Omega Pathogen: Mayhem (15 page)

Jim continues to elaborate more on his admiration for the weapon and ammunition: “The weapon was adopted by snipers because of its ability to remain accurate at extremely long ranges. It also has the mass and velocity to disable light or non-armored vehicles. We may need to use these, but only when the situation calls for it. You don’t find many .50 caliber rounds in most of your normal firearms stores.” 

Finished with the tasks, Jim brings over a suppressed AR-15 to Arzu, Chris, and Jeremy. He hands Chris another and asks, “Why don’t you take Chelsea and Zach over there to that sand trap and go over the rifle and pistol with them?”

Standing, Chris takes the other rifle and the holstered Glock from his father. Chelsea stands beside him and Chris assists her in donning the holster, and then they walk to the sand trap about thirty yards away.

Jim, Arzu, and Jeremy look over occasionally and watch as Chris gives the lessons. Using a few paper plates as targets, Chelsea seems to shoot fairly well, Zach not as accurately. Most importantly, Jim is glad to see that they both handle the firearms safely.

“What’s the next step?” Arzu asks as she takes a seat on the blanket next to Jim and leans her head on his shoulder.

“We camp out here tonight and then try to stock up on medical supplies tomorrow, check some of the small walk-in clinics or emergency care centers.”

Nodding her head against Jim’s shoulder Arzu takes in a deep breath and exhales with a sigh. “You stink,” she says and gives a chuckle.

Chapter 25

Present

Once all inside the MRAP and their side of the Earth have turned away from the sun, they have to face the night. With no glow from lights in Katy or from the larger nearby city of Houston, the blackness is total. Only faint glimpses of a star or two are seen through the clouded sky. With the armored vehicle locked up tight, the Matthews and their new companions quietly prepare the interior for sleep.

Jim keeps watch through the bullet-resistant glass ports set in the turret, while the others inflate the air mattresses Jim retrieved and laid them in every available open space on the floor. Not able to see anything because of the darkness outside, and not able to use the night-vision optics due to the light in the interior of the MRAP, Jim steps off the turret platform and joins the others.

Throughout the Houston suburb of Katy, the infected have already emerged from hiding from the bright burning light of the day. They hunt for food now. They’re attracted to the scent of it, processed and packaged for sale to what they once were.

The infected are more attracted to the scent and sounds of living things. They can’t control their desire to seek out and bite what moves, to infect what is not infected.

Distant gunfire catches the attention of some. They head in the direction of the noise. Others, in different locations, hear the sounds of voices or vehicles. The infected seek prey in that direction.

At the golf course, the interior of the MRAP is dark and quiet, except for the occasional sound of someone turning on an air mattress to find a more comfortable position. It’s cool outside. The cloud cover brings with it the lower temperatures of an approaching cold front. The engine is off so as to try and not draw attention.

Jim has the first watch of the night. Standing on the turret platform and looking through the small ports with the night-vision goggles, he’s now better able to see the golf course around them from within the lightless interior.

Repeatedly, Jim watches an area for movement, turns a few degrees until completing a circuit. After several long minutes of continually repeating the searches, Jim takes a seat for a moment to rest his legs and drink some now cold black instant coffee.

Rising again, he completes the same search pattern. The sound of someone turning over on their air mattress or brushing against the side of the MRAP reaches his less than perfect ears.

Switching off the NVGs, Jim raises them, then squeezes his eyes shut and rubs them. Replacing the NVGs, Jim sets about his circular search pattern again. Upon making a full 360-degree circle he’s met with the sight of a face, contorted in a demented expression, pressed against the turret’s porthole window.

Immediately Jim’s right hand goes to his Glock in his thigh holster. Maintaining eye contact with the infected female peering through the small window, Jim realizes it doesn’t see him. He slowly releases a breath he’d been holding and continues to watch the thing with purulent-looking saliva drooling down its chin.

The infected female stands and walks over the hatch of the turret and squats on the other side. Slowly following the sound as it does this, Jim is then met with the sight of its bare ass as the infected female pauses before jumping to the ground and trotting off.

Jim then sees four more infected converge on the female’s right and left, and all seemed to be heading somewhere with evil intent. Through the rest of his time on watch, Jim sees distant figures. Some in ones and twos, but most in groups of six or larger.

In the distance--he’s not certain how far--he sees the static discharge of spinning rotor blades from low-flying helicopters. Sometimes their sound is barely heard; mostly they seem to travel without sound. Also in the distance, and less frequently, he sees a jet or pairs of jets speeding in seemingly random directions. Some of the mechanical birds of prey turnabout, circle, and then spit out fire at targets below. Jim’s shift ends when he hears Jeremy stir behind him.

Taking a few swigs from his water bottle and then pouring some in his cupped hand, Jeremy wets his face to clear away the sleep. Donning his set of NVGs before he stands, he switches them on to avoid tripping over anyone as he makes his way to the turret platform where his dad sits and waits to whisper his report.

Berk and Kayra and Chris sleep through the shift change. Arzu and Chelsea are awakened to a degree as Jeremy quietly moves toward his father and receives the report of activity. No one can make out the words said. Before the report is finished, they fall back to sleep.

Jeremy’s watch goes much the same, as his dad’s except no infected scale the MRAP. Some approach and touch it. Some approach and push or strike it with a fist or two and then continue on with what appear to be bad intentions.

Chris is awakened when it’s his turn at watch. Again Arzu wakes, even though they can’t be any quieter. Jim receives a gentle nudge from Arzu to quiet his increasing snores. Jim, on the other hand, would describe it as a forceful elbow jab to the ribs.

Dawn comes, the signal of the end of Chris’ watch. The occupants in the rear of the MRAP begin to stir and stretch and yawn. Jim and Arzu wake. Arzu begins to attend to Berk and Kayra while Jim deflates and stows away their air mattresses. Chelsea and Jeremy do the same with theirs.

Jim tells Chris to put in some ear buds to silence the ambient noise and try to get a nap. Chris doesn’t argue. But after the MRAP is opened up, letting in the cool fresh morning air, and now familiar smell of reconstituted freeze-dried omelets and coffee brewing in the coffee pot his dad had found and plugged into an AC outlet in the MRAP, Chris can take no more and rises for the day.

Chapter 26

Present

Chelsea and Zach take the lead, and begin the task of putting up a tarp in the nearby sand trap to act as a privacy wall before setting up the portable shower. Jim, Jeremy and Berk void their bladders and bowels of the day’s food and drink. He instructs everyone going to tend to the necessary bodily functions to do so in pairs, with at least one to provide security while the other is do their business. Arzu, Chelsea and Kayra go next, with Chris and Zach following.

Chelsea and Zach have been helpful to the group and are fitting in well with the family. Both Zach and Chelsea are skilled at camping, whether using modern accessories or roughing it. Besides being likable kids, Jim appreciates the knowledge they bring. He had been concerned about the pair not pulling their own weight and had been ready to address that.

Jim climbs the MRAP and inspects the roof, seeing the vague outlines of footprints and smeared dried saliva on the roof and turret. Taking no chances, Jim sprays the area with a bleach and water mixture and leaves it to dry on its own.

Climbing down, Jim’s met by some inquisitive looks. He explains what he had previously reported to Jeremy, and what Jeremy had relayed to Chris when they changed watch. “I don’t know for sure, and it isn’t like the rabies I’ve learned about, but the infected look like they have a version of rabies on steroids,” Jim explains. “Normally, people that get rabies can act aggressive, but nothing like this. They’re not this ambulatory, their movements not as coordinated. And then they deteriorate quickly and die. They just don’t act like this.” He further explains, “With rabies, the saliva is very infectious. We all need to keep that in mind.”

During the rest of their breakfast, they prioritize which emergent care centers they’ll try first. The one that seems the most obvious isn’t the nearest, but one that Jim himself had to visit with a broken foot about a year ago. Although it’s been a long time, at least one of them had been inside before, and they want to avoid attempting to raid a large medical center, reasoning that it could be full of infected, or the dead, or both.

Arriving at the Emergent Care Clinic beside I-10, they go through the same routine of pausing and checking for threats. The care center is in a strip mall, and the businesses and care center in the structure seem undamaged. After seeing no obvious threats, Jim, Chris, and Jeremy prepare their weapons and gear for entry. Comms checks are done. Lights are checked, as well as NVGs in case they’re needed.

They approach the doorway in a single file crouch. Reaching the doorway, they can see into the waiting area. With a pause and no visible threats seen, Jim pulls on the intact aluminum-framed glass door and finds it unlocked. They quietly enter.

With a wall immediately on the right, the waiting area opens in a rectangular shape, with the waiting room extending further to the left of the doorway. Directly across from the door they entered is a closed frosted-glass sliding partition that starts about waist high and extends to nearly the ceiling.

The frosted glass blocks any view further in, but reasoning dictates a receptionist station is likely on the other side. To the left, about five feet from the receptionist's window, is a closed door that should open into the treatment areas. On the left wall is a closed door marked
Restroom
with male and female figures side by side, indicating a single restroom to be used by both sexes.

The design of the building, and the sign posted in the singular, makes it unlikely that the doorway leads to more than one restroom. But knowing some assumptions can get you killed, Jim has Chris slide past to his left and take up a position where he can easily cover the closed partition and the doorway leading to the treatment rooms. Jim and Jeremy stalk to the restroom door, Jim’s rifle aimed at the restroom doorway and Jeremy’s at the doorway leading to the treatment area.

Once past the treatment room door, Jeremy puts his AR-15 in a low-ready position as Chris takes on over watch of the door and reception window. Jim pauses and waits a second. Then a squeeze on his left shoulder, a non-verbal indication from Jeremy, tells him that he's ready.

With a nod, Jim eases the final step closer and grabs the doorknob in his left hand and keeps the AR-15 muzzle aimed at the door with his right. A quick glance to Chris is returned with a nod, and then Chris’ attention is back to the other doorway and window. Jim tightens his grip on the doorknob, and quietly begins to turn it. The knob stops with what seems to be an unusually loud click that echoes throughout the waiting area and behind the restroom door.

The door is thrust open so fast Jim doesn't have time to pull his arm away before he's struck in the forearm edge of the door. He's able to raise his AR-15, but not before the scrub-wearing African-American infected woman is on top of him, forcing him to his back. The barrel of his rifle, being lodged under the salivating woman's left armpit, is now of no use.

Jeremy quickly aims his weapon-mounted light into the restroom to see if any other rabid infected are present. Seeing it's clear, he immediately goes about pummeling the scrub-wearing abomination with the buttstock of his AR-15. Chris, knowing he's responsible for covering the other door and window, fights the urge to intervene, knowing he would leave them vulnerable to attack from those areas he’d leave uncovered.

The infected alternates, without a pattern, between wildly thrown punches and attempts to bite anything near her mouth. Although Jeremy's buttstroking the frothing woman doesn't knock her off of Jim, it does prevent her from being able to steady her head enough to aim a bite. Finally, Jim's able to get his left hand under her chin and around her throat, aware of the frothy yellowish-colored saliva drooling down the infected woman's chin and onto his hand and forearm.

Jim uses all the remaining strength in his left arm to angle her head to the left. Releasing the grip on his AR, Jim fumbles for his pistol in his thigh holster. As soon as his hand grips it, he clears it from the holster. Yelling "Down!" to warn Jeremy and Chris, Jim sticks the suppressed barrel about half an inch from the infected woman's nose and double-taps two 9 mm hollow-point rounds into her face. The over pressurization caused by expansion of the rounds in her skull causes her eyes to bulge almost out of their orbits. The back of her head explodes outward ejecting brain matter.