Omega Pathogen: Despair (21 page)

With Jeremy and Chris at the ready, Jim used the Halligan tool to push in and prop open the door on their right. They aimed their lights into the stockroom beyond. The room was smaller than expected and was cleared quickly, with no more infected found inside.

After checking to make sure Linda had things secured outside, they turned their attention to gathering hygiene supplies. With all the soap and shampoos and toiletries collected and loaded into the MRAP they turned their attention to the pharmacy.

The lock pick gun was useless. The door lock had something broken off inside it from someone that tried unsuccessfully to open it before them. The locked door to the pharmacy area was defeated with a sledgehammer and the duckbill of the Halligan tool.

Jim and George cleared shelves of every medication. They slid armfuls of bottles and boxes off the shelves and into the duffle bags as the moved. Sorting could be done later. As they worked, Jeremy and Chris stood by the doorway providing security.

Muffled gunshots could be heard outside as Linda maintained a secured exit from walking infected. Her rate of fire had started to increase for a minute or two before she radioed that more infected than she could handle were approaching.

“We’re coming. Use the SAW if you need to,” Jim replied.

“The what?” Linda asked.

“The M249. The machine gun,” Jim answered.

They soon heard the quick buzz of the machine gun as they moved toward the exit. Chris led the way, followed by Jeremy, George, and then Jim. As they left the dim light of the store and went into the bright sunlight, they could see that around a hundred infected had converged on their location.

Chris had placed his left foot on the step of the MRAP as he started to step up inside. He planned to hop in and then help pull up the full bags from the others. He tossed his duffle bag inside and turned to look behind him at Jeremy when he felt the hands grab his right ankle.

Chris stood on the step and brought up his right leg. The momentum and force of his movement broke the grip of the infected with the sound of bones snapping. The infected had somehow gotten under the MRAP and Chris hadn’t noticed in the shadow of the vehicle.

Jeremy dropped to a prone position and fired several rounds, striking the infected in the shoulders and its head.

Chris stood at the door and assisted the others getting inside. Linda immediately stepped down from the turret and made her way to the driver's seat as they slammed the back doors shut.

Chris’ leg was checked and as he had hoped, he hadn’t been bitten. They decided that they had enough supplies and close calls for the day and headed back to the farm.

“You all right?” Jeremy asked Chris.

“I was wrong,” Chris replied.

“What do ya mean?” Jeremy asked.

“They all make me shit my pants. And thanks, little bro,” Chris said and leaned back and took a drink of water.

Chris noticed his hand shake as he brought the bottle to his lips. He looked around the back of the MRAP at his dad and brother. They had the same tremor he did as they drank.

Chapter 25

The positive change in the mood of the residents of the Yates’ compound was visible when the soaps, shampoos, deodorant, and other hygiene products were brought back. The children cared nothing about those things, or their new clothing. But it was apparent in their smiles and giggles that they did appreciated the toys that were collected for them.

As the items were split up among the group of residents, Jim, Chris, and George carried the duffle bags and boxes of medication to the RV. Jim asked George if he could help out by starting an inventory all the medications.

“Royce and I had been planning on it but haven’t found the time,” Jim said.

George happily agreed and began the task before Jim and Chris started to leave the RV.

Jim stopped at the door as he was about to leave. “George, I’ll be by after dinner to look over those files that you have. The ones we picked up at the base hospital,” Jim said.

George didn’t look up; he continued to record the medications on a pad of paper. “Sure, Jim. There isn’t much there that will be of great help,” George eventually replied.

“He’s a little different,” Chris said, as he and his father walked back toward the MRAP.

Jim looked at Chris and then back toward the RV. “Yep, he is. It could be the stress of what he’s been through. Going through a plane crash and then spending the night alone in the tower. It isn’t uncommon. We all handle things differently,” Jim said.

“Let’s keep an eye on him, though. Okay?” Jim added as they reached the MRAP. 

“Sure, Dad,” Chris said. 

The rest of the supplies were offloaded from the MRAP and the fuel was topped off. It was now always kept ready; it was a rule the Matthews followed, just in case. Most everyone made their way into the house for lunch.

Marlene had been eating at the radio and camera station with one headphone over one ear and the other resting on her temple so she could hear the conversations in the room and listen for radio traffic. She stood up and announced she had heard a transmission.

Marlene sat back down and adjusted the headphones. She pressed the headphones against her ears with her hand as she listened. “Standby,” Marlene said. She told those gathered around that survivors near Spring Hill had contacted her again.

“Are they same ones?” Jim asked as he approached.

“Yeah, same group. Well, what’s left of them. They need help,” Marlene answered.

Jim asked Marlene to gather information from the voice at the other end of the radio, and tell them they would try to see if they could attempt a rescue. Other than the children who were eating lunch, and Brent who was taking his shift on patrol inside the perimeter, the rest stood by as Marlene got an address of the building where the survivors were located, and landmarks in case their newly acquired GPS malfunctioned.

According to the man on the other end of the radio, things had deteriorated rapidly after they had made contact two weeks ago. They had been holding out in a hotel where they occupied two rooms.

The other survivors' luck had turned for the better when a squad of military vehicles had driven close by. Most of the infected had lost interest in them and followed after the military. The survivors had lost most in their group, but with the reprieve they were able to build up defenses and scavenge for food and water again in the other hotel rooms.

They only had seven remaining of their original forty-two survivors and the infected once again had begun to gather en masse around their location. They were trapped again and it was worse than before.

Everyone at the Yates’ property wanted to help the dwindling group of survivors to their south, but no one liked the idea of risking more of their own group.

Arzu looked over at Jim, who had been mostly silent during the debate. She felt her eyes blurring with tears and wiped them away. Arzu walked over to her husband and hugged him. He returned the embrace and kissed her on the lips, “ I guess you have to try,” she said.

Jim nodded. “We do, hon,” he said. Jim got the attention of the others. “Kathy, Chris, and Jeremy will come with me. We’ll leave in the morning, so let’s start getting everything ready,” he said. 

With preparations almost finished for the trip south the next day, Jim made his way to the RV to look over more of the files and documents George had in his possession since they had recovered them from the base’s hospital.

Jim looked over the stack of files George had laid scattered about on the small table and floor. The files were mostly concerning treatment attempts used by the medical staff at Camp Blanding during the initial stages of the outbreak. “What about the files you had, the ones that were on the plane?” Jim asked.

“Most of those are classified, Jim,” George replied.

“I really don’t think that matters any more, George. Either way, I could give a shit less whether they’re classified or not. Get them. Please,” Jim said.

George stared at Jim for a few seconds with a blank expression and then with a smile that left his face as quickly as it had appeared George got up to retrieve the files.

Much of what Jim had read was information he and the rest already knew from witnessing behavior of the infected firsthand. Jim had at first become terrified as he read. It had been believed that the virus had been originally spread as aerosol. However, the researchers had determined that it could only be an airborne contagion in its third stage, and only when the virus was in a suspension of cerebral fluid and cooled to thirty-four degrees Fahrenheit.

Unless it was in a host, the virus died within twelve hours when exposed to temperatures higher than forty-two degrees Fahrenheit. The virus stayed in the third stage for approximately twenty-four hours at the most, as it moved from the introduction site along the nerves and into the new host’s brain. Within a few hours after reaching the brain the virus mutated again and began its takeover of the brain.

The reports produced by the CDC and the United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases, or USAMRIID, showed they were astounded by the rapid spread and mutation of the virus. The scientists suspected the SCAR virus' ability to mutate so rapidly could be a result of it having been dormant for millennia and then exposed to the flu, and other viruses that, unlike the SCAR virus, had continued to mutate over that time.

None of the reports provided hypothesis for a cure or even a vaccine.

Jim felt he had seen enough and thanked George. He told George about the planned trip in the morning as he gathered some medications to bring along.

“Is that wise, Jim? Going out after those people. We don’t even know them,” George said.

“Probably not, George. But I think it’s the right thing to do. That’s how we found you,” Jim replied. “Goodnight, George,” he said as he left.

George didn’t reply other than a nod of his head and an odd smile that Jim thought looked painful.

Chapter 26

There was little else to be done as the night neared its transformation into day. Jim, his sister, and his two eldest sons finished their checks and re-checks of weapons and equipment for the long trip ahead just as the sun became visible.

Jim walked back to the small camper to kiss Berk and Kayra as they still slept. That was only time anyone could kiss Berk without him wiping it away. Arzu and Linda were the first and last that embraced those leaving and said their goodbyes before the MRAP exited the first of the two gates.

The muffled sounds of gunshots as Rob cleared out a small group of infected near the gate could be barely heard over the rumble of the armored vehicle’s large diesel engine.

Arzu and Linda climbed into the guard tower near the gate and watched as the vehicle drove out of sight.

As normal, the speed of the MRAP was kept to no more than about fifty miles per hour. Much faster, and the stiff suspension and the mostly solid run-flat tires failed to prevent spine compressing forces caused by dips or potholes in the road. It did not ride like an SUV. “We don’t want the wheel jerked . . .” Jim started to say.

“From your hands and lose control because some infected got turned into a speed bump,” Kathy and his sons finished his frequent caution.

They all paid more attention and they grew tense when they crossed the bridge from Levy into Citrus County. The Crystal River Power Plant was nearby. Like many former and current residents, they knew it had a nuclear reactor. Marlene had told the residents of the farm that the wife of a technician from the plant said the reactor had been offline before the outbreak because of repairs. It was supposed to be safe.

A few miles further, past the power plant, Kathy began to slow down when they came upon a four-door Chevrolet pickup truck that lay on its roof in the median. Steam still rose from the ruptured radiator as its fluid came in contact with the hot engine indicated it had crashed recently.

Several infected surrounded the truck’s cab, and more walked toward the upturned vehicle. The infected crawled over each other on hands and knees as they tried to enter and reach into the side windows.

Jeremy stood up in the turret and began firing at infected that weren’t too close to the cab. He didn’t want to shoot any survivors inside the vehicle. Many of the infected fell motionless to the ground as he fired.

Kathy came to a stop. Jim, Chris and Jeremy had made their way to the rear doors and started to exit the MRAP. “It’s too late,” Kathy yelled. 

They looked out the driver side rear windows and watched as a man was dragged from the truck. His hand held a pistol but was unable to fire it; he barely had the strength to hold the weapon, much less lift and point it.

The infected tore into his neck and abdomen. His internal organs were ripped out and were being devoured as he screamed.

Some of the man’s innards were eaten in place as the infected buried their faces into his torso. The cab of the truck was still packed with infected. Anyone that might be inside was now lost as well. If not already dead, they were being eaten alive. 

Jim entered the turret and asked Kathy to slowly drive away. There was only one kind of help he could give them. Once at a safe enough distance, Jim tossed a high explosive grenade, then another at the mangled truck as the infected continued to approach it.