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

A napkin covered a basket of rolls, which Irma set on the table when a crisp smelling Saul returned.

“Saul, honey, please, put on a nice shirt.”

“I’m home for the first time in nearly 48 hours. I’m not working. I’d like to be comfortable.”

“Fine.” Irma walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “I have a nice cheese plate made in the kitchen, do you want to nibble.”

“No, no, I’m good.” Saul’s hands gripped the back of the chair. “Who’s coming to dinner?”

“Bill and Lacia.”

“Who?”

“Bill and Lacia. Katherine’s husband and daughter. I figured they could use a home cooked meal while she’s out of town.”

“Irma, I don’t think Katherine cooked.”

Irma gave a little wave of her hand. “I’m sure they had meal time.” She glanced up at Saul as she fixed the table. “What’s going on? Is it that Peruvian flu? I’ve been reading about that in the papers, the net …”

“You shouldn’t hear much about that after tomorrow morning.”

“Over?”

“Contained Hans said.” Saul remarked.

“So you’re marking it contained.”

“Actually, the news release is that it’s mass hysteria causing it.”

Irma’s hand went to her chest. “Thank God. What wonderful news to be telling Bill and Lacia.”

“What news.”

“That Katherine should be home. It’s not a flu it’s hysteria.”

“No, Irma.” Saul shook his head. “The news release is gonna say it’s mass hysteria.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

“Saul why are you lying to the public.”

“To stop mass hysteria.”

Irma tilted her head with a look that conveyed she didn’t understand.

“What else can we do?” Saul asked.

“So there is a flu.”

“Oh, yeah. Not airborne, but a highly contagious fast moving flu.”

“Deadly?”

“No one has died yet.”

“Yet?”

Saul shrugged.

“But it’s contained?”

“Yes. No more ill have come in, we have everyone that is infected.”

“Saul, if it’s contained. Why not say that?” Irma asked.

“Because how can we explain a flu or bacterial infection that we have never seen, that appears more and more every day to have come from outer space.”

Irma gasped. “I’ve read novels about that.”

“Yeah, so have millions of other people. It could be worse if the news of this thing gets out. No, no.” Saul walked slowly from the chair. “It’s better this way. This way everyone will forget about it. We can put it to rest and God willing.” Saul peered to her with his tired eyes. “We’ll never see this again.”

CHAPTER SIX

May 6
^th

Carancus, Puno, Peru

Katherine rubbed her eyes. If she stared at the microbes on the computer screen another second, she would go blind and or crazy. Peering to the corner of her computer screen, she saw the time of 2 AM. Things had been quiet, too quiet. She didn’t even hear many voices. She decided quiet time was the best time to check on things.

She left her makeshift lab quietly. Hans was sleeping on the cot and she pulled the door closed. A soldier was posted right outside her door. He stood diligently on his night shift.

“Evening,” she said to him.

“Ma’am. Working late I see.”

“Again,” she smiled pleasantly at him. He wasn’t young. He wasn’t old, but he wasn’t a baby face soldier. She was grateful for the protection that the Army provided. Of course, they had their own virology team there as well. Their trailer posted another mile or so away. They were there for research, not care. Katherine was there for both.

She said a good night, thanked him for doing his job and walked over to the first tent about fifty yards away. No soldiers were posted there. No need. There were four that sat by a perimeter twenty yards away. Too far to shout out to them, she didn’t want to wake the ill.

The first tent contained about two hundred people, the first wave of ill; she’d walk through there on her way to the next tent.

She opened the flap. It smelled funny, sounded too quiet.

Stepping into the clerical and nurses’ area, Katherine was surprised that the night nurse wasn’t there. Maybe she was checking on patients.

With an extension of her arm, she drew back the curtain to the main sick bay. A place where cots upon cots were lined up.

Katherine stopped.

The tent was void of the hundred of patients. The cots were empty. Was she dreaming? Where were the patients? Just as she turned to find help, she saw a single patient lying on the bed.

Carlos.

He didn’t move. Katherine walked hurriedly to the bed.

“Carlos.” She reached down to this arm and he fingers retracted. Cold. His skin was hard and cold. Her hand moved to his wrist. “Oh my God,” she wisped out. He hadn’t a pulse. She turned to call for help when a hand clasped upon her forearm. She peeped a shriek at the tight grip and shifted her eyes.

Carlos stared at her.

“Carlos?” She reached for his grip. “Carlos you’re hurting me.”

A foul odor pummeled her when he widened his mouth and gasped.

She turned her head, aiming her voice outward with a shout. “Someone!” But she never got a chance to get out another word. A sharp tearing pain ripped into her arm like she had never felt, and a silent scream of agony escaped her. She looked to see Carlos, his teeth sunk into her flesh. Strands of bloody ligaments and veins extended from her arm to his mouth as he pulled hungrily.

Horrified, Katherine fought to free her arm. Her screams were muffled with pain and fear, and her escape attempt was in vain.

From the cot, Carlos lunged. His flailing body careened into Katherine, knocking her into anther cot. Locked in almost a mad, fighting embrace, they fell to the floor.

<><><><>

Like a child with night terrors, Hans sat straight up on the cot, tensioning, unable to move, unaware of his surroundings. It took him a few moments to come to. He controlled his breaths and his mind began to think clearly.

Was it a scream he heard? Yes, he heard a scream.

Wait. He thought, no. No only silence.

What was it that caused him to awake and sit straight up in bed?

The lights in the lab were still on and he looked at his watch.

Nearly three am.

Needing a cigarette, Hans swung his legs over the cot, stumbled to the door, grabbing his coat and smokes as he opened it.

The soldier on post looked over his shoulder at Hans and smiled.

“Son,” Hans said. Not that the soldier could be his son, Hans had him by maybe 15 years tops.

“Sir.”

“You seen Dr. Welsh?” Hans lit a cigarette.

“Yes, sir, she went to the tents.” The soldier nodded in a point at the tent area.

“Did you hear anything?” Hans asked, blowing out the smoke.

“No, sir, it’s been quiet.”

Cigarette clenched between his fingers he brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply bringing his head upward as he did.

Hans paused.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of the light in the tent. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“The light in the tent flickered.”

“No, I didn’t. Maybe . . .”

It was clear that the soldier saw it at the same time Hans did.

This time the light truly flickered as if it were being hit.

“I’m going to go check that out,” Hans said, and started to walk toward the tent.

“I’ll come with you.”

The soldier kept up the pace and as they approached, they could hear the other group of soldiers talking and laughing.

Hans took that as a sign all was well.

Probably just a power problem.

He walked into the tent. Nothing. No sounds. He lifted the nurse’s clipboard to check to see when she did rounds last.

He stared at it,

“Something wrong?” the soldier asked.

“Last notation was two hours ago. Where is the nurse? Katherine.”

“In there?”

Holding the clipboard, Hans parted the curtain. His steps were slow, as he was exposed to the same first sight as Katherine had been.

“Where are the patients?” the soldier quizzed.

“I … I don’t know.” Hans stuttered. His body shifted to the right and to the left. “God.”

The shifting of his weapon startled Hans almost as much as all the blood by Carlos’ empty cot.

“What the hell happened?” Hans spoke his thoughts out loud. “Soldier, go get some help.”

“Yes, sir. I think you should come with me, though.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sir…”

“I’m fine. Go.”

“Yes, sir.”

The soldier backed up and left. Hans walked to the cot.

The bedding was still shimmering in blood and he stared at it in wonder. But he wasn’t going to stay long. After a quick examination he turned.

The light flickered and he saw her.

At the other end of the tent, Katherine stood there. He couldn’t see her clearly, she was a mere shadow.

Hans sighed out in relief. “Katherine.” He rushed her way.

She didn’t move.

“Katherine. Are you all right.” He closed in on her. “What happened here?”

On his last word, Katherine stammered to him and into the way of the light.

Hans saw her.

Her head tilted, her body bloody, her neck was wounded, and from her stomach, a gaping hole appeared to seep her insides. Her lifeless eyes stared at him.

“Good God, Katherine.” In an instinctual leap to help, Hans grabbed on to her. His fingers touched her arm. He froze as he got a closer look.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. He felt it when he saw her. And then Katherine made this horrendous gasping sound. Her mouth opened and it lunged for his arm.

Hans drew back his arm quickly and Katherine moved in a slow attack mode. He shoved her back. “Soldier!” he cried out and she leapt for him again. Another shove, Katherine stumbled back, and returned in her pursuit.

He couldn’t think of anything else, but to get out of there. But before she could touch him again, in order to make a clear escape, Hans swung out the clipboard, smashing her in the side of the head. He dropped it and ran out.

<><><><>

It was a blur.

Hans took off from the tent with the mission in mind to call the CDC. Someone. He didn’t know what happened, what occurred. He screamed for help as he ran from the tent, looking over his shoulder only once to see the soldiers scurry to aid.

But he kept on running.

He locked the CDC lab. His hands shook. Calm. Calm. He had to calm down.

He fumbled for his cigarettes and, against the rules or not, lit on in the lab and grabbed the phone. His fingers shook his badly as he dialed and inhaled his nicotine.

A couple hits, a ring. No answer. A Voice mail.

Damn it.

Middle of the message he heard a few shots outside and it caused him to jump and topple the phone.

In a panic he spun around, double check the lock. As he did he noticed the blood on his hand. Heart beating out of control, Hans ran to the sink, rolled up his sleeve and submerged his arm under the power stream all with the cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Come on, come on,” he beckoned out loud, watching the blood clear from his skin.

He breathed out heavily. A sigh. The injury was a speck bigger than a puncture would and wasn’t even bleeding anymore.

After rinsing, he washed it, rinsed, and then scrubbed the wound with disinfectant.

He coughed from the smoke, dried his arms, and then finally took the cigarette from his lips.

His phone was broken on the floor, and he reached down for the pieces.

Telling himself to relax, he sat, smoked his cigarette and tried to fix his phone. Anything to take his mind off of the strange event that had just occurred.

<><><><>

‘God, oh my God. Something’s happened. The bacteria. The virus…’
Hans’ words were rushed, panicked, and filled with static on the voicemail message.
‘Something’s happened to Katherine. She’s gotten violent. I think she caught it. Maybe it’s the virus. The patients are gone. Not dead gone, but gone. I fear they may be suffering from the same delirium. She tried to attack me. She …’

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Silence.

End of message.

Saul had missed the call and by the time he woke, the phone stopped ringing. He tried with diligence to call back, but it went straight to voice mail.

All he knew was that a frightened sounding Hans called and there were gunshots.

He tried every line and couldn’t get through to the site.

Saul didn’t need to be a psychic to know something went awry. Hans never lost his cool. Ever.

First thing was first, Saul had to find out what was going on and get help if needed to the area. He couldn’t do that from his home, so praying that everything was fine, he began to make phone calls for that help.

CHAPTER SEVEN

4 miles out Carancus, Puno, Peru

Pedro was a farmer, or he liked to associate himself as being a farmer. He didn’t grow much, and when his business as a carpenter folded, he moved his wife and two children to live with his mother. An ill woman of little means.

They made it through the hard times. Selling chickens and eggs, along with greens.

Pedro, a man of forty-five was a good man. People liked him. They counted on him. Strong and fit, dependable and wise.

Pedro had a lot to say about his teenage children. On the previous night, their late night sneaking wasn’t a bad thing. They had gone out to the wooded area with others and heard a child crying. Sobbing, they said and they and their friends searched. Hours after they were supposed to be home they told Pedro of their search. At first, Pedro, like any father thought this was their excuse, until he saw the desperation on their faces.

Then he, knowing the area as well as he did, took up the search.

When he first entered the area he heard the crying and followed it, calling out for the child. The crying continued and Pedro worried for the child’s welfare, and if he could get to the child before the elements did.