The Last Days (11 page)

Chapter 10

Captain Thomas Bolten stared out across the waves as the Ronald Regan pushed its way across the Pacific Ocean.

His XO sat at his desk in the control center, his head down on the surface of the desk resting on his folded arms.

Two other crewmen laid on the floor, weak from hunger, they took this opportunity to sleep and pass the time.

The Captain shifted his gaze from the vast waters in front of them. The waves brought back memories of his years in the Navy. The many missions he had been on over that time. He had served on many different ships over those years. The assignment to the Ronald Regan was his favorite assignment. The culmination of a proud career.

He had envisioned the end of his career a lot differently than what he now saw as his last days in the Navy.

He had envisioned the ship sailing into the harbor at San Diego. The U.S. flag flying high. The band would be playing on the dock to welcome them home. The Admiral would greet him, shake his hand and welcome him home personally.

The sailors would all be lined up on the deck in their bright white uniforms, anxious for a well-deserved shore leave.

Wives and girlfriends excitedly waving from the docks, anxious to welcome home their special guy.

A formation of F-18’s flying overhead to signal their arrival and to welcome the ship home.

Another job well done.

Tom Bolten looked out across the large deck of the Ronald Regan. F-18’s sat scattered across the blood stained runway. One burnt out shell of an F-18 protruded out the side of an AWAC that never had the chance to get airborne.

Sailors, in blood soaked uniforms staggered around the deck, aimlessly, no longer capable of performing their original duties.

A half dozen planes that were part of the ship’s compliment of aircraft were no longer on board. When things went all to hell on the ship, they were instructed to go elsewhere.

The chaos and wreckage that engulfed the deck of the Ronald Regan at the time was incapable of handling their return.

Captain Bolten knew with their fuel low, the chance of them finding a safe place to land was zero. Landing on the Ronald Regan was certain death. Either in a fiery crash, or at the hands of what had been their support teams or fellow sailors and airmen.

Ejecting over the middle of the Pacific did not give the men much of a chance to survive, especially since there would not be a rescue team coming to look for them. But it would give them a better chance then returning to the ship.

It was a decision that ate at his soul, but he knew it was the only call he could make. Whatever decision he made, he was basically sending the men to their deaths.

A death at sea, he determined was preferable to the deaths he had seen happening on the ship.

Brave warriors deserved a better death.

He had a ship full of good men that had deserved more.

Six thousand men that had died a horrible death. Now six thousand men that roamed the ship, minus the numerous men that continually staggered blindly off the deck and were swallowed up by the Pacific.

The Captain and the few remaining men that were now in the control tower were the few lucky men that had survived. The unbelievable carnage had erupted below deck. MPs were sent to control the situation. Injured men, the one’s that had been bitten during their efforts to apprehend the crazies, returned to other levels throughout the ship for treatment or to rest. An hour later the chaos erupted again, all over the ship. In another hour it was over.

The few lucky enough to survive were with the Captain up in the control tower. Some had run down to help, but they had never returned.

The Ronald Regan had completed its mission. The escort subs had been called away to finish the job in China when the Regan was ordered to return to San Diego.

The Ronald Regan was needed back home to defend the mainland as riots and chaos was breaking out all across the country. The samples the ship had recovered from China had been sent to the U.S. for analysis. It had been identified as a variant of the deadly virus from the program the Chinese had hacked into and stolen.

The Ronald Regan had three military communications after they had been ordered home.

The first communication was to update Tom on the state of world affairs. The nukes dropped on China to destroy the virus, were dropped too late. The virus had already spread across their country. Refugees fleeing into India, Korea, Vietnam, Russia and the Middle East already had started the virus spreading around the world.

Europe was soon in chaos. All military efforts to control the virus in these areas did little to slow it down. The virus was popping up all over the world.

The second communication was to inform the Ronald Regan that the U.S., like the rest of the world, was falling to the virus. The U.S. government was relocating to a small area in Southern California. They had set up a safe zone there. They were pulling all their resources to this area in California to make their stand. Military units sent out to confront the infected soon fell to the virus themselves.

The country would be lost within the next few days. The government hoped to keep the infected out of Southern California. They didn’t know for sure, testing and development of the virus had not determined the life cycle of the virus. They hoped to survive in the safe zone and wait out the virus then expand out and rebuild the country. Their plan C, if Plan B failed was to relocate to the Ronald Regan and survive off shore on the West Coast until the time came when they could go ashore to begin to reclaim the country.

Within 24 hours, all communication from Southern California had stopped. The Ronald Regan was too far away. Tom Bolten didn’t know what had happened to the other Carrier Groups, but as he looked out at his ship, he had a good idea.

The last communication he had received from any U.S. military assets was from the Cumberland and the other escorts vessels of his group.  The last communications were garbled mixed with screams. Soon after, the escort vessels drifted off aimlessly away from the Ronald Regan.

Captain Bolten had tried to communicate with anyone that would respond, without any success.

They were on totally on their own.

They could control the ship from the control tower. At least for a while. The nuclear powered engines would run for years. The Captain knew he and the few men locked in the control tower could not.

After a few attempts to send out volunteers to find food had ended with the men not returning, Tom had decided it best to wait. They would arrive at San Diego in another week. Hopefully they would still be alive by then.

Captain Bolten was not optimistic about what he would find when he arrived at the base in San Diego.

He knew from the lack of communication from any U.S. assets or bases, they had all been overrun by the virus.

But it was home. Maybe he would be lucky, hopefully after this last mission his luck was overdue to change.

If not, maybe he could find a way to get off the ship.

At best, he would find some survivors. At worst, he would at least die in his home country.

Tom Bolten looked at the pathetic creatures that had been his crew staggering around over his ship. They would often stop and stare up at the control tower, raise their hands and moan. Then that would be followed by a chorus of moans from all over the ship.

His ship was a ship of the dead. It was their ship and no longer his ship.

They knew he was here, but fortunately after being infected by the virus, the creatures they had become could not climb ladders or figure out how to work the elevators.

If he didn’t starve, maybe he would make it home.

Tom Bolten looked again at the burnt out shells of the AWAC and F-18 that sat on the deck below.

“Maybe they were the lucky ones.” He said to himself as he turned and weakly slid to the floor.

Maybe he would see if he could fall asleep this time to save his strength.

The haunting images he had seen had flooded his mind the last time he had closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

He was exhausted and weak.

Hopefully he would pass out and sleep.

It would be nice if he could sleep until they reached San Diego., but that wouldn’t be for days.

He closed his eyes as the loud chorus of agonizing groans assaulted his ears.

The visions began again.

Chapter 11

John had held Cindy and Barb all night long. He hadn’t slept at all during the night. He only hoped that his holding them, would comfort them and allow them to get some rest.

He pulled Barb closer. Cindy was sandwiched in between them. Barb’s body felt tense. But Cindy, at least by the sound of her breathing, slow and rhythmic, he thought Cindy had been able to get some sleep.

Barb, probably like John, was in shock and too scared to sleep. They hadn’t tried to talk during the night they were so scared by what had happened and what they heard.

John had listened to the moans and groans all night. Along with the frequent crashing sounds of things being knocked to the floor in the house below, had kept him on edge all night long.

The first thought he had after they had climbed up in the attic last night was “Who were these people?”

But that led to his next thought. “These weren’t people.”

He had dealt with all kinds of people over the years. There were nice people. People that had been calm and dignified in their dealings with him. Even if they didn’t get what they wanted, they were calm and discussed the problem in a dignified manner. Then there were the lunatics. They screamed and yelled and were totally irrational. Then there were those that fell somewhere in between.

Of all the people he had dealt with, none of them had their insides dragging on the ground next to them. None had bloody stumps where their arms had been. None of them had their eyes ripped out or half of their face missing. Most of all, none of them had ever eaten a living cat in front of him.

He had seen people so sick that he thought they didn’t have much longer to live. He had never seen people that should have been dead, moving and trying to attack him.

“Correction.” He thought. He had seen these kind of people before.  A number of years back, a few miles down the road from his house, they had filmed a movie called
Night
of the Living Dead
.

Well, he hadn’t actually seen these people during the filming, but he had seen the movie.

The people or things he had seen last night looked like extras from the movie that were still roaming the area.

He had seen the movie at the Highway Drive In. It had been scary as hell. He had enjoyed movies that actually scared him.
Night of the Living Dead
was that kind of movie.

He really enjoyed that movie. He didn’t enjoy what happened last night. That had scared him way more than the movie. Hell, he was still scared.

But he knew the movie was only make believe. He didn’t know what the hell last night was.

He knew last night had scared the hell out of Barb and his little girl. They had killed Boots in the most horrible way imaginable right in front of Cindy.

This pissed him off. His anger was probably the only thing that had kept him from going insane.

But this situation was nothing like he had ever experienced in his life. He had no idea what to do about it.

“If I would have had the time.” He thought. “I would have got my gun and killed a few of those bastards.”

But then he thought. “How do you kill something that looked like it was already dead?”
If the movie was to be believed, the only way to kill one of the dead was to shoot them in the head.

If he could get his hands on his gun, he would test that theory.

A loud crashing sound coming from below him let him know he wouldn’t be testing that theory anytime soon.

“I can’t believe I am even thinking this?” John thought. “Living dead? This is crazy!”

Another loud crash sounded below.

“This is unbelievable!” John thought. “Shit! I don’t know what this is.”

Barb’s hands tightened around John’s arms.

John turned to look at Barb. Her eyes were open wide. Her hands on his arms shook nervously.

John whispered. “Shusssh. We seem to be OK up here.”

A tear escaped from Barb’s right eye and ran down her cheek. “What are they?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know?”

Cindy let out a loud sob.

John and Barb squeezed her tighter between them.

John whispered. “Cindy, please don’t cry. We’re here to protect you.”

“Protect you.” John thought. “I don’t have the least idea how to protect you or any of us!”

All the groans and shuffling sounds below them stopped. The house was eerily quiet.

John looked at Barb. Her eyes grew even larger as she stared back at him.

“Is there another way out of here?” She whispered.

John shook his head no as he looked around the attic crawl space. Light shined in from around the corners where the roof came down to meet the sides of the house.

The shuffling sounds began again. This time they seemed to be directly below them. Then all the groaning began in unison. It was all coming from directly below them.

“They had heard Cindy’s cry.” John thought. “Shit!” But he couldn’t be mad at his little girl. It wasn’t her fault. It was all he could do to stay quiet and keep from crying out. She was only six years old. No six year old should be forced to endure this. Hell, no one of any age should be forced to go through this. No one could have been prepared for this, let alone a six year old.

Barb was shaking. “They know.” She said.

John nodded.

“Can they get up here?” Barb whispered.

John read her lips more than he heard her words. She was too scared to force out the words.

John thought. “We can’t go down. The only way out is up.”

He raised his head and began to scan the roof and the supporting beams above them.

“Maybe I can find a bad spot in this old roof that I can push through?” He thought. “Then what? We’ll be stuck on the roof.”

He listened to the groaning below them. They were all below him now. He didn’t know if they could get up. If they could, maybe they just hadn’t figured out how yet. If they did, they would be trapped. At least on the roof would take them one step further away from these things. He decided to get up and examine the roof.

“Barb?” John whispered. “I’m going to see if there is a way we can get out through the roof. Stay here with Cindy. Try to keep her quiet. OK?”

Barb nodded. She put her arms around Cindy and pulled her closer, burying Cindy’s face against her shoulder.

She looked at John.

John saw the scared pleading cry in her eyes.

“We’ll be OK.” John lied as he began to pull away.

John started to move across the floor, which was the ceiling to the rooms below.

John took the steps slowly, the floor groaned under his weight. When John took the third step, the attic began to spin and he felt himself drop through the floor.

His arms slammed into the rafters on the floor of the attic, breaking his fall. He winced as the pain shot through his arms and up into his shoulders. He sat dazed across the rafters. His right leg through the floor, past the knee and halfway up his thigh. He looked down to see the blood on his jeans where a nail in the boards had ripped his jeans and sliced his leg.

He almost didn’t hear the scream that had escaped from Barb’s mouth as he fell.

The sight of the blood scared him. If it had injured himself seriously, how could he help his wife and little girl?

The thought scared him. The hands that began to pull on his leg scared him even more.

The adrenaline shot through his system. He yanked his leg desperately, trying to get it away from the groping hands below and back up into the attic.

His leg broke away from the grip pulling on him from below.

John yelped in pain as the nail dug into his leg more deeply than it had done on the way down.

He rolled onto the floor beams, gripping them tightly in the event he started to fall through the floor somewhere else.

He quickly moved on the beams as he felt the pain now shooting through his leg.

He stretched his neck so he could look down through the hole where his leg had gone down.

A dozen grizzly deformed faces stared up at him.

When they saw his face, the level of their groaning became deafening.

The eerie sound was more than deafening, it scared the hell out of him.

It scared Cindy even more. She began to crying loudly.

John looked over at Cindy and Barb who were sitting up, terrified three feet away from him.

He looked back down the hole and saw the outstretched arms straining to reach the hole above them.

The house was a small cottage with low ceilings.

The fingers on the outstretched hands danced only inches below the opening of the hole.

They were only a few feet from grabbing John and his family. The only thing between them and the flailing hands was the floor in the attic.

John looked on in horror as a taller figure pushed its way through the deformed bodies below. It looked up at John and raised its arms. The hands at the end of the longer arms rose up through the hole. Its fingers grabbed wildly until they wrapped around the plaster board around the hole.

It began to pull. John’s first thought were that it was going to pull itself up through the hole.

The plasterboard cracked as a large piece broke free, falling to the floor below. The tall figure fell to the floor with the broken plasterboard on top of it.

The hole was now about three feet wide, three times the size of the hole John’s leg had made.

More faces crowded around under the hole, fighting for the spot directly under the opening.

The tall creature that had fallen began to get to its feet. It looked at John and screamed a low howling groan.

John began to look around frantically. That thing would either pull itself up into the attic or pull the entire ceiling down into the house. Neither would be good.

John carefully picked his way across the attic beams, pounding his hand against the roof above.

THUD!  THUD!   THUD!   thup!

John stopped and touched the spot with his fingers as he heard another large chunk of the plasterboard that had been part of the ceiling fall to the floor.

He felt the wood. It was damp and felt soft.

He looked around at the floor around him and spotted a three foot section of 2” x 4” that had been left in the attic.

The builders must have cut a board when making the frame for the roof and when it dropped, had fallen next to one of the beams. When they cleaned up for the day they hadn’t seen it and moved on.

John was happy the workers had not been thorough that day.

He picked up the board and started pushing the end of the board against the soft spot he had found. The house was eighty years old. Fortunately the board had not been bad enough to replace when John had new shingles put on the house seven years ago.

The board broke apart without too much effort. The hard part was now punching a hole in the shingles.

Once he made a small hole, the shingle began to tear and peel away. The hole was not big enough to get through yet.

The next board was in much better shape. John pounded against this board until his arms ached. The board held, but the nails were giving way and rising up out of the supports.

He managed to angle the board up enough that he would be able to get through. He ripped away more of the shingles.

He carried his board and crawled back towards Barb and Cindy. They were huddled in the spot where he had left them, staring terrified at the widening hole in the floor in front of them.

After John saw they were safe for the moment, he crawled closer to the hole. He looked for the tall bastard that was destroying the ceiling.

When he saw the long arms reach up and grab onto another piece of the ceiling plaster board, John brought his board down as hard as he could against the creatures upper arms. The bones snapped and the creature’s arms below the wrists bent back at a sickening angle.

John looked down feeling some degree of satisfaction. “Let’s see how much more damage that bastard can do now?”

The faces below looked up at him. Their teeth snapped loudly, waiting for John to fall down among them so they could bite into him.

John wasn’t ready to oblige them just yet.

He crawled over to Barb and Cindy. He took Cindy in his arms. He looked at Barb. “Do you think you can follow me? We are going to crawl up on the roof and see if we can get out of here.”

“I’ll try.” Barb answered weakly.

John started to crawl. He held Cindy tightly against his chest and used his other hand to grip the beams to steady and guide himself across the floor.

As he crawled near the hole, he told Cindy to hold on tight and close her eyes. “Keep them closed real tight. Don’t open them until I tell you it’s OK.”