The Zombie Principle II Read online

  “Could you get us there and provide us with a layout of the lab?” Captain Morris asked.

  “Getting you there is no problem. The lab, however, is actually underground and I was not allowed down there. I only saw the ground floor and the second floor but I could detail exits, windows, and the landscape surrounding the building,” Bannon answered.

  “Stay here and get started on that,” Major Bradley said to Bannon. Turning to Captain Morris he said, “Find Sanchez and … Stevens. We’re going to need some gear. I’ll grab what we need and I’ll meet you back here in one hour.”

  Captain Morris was already out the door when Major Bradley turned back to Bannon.

  “If anyone comes in and asks what you are doing here, tell them you … are a new recruit for the Civilian Army Corps and are waiting for me to return. Under no circumstances are you to mention anything we talked about. Is that clear Captain?”

  “Call me John,” Bannon answered with a nod.

  Major Bradley returned about forty-five minutes later to find Captain Bannon still sitting at his desk, looking over a sheet of paper. The Major entered carrying two medium sized canvass bags. Each was filled with armaments he had picked up at one of the base’s armories. As commander of the Civilian Army Corps, he could requisition any weapons he needed without the approval of any higher-ups. That privilege hadn’t really come in handy until now.

  The makeshift office was still empty except for himself and the pilot. That included Captain Morris. He had yet to return. Major Bradley was praying that he hadn’t run into Colonel Jepson.

  The Major had been an army man his whole life. He had seen action in North Korea, had trained men to survive in the most extreme circumstances, and had spent time trying not to get chewed up and spit out by the political machine that is … or was … Washington D.C. Through all that he had maintained a great respect and understanding for the chain of command. It was the lifeblood of any fighting unit. It was what made the difficult decision he was about to make even more difficult. But it was the right decision.

  “It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission,” he thought to himself.

  Captain Bannon finally turned his attention from the paper he held in his hand to the Major as he dropped the heavy canvass bags onto one of the adjacent desks. Extending his arm, the Captain handed the paper to Major Bradley.

  “Not bad if I do say so myself,” Bannon said. “I think Picasso would be proud,” he added.

  Taking the sheet of paper, the Major said, “If it was a Picasso I wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails out of it.”

  He studied the paper closely. The Captain had outlined a two-story building with only one entrance but many windows both on the ground floor and the second floor. It was set off the road a little way with a short driveway leading to the front door. There didn’t seem to be any cover near the house. A stealthy approach would be difficult.

  “What are those?” he asked pointing to some rectangular objects behind the house.

  Bannon leaned over to see what he was pointing at.

  “Those are solar panels, they provide power to the house,” he answered.

  Bradley nodded as the door to the office burst open and Captain Morris entered with Sergeant Sanchez and Private Stevens in tow.

  “Reporting as ordered, sir,” said the two enlisted men in unison.

  “At ease gentlemen,” Major Bradley said with a slight smile creeping across his face.

  He turned to Captain Morris.

  “Have you informed these men what we are doing and the possible repercussions?” he asked.

  “The Captain has sir and if it’s all the same, we want to come along,” Sanchez answered before Captain Morris could.

  Major Bradley knew he could rely on these two men, it’s why he had asked the Captain to go get them. He noticed Private Stevens looking over at Captain Bannon.

  “Captain Bannon, this is Sergeant Emilio Sanchez and Private Daniel Stevens,”

  The pilot rose to his feet shook each man’s hand.

  “Please call me John,” has said.

  Each of the men in the room knew deep inside that they were about to embark on a wholly dangerous but necessary mission. There may come a time in the near future that they would need each other’s back. It was important that they trusted each other.

  Major Bradley handed the sketch over to Captain Morris.

  “I need you to look this over and develop a foolproof plan for getting us inside,” he said.

  He took the piece of paper, showing no sign that the enormity of the task was going to bother him, and briefly looked it over. He turned it upside down and then right side up again.

  “What are these rectangles in the backyard?” he asked.

  “Solar panels,” the Major and Bannon answered in unison.

  “Mmm …,” Captain Morris mused.

  Major Bradley picked up the canvass bags and handed one to Sanchez and one to Stevens.

  “Let’s hope we don’t need these, but …” he said.

  Each of the enlisted men slung the bags over their shoulders.

  “Alright, we need to get going … any questions? Last chance to back out,” Major Bradley said.

  No one said a word. Captain Morris was already out the door and heading to the battered Jeep.

  Major Bradley joined him on the passenger’s side as the others squeezed into the back seat. Captain Morris put the Jeep in drive and headed to the airstrip.

  Ten minutes later they pulled into the same parking spot they had occupied nearly an hour and a half ago. Everyone piled out of the Jeep and headed toward the aircraft. There was an airman who was standing just outside the plane. He stiffened as the Major approached. He looked as if he had bad news.

  Major Bradley motioned for his men to board the plane. As he did, the airman moved in front of him.

  “Colonel Jepson is on his way and would like to speak to whoever is responsible for allowing this plane to land. I informed him the orders came from you, sir,” he said waiting to be yelled at. Instead, Major Bradley smiled.

  “That’s ok son, it’s the truth. Tell him I’ll be happy to talk to him when we return,” he said patting the airman on the shoulder and walking past him.

  The airman didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t make the Major stay. The colonel’s orders said nothing about detaining anyone.

  “W… what do I tell the Colonel?’ he asked.

  “Tell him you passed along his message and that I will personally inform him when I return. But I’m afraid time is short and we must be going,” he answered.

  Captain Bannon was already up the stairs and heading to the cockpit. Captain Morris looked around the cabin and let out a whistle. Four large comfortable-looking seats were positioned in the front of the cabin. A fifth seat faced inward along the right side of the interior. A small conference table with seats occupied the right rear of the aircraft. A couch adorned the left side across from the table. The rear contained a galley and a lavatory. All housed in well-appointed luxury.

  “This is traveling in style,” agreed Sergeant Sanchez.

  Major Bradley finally made it up the stairs. He saw his men admiring the interior. As impressive as it was, they were in a hurry.

  “Please find a seat and strap yourselves in gentleman. I have been informed that the colonel is on his way and is none too pleased with Captain Bannon’s arrival,” he said.

  As they found seats, Major Bradley grabbed the canvass bags and stored them in storage compartment he found in the galley. He returned to the cabin and strapped himself into the couch. Captain Bannon emerged from the cockpit.

  “Is everyone ready?” he asked. Everyone nodded. “Ok, wheels up in five.”

  Bannon performed a quick check of the cabin and then made his way back to the cockpit. A minute later Major Bradley could feel the plane moving. As Captain Bannon prepared for takeoff, Major Bradley could see the apprehension in the faces of his men. This doctor had better be worth i
t. More importantly, he had better still be alive.

  The Major’s body jerked slightly as the Gulfstream’s engine kicked in, propelling it down the runway. A few seconds later the jet separated itself from the tarmac and was airborne. As the plane gained altitude, it banked slightly allowing the Major a view of the airstrip. His stomach tightened slightly as he saw what could only be Colonel Jepson’s Jeep pulling onto the tarmac.

  Chapter 8

  Fall

  Chester Boone stood on the sidewalk in front of the colonial and surveyed the situation before him. A few infected were meandering just outside the door, on the upper part of the knoll, their attention now turning to the fresh prey in front of them. At least twenty more were on the lower part of the front lawn, near the road. Some were starting to move up the hill toward the house. The woman directly in front of him, head slightly cocked and emitting a low snarl, was the same woman who had stolen his truck.

  He considered his options. He could turn around and head back into the house. That might just delay the inevitable. More infected might show up and surround the house and he would be trapped. He could move to one of the upper floors and lean out a window, picking off infected. The noise, however, might draw more of them to the house and he would likely run out of ammunition before he could get all of them. For all he knew the backyard could be teeming with infected as well. Chester was never one to run away from a fight anyway.

  His best option, he decided, was to move forward and get to the woods. He could use the trees as cover if necessary as he made his escape. His first order of business was to lighten his load. He didn’t have time to empty his backpack. It held his extra ammo anyway and he had a feeling he might need that. He reached down to his belt and unsheathed his machete. Swiftly he reached behind his back and with a couple of quick strokes cut loose the extra bag of groceries he had attached to his backpack. Bringing it back in front of him, he was ready to deal with the woman now no more than three feet in front of him.

  With one swift stroke, he plunged the machete into the skull of the woman formerly known as Donna. There was a brief moment of satisfaction as black goo sprayed everywhere and she crumpled to the ground. The feeling lasted but a second as there was a lot more work to do.

  More infected has reached the crest of the hill and were blocking his path to the stairs. He looked to his left and noticed a small group of shrubs in an L-shape defining the front left corner of the property. He had a clear path to get there and the infected were fewer on that side. Making his move he raised his rifle and unloaded on two zombies stumbling through the bushes. They fell to the ground.

  Coming around the shrubs he was able to peer around to the backside of the house. His worst fears were realized. The back yard was also filled with infected and they were headed his way. As long as he could keep his path free in front of him he should be able to outrun them.

  Two more infected appeared from around the other side of the hedges, Chester raised the machete once again and leveled it at the head of an older man wearing a butcher’s apron that was covered in blood. He couldn’t be sure if the blood was animal blood, the man’s blood, or someone else’s. It didn’t matter as he quickly put him down. He came back up with the machete and caught the second one under the chin and drove it through, nearly slicing its face in half. He had trouble, however, extracting the blade as it was somehow stuck in the infected’s cranium. Chester was forced to bend over and reach down as his victim fell to the ground. He pulled the machete back and forth attempting to loosen it as he became acutely aware of the zombies emerging from the back yard, now only a few yards behind him.

  He was, however, determined to remove the long blade embedded in the infected. He twisted the handle a final time with tremendous force and was finally able to loosen the machete. Pulling it out, he plunged forward nearly tripping over the former butcher. Infected pawed at his heels as he struggled to regain his balance. Using his rifle to push himself upright, he wrestled with the extra weight in his backpack.

  Finally, back on his feet, he ran toward the road, the putrid breath of the infected hot on the back of his neck. Many of the undead who had stumbled up the hill was now looking around for the prey that was just in front of them. Quite a few, however, remained near the road and were joining the zombies from the back of the house in hot pursuit. As he reached the end of the street Chester swung the butt of his gun and clipped a young woman dressed in shorts and a Rolling Stones T-shirt, sending her to the ground.

  He looked across the street, into the woods thick with foliage, and tried to spot any movement. The last thing he wanted to do was run into the waiting arms of infected hidden in the forest. Adjusting the backpack, he stepped to his left just in time to avoid an infected man lunging at him from behind. They had gained on him. He had to move and move now!

  He ran to his left, down the gravel road, looking for an opening in the woods he could safely dart into. After about twenty yards he spotted a small clearing and moved toward it. As he entered the woods he stopped briefly to look around and get his bearings. There didn’t seem to be anything to be concerned about in here. At least for the moment. He had, however, been easy to spot moving across the street and the infected had followed him.

  The mid-afternoon sun casts long shadows and made navigating the vegetation a little more difficult than it had been a few hours ago. Chester moved as quickly as he could. He would need to put some distance between himself and the infected before stopping to consult his map and compass. He looked behind him from time to time to check on his pursuers. He could hear their moans in the distance.

  If he had not been running as fast as he was or filled with the sense of urgency that he was filled with, he would have easily spotted it. It was amateurishly constructed and under normal circumstances would have been an object of ridicule by someone of Chester’s experience. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t notice the haphazardly placed branches covering a deer pit directly in front of him. As he stepped into it the branches snapped as his weight and gravity did the rest.

  Chester tumbled forward and then turned as the weight from the backpack twisted his body slightly. He landed hard on his left side on the bottom of the pit, some six feet from the surface, his head bashing on the side wall. He lay motionless at first, trying to figure out what happened. Unfortunately, his head hurt like hell and a dull throbbing echoed in his ears.

  He didn’t think he had broken any bones. He had broken a couple before and knew what it felt like. His vision started to get blurry and he now considered the possibility that he might pass out. He tried to move but found it difficult. The backpack was caught on something underneath him. His machete went flying somewhere. It could be in the pit with him or lying in the woods just above him.

  It was getting more difficult to think. He tried to shake his head, get himself to focus, but his head hurt too much. He needed to untangle himself from whatever has him pinned to the ground. He carefully reached for the combat knife Major Bradly had given him. He hardly used it as he preferred his machete and hunting knives but it was the only thing he could reach at the moment. Pulling it slowly from its sheath, he hesitated when he thought he heard a sound emanating from above.

  He had moved more onto his back now and could look up into the trees hovering over him. The sound repeated itself and he knew what it was even before the zombie’s head came into view. It jerked its head around looking for the fresh food it smelled. Suddenly it stepped forward into the pit and fell straight down, landing right on top of Chester. Horrified, he squirmed to avoid the chattering teeth of the infected. It tried to lift itself up and move closer to him but had broken its right arm in the fall.

  Chester used his left arm to keep the thing at bay as he used his legs to lift the dead weight off of him. He found it impossible to do much of anything with his head pounding like it was. It took him a few seconds to remember he had the combat knife in his right hand. He raised it and plunged it into the left side of the thing’s skull.
The zombie collapsed on top of him just as another infected fell into the pit.

  This one fell to his right and bounced off the side wall landing on its back, right next to him. It let out a shriek, unlike anything Chester had ever heard before. It did little to help his growing migraine. He reached around the already dead flesh lying on top of him and stuck the knife into the right eye socket of the zombie on the ground. It shivered once and then lay motionless beside him. Chester removed the knife and cried out in pain. He started to feel nauseous and was sure he was going to pass out any minute.

  A third zombie fell into the pit. Chester had seen this one coming and raised the knife above his head and speared the infected’s skull as it landed. He was now awash in the stink of the undead. Covered by zombies and zombie blood and unable to move, he slowly succumbed to the swirling in his head and slipped into darkness.

  Chapter 9

  Desert

  Captain Bannon had made his way into the cabin after the Gulfstream reached its cruising altitude. He told the soldiers to help themselves to the aforementioned well-stocked galley as well as giving them an estimated time of arrival. It was why the Major was now sitting on the couch with a ham sandwich and a bottle of water. The others had just finished their food and were moving about the cabin.

  He thought of Dr. Sanderson and the probability of his having discovered anything of use. It’s been over two months since their last meeting at Fort Campbell. The Major had no idea how long something like that would take but he figured everything else would be put on the back burner. It seemed pretty obvious that putting an end to this infection was the only thing that truly mattered.