The End: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (13 page)

“Ha!” Rob shot both legs up, crossing them as they landed on the tabletop. His chair kicked back as he did this, throwing both hands behind his head. An aspect of Foster that Baker liked about the boy, making him see a bit of himself in the young man. Rob’s tone remained calm and unfazed by the older man’s sudden outburst.

Rob said, “And shutting down borders into three states isn’t getting in their way? A lot of people are being affected right now and the least we can do is—”

The door swung open. The smoke that had collected above the men quickly shifted across the room as a light breeze blew in.

“Just set it over there… Hi gentlemen,” Gibbs said as she stepped in. Her assistant trailed behind her, holding a small projector under one arm.

“Where have you been?” General Baker said, and rose from his chair.

“I know I’m a little late, and I am sorry for that. I just couldn’t break away. I really think I’m onto something substantial,” Gibbs said.

The older man that had been standing as Gibbs entered the room sat back down, but not before giving General Baker a spotty glance regarding her
substantial
remark. The lab assistant readied the projector, plugged it in, and turned it on.

Gibbs sat at the far end of the table away from the men, mostly because of the obnoxious smoke cloud that lingered over them, but also because she needed to operate the slides.

“Well, if what you have is so vital, then let’s skip the small talk and get down to business. We don’t have all day. Do you have the written report?” Baker asked.

Without a word, a manila envelope slid across the elongated table, not quite making it to the General. Rob kicked his feet back down taking hold of the folder while briefly glancing at Gibbs. She smiled and nodded. All business.

The General opened the folder and quickly flipped the pages before closing it back; it was obvious he hadn’t bothered to read a single word in it.

“Well?” One of the other men shrugged and lifted his palms.

“Where to start…” Gibbs opened her notes and an identical folder as the one she gave the General. After glancing at them for only a few seconds, she reached for the remote to the projector without her gaze leaving the papers before her. The projector shot an image onto the screen. She eyed Foster, giving him a nod to dim the lights. Once the lights went out, the image of Professor Taft in all his rotting glory became clearer, much clearer.

“Thanks for setting it up. That will be all for now,” Gibbs said.

Gibbs’ lab assistant left the room, his young face looked unusually haggard.

“
Cordyceps
Unilateralis
,” Gibbs said. A red dot popped up on the screen from the pen Gibbs currently waved in her hand. The red dot circled an open sore inside the exposed eye socket. Clotted blood and gray mucus covered the man’s face on the screen.

“After examining the non-vital soft tissues secreting the originally unknown gray mucus, I have been able to identify several common traits between the cause and effect, along with that of a parasitoid fungus known as
Cordyceps Unilateralis
.” The slide changed to another photo. A close-up microscopic split-screen view of two nucleuses showed. The one on the left normal; the one of the right infected and deformed.

“The fungus’ spores enter the body of the host through its respiratory spiracles. In this case, the host is our recently esteemed, but no longer viable, Professor Taft. The bacterium then begins to consume the non-vital soft tissues. When the—”

“Wait a fucking minute here. Back it up. Respiratory what? You mean to tell me, that shit is fucking airborne?” one of the men said.

Baker and Foster looked at one another but didn’t say a word.

“We’ll get to that,” she said, dismissing his question. “When the fungus is ready to produce spores, its mycelia enter the host’s brain and changes how it perceives pheromones, causing the host to violently attack its victims. The decomposition of the body is a direct result of large amounts of bacterium in the body. Steady consumption of what the parasitoid considers non-vital tissue quickly decomposes, allowing the vital organs to shut down entirely. Rigor mortis quickly sets in, leaving us with what we know as stiff legged walking corpses, General.”

The room was quiet for a few moments. General Baker said, “A fungus is responsible for all of this? A fungus is making people eat each other? You have got to give me more than that. But let me guess, destroying the brain destroys the fungus. Is this correct, Dr. Gibbs?”

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. Then, removed her glasses and wiped them on her coat.

“You expect us to believe a fungus is causing the outbreak, Gibbs?” one of the older men said. “Like I said, these lab rats are good for nothing but hot air. Give me a break.”

Gibbs went to another slide and acted coolly. The slide was that of an ant hanging from what looked like a large leaf, the ant took up most of the screen.

“The fungus I’m talking about… gentlemen,” she straightened herself in the chair, adding a bit more authority into her words, “has been previously documented in nature. Global habitation of
Cordyceps
Unilateralis
in tropical forests, including Africa, Brazil, and Thailand are very common. The ant you see in this image had been overtaken by a close member of this same parasitoid. Our parasitoid. Our fungus. The CU entered the ants, just as is has in Taft, and caused the ants to go crazy. Mounds of dead, walking ants have been reported.”

The slide changed to a closer view of the same ant. Similar abrasions to that on Taft covered its entire body. Gray specks covered it from top to bottom. Gibbs now had the attention of everyone in the room.

Baker said, “So you’re telling me that you have found the source of our problem… is that it?”

“That is correct, and a search through our plant fossil databases revealed similar ant marks on a fossil leaf believed to be forty-eight million years old. With that said, I don’t think that this fungus is currently airborne. If that were true, then we would all be infected and would have been a very long time ago. But the truth is, we are still here. Which leads me to believe that what we’re dealing with here is a manmade strand of the fungus.”

“If it’s not airborne, then how could it have even spread to begin with?” Foster asked, finally speaking up for the first time since Gibbs entered the room.

“I’m glad you asked. I was just about to get to that.” Gibbs switched to the next image. It was of an average man in his mid to late 60’s. Nothing unusual stood out. “This is Grech Vonhinkly, founder of GCUR-TECH. He can be easily traced over the internet, along with anything and everything about his organization.”

“Get to the point, Gibbs.” Baker smashed the butt of his cigar out on the table.

“GCUR stands for Global Cordyceps Unilateralis Research, and you wouldn’t believe where one of his top three bases of operation is located.”

“Where?” Baker asked.

All four men leaned in closer.

“Jacksonville, Florida.”

“Son-of-a-bitch! Foster, I want my best men ready and airborne headed to that facility first thing tomorrow morning.”

The men in the room stood and looked at one another.

Rob instantly left the room and radioed someone on dispatch as the door closed behind him.

*

“Is there anything else for us, Gibbs?”

“No, sir, that is all I have for now.”

“Excellent work, Doctor!” The three men exited the room, leaving Gibbs to gather her things alone. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of a day’s stress instantly lift from her body knowing that the harder part of the day was finally over. She just hoped that they would find something of substantial value at GCUR-TECH.

She had heard of the place once before, back when she was a grad student, and left the conference room a little disappointed for letting it take so long to put things together. With the materials she needed gathered up, she made her way back to the lab where a restless Taft awaited her arrival.

*

After taking a long, hot shower and feeling refreshed, Rob Foster ran the five-blade razor down the side of his left cheek, finishing a clean shave. He wiped his face with a towel and checked for any errant hairs or nicks. None. His face was smooth and tight.

The mirror showed a man in his prime. Young, vital, with unquenchable dreams and aspirations. The outbreak, though, had darkened the future. The enemy didn’t lay across the waters, but resided on U.S. soil. Their weapons deadlier than guns and bombs.

At least now there was a lead to the outbreak’s origin. It would take time for the story to unfold. Time best spent getting some rest. Work hours were flexible on the base. Essentially, everyone was on duty twenty-four hours a day. It was up to the individual to grab some shuteye when an opportunity presented itself.

A soft knock came from the barrack’s door, which in itself was unusual. Normally, a cohort’s arrival was announced by a harsh pounding of a fists and a loud demand. Grabbing a robe from the counter, he dressed as he stepped to the door, his bare feet on cold tiles.

Foster opened the door about halfway. His jaw dropped in surprise. “Dr. Gibbs?”

“Theresa. You don’t have to call me Dr. Gibbs all the time,” she said. She turned her gaze from his and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time.”

Foster saw a longing in her eyes slowly fade. Indecision obviously chasing away the reason she came. “It’s not a bad time. I just got out of the shower. You’re about the last person I expected to find outside of my door—not that I’m complaining.” He chuckled, leaving a shy smile on his face. “Is… is something wrong?”

“Uh, no. Nothing like that. I’ve pushed myself so much lately that even I realized I needed a break. I wanted to take you up on one of those offers to go have a drink.” Theresa Gibbs looked back up with her big eyes glowing and her dark cherry lips moist.

“I’m not dressed for going out. Although, I did notice you put on a clean lab coat to come here.”

Gibbs shrugged. “I didn’t pack anything fashionable for my time on the base. A white lab coat hides my dreary wardrobe.”

“You know, I’ve always wondered what you were hiding under that coat. In fact, I’ve wondered what you looked like wearing nothing at all.” Foster stepped closer, feeling the warmth of her personal space.

“I…”

Before she could speak, he pressed his lips against hers and kissed her deeply. Theresa melted in his arms, sighing wantingly.

“Let’s step out of the hall. We wouldn’t want to distract others from their work,” Rob Foster said. He pulled her by the hand into his room and closed the door.

8

The Rhino Runner slowly crept up the street less than a block from the radio station. The blades of the chopper remained visible by the moon’s natural light; the bus’s headlights were off to not attract attention. Putting the bus in park, Luke and Megan sat across from one another staring at the mammoth crowd gathered in the parking lot pouring in from the streets. The chopper engulfed in a swarm of bodies, each zombie in an agitated totter, pressed against one another. They moaned and screamed out as if in writhing pain. An ocean of arms outstretched to the sky. Countless arms and hands clawed at the building and its entrance.

Luke slowly pulled his handset to his face and clicked the button. So on edge after dealing with the bridge, he forewent the team call names, “Gus, come in Gus. We’re in the Green Zone. I repeat, we’re in the Green Zone,” he whispered.

The cab was silent for a moment and then startled both of them when the radio called back, Gus’ voice on the other end. “Status?”

“Front and center. Way too much activity. Need an alternate route of entry,” Luke said.

*

Seth stood at the window opposite of the one Gus was currently looking out of. “Back here, man, I don’t see any of them in the back. Plus, we got the gate blocking them off on one side by the alley.”

“I can see you from upstairs,” Gus said into his radio holding down the button. “Think you can make your way around the back of the building without getting noticed? Very little interference detected from that end. The dead seem to be concentrating on the front of the building.”

Luke’s voice came back over the handset again, “Roger that.”

From the window of the second floor, Gus and George watched as the large bus slowly crept out of sight and into the shadows in reverse. None of the zombies appeared to even notice as the vehicle slipped away and out of sight.

George walked over to Billy, waking him from his nap on the floor. “It’s time to get up, Billy. We’re going to leave now and go someplace much safer.”

“But I like Mr. Seth and his music,” a groggy Billy replied as he leaned up, both fists rubbing in his eyes.

“Mr. Seth is coming with us,” George said.

“YAY!” Billy jumped with joy.

“Now we are going to play a little game,” George said. “We need to keep real quiet so that those bad people out there don’t hear us leaving.” George ran a finger across his lips, sealing them shut.