Omega Pathogen: Despair (10 page)

“Isn’t Mrs. Matthews at the school?” Chelsea asked as they lined up and prepared to leave. “We’re going there first. Everybody ready?” Jim said. Hearing no objection implied they were as ready as they could be. Jim quietly counted to three and pushed open the door. Jim covered their front while Jeremy immediately followed him out and took the left side. Chris was on Jeremy’s heels and covered their right.

Jim approached the rear of the MRAP and checked the blind spot on the driver's side. It was clear, so he signaled for Arzu to bring Berk and Kayra. Arzu and the kids made their way to the MRAP. Arzu opened the rear doors and lifted the children inside. As she followed Berk and Kayra inside, Arzu directed them to take a seat as she climbed behind the wheel and flipped the battery switch on in preparation to start the MRAP.

Royce had made his way into his tow truck and waited for the MRAP to start. Linda, Kathy, and Chelsea followed Arzu into the MRAP. As Chelsea entered the rear doors she touched Jim on his left shoulder as she’d been instructed, to let him know that he, Chris and Jeremy were all that remained.

Once Chelsea was inside, she went straight for the cab and nodded when Arzu turned to her. Arzu started the MRAP. When they heard the diesel engine come to life, Jeremy, Chris, and Jim moved back towards the rear of the MRAP. Jeremy filed in, followed by Chris and then Jim. While Jim and Chris closed the rear doors, they heard Royce start the tow truck. Jeremy, as planned, took position at the base of the turret and readied the M249.

The adults and children alike looked toward the north window when they heard the loud bang against the wall of the schoolhouse. Staring in at them through the window were three rabid faces, two men and a woman. Each of their faces wore a mask of feral rage and madness that was unmistakable of those infected with the SCAR virus.

The infected woman was chewing on a piece of flesh that hung partially from her slavering mouth. All three at the window had remnants of blood on their faces that was being washed away by the falling rain.  All the children that had stared silently in terror all screamed at the sight of faces pressed against the glass. Outside the sounds of screaming could be heard and the sound of an engine growing closer.

Inside the MRAP, Jim and Chris quickly donned their tactical vests loaded with full magazines. Jeremy had begun putting his on after he’d loaded the machine gun. “Suit up, but I need you to stay here and cover us, bud,” Jim said and as he gestured upward with his head to the turret.

“Okay,” Jeremy replied and asked his mother to hand him the machine gun as he stepped back onto the base of the turret and opened hatch.

Jim grabbed a radio, switched it to channel one. “Chelsea. For Jeremy,” Jim said as he handed it to her.

Jim and Chris attached their radios and checked that their channels were the same. Jeremy pulled up and locked the M249 into its mount, and then took the radio from Chelsea.

“How much longer, Arzu?” Jim shouted.

“I can’t see anything,” Arzu replied.

Jim grabbed another radio and checked to make sure it functioned and was on the correct channel. “When we stop, give this to Royce,” Jim said as he handed it to Chris.

Behind the MRAP, Royce struggled to maintain far enough distance behind so he didn’t rear-end it when they slowed and also tried to keep from losing sight of the armored vehicle in the rain. He guessed they had to be close to the schoolhouse by now. He was looking around to try and determine where they were when the brake lights of the MRAP illuminated again and it became apparent that this time it was stopping. Royce slammed on the tow truck’s brakes and slid in the mud to a stop. Royce set the brake and put the transmission into neutral.

Arzu brought the MRAP to a sudden halt and yelled, “Here, on the left.”

Jim and Chris could just make barely out the side of the schoolhouse outside the driver's side of the MRAP. They were about ten feet away and still couldn’t see the entire side of the structure due to the torrential downpour.

Kathy joined Chris and Jim at the rear doors. “Make sure you close the doors as soon as we're out,” Jim said.

“Okay. But I’m going with you guys,” Kathy replied.

Jim had been looking out the rear door window with the handle in hand; ready to swing open the doors. When he heard Kathy, Jim whipped his head to the left at his sister, “The fuck you are. Sorry, Kathy. Stay here and close the doors,” Jim said. Jim turned back to the door, opened it and jumped out with Chris following.

Royce saw the two men emerge from the MRAP and opened his driver door to follow. Chris approached the semi while Jim stood nearby, looking in all directions with the muzzle following his eyes as he did. Jim could swear he heard the sounds of steps sloshing through mud.

Chris reached up and handed Royce the radio, “Dad wants you to wait in your truck. He may want you to pull to another side and try to draw infected away,” Chris said.

“Okay,” Royce said.

Chris turned and jogged the short distance to rejoin his father. Royce noticed movement in his peripheral vision to his left. He swung his head in the direction and saw a man running towards him. The face of the man was in the too familiar expression of rage. Even in the downpour, Royce could see the yellowish colored saliva drooling from his mouth. He aimed his .45 caliber pistol and fired twice. The man was struck in the chest by both rounds and fell backwards, landing next to the rear tires of the semi, where he remained unmoving.

Chris and Jim heard the shots and turned in the direction of the noise. They saw the body lying on the ground. With nothing else approaching, they refocused their attention back to the side of the schoolhouse. It was a blur in the rainstorm, but as they inched closer they could see the window on that side was shattered. Bloody handprints were smeared on the windowsill where the rain hadn’t yet reached. Jim approached the broken window, while Chris kept most of his attention behind them as they advanced.

Jim reached the left side of the window and, with his rifle aimed inside, strained to look. The rain poured off the angled roof in a waterfall in front of the window; it and the rainfall he was standing in made seeing the interior difficult. Jim could make out small human forms lying on the floor. The children. Some seemed to be moving as they lay about the room. Most didn’t.

He saw pools of blood throughout the interior, staining the concrete floor, and then he saw adult forms, two of them supine on the floor. One seemed to be moving, more like twitching. He saw no movement from the other adult. Jim recognized them; they were the other teachers. He couldn’t recall their names and was sorry they’d fallen victim to the infected, but felt a small amount of relief and hope when he didn’t see his mother. 

Jim angled his body position more to the left, pie-ing the window as he went. He then saw three figures near the closet in the corner of the schoolhouse. They were infected trying to get through the door. Fearful of hitting anyone inside the closet, he whispered to tell Chris about the three infected and that they were moving to the south side where the entrance was.

The only door to the school was closed. Jim counted out with his left hand; when he raised the third finger he turned the knob and pulled open the door. Jim covered straight ahead and to the right and Chris covered the left. From this new angle Chris had clear shots and fired into the sides of the three infected. One after the other fell as they tried to turn toward the new arrivals.

Chris approached the battered closet door the infected had been fixated on. As he grew closer, he heard the muffled sobs of children. The infected had broken a hole in the thin faux-wood door. Chris saw part of his grandmother’s back as she crouched with her arms out, shielding the small group of surviving children inside. “Grandma,” Chris whispered. He received no reply and reached for the doorknob.

Jim was keeping an eye on the door they had entered and the broken window, and tried to check the bodies on the floor. Most of the dead were children. While he checked the victims, Jim kept glancing toward Chris at the closet nearby and approached.  The battered doorknob was hanging from its proper position in the door. As Chris moved the flimsy knob to its normal position and attempted to open the door, a growl came from inside the closet and the children screamed.

Chris heard the guttural sound as the doorknob caught and he had swung open the door. His father had just arrived at his right side. As the door swung open Chris saw his grandmother rise from the shielding position she’d been in over the children. Chris called “Grandma,” again and Judith spun around. Frothy yellowish white sputum dripped from her mouth and down her chin. She looked at Chris without any recognition and leapt for him.

Chris felt himself jerked violently to his right and heard his father shout, “No!” as he was flung away from the doorway to the floor. Chris landed on his side to the right and slightly behind his father. His grandmother adjusted her course and turned to his father. Chris watched in disbelief. His grandmother stalked toward his father. His dad begged her to stop. She growled again and lunged at his father with her face in a mask of rage. His father shot four times in rapid succession and the rounds impacted in the center of her chest.

Her forward momentum stopped and his grandmother fell to the floor. His father fell to his knees beside her head. Motionless for several long seconds, his father stared down at her and then softly stroked her hair. Chris couldn’t move.

Jim couldn’t catch his breath.  It grew quicker by the second, and his vision narrowed, blocking out everything but his mother lying on the floor. He would never be able to put into words the pain he felt for what he had done. His mind began to register the sounds of gunfire. He started to manage his breathing and was able to take in a deep breath; he raised his head and screamed until he had no more air in his lungs. His throat ached. He inhaled and screamed again longer than the first.

Fear for what remained of his family then entered his mind along with the emotional pain. He tried to regain his focus. He had to focus. He had the rest of his family to try and protect.

He looked over at Chris and opened his mouth to speak then closed it. Jim stood and quickly went to Chris; he bent and extended his hand. “Are you hurt, son?” Jim asked.

Chris took his father’s hand and was helped to his feet. “No, Dad,” Chris answered as he slowly shook his head with his eyes locked on his grandmother’s body. His eyes blurred as the tears fell.

“Let’s check these kids and get them out of here,” Jim said to his son and turned to the closet.

Chapter 10

The battle for the Yates’ farm lasted for another day and a half. After the rain stopped the following day the visibility had improved and those that remained were able to turn the tide against the infected.

There had been over one hundred and twenty residents on the compound. Twenty-seven survived the attack. The survivors included the Matthews and the rest of their new family. The five children that had been shielded by Judith in the closet had not been bitten, and survived, but as a precaution those children were quarantined to be certain they had not been infected.

Hank was one of the dead. Jen and some of her family had survived. Everyone except the Matthews had fallen back and barricaded themselves up in the Yates’ home. The Matthews extended family was joined by Royce and remained secure in the MRAP.

The residents regrouped and reclaimed much of the area with the help of the MRAP. The armored vehicle was able to move and attract infected away from the home and outside the fence. Not all the infected followed, but it had reduced the numbers nearby enough for those trapped inside the house to fight their way out.

Among the survivors was Hank’s uncle, Rick Yates. Rick was in his late fifties and stood a little less than six feet tall. He was a lean and fit man, and like Hank had a very personable demeanor.

Steve and Janice Cutler had no children, and both had been working odd jobs while putting themselves through college. They had lived in Gainesville and joined the residents of the farm soon after the outbreak. Both had made it through the fray. They were both in their late twenties. Janice was about five feet three inches tall. Steve towered above her at six feet four inches and had a muscular build.

Steve’s older brother Brent had survived. He had been recently divorced when the infection had began and was living with Steve and Janice until he could get back on his feet. Brent had a background in electronic and information technology from training in the Navy and from some community college classes. Like Steve, Brent was tall and muscular, but his younger sibling was taller by two or three inches.

Another of the survivors was Marlene Yates, Hank’s older sister. She had been visiting Hank and Jen from Atlanta, Georgia. The night before she was to fly back home, the outbreak occurred. Marlene was a pleasant person in her middle fifties. She was very thin and seemed to hardly ever sleep.

Rob Parker also remained. He was in his late forties and about five feet eight inches tall. He had an average build, but he had been a triathlete and his endurance was that of a man half his age.

The survivors repaired where the fencing and barricades had been breached to prevent more coming inside. The fortifications would need to be improved soon, especially since they now had less people to patrol. They systematically cleared the compound of infected from every possible hiding place.