Insurgent Z: A Zombie Novel (16 page)

“No, no I don’t, but, of the 30 men I have, ten went into the prison. That only leaves me with 20 men to protect the compound and man the checkpoint.”

“You’re just going to have to do the best you can until I can free up some resources. We’ll get the Coast Guard patrolling the shoreline with shoot to kill orders on anything that moves.”

Hart felt like he just got slapped in the face. “Shoot to kill? I don’t think those infected prisoners have enough sense to pilot a boat. What about innocent citizens?”

“Doesn’t matter who it is. We can’t let anyone escape. There will be additional orders coming down soon. We’ll modify the directive.”

“But, General—”

“No buts. Protect the compound. Keep the checkpoint secure at any cost. The secrecy of this mission is more important than all the lives in Botte, including yours. Have I made myself clear, Colonel?”

“Yes, General, you have.” The satellite phone went silent. There was nothing that he could do but wait out the storm and see what the future held.

Mason’s face, from the time they met in Iraq, haunted him. The tiny scars where Mason’s nails had dug into his flesh remained to this day. Hart remembered how easy it was to take the high-road during that rescue. How rank gave him the privilege, no, the duty to remind those he commanded that their only purpose was to serve the greater good of the United States of America. Damn individual feelings and rights. Damn the wife and children back at home—and the life they hoped to build one day.

Hart had never expected to be in this position. Not at this rank and certainly not at this time in his career.

Lieutenant Reid stepped in the open office door with an envelope in his hand and stood at attention. Hart felt some relief in the formality, letting him pull away from the tormenting memories.

“What is it, Lieutenant? Good news, I hope.”

“For your eyes only, sir. New orders.” Reid handed him the envelope and relaxed.

Hart opened the envelope and read the letter. The new orders held the same amount of hope as his conversation with the General. “Alert the men that we are in survival mode. At this time, it is not known when relief will come. The directive is clear. Under no circumstances will anybody, living or otherwise, leave Botte. We need to hunker down and protect the compound at any cost. Refugees will be treated as prisoners and held until their point of debriefing. Shoot to kill any resisters, or any infected that come within range. These are our orders.”

Reid’s expression softened, and then snapped back to that of a determined commander. “Yes, sir.” He turned to leave the office.

Hart rose from his chair and followed. When he caught up, he put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “I heard some shots while I was on the phone with the General. Some of the Paradis inmates make it over here?”

“No. It was two of the locals. Big guys wearing overalls. They had blood on their faces and hands. They were definitely infected. This way, I’ll show you.”

Near the gate, two soldiers stood watch while a medical team hovered over the bodies. Hart was taken aback at the sight of the dead men. Lips curled away from teeth, and dead, frozen scowls looked more horrifying than any Halloween mask he had seen.

“We shot them several times in the chest, but they kept coming. They didn’t drop until we shot them in the head. Honestly, sir,” one of the soldiers said, as if trying to convince himself.  

“How do you think they got infected?” Hart asked, to no one in particular. “Do you know if they worked at Paradis?”

“I don’t think so. One had a wallet on him. We did a quick search and believe the two were brothers who live a few miles away. Farmers. There’s no immediate explanation how they became infected,” Reid said.

Hart rubbed his hand on his chin. “The Mayor told us that Paradis had its own water well. What if he was wrong? What if that well was somehow connected to the towns?”

“Wouldn’t the mayor of a town this size know that?” Reid said.

“Maybe, yes. Maybe, no. Paradis’ water system was probably built decades ago. I’ve seen small towns take that route, jerry rigging the whole damned thing to keep things running on the cheap. What if Botte’s water piping had been pieced together over the years to a point where even the guy over public works doesn’t know what’s tied into what? You know how records can get lost, and repairs and connections are made by work crews and then forgotten about.”

“I guess that’s possible, sir.”

Hart put his fists on his hips. “Send a few men over to the nearest house to get a sample of water, and get it tested. If that stuff’s in the town reservoir, we’ve got a real disaster on our hands. Hell, if it’s in the water system, and the whole town is infected, we’re fucked big time!”

The two arrived at the radio room. Reid went inside to transmit the new orders. Hart remained outside and lit a cigar. The wind shifted toward him as he puffed to get the cigar’s end to burn. The smoke wafting up irritated his eyes and nose, making him cough.

Everything he had his hand in lately seemed to backfire in his face.

Chapter 12

No Way Out

Rosella stared down at her watch, and the time crawled. Seconds turned to minutes, which then turned to hours. She and Barry had barely moved since taking refuge in the small utility closet. Afraid to do so much as breathe, they held each other close, and waited for what could be their inevitable and violent end.

Dying in the diner was the last thing on Rosella’s mind when she went into work that morning. Things like this just didn’t happen in a small town like Botte. In the past, they had a few incidents with fisherman who would drink a little too much, but it never escalated to murder, much less… eating another person. The longer Rosella stayed trapped in the dark closet, the more she tried to convince herself what she had witnessed wasn’t real. She hadn’t seen people ripped apart by others. That just wasn’t possible.

As the minutes ticked by, it was not only possible, but the chilling reality. For that first hour, Rosella and Barry were forced to listen to every noise coming from the diner. Every groan, cry, and scream could be heard, almost as if they were in the same room. After the first hour had passed, the shouts of pain and torment quieted. They held each other for a few more minutes, on edge, and ready to detect the slightest noise, letting them know that things were not all right.

“I think they’re gone,” Rosella said, whispering.

“I don’t know. Could be a trap,” Barry said, his voice cracking.

“A trap? Why would they do that if they knew we were in here? It’s not that hard to beat this door down.”

“What are you proposing?”

“I think it might be time to see if the coast is clear. Maybe get some help.”

“I think you’re crazy.”

Rosella had to admit that it sounded crazy. There was canned food and water inside the utility closet. They were safe, and so far, undetected by the crazy people. She knew they could ride it out in here for a while if need be, but the thought of freedom had already infiltrated her brain. Maybe the police had arrived and gotten this whole mess under control? Certainly, Mason had to be on the case.

“Look, it’s been an hour, and there hasn’t been any noise. Not even the slightest sound. I think it’s safe out there. Maybe I can close the diner door and lock it? Make it real secure so we can just move out of this closet.”

“And what if you’re wrong? What if you open that door and let them in? Then what? We are fucked! Did you see what they were doing? Eating people alive! I don’t want to be ripped apart, no ma’am.”

“I have the meat tenderizer, and I’ll be quiet. I just have to know what’s going on, and I’m starting to feel a bit claustrophobic.”

“Rose, if those things are out there, claustrophobia is the least of your concerns.”

She squeezed Barry’s hand, and though it was too dark for him to see, flashed him a reassuring smile. She stood as quietly as possible and crept toward the door. Barry gasped as the click of the lock disengaging popped like a firecracker. Rosella took a deep breath and slowly turned the handle.

A beam of light cut into the closet. Rosella whipped around, seeing the terror on Barry’s face. She almost closed the door, almost, but fought through the initial burst of fear, and opened the door wider. She quickly checked the room, and not noticing anyone standing there, hit the light switch, turning it off.

“Why did you do that?” Barry said.

“I don’t want anyone to see me. I’ll be looking for them, so I think I’ll spot them first.”

Rosella walked outside the closet, her legs trembling with each footstep. She turned and noticed Barry was at the door.

“You coming?”

“Hardly. I’m closing this door the moment you walk away.”

Fear gripped Rosella. “You can’t do that, Barry. What if I need to get back inside?”

“That’s the choice you made. You want to leave, I don’t. It’s not fair that you get to decide what happens to us. I’m looking out for my own ass here.”

“Barry, please.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she did her best to give him a sad, puppy-dog look. “Just stand guard and wait for me. I’m asking you as a friend.”

Barry sighed. “All right, but if I hear anything, I’m closing this door. I’m not opening it back up.”

“Deal. I’ll be quick.” She gave him a wink and walked toward the kitchen.

She entered the kitchen and did her best not to vomit at the site of the woman whose head she had bashed in only hours ago. The corpse lay motionless in the same spot where Rosella had left her. The blood that poured from the wound had congealed, looking like a layer of strawberry preserves. Rosella gave the kitchen a quick scan, and seeing no one was waiting to attack her, shut the lights off. The only light remaining came from the main dining hall, and enough streamed in from the order window to allow her to see. No sounds came from the dining area. Rosella listened intently, waiting for the something to send her scurrying back to the safe confines of the closet. She hoped Barry was true to his word and was keeping watch at the door.

Mustering all the courage she had, Rosella pushed open the double doors to the dining area. Her knees buckled, and she nearly fell at the sight before her. The diner was in a total shambles. Tables and chairs were overturned, material from the cushioned booths had been ripped out, and the walls were covered with food and gore. Red splashes of arterial spray decorated the walls and ceilings. Body parts littered the floor and counter. Rosella noticed several people bent and twisted into horrifying shapes seated in chairs, lying on the floor, and stretched out on tables. The patrons of the diner had been reduced to mutilated corpses and were scattered throughout the diner. People Rosella had been serving, for years, were now dead. The realization saddened her. She looked over at the entrance door and noticed a pile of bodies caught between it. There was no way she would be able to get it closed, not without dragging a few bodies out of the way. She would then have to deal with the loud, clanging bell if she did. The light switch for the dining area was next to the entrance door, but above the alarm system. If there was a way she could trip the silent alarm, then help could arrive quickly. All it would require is punching in the alarm code and an extra number. A few seconds, and hopefully the authorities would receive their silent distress signal.

She rounded the corner of the bar, making sure to stay low to the ground and undetected. The fluorescent lights in the dining area were all fully lit, taunting her as she crawled. Making her way to a booth, she slid in, and peered through the large glass window that faced the street. Her heart sank. The city was engulfed in chaos. Rosella saw several buildings in flames. The streets were choked with smashed vehicles. Bodies covered the ground like freshly fallen snow. Shapes and shadows caught her eye, and she followed them, making sure her head was ducked down and out of sight. People staggered between the wrecked cars and buildings. To Rosella, they appeared to be lost, and though she had trouble seeing their faces, she knew they were like the ones that had barged into the diner. She gasped as three people knelt next to a motionless body in the street. Rosella turned her head away as their mouths tore into the flesh of the still corpse. The rumble of an approaching car caught her attention, and she looked to see a small compact pull in front of the police station. To her horror, a young woman gripping a baby to her chest got out of the vehicle and ran up the stairs, screaming for the police.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Rosella said, hissing the words. Tears streamed down her face at the inevitability of the situation.

The woman continued to slap the front door to the station, unaware of the attention she was drawing. Rosella saw the dark shadows come to life as dozens of people got up from where they lay, or appeared from behind smashed vehicles and dark alleyways. The stairs were thick with the moaning dead, and still, the woman was oblivious as she continued to pound on the door.

“No,” Rosella said, covering her mouth.

The woman’s cries for help turned to screams as a large man buried his face in her neck, removing a large piece of flesh. Blood sprayed the air as the woman whipped around, exposing her baby. Greedy hands jutted forward, snatching the baby from her, and taking it to the ground. A wave of the undead washed over the woman, and she disappeared behind a wall of snapping mouths. Rosella shook her head, but also recognized the situation this had presented. The woman had bought her the distraction needed to get to the alarm system.
But the baby. . .

She scooted off the bench and returned to the ground. Suddenly, her hand skidded from under her, and she muffled a scream when she realized she had just touched a ropey piece of intestine. Organs and pools of blood marked the floor.  Rosella composed herself enough to continue crawling toward the door. Outside, the moans of the dead chilled her blood. A full-on feeding frenzy was taking place on the steps of the police station. Rosella couldn’t help feeling lost with the realization that there was no police presence in town.

She made her way past the first row of booths, passing a badly torn apart man who was splayed flat on his back. As she passed him, he croaked as air rushed past dead lips. Rosella froze, waiting for the man to attack, but as she studied him, she realized he was far too damaged to move. His arms were gone, exposing ragged stumps with pieces of sharp bone protruding from them. The man’s torso was primarily missing as well. All that remained was the upper portion, with the neck and head attached. Rosella saw his pale eyes follow her as she edged away from him, pushing herself against one of the booths.

Making her way to the entrance door, she steadied her shaking legs, rising slowly so as not to draw attention to herself from the numerous zombies that choked the streets of downtown Botte. Pressed against the wall, she flipped open the plastic cover to the alarm system. Its lid snapped up, and in the silent dining area, sounded as if lightning had struck. She held her breath, waiting for the things outside to notice and pursue. None did.

She pressed the buttons, 1—9—8—3, and waited for the confirmation that the alarm had been set. Nothing happened. Dumbstruck, she punched it in again. A bead of sweat trickled its way down her cheek, and her heart rate elevated.
This has to work!
But it didn’t.
The phones!
She wanted to slap herself for being so stupid. The phones were dead, and the alarm would thusly be rendered useless. Rosella wanted to scream, and the urge to kick the corpses lying on the ground was tempting, until one began to stir. And then another. And another.

Her mouth went slack as three bodies that had been motionless mere seconds before were now staggering to their feet. Hollow groans and grunts escaped their tattered throats. Sour milk eyes focused on Rosella. She ran, not waiting another second.

She had almost made it to the kitchen when her foot struck an arm that had been ripped from its owner. Rosella hit the floor, hard. The taste of blood filled her mouth as her chin collided with the tile. Images swirled in her head as the fall rocked her, but the shuffle of the zombies coming was enough motivation to shake the clouds away that filled her brain. She got up and took off toward the kitchen, rocketing through the doors and toward the utility closet. Behind her, the moans of the dead filled the diner.

The door was closed. She should have known Barry was too much of a coward to keep it open. Her hands frantically slapped the door.             

“Barry, please open the door,” she pleaded as the sounds intensified. They were in the kitchen. Dead feet kicked the pots and pans scattered on the floor.

There was no answer. No sound of Barry. Was he even in there? He had to be. Rosella slapped the door again, this time louder.

“For fucks sake, Barry! Open the fucking door! I don’t want to die!” The last words were sobbed out.

The zombies were closer now, and she knew her time was running out. Just when Rosella decided to make a break for the walk-in cooler, the door handle turned.  Barry opened up their sanctuary. Rosella ran in, slamming the door behind her.

“You spineless bastard!” she said, slapping him across the face. Barry raised his hands in defense, but accepted the beating.

“I’m sorry, Rose. I got scared and thought you had left.” He continued to cower.

“I said I was coming back! I told you not to—”

Numerous hands pounding on the utility closet door interrupted her in mid-sentence. Rosella gasped, and she and Barry backed up as far as they could, eyes fixed on the door. They held each other, the feelings of anger and animosity gone. Those feelings were replaced by total fear.              

They were trapped.