Soldier On: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse (9 page)

Outbreak Day 5

Schriever AFB

Colorado Springs, Colorado

Dirt and sand swirled in the air, kicked up violently by the dual cyclones from the aircrafts massive twin rotors. The flat black CV-22 Osprey settled lightly on the oft used maintenance pad, the twin nacelles tilted into the full upright position before the pilot throttled back power.

Schriever AFB had been secure since the outbreak, things here remained under control. Compared to the rest of Colorado Springs a few miles away, the sprawling base was a welcome sanctuary. Air force PJs with silenced automatic rifles were positioned at numerous locations around Marine One. Colonel Shrill thought it prudent to include the shooters as an added precaution.

The eight man Secret Service detail exited the hulking Osprey and fanned out in a full circle with their weapons at the ready.

The Commander of Schriever AFB greeted the new President warmly. President Valerie Clay was a tough as nails politician, all wrapped up in a petite package. Standing barely five feet tall she was not what one would expect based on her reputation. The former Senator from Washington State knew how to gut a trout could skin a deer by herself and had the gift of disarming friend and foe alike with one glance of her hazel eyes. Clay’s detail quickly hustled the two of them into the heavily armored MRAP mine resistant armored personnel carrier.

President Clay’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit interior, sitting directly across from her, wearing an impeccably maintained uniform, was the biggest man she had ever seen.

Colonel Cornelius Shrill snapped off a precise salute before he spoke. “Madam President very pleased to meet you. But I wish it were under less dire circumstances.” He held the salute, fully anticipating reciprocity on the President’s part.

“Likewise...” the President said, before she finally realized that protocol dictated she return the salute. Her mind worked overtime as she struggled to determine his rank from the embroidered black insignia on his softcover.

Sensing her discomfort, the big man reached out his baseball glove size hand and spoke in a hushed tone trying to convey to her his utmost respect. “Colonel Cornelius Shrill, I’m the highest ranking man left at Schriever. Omega got everyone else.”

The President felt the man’s grip loosen after his last statement. It hit her hard as well.

“May I call you Cornelius?”

“By all means ma’am, whatever you prefer.

The President disengaged her firm hold on the colonel’s hand and flashed a rare brief smile. “Cornelius it is then.”

“Madam President, with all due respect, may I ask you a question?”

The new President was still not comfortable with her “battlefield” promotion. She hoped that it was a question she could truthfully answer. Before speaking she pulled the heavy door shut, leaving only her and the highest ranking man, in what would be the new Capital of the United States to talk in private. “What is it Colonel?”

“Why are we
driving
from here to the base proper..?  I would have thought it safer to land at one of the bases main heli-pads.”

Colonel Shrill remained silent awaiting her answer.

“My secret service detail thought that other threats...” struggling to find the words, the President stared into the colonel’s eyes before divulging what she knew. “There are elements in these United States that are happy the Omega virus has diminished the population such as it has.”

The look on Shrill’s face seemed out of place. He had seen and done it all during his fifty two years on the planet. The news hit him like a ninety five mile per hour fastball. “Let me get this straight ma’am. We are at war against the walking dead and there are people that want you dead?”

Still struggling with how much she should disclose, the President answered in a hushed tone. “It’s bigger than that Cornelius. These very powerful men have been manipulating things from behind the scenes for nearly a century. We have reason to believe that they have followers serving in all branches of the military and they may be willing to commit acts of espionage. As hard as it is for me to believe, I still have to be cautious. Of course the undead are attacking us from the outside as we speak, but it’s the enemy that hides in plain sight that might do the most damage. These men are very wealthy, powerful, and they belong to the ultimate, “good ol boys club.” Every one of them is used to getting
exactly
what they want, and what they want is the United States all for them. Colonel...this is the event that they have been waiting so long for.”

“What’s their ultimate goal Madam President?”

“After the fall of our government they will be waiting in the wings to divide up the CONUS. Goal number two is to subjugate the remaining populace by any means necessary.  Someone has to do the dirty work in their new world order. In 1979 their leadership commissioned a massive granite monolith in Georgia. The locals call it the
Guidestone
. A lot of work went into making sure the stones stand precisely as to follow celestially the moon, sun and stars. GPS was in its infancy at the time it was erected. Given its build turned out so precise, points to them having some help from within our government. Scariest of all is the last inscription on the monument.”

“What was the message?”  Colonel Shrill caught himself leaning in towards the President. He had been hanging on to her every word.

Valerie Clay ran a shaky hand through her brunette hair before she revealed what was inscribed on the 238,000 pound warning to humanity. “The first line reads
Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature
.”

Colonel Shrill shook his head, “We failed that one long ago.”

“All of the other lines have similar admonishments. The last one sums it all up succinctly.
Be not a cancer on the earth-Leave room for nature- Leave room for nature
.” 

Colonel Shrill digested the story, his mind working it like a calculus problem.

“I hate to say it but fortunately the sheer number of undead may be the only thing standing in the way of them ultimately achieving their goal, and if luck isn’t on our side I’m afraid the undead may be the final victors.”

Stanley, Idaho

Richard Ganz increased the pressures on the shears. Tiny rivulets of blood poured from the cuts. The red was in stark contrast with the sheriff’s pale white hands. Ganz had made sure the handcuffs were ratcheted as tight as they would go. “How does it feel officer?”

An unintelligible word slipped between Blanda’s split lips.

“What’s the matter cat got your tongue?” The red headed biker followed through, with a horrible crunch the sheriff’s finger separated from his hand. “You hang out here for awhile. I’m gonna go and do awful things to your little girl...I’ll be back to finish with you though. Don’t go anywhere, you hear?”

The battered lawman passed out, but not before Richard Ganz words registered in his subconscious.

***

The bed springs screeched out a cadence of noisy protest as the fit young woman struggled under the weight of the huge biker.

Irene plead with the man, “
Let me go. I’ll do anything you want
.”

“You already are. Now shut up or I’ll cut your dad down so he can watch.”

It was the third time in as many hours he had entered the trailer to have his way with her. The red headed pig was rough and never did he look her in the eye. Each time it had been the same. He kept his boots on, pulled his pants down and then the frantic pumping started. She only remembered bits and pieces of the horrific ordeal. While he defiled her he would methodically choke her in and out of consciousness. Another thing Irene noticed, he never took off the greasy jacket adorned with the smirking Nomad Jester patch.

***

The scum was truly a one per center. The ruthless biker became a kingpin and learned to enjoy killing other human beings in prison. Although there had been plenty of close calls, somehow luck was always on his side, not once did he do extra time for a murder on the inside.

Richard Ganz served five years and was released with nothing to show for his time but some battle scars and a new found determination to grow his criminal empire and stay on the outside.

The gang welcomed him back with open arms. The association with the Aryan Brotherhood had seemed the perfect fit. They all hated the same people and they all liked the same things, money, guns, drugs and an obedient “old lady” to hit the sack with now and again.

With the drugs selling steadily, money soon stacked up. With money anything was possible. Ganz surrounded himself with like minded thinkers and moved his product and guns all over the western United States.

The feeling he had since the dead started walking was second to none. Ganz fancied himself a modern day Billy the Kid and he was approaching the same body count. He had fulfilled his first order of business as soon as the President declared martial law; Sheriff Blanda actually came to him and asked for help with the walking dead. Dumbass Barney Fife was trussed up with his own fucking handcuffs before he knew what was going on. Richard Ganz hamstrung the only living man that stood between him and ruling Stanley, Idaho.

***

Stanley was one of the smaller alpine towns in the Sawtooth mountain range. The ease at which Ganz and the skins rounded up the meager population astounded him. He knew that a few of the town’s hundred people were unaccounted for. His best guess was that they had gone to Boise and from eyewitness accounts very few escaped alive. Out of all of the women that the skinheads rounded up only this nineteen year old remained. The rest had been either too old or too resistant for their own good.

Adolph Hitler would have been proud; the skinheads lined up all of the men and systematically put a bullet in each of their brains. Their bodies were heaped in the parking lot of the Stanley Police station.

 The big redhead biker increased his grip on the woman’s thin neck;
with the law gone the world truly is my oyster,
he thought
, and mine for the taking
. Even though he didn’t like oysters the saying was his favorite, he had picked it up from some movie, but had no idea which one.

With her last breath, Irene uttered a curse upon her killer. Sheriff Blanda’s only daughter died with the ruthless biker still on top of her.

Outbreak Day 6

Centers for Disease Control

Atlanta, Georgia

Sergeant Darwin Maddox once again had the honor of breaching the door. He removed the small black nylon case and worked the zipper, inside were the tools needed to affect a quick silent entry. Maddox placed the plain black box next to the keypad and activated it with the flick of a switch. A soft blue glow emanated from the liquid crystal display revealing a series of rapidly changing numbers. It only took the device twenty five seconds to crack the coded lock. Maddox deliberately keyed in the ten digit code necessary to disarm the alarm. This alarm was like most, there was a window of thirty seconds to make entry. There was extra time built in to allow a security guard time to fumble with a set of keys, maybe drop them once, pick them up and then unlock the door before the alarm automatically rearmed.

Thirty seconds wasn’t a lot of time to effectively pick a lock but Maddox was left with no choice. With precision honed by countless hours practicing on locks of all makes and types, he deftly manipulated the pick and spoon in the cylinder.

Desantos stood silently at his back, watching the man work while the sweeping hand on his Luminox wristwatch quickly burned through the seconds. “Six, five, four, three...” Desantos counted down. With only a second to spare Maddox sealed the deal. The door unlocked with an audible click. Maddox moved aside, he wasn’t eager to find out what waited on the other side.

Mike took Maddox place; he aimed his machine pistol at the door and gave it a firm push-it moved quietly inward revealing a flight of stairs that disappeared into darkness. Mike powered up his NVGs and quietly entered the stairwell. Everything was bathed in a warm green glow. The Delta operator took deliberate sidesteps and worked his way down and around to the next landing. The other men followed him into the abyss.

Mike held his hand up, fingers clenched in a tight fist. The rest of the men froze in place. Mike found himself in front of a door identical to the one they had just thwarted. Still wanting to maintain noise discipline, he used the appropriate hand signals to summon his lock pick expert.

Maddox materialized without a sound next to Desantos and carried out the same routine as before, this time he had the lock popped in twenty three seconds.

They were about to enter the third floor, slivers of light worked their way around the door frame.

“NVGs off,” Mike quietly instructed all eight men via their ear buds.

The operators stacked up. Mike was the first one through and found that he was at the end of a long hallway. Oak doors were spaced fifteen feet apart on both sides. Gray carpet covered the floor, the walls glowed soft orange, illuminated by the emergency lights positioned at each end of the hall. The drab colors made him feel like he was in a cut rate motel, not a billion dollar federal building.