next, wiping it clear. "Now
open them slowly."

He did, blinking several times. His vision cleared and he
saw Patrick, his yellow Mohawk fixed, standing at the end of his bed.

"Welcome back professor general," said Patrick.

Kyle grunted. "Are you here alone?"

Patrick laughed, "Hell no! I didn't get here until
today. James came with you. Man, you should have seen it. He actually pulled a
gun on the guy in the helicopter, though I don’t think he had any-"

"Get him."

Patrick stood and walked to the open door, he stuck his
head out. "You heard him?"

No response came, but Patrick walked back in, followed by
the unsmiling James. He looked like Kyle felt. His face seemed drawn and he
looked at Kyle through eyes laced with red. He nodded at Kyle, but didn't say
anything else.

"You stayed?" Kyle asked simply.

James nodded, his eyes not leaving Kyle, who just looked at
him. "I was bit."

James nodded again, apparently not feeling the need to
explain anything.

"Sit down James, you look tired."

James began to shake his head, but Kyle stopped him.
"Sit!"

James walked to one of the two chairs at the end of his bed
and sat down. He leaned back in the chair and seemed to relax. Kyle felt better
with James here, but the guy was on the edge. He knew James had stayed, then
Grace must be alright. Still, he didn’t want to ask.

"I see you're finally awake. A bit of a sloth, aren’t
you?"

Kyle turned to find Grace standing in the door, holding
coffee. Seeing her almost sent him crying like a baby. He'd left her in the fight,
not sure if she was dead or alive. Now, she stood there looking at him, her
beautiful green eyes locked on him. She walked into room, handed some coffee to
James and Patrick, then walked up to his bed. She placed her small hand on his
face and leaned down to kiss him. He felt her lips, soft and gentle, press
against him. It was quick, over before he could register what was happening. His
heart stopped, wanting to pull her back. Damn inconvenient, this bed.

"It's good to see you," she said, her hand still
on the side of his face. He tried to reach up to hold her hand, but pain
twisted his face and she quickly pushed his hand down again. "Stop. I'm
here. Just lay still."

Kyle didn't say anything. He couldn't. Guilt washed over
him at the thought of Billy and his family. Guilt at being alive when they were
dead. Abe. A part of him still wanted to join his brother, to stop fighting and
just hug his brother again. He knew his emotions were all mixed up. The drugs,
he told himself. The pain of his brother cut through everything he was, but he
didn't feel the threat of his heart stopping anymore. The pain wasn’t as sharp,
but it was still there. He needed time.

"How am I not dead or a diseased now? How are any of
us here?" he asked, trying to harden his voice.

"Well," Patrick began, standing up from his seat.
He raised his hand as if to explain with it.

"They found the cure,” Grace said, jumping in before
Patrick could get going. “And you've had the vaccine."

"The cure to what?" he said.

"A virus," said Grace. "We don't know much
more than that. They haven't told us, but they gave us all the cure. Everyone
at Macon has already received it. You'd only been bitten for less than an hour
when you got the cure, so they say you'll be fine. Rich was bitten also and
he's fine."

Kyle just looked back at her. The cure! So maybe it was
over. He sighed when he heard about Rich. Another one safe. He couldn’t put off
the question anymore. "How many survived?"

"Well, Billy and his family … and after you did your
dive, Rich's friend, not Terry, the other one, was bit, but he bled out before
we could stop it."

Kyle waited for the rest, expecting the worst, but Grace stopped,
looking back at him, as if waiting for an explosion. "Five total?"

"Only five from the fight. Yes."

"And Jack and Abe before," Kyle said. Saying it
aloud caused him to seize up, but grace squeezed his hand, bringing him back.

"I thought it would be higher," said Kyle
finally, pushing away thoughts of his brother. "But how did we all
survive? There were still thousands of diseased left.

"Oh man," Patrick said, happy to insert himself
into the conversation. "A few minutes after you tackled those diseased,
nice move by the way, a grey helicopter showed up. They call it a Hammerhead or
something, anyway it's big. Then it hangs right above us and marines start
sliding down ropes all around us, more than twenty of them, all armed to the
teeth. They took care of the rest of the diseased for us. Of course, we did all
the heavy lifting, didn't we?"

Kyle smiled, his heart lifting at the news. "Where did
they come from?"

Grace answered, "The base, this base actually. Jasmine
gave the girls instructions to keep trying the radio during the battle and they
eventually got through. Lucky."

Kyle would have nodded, but it hurt too much. "Very lucky,
about them showing up and us not losing more people."

"You really should have, but you put up quite a fight,"
said another voice. A soldier stood in the doorway. A Lieutenant Colonel if
James could see correctly. The man was older, pushing fifty but built like a
bulldog, stout and wide. He wore a smile, something Kyle didn't equate with
marines, especially Lt. Colonels.

"Would you guys mind if the Lieutenant and I had a
quick talk?  I won't keep him long," asked the colonel, looking at his friends.

Patrick stood, as if it was a done deal, and started
heading to the door. He stopped when he noticed James stand slowly, not
preparing to leave, but looking to square off. Grace looked uncertainly between
the officer and Kyle, not sure what to do.

"James,” Kyle said, noticing the threatening body
language from his friend. "It's okay. It'll be fine. I need you to do
something for me though."

James kept his eyes on the colonel, but gave Kyle
indication for him to ask. Kyle continued, "Go get a good meal, a shower
and some sleep."

Now James did turn his head and looked at Kyle. His face,
impassive, turned back to the officer one more time, then he gave a nod and
walked out of the room without a word. Kyle turned his head to Grace, squeezed
her hand and said, "Will you make sure he does that? He looks like death
and I'm not going anywhere."

"I will," she said and walked past the Colonel, who
gave her a smile. Patrick threw him a thumbs up as he waited for Grace, then
they left and closed the door behind them.

"Good people you have," said the Colonel, moving
into the chair James had left empty. He leaned back and seemed to sink into the
chair. James got a good look at the man and pure exhaustion radiated from him. More
than tired, he seemed to be drained, though still keeping a smile on his face.

"How about I give you a run down on everything that's
happened and we'll go from there," said the Colonel. Kyle gave a nod and
he continued. "It was a virus that hit us. An engineered virus. Apparently
North Korea, in one of their underground labs, tried to produce a zombie like
virus that would wipe us out before they invaded. Unfortunately, they came
pretty close to succeeding. The virus they produced works much like leprosy, it
kills the nerve receptors in your brain. Simply put, the people infected don't
feel pain. In addition, they added a virus similar to rabies, which stops
cognitive thought and increases rage and terror to a point where the brain is
fried."

"The good news is, it’s a simple fix and the vaccine
has already been made and widely distrusted. The bad news is that the damage
had already been done. Over sixty percent of America's population was affected,
the others were immune. But even for those who were immune, especially those in
the city, they had to deal with the infected trying to kill them, scavengers
and all the bad parts of humanity. We calculate over seventy percent of the
population has died at this point. We are the survivors."

The Colonel paused, letting Kyle take in everything he'd
said. Kyle remained silent. He'd known it was bad, even thought it might be
exactly as the Colonel had reported it. But to hear it as truth for the first
time left him numb. The world he knew, everything he loved; gone. It was a
concept he couldn't grasp right now, he wondered if he ever could. As shocking
as it was, he felt disconnected from it. Too much had happened in the last week
for him be shocked. He lost too much for him to be appalled by the loss of
others. Selfish probably, but he couldn't help it.

"How do we know North Korea did it?" said Kyle.

"Oh, we've got good Intel on that, after the fact, of
course. There's also the little issue of them trying to invade us."

"Invade us?"

The Colonel nodded his head. "Yes, we debriefed some
of your people and they mentioned a tanker ship that fired on your fort."

Kyle nodded his head. That seemed like ancient history now,
though it happened only a week ago.

"Well," continued the Colonel, "North Korea,
thinking they'd let the disease wipe us out, sent hundreds of container ships
packed with soldiers to every major port in the States. Each ship carried
thousands of North Korean soldiers, starved though they were. Their targets
were military bases, munitions dumps, national and regional governments,
manufacturing…you get the point."