Zombie Battle (Books 1-3): Trinity (19 page)

Lance read the report and despite what the information conveyed, he had a hard time believing all that was happening. The soldiers taken into custody in Texas, infected. But they weren’t exterminated, which was a mistake. Two of them escaped.

Dr. Saul Klein called it the Faberge effect. One turns into two, they hit two and so on and so forth. Based on an old shampoo commercial but how true the old quirky commercial conveyed not only word of mouth, but infection by mouth.

Problem was the infected were taking out more than two. Each infected before being destroyed would bite at least one person and scratch many others.

Those hundred or so infected down in Texas, how many did they infect? How many of their victims were clueless to what they caught? Just like those at the CDC who were infected, they ran amuck with the virus.

 The Specialist down in Atlanta who was deemed fine was different. He was hope for those bitten because he started to get well. But that changed. He got loose and they still hadn’t found him; but he was responsible for over forty infected.

Fort Bragg.

San Diego.

Atlanta.

Dallas.

Seattle.

Lawrence, Kansas.

Those were the main locations reported within the United States. Lance knew it had grown beyond that and he was waiting for the reports to come in.

At least he believed the problem started and stopped in Washington with Colonel Manning.

He believed that until he found out differently. Apparently an aide was on hand when the President was attacked. He tried to help but was scratched in the process. The aide didn’t think about it until he became ill. He tucked himself away until the scheduled press conference for the evening when the Vice President would address the nation and try to instill calm while telling them more about this virus.

Lance and Don heard the chaos, shots and screams before they got to the press room. Instead of a briefing before the conference, it was pandemonium.

One of the CIA agents in the room …. having been bitten himself, told how the aide stumbled in, walked to the Vice president and bit him.

Agents on hand rushed to help the Vice President, and the aide attacked them as well. They shot the aide, but not in the head, and the he kept lunged into the audience and went after a reporter from Fox news.

By the time Lance arrived, the chaos was in full bloom. Those with deadly bite wounds rose up almost immediately and turned on others.

.

A group of undead gathered around the remains of the vice president’s body, pulled on his limbs and insides as if searching for a hidden treasure.

Others were occupied with those who were down and snarling, lifted their heads at the annoyance of the bullets.

“Aim for the fucking head,” Lance ordered. “Quit wasting shots.”

And the General, Secretary of Health, along with the remaining and injured CIA man shot and destroyed all they could.

Once the situation calmed down, Lance ordered Don to see if any of the injured had escaped and to notify the guards on the premises. He told this to him just before he calmly turned and shot the injured CIA agent in the head.

Don backed up fearful. “He wasn’t one of them.”

“He would be. Did you see how many bites he had?” Lance checked his weapon. “And I swear to God Donny, if it happens to me and you don’t put a goddamn bullet in my head, you’re the first person I am eating. Now we have to go. You head that way...” Lance pointed. “I’ll back out this way to see if anyone escaped.”

Don, visually shaken, nodded and raced from the room. He slipped several times on the blood slicked floor.

Lance started to leave as well. He stopped briefly to check out the room to make sure no one stirred. They didn’t.

He realized the ‘would-be’ conference had done just the opposite when he saw a bloodied reporter on television news, standing in front of the White House, the reporter in disarray was shaking and out of breath. “That footage was raw and disturbing,” he said. “But it holds the truth about this virus that has hit several of our cities including Atlanta. I came for answers today. More than words that video of the massacre at the press conference says it all. But, I left the White House. I was lucky to escape with my life and only a few minor injuries.” I’m waiting now to get more information.

Lance reached up, turning off the TV as the Anchorwoman stated, “Well be showing that footage of the conference again in ….”

Rubbing his eyes, Lance took a moment to calm down and think. He had to come up with a plan.

Calm was out the window.

Covering up was out the window.

The news had broken and broke big time.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Atlantic Ocean

The Captain was asleep and the First Officer in the control summoned Doctor Chase to read the health bulletin. After all, it more than likely dealt with him.

Chase didn’t mind being roused from bed, he wasn’t sleeping and he was shocked at the bulletin.

It didn’t come from the CDC or WHO, it came from the Pentagon. It stated that all vessels that had left port from Europe were to report any personnel who exhibited the following symptoms.

High fever

Delirium

Rage

Bite wound or scratch that does not heal.

And the list presented three or four physical characteristics as well. Personnel who exhibited the symptoms were to be placed in high security quarantine.

‘Report these individuals to receive further instructions’ the bulletin said.

Upon reading, Chase turned to the officer and returned the bulletin. “Get the Captain. Tell her she needs to report that Seaman Nelson is possibly infected with this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell her I am going to check on Nelson and will return with my findings.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chase paused in the door. “I mean it. Now.” Without waiting for further argument, Chase made his way quickly to the medical quarters.

Nelson was the only patient they had in sick bay and a Corpsman was on duty, watching the patient for any further signs of deterioration.

Chase hoped that he would walk into sick bay, see Nelson and there would be some improvement. The bulletin was unclear about what they were dealing with and he couldn’t take the chance of a highly contiguous virus being unchecked in a closed in vessel such as a submarine.

He entered sick bay and it was dark except for the light that came from the corpsman’s desk in the back of the room.

It was quiet, too quiet and something didn’t feel right.

Chase stepped quietly to the third bunk.

“What the hell?” he gasped outward at the empty bunk. The IV laid on the bunk, but no blood, no Nelson.

“Corpsman.” Chase called, moving quickly to the back.

 As he drew closer he could see the Corpsman. His head was down on the desk.

“Son of a bitch, he’s sleeping.” He quickened his stride and something slippery caught his foot as he neared the desk. Chase slid a good foot before he caught his balance. “Corpsman!”

The Corpsman slowly sat up straight.

“Corpsman, our patient is missing. Did you fall …”

Chase was about to ask if the corpsman fell asleep, but the words never came.

The corpsman turned to Chase and as he did, the huge gaping hole that took up half his throat, left him with no neck support and the Corpsman’s head flopped to the side.

“Oh my God.” Chase backed up.

The Corpsman opened his mouth wide, but there was no noise. Standing, the corpsman’s head hung, attached to him by the few remaining ligaments. It was a pathetic sight as he reached outward, but the Corpsman was unable to focus on what he was reaching for.

Chase’s thought was to run. Get the hell out. Secure the sick bay doors.

He was prepared to do so and rushed back a single step before he was stopped further and could go no further.

Chase never saw what he backed into or what got him.

Feeling the searing pain in his skull, Chase cried out in agony and the last thing to go through his mind was the realization that Nelson’s teeth were deep in his neck.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

May 12
^th

“Okay, you’re good. Move on,” Jack instructed the car with two occupants. Six lanes of highway, all of them outbound from Atlanta, and traffic was backed up as far as the eye could see.

It as getting tiresome, he had been at it for days. Checking the cars, asking question, scanning for body temperatures. He had come across many that were fevered and had to be isolated.

The reality of the situation was evident as the military carried gas cans, water and food for the vehicle passengers. Some people shut off their cars and waited on the side of the road. Some opted to move their vehicles and take available mass transportation. But one choice seemed to be unanimous. Get out of the city.

Reports had reached Jack that the virus was out of control in Atlanta, and in fact in several cities. But nationwide the military seemed to be doing a great job of keeping the homeland secure and the infected areas contained.

An elderly couple pulled up to Jack’s check point. “Ma'am, sir. How are you?”

The man, driving, nodded. “We’re fine.”

“Any encounters with the infected?” Jack asked.

The man and woman exchanged glances and then the man answered. “Yes. Our Neighbor. We got away.”

“Any bites or scratches. Injuries of any kind?” Jack questioned.

Both shook their heads.

They looked fine, coloring good. Perhaps a bit frazzled and Jack raised the temperature scanner. They were normal. “You’re good folks, you can go through.”

“Ya might …” The man pointed backwards. “Wanna send some men back there. Looks like commotion is building. Gotta lot of people in this sun.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.”

Jack raised his head to peer down the long line of traffic to see what the man was referring. He could hear commotion, arguing. He knew he had men back there and was going to send a few more back when he heard a woman scream not a few feet from him.

“No!” she cried out. “She’s not sick!”

The woman’s cry out was deep and the emotions of it cut through Jack. As the next car pulled to him. He held his hand up and moved to where the woman screamed. Why was she so emotional?

She had gotten from her car and was struggling with a soldier who was reaching in the back seat. “What’s going on?” Jack asked.

“Sarge,” the young soldier turned. “The baby is sick. Fevered.”

“No. No!” The woman argued. “She’s not. She’s teething. I swear. We weren’t around anyone sick.”

There was a distinct tug of war over that child. The mother fought diligently to keep the baby in the seat, while the soldier tired to take the small child.

Jack stepped in. “Hold up,” he said to the soldier. He whistled and signaled for someone to take his post then he turned to the young man. “Harris.” He viewed the name tag. “I’ll take over here. Why don’t you head to the back line of cars to see if our men need some help with the commotion?”

“Yes, Sarge.” Harris nodded and walked off.

“She’s teething,” the mother persuaded

Jack gave a calming look to the mother. “I’m just gonna look at her, okay?”

“She’s not sick.”

“You said that.” Jack leaned into the back of the car. The infant girl cooed and smiled at him. She wasn’t older than seven months. Jack ran his hand over her head, felt her arms. He then pulled the skin under her eyes and gave a visual exam. “All right.” Jack stepped back. “Go ahead. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” Surprising Jack, the young mother tip toed up and kissed him on the cheek. “She’s fine. Thank you.” Hurriedly she got in the driver door.

“Sarge?” Another private approached him. “Harris said the baby was fevered.”

“The baby isn’t infected.” Jack stated.

“How can you be sure?” the private asked.

“Because I have seen this virus. I have seen the infected. Trust me son. When you see one that’s been bit, you’ll know. You’ll know by the eyes,” Jack said assuredly and waved the next car forward.

Harris was disgruntled about the incident. In fact, he complained about Jack in a audible mumble all the way through the line of cars. He saw the glances people gave him.

Yeah, Jack was in charge, but Harris was following orders.

Somewhere about the halfway point things felt a little different with the cars. He could hear the rise of commotion from the back of the line. It was pretty far back, and he couldn’t believe Jack expected him to go all the way back there.

But right there, right smack in the center, it was quiet. Oddly quiet.

Harris turned to look back to the check in points, and then took in his surroundings. The cars around him were empty. How many cars had he walked by since he saw someone? Had he become so indifferent to seeing people that he didn’t notice them in the cars?

About four cars ahead he saw a man struggling with something in the back of his car. He was reaching in, his body moved with rigid jerks.

“Sir.” Harris called out, trotting closer. “Sir, is everything okay?”

He got to the open driver’s door, the man still didn’t respond. “Sir!”

The man stopped.

He withdrew from the car and when he did, Harris caught a quick glimpse of the passengers in the back. Children. Two of them. Their mouths agape, eyes wide, bodies bloody and the man pulled from the car. He turned with a sneering growl to Harris.

Harris gasped. But that was all he had time to do.

Jack swore he heard a scream. But those sounds, screams, yells and cries were so commonplace; he no longer let them ring a bell of warning in his head.

He should have.

Waving forward another car, Jack halted when he heard the screams turn from one to many. He stepped forward. He could see commotion at the far end of the line of traffic. Was there a riot? What was happening?

Just about to tell the occupants of the vehicle to hold on, Jack heard gunshots. Lots of them, and abandoning his task of checking the vehicle, he moved to find the cause of the commotion and firing.