Dead Air (Book One of The Dead Series) (27 page)

A private named Harry Bronson had just come on duty and entered tent one to perform his rounds when he was attacked by three of the low-risk cases who had all died and came back within
a few minutes of each other.

Tent one was dimly lit and the least populated of the four quarantine areas
, so initially the attack went unnoticed. This was aided by the fact that many of those sent to the QZ had been given tranquilizers by the medical staff to keep them from acting out. Most were in a deep sleep. With a smorgasbord set out before them, the dead started a feeding frenzy on the twenty-eight people in tent one. Seven were killed before one of the refugees came out of her drug-induced stupor, and when she saw those around her being eaten, started screaming. This alerted those inside and out that something was amiss.

The dead lashed out with teeth and nails at the living as they woke up and tried to get away, trampling a five year old who had been separated from her mother in the chaos.

Eight of those wounded from the attack fled across the field seeking shelter on the home side of the field while the National Guard rushed in to stop the dead.

Gunshots rang out as the soldi
ers disposed of the living dead who continued to feast on those unlucky enough not to escape tent one. When they were finished, the troops had put down the original three zombies along with everyone they saw that had been bitten or scratched.

Eventually they got the situation under control
but no head count was taken. No one realized that eight people were missing until more screams started to come from tents on the home side of the field.

One after another, three tents erupted in riot as the infected
that had fled tent one died and came back to feast on the living. The Guard troops rushed in but were too few in number to regain control of the situation. Someone had the presence of mind to turn on the huge lights that ringed the football field but these took time to reach their full brightness. As the illumination slowly grew, it revealed a scene from hell.

The dead chased the living in and around the tents
, sometimes stopping and turning on an older person or a child who were easier to catch. They would eat until that person died and then move on to the next meal. With so much fresh meat available, the undead did not waste time dining on the truly dead.

The few soldiers on duty were quickly isolated from each other as they tried to regain control of the football field. Uninfected people swarmed them, seeking safety and hamper
ing their efforts to put down the dead. The infection spread rampantly as those who had been bitten succumbed to death and soon came back as the undead.

The Lieutenant left in charge of the area radioed for the patrols to come back as he saw the situation spiraling out of control. From his perch in the
announcer’s booth high up in the grandstands that circled the field, he could count fewer than ten of his men left below. Even as he watched, one soldier was attacked by a zombie who proceeded to rip the doomed man’s ear off with its teeth while another of the living dead grappled with a Guardsmen on the fifty yard line.

An idea struck him
so he turned on the microphone attached to the PA system. During the day they used it to make announcements such as chow times and shower schedules, but as darkness fell, they turned it off so as not to disturb those trying to sleep in the tents below.

Feedback whined
, which let the Lieutenant know the system was working. He instantly started issuing orders. Knowing that the dead wouldn't heed his voice, he called out to the living, "Everybody down. Everybody down, civilians get down on the ground, now. Troopers, open fire on everything standing."

He repeated the message over and over as the civilians hugged the ground and his men were given clear shots at the dead. Some of the living didn't heed the warning to drop and were shot by mistake
but these were few in number. The majority huddled in fear as the National Guard troops, now given a clear field of fire, proceeded to decimate the living dead who lurched and stumbled around. When the initial fusillade had dropped the zombies in clear view, the Guardsmen could then move about and fire into the heads of those crouched over their meals.

By the time the first of the patrols arrived back at the high schoo
l, the living dead had all been dispatched but confusion still reigned.

Wounded cried out for aid as they lay scattered about on the grass. The lucky ones had been hit by gunfire and
the Army medical staff, which had rushed from the school, tended to these wounds. Those less fortunate, meaning those who showed clear signs of having been bitten or had open wounds that had come into contact with infected body fluid, were dispatched on the spot by a bullet to the brain stem.

Calls went to Police, Fire
and EMT units, ordering them to start ferrying the wounded to local hospitals. When Heather first came upon the scene it was a madhouse. A line of vehicles was backed up onto Gulf to Bay Boulevard in both directions from the parking area as emergency aid flowed toward the disaster area. Stuck in line, Heather saw that the soldiers had cordoned off the football field and would let none of the civilians leave until they had completely undressed and were examined for signs of infected wounds.

She watched as one
middle-aged lady stood naked, shaking with fear while a doctor examined her. Two armed National Guard soldiers waited a few feet away, keeping a close eye on the proceedings.

After studying a
bloody mark on the woman's shoulder, the doctor suddenly straightened and backed away, gesturing toward his patient as he spoke to the nearest armed guard.

A look of horror spread over the woman'
s features and she started to plead for her life. Both soldiers shouldered their rifles, taking aim at her. She turned to run but was stopped short as two bullets crashed into her head, dropping her in her tracks.

In shock from witnessing the execution, Heather
’s mind told her that she just seen murder committed. Her training took over as she reached for her pistol but was stopped short when someone knocked loudly on the front windshield of her car.

Jerking her head around, she locked eyes with a Clearwater Police
Officer standing by the side of her cruiser. What he was saying didn't register at first.

S
eeing the wild-eyed look on Heather's face, the cop slowly repeated what he had said, "She was infected. They had no choice and she had no chance. She got a death sentence the moment she was bitten. Tighten up Deputy, because that's what we have to do to try and keep this thing under control." He paused to let the words sink in before asking, "You gonna make it, girl?"

Heather saw the harsh reality of the unreal situation in a flash. Tightening her jaw, she nodded.

The cop gave her an encouraging smile saying, "Then move up. You're blocking traffic."

Heather looked forward and saw that
, while she had been engrossed in the scene with the woman, the line waiting to enter the parking lot had left her behind. Her ears suddenly registered impatient horns beeping at her from the rear so she let her foot off the brake and idled forward.

As she pulled away from the Clearwater cop
, she heard him call to her, "They're issuing M-16's to all road patrols. You might think about getting one."

Heather followed
the traffic snaking into the parking lot as she decided that getting an automatic rifle would be a good idea. No, scratch that. It would be a
real
fucking good idea. When she finally pulled up to the loading area, she asked the firemen directing vehicles where she could get one. Instead of answering, he stepped aside as a Guardsman opened the rear doors of her cruiser and helped two wounded civilians into the back seat.

One was bleeding profusely from a
gunshot wound to the neck and seemed unconscious. The other had bandages covering her face which she kept reaching up tentatively to touch before jerking her hands away in pain.

The fireman bent down to Heather
’s window and said, "These are priority and they're clean. No infection." He reached inside and rapped the cage separating the front and back with his knuckles before adding, "This'll keep you safe anyways."

"M-16," Heather said
. "Where do I get one?"

"Next trip. When you come back, go to the gymnasium."

Heather nodded and accelerated away.

Now
, on what would be her sixth trip to the high school, she had yet to receive the additional weapon. She had her police issued handgun and shotgun, but the idea of having an M-16 in her possession gave her a better sense of security. She knew the pistol and shotgun would get the job done but were only accurate at close range. She had qualified with the M-16 assault rifle and knew she could put a round in the bull’s eye from three hundred feet away. The way things were breaking down, it was only a matter of time before she had to shoot one of them and it would be better to do it from a distance.

As she turned into the parking lot, the wind shifted and Heather almost gagged at the swe
et, cloying stink that blew her way. Recognizing the smell of burning flesh, she pulled her t-shirt up from under her shirt and Kevlar vest to cover her nose and mouth.

They had told her
on her last trip that they would be disposing of the bodies. She assumed that meant they would be burying them.

As younger people were fond of sayin
g: Not!

The group of Guardsman and firemen wh
o had been loading the wounded were gone and were replaced by a lone Clearwater cop standing on the sidewalk waving her on while saying, "We’re done, go back to your regular patrol."

Recognizing him as the officer who had originally told her about the M-16's,
she pulled her car into a parking spot and got out. She was surprised when the Clearwater cop smiled and called out a greeting after recognizing her. With all the people moving through here tonight, she just assumed she was one more face in the crowd.

"What's going on?" He asked, "You
keepin' it together? Thought you were gonna draw down on those soldier boys earlier."

Smiling self consciously, she replied, "
Naw, I got my shit wired together now.  It’s a little much to take at first."

For Heather this was true. Still being fairly new on the
Sheriff’s Department, for the past few days she had been sent out on calls that were routine, while the veteran officers were sent on the more dangerous runs. She had listened closely as they talked about encounters with the undead and how they were dealt with and wondered how she would react in a similar situation. Now it looked like she would get a chance to find out.

"That
it is," he agreed. Pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the glow of funeral pyres visible on the far side of the stadium, he added, "They're torching seventy plus bodies over there. The Guard's worried about the infection spreading. This is like something from a third world country, man. It just gets weirder and weirder. It's like all the old rules have been thrown out and the new ones all deal with just plain survival."

Heather understood what he was saying. It was like something ominous was in the air. She had felt it since coming on duty earlier. The first two calls she had responded to had been
suicides; people who didn't want to live in a society that was breaking down. While the lights still came on when you flipped a switch and the television still played the fall lineup, you knew it wasn't going to last. Change was coming, and the unimaginable was now going to be the mundane. What had been paranoia on Wednesday had become reality on Sunday.

Alt
hough much of what was happening was gruesome and went against the status quo, Heather couldn’t help but feel an excitement building up in her. The word that suddenly came into her mind wasn't quite right, but it would do for now.

Freedom.

For a brief moment she could understand the mentality of the looters and the lawbreakers. Not agree with it but at least understand it. The rulebook had been thrown out now and everything was fair game. Turning away from the glow behind the stadium, Heather asked, "Do you have any more of those M-16's? I've got a feeling I might need one before this is over."

"Yeah, I think we can hook you up,"
he said. Looking around at the deserted parking lot, he added, "I was just about to head in anyway. They sent me out here to direct traffic when everything went to shit and it looks like my job is done."

As Heather and her new friend headed along the sidewalk toward the double exit doors set in the end wall of the gymnasium, she
spoke into the radio microphone attached to her Kevlar vest to let base know where she was. Approaching the doors, the Clearwater cop veered off the sidewalk onto the grass, "Don't want to go in through there. We’ll use the side door that leads through the locker room."

As if suddenly remembering, he introduced himself, "Name's Tad by the way
." Pointing to a spot over his breast pocket he said, "Lost my nametag earlier. It says Gruenwald, but everyone who knows me calls me Tad."

Heather introduced herself
and asked, "Why can’t we use the other doors?"