Soldier On: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (16 page)

Sylvester’s latest attempt was to see if the unaffected cells extracted from around his thalamus would protect other healthy tissue. If he could replicate the chemical reaction that spared the thalamus in the infected, then it would be the first step towards engineering a vaccine that might be able to fool the immune system into thinking all of the bodies cells were of the same type surrounding the thalamus.

It was a billion to one longshot with seven billion people’s lives at stake. Fuentes was no optimist when it came to this nasty bug. This was mankind’s extinction level event and from the outbreaks start, he had tried to warn anyone that would listen.

The outbreak had started on a Saturday and almost immediately the President declared martial law, ordering everyone to stay home. The facility was virtually abandoned; most of the staff went home to see if their family was safe and secure. Fuentes didn’t have the heart to try to keep them here; nor did he have the authority.

Now it was only the two of them: Doctor Sylvester Fuentes and the civilian Scientist Jessica Hanson. All communication was down, even the director of Health and Human Services hadn’t contacted them in two days and the President was at a secure and undisclosed location-or so they said before the world outside went silent. The many civilian contractors working at the Center for Disease Control failed to return on Monday.

To make any progress Fuentes needed to have more scientists working with him. His goal was to try and understand how the Omega virus worked. It was very simple how it killed the host; but how it enabled the host to reanimate and restart certain functions in the body was the mystery. Upon introduction into the host, the virus began spreading throughout the body and replicating exponentially. If the patient didn’t die from a major wound, trauma or rapid blood loss then the virus would work its way through the body and shut down most of the organs necessary for “life” as it is universally defined. For some unknown reason Omega left the part of the brain related to basic function unharmed. The thalamus which is the relay station of the brain was mostly unaffected. It processes visual, auditory, and somatosensory. Most of these sensory signals still traveled through the infected body, with the exception of the somatosensory which relays signals from skin and internal organs. Most importantly also located in the thalamus is the part of the brain that enables motor control, allowing the dead to walk. The synapses were muddied-so to speak, and didn’t fire like normal living humans. Unfortunately the remaining function is enough to keep the infected moving and hunting for food.

So far, in the big scheme of things, Doctor Fuentes didn’t know jack shit. To fully engineer an agent to block and or fight off Omega was the logical first step. The big issue was the fact that once infected, the victim had only seconds before the virus began replicating in the bloodstream. Once in the bloodstream it was only a matter of time before it reached the brain. Fuentes theorized that his only chance for success was to develop a proactive immunization and not an after the fact antidote. It was a known fact that most people, once infected, were past the point of no return anyway.

The first carrier detained in Washington D.C. was a Chinese male, mid thirties who carried no form of identification. Because all of the airports in the states now used powerful facial recognition software to screen all passengers the man was quickly identified. It was determined that he entered into the U.S. from China on the day before the outbreak, posing as a diplomatic courier. The man was no government pencil pusher, he had the physique of an athlete and scars that one only obtained from being gunshot. The Doctor had a hunch that the Alpha was Chinese Special Forces or a member of the MSS Chinese intelligence services.

Curiously enough the man had two needle marks on his left arm and Fuentes strongly doubted that the infected Alpha specimen was a junkie.

 “
Doctor
, something’s agitating the walkers outside.” The waifish woman delivering the warning was a longtime member of the civilian staff at the Center for Disease Control. She hadn’t yet decided if it was a good or a bad thing but it happened to be Jessica Hanson’s weekend rotation at the lab. Before Omega, the entire staff of the Level Four Containment wing had been working diligently trying to figure out the origin of a new strain of the hemorrhagic fever that had popped up recently in the Congo. It had already been knocked down, but during the week their focus was on preempting another flare up. That was before the vicious Omega virus was introduced into the population of the United States.

Doctor Hanson continued to monitor the action outside. The ghouls were looking skyward, fixated on something in the sky, out of the cameras range.

Probably a flock of migrating birds was Hanson’s first thought. The woman in the lab coat swiped the touchscreen. The picture changed and started to cycle through all of the different live views streaming from the outside cameras. Scores of walking dead dominated nearly every camera shot. Nothing out of the ordinary presented itself, until the rooftop image flashed on the screen.

“
That’s
what the infected were interested in...and I
assumed
they were salivating over some birds.”

Doctor Fuentes sounded very impatient, “Don’t hold back...what
were
they watching? Enlighten me
please
.”

“There’s a Black Hawk helicopter on the roof.”

“Are you sure it’s not a news chopper?” Fuentes asked hoping that it was. After all he could handle a news crew. A group of gung ho soldiers was a whole nother can of worms.

“No sir. I’ve had the displeasure of being a passenger on a helicopter like the one upstairs. I’ve never been so sick. Those pilots think anyone can handle high g-forces.” Jessica shuddered, remembering how much time her face had spent buried in the air sickness bag. If she remembered right, the maneuvers got more extreme when it was apparent to all on board that she was a “puker” as they had so fondly labeled her.

Fuentes looked up from the experiment he was performing on the squirming cadaver strapped to the stainless steel table. “Are there any markings on the chopper: Air Force, Army, Marines...?”

The image from the rooftop dome was a little grainy and in the low light Hanson couldn’t read the markings. “No Doctor.” In her best spooky voice, “
It’s a black helicopter
.”

Doctor Fuentes was known as the resident conspiracy theorist and he always caught hell for it.

Matter-of-factly, like he was in his home, the Doctor said, “We had better tidy up if we are going to be receiving guests.”

Optimistically Hanson added, “On the bright side. It’s good to know there are still people alive out there; even if they are from some government organization.”

Always the consummate smart ass, Fuentes chimed in, “And I thought that I had filed my
last
tax return.”

“That’s not even remotely funny. Millions-maybe even billions are dead and they are the lucky ones. Unfortunately a huge percentage of the population is like him, dead and walking around hunting for any living thing to eat.” She nodded her head at the zombie writhing on the table. “Doctor don’t you forget for one second...we still have family somewhere out there.”

Jessica Hanson was no idiot; days ago both she and the good doctor had come to the same conclusion. They probably had a better chance of being struck by lightning than finding their loved ones still breathing.

“Doctor Hanson please cycle the cameras to the south stairwell.” The image of the helicopter was replaced by the south stairwell view; three men clad in combat gear, brandishing stubby machineguns now filled the screen. Even in the dim cone of light emitted from the emergency lamps, there was no mistaking the men with guns for the undead.

“Open the door,
they’re heeere
,” Doctor Fuentes said, mimicking the little girl from the horror movie Poltergeist.

Outbreak Day 5

Schriever AFB

Colorado Springs, Colorado

The man Brook sought was nowhere to be found. The few Airmen that gave her the time of day instantly clammed up and sent her packing at the mere mention of Colonel Shrill. She knew, from being the wife of a soldier, when she was being sent up the chain of command.

Only an hour into her search, she found herself standing in the empty office belonging to the woman in charge of every satellite in the U.S. arsenal. Cold air buffeted Brook, causing goose bumps to form on her exposed skin. The heat outside was pretty intense so she didn’t mind the ten minute wait standing directly in front of the government issue air conditioner. It was apparent that this small space belonged to a career Air force Officer, all kinds of plaques and certificates graced the institutional brown walls.

Brook had almost always been the smallest woman in the room, which changed the moment Major Freda Nash walked into the icebox of an office. Brook’s jaw nearly hit the floor when the woman, a full inch shorter than she, strode purposefully in, looked her in the eye and sat down behind the clunky metal desk without saying a word.

The Major didn’t speak and Brook didn’t want to start her unannounced meeting off on the wrong foot, an uneasy silence ensued. It was like two Chihuahuas caught in a staring contest.

Against her better judgment, Brook spoke first, too much was at stake. “With all due respect...” Brook attempted to read the nameplate cloaked by the clutter on the desk top, “Nash, did I read that right?”

“That is correct,” the intense Major replied, “and you are.”

“Brooklyn Grayson, my husband Cade was very active in the Special Operations community until a year and some months ago-but he’s not the reason I need to speak to you.”

Before she could continue, Major Nash interrupted. The diminutive officer spoke in rapid fire sentences, barely stopping to breathe or let Brook get a word in edgewise.

“I knew the name sounded familiar. Your husband did good things for this country. His name was spoken in high regard, albeit in hushed tones, in the halls of Congress and the Pentagon. In case you weren’t aware, your man, either directly or indirectly was involved in killing or capturing a good chunk of the deck in Iraq. I know for a he was there when the Aces were taken out.”

Brook hadn’t been privy to the classified stuff. She had no idea that the Ace of hearts and the Ace of clubs Major Nash referred to were in fact, Saddam’s sons, Uday and Qusay Hussein. Cade would never tell a soul, but he had actually put a bullet in Uday’s brain to make his brother talk. Uday was on his way to paradise anyway. Qusay spilled his guts but unfortunately the impromptu interrogation didn’t lead to Saddam’s capture. Before anyone left the destroyed compound, Qusay was allowed to bleed out, alone on the dirty living room floor on the second story of his “safe” house.

Finally the Major paused long enough for Brook to continue on and plead her case. “I was actually trying to get an audience with Colonel Shrill and that’s how I came to be standing in front of you. A wife of a soldier in the “Unit” is here on the base and she is very close to going into labor...in fact she’s days past her due date. To make a short story long,” Brook’s attempt to break the ice with a little play on words was totally lost on-or intentionally ignored by the hyper major.

“Continue I’m listening.”

“Annie Desantos is the wife of Mike Desantos he operated out of Fort Bragg...”

Once again Major Nash butted in before Brook could finish her thought.

“I never would have fathomed that Bragg would cease to exist. That place was supposed to be impenetrable. Short of a suitcase nuke, nothing could touch it. Especially like that Fort Hood crap. To answer your question, yes, I know Mike. As a matter of fact we have been assisting him on his current mission...but that is-
need to know information
.”

Brook’s eyes widened, “Mike is on an Op then?
That is great news
. I’ll let Annie know as soon as I see her; it sure will lessen her stress level.” Brook tried to speak to the major so that she would follow and hopefully not interrupt again. “I’m a nurse, and I’m going to help the doctor deliver Annie’s baby. I need a way to get to Saint Francis Medical. We need the proper equipment to deliver
Mike’s
first son safely into the world.”

Nash answered, as if Brook were a neighbor asking for a cup of sugar and it was no big deal. “Saint Francis has...” Nash caught herself mid sentence, “had a top notch neonatal center. If the place hasn’t been overrun by the dead then you are good to go. At any rate, anything you need Mrs. Grayson. I will personally make the necessary calls.”

“Thank you, Major.” Brook was stunned-after their icy introduction, she had no reason to expect this positive of an outcome, but feared that she was going to have to fight someone for assistance or at the least, twist some paper pushers arm. It was a blessing that she had found a woman who saw things eye to eye with her-
literally
.

The door had barely closed behind Brook when Freda Nash picked up the phone and punched in a number.

Outbreak Day 6

Centers for Disease Control

Atlanta, Georgia

As soon as the mechanical sounds from the door ceased, Clark moved closer and rapped twice with his free hand, silenced weapon at the ready.