The Fall of Society (Book 2): The Fight of Society (4 page)

            The rest of the survivors began to climb aboard, just as Ardent and Bear pulled up on the other side. They abandoned the Humvee with the dead sailor sitting in the back and climbed aboard the helicopter.

            “Get us out of here, Chief!” Ardent told him.

            “Not yet, sir!” the door gunner shouted as he pulled in one of the survivors.

            “Why not?” Ardent asked . . . and then saw why—

            The last survivor, a middle-aged woman, was moving her best to get to the helicopter, but her body wasn’t able to run any faster. The dead weren’t very far behind her and the gunner couldn’t shoot all of them.

            She was forty feet away and the dead were right behind her.

            And they were coming from all sides of the helicopter.

            “Come on! Run!” Ardent yelled.

            She wasn’t going to make it.

            “Sir?” the crew chief addressed Ardent in urgency.

            He ignored him.

            “Sir!” he repeated in desperation because the dead were almost on them.

            Ardent couldn’t wait any longer, “Take off!”

            The helicopter roared as it lifted into the air just as the woman got there and, with disregard for his safety, Ardent dropped to the deck and reached down for her, so far he almost fell out—

            Bear grabbed him by the belt and kept him from falling.

            “Wait!” the woman shouted.

            She reached up and Ardent grabbed her hands. He had her in a good grip as the chopper slowly climbed out of danger, until—

            The dead got hold of the woman’s legs.

“No, please God!”

            She screamed in agony as several of them clawed at her and pulled her down. Ardent tried with everything he had, but realized it was futile when the dead tore into her calves and thighs.

            He looked into her pleading eyes and his compassion slipped along with her hands.

            Ardent let her go and she fell into a sea of decay and was swallowed alive.

            And this was the moment Ardent realized that he had a soul…

            Because as he watched her disappear into pieces—

            He actually felt it shiver inside him.

            Once they reached a high enough altitude, they could see the extent of the devastation—

            The naval base, along with the rest of San Diego, was in flames. Hordes of the undead could be seen everywhere and the people that were trying to fight them off were being killed faster than they could fire their weapons.

            The helicopter ascended high into the blue that was gradually becoming dark as Hell on Earth manifested below…

THE U.S.S. RONALD REAGAN CVN-76

Ship’s complement, including survivors: 6,027.

THE OCEAN SHIMMERED ENDLESS BLUE AND THE SEA STALLION WAS A LONE SPECK OVER IT. The land behind them was gone; black smoke trails were the remaining evidence of its existence. Only ocean lay ahead.

            “There she is,” the pilot said.

            They saw the aircraft carrier Ronald Reagan as she cut through the seas ahead of them. She was a nuclear-powered vessel of some one hundred thousand tons, a city on the high seas, and a machine of war at a moment’s notice.

            Which was now.

            “Mother One, Mother One, this is Viper Three Two One, making our approach, over.” the pilot said into his radio.

            An answer came through. “Viper Three Two One, Mother One. You are clear to land on helipad two, over.”

            “Copy that, out,” the pilot answered.

            As the Sea Stallion drew closer to the ship, other helicopters appeared that were also heading toward the aircraft carrier. They all came from shore, from the battle. The rotary bird came in at an angle toward the flight deck, it moved in sideways, parallel with the edge of the deck to land, as the aircraft carrier moved at a steady speed. A deck crewman guided the pilot with a series of hand signals. When the landing wheels were even, he signaled for the pilot to set her down and the helicopter made safe contact with the deck.

            Besides Ardent’s Sea Stallion, there were other helicopters on the flight deck offloading survivors, and then taking off, making way for waiting aircraft to land. The Sea Stallion was approached by a detail of the ship’s security force—several sailors in navy camouflage armed with rifles, this wasn’t a friendly welcome—Ardent jumped out and was approached by the security force lead
officer.

            “Welcome back, Captain Keller!” the officer said loudly over all the aircraft noise on the deck.

            “It’s good to be back,” Ardent answered. “Give me a sitrep, Commander.”

            ‘Sir, any survivors that have been brought aboard, or any personnel that have landed ashore and have returned to this vessel, have been screened for wounds from the infected and any of them with infected wounds have been removed from the ship immediately, as per your instructions, sir.”

            Ardent glanced at a group of security crewman two helicopters down who were forcibly escorting a man and a woman toward the edge of the deck. The man was a naval officer and both of them were pleading with the armed sailors. The officer was shouting in anger, but the crewmen weren’t listening because the two people had bite and scratch marks from the undead. It was only a matter of time before they turned. They walked the two to the drop-off at gunpoint, with nothing but the ocean below, and they shot them both in the heads, execution-style. The limp bodies fell into the dark blue.

            “Very good, Commander,” Ardent said with a cold voice.

            He didn’t notice or didn’t care that the officer speaking to him was purposely standing several feet from him with his rifle at the ready, not pointed directly at Ardent, but halfway up toward him. These were Ardent’s orders because the Ronald Reagan was his ship.

            There were security details waiting for every helicopter that landed and everyone was checked for the infection, no matter who they were.

            “Sir, if you wouldn’t mind,” the officer said gesturing to Ardent’s clothes.

            “Of course not,” Ardent said and he proceeded to remove his jacket.

            Bear got off the helicopter next and was asked to patially undress as well.

            Ardent exposed his neck, arms, and raised his pants legs so the officer could look for any possible wounds caused by the undead. He was clear and so was Bear.

            “Thank you, sir,” the officer said to Ardent and lowered his rifle.

            The other security sailors were escorting the rest of the helicopter’s passengers to an area away from it, so they could examine all of them.

            Ardent noticed a situation on the deck not too far from him—three sailors had a woman and her child surrounded at the edge of the deck—it was obvious that they were infected by the bite wounds on the mother’s ribs that could be seen through her torn, bloody blouse. The child, a ten-year-old boy, was infected as well. Ardent couldn’t see where he was bitten or scratched, but the child was sweating profusely, breathing very fast, and shaking like a leaf as he clung to his mother’s thigh, mostly to keep himself from falling.

            “Please, don’t kill my child!” the mother pleaded. “He’s just a boy!”

            She held him protectively behind her leg and she didn’t notice when the child suddenly stopped breathing and died standing, clinging tightly to her.

            “Kill me, but spare my son!” she shouted.

            “Shoot them!” Ardent shouted as he approached.

            The sailors couldn’t do it.

            And then the boy came back to life with enraged milky eyes, it felt the warm flesh of his mother and it bit into her thigh. It ripped some flesh out in squirts of blood.

            “Oh my God!” one of the sailors said as he trembled in fear.

            The woman cried out and looked down at the thing that was eating her.

            “Shoot, goddamn you, that’s an order!” Ardent yelled.

            The sailors were frozen, so Ardent rushed over, drew his sidearm and shot the child in the face. Its head jolted back and it stood there dead, holding on to its mother with its nails imbedded in her flesh.

            “Damn you!” the mother screamed. “You killed my baby, you killed—”

            —He shot her next and the bodies fell into the sea.

            The three sailors were dumbfounded and shocked. Ardent turned to them with his gun in his hand and his finger still on the trigger.

            “Sorry, sir, I couldn’t shoot a woman and her child, sir,” one sailor said.

            “If something like this happens again—I’ll shoot all of you myself!” Ardent yelled. “Is that perfectly clear?”

            The sailors acknowledged him, “Yes sir!”

            “Carry on,” Ardent said.

            The sailors went back to work. Ardent watched the security force take many infected people to the edge of the flight deck and execute them. Every couple of minutes—shots rang out and lifeless bodies fell off the aircraft carrier like the leaves of a giant tree and splashed into the consuming ocean. He had seen enough and left toward the command island, which was the only high-standing structure on the entire flat deck of the ship. It was several stories tall and the bridge, the ship’s command center, was located there.

            The security force dealt with the survivors from Ardent’s helicopter; they had moved them away from the aircraft and were inspecting them for any evidence of being attacked by the undead. The loudmouth senator was last off the helicopter and quiet as he moved with the rest of the survivors like a frightened herd. The senator watched three people from another group forcibly moved to the edge of the deck because they were bitten and scratched, sailors shot them without question. The gunfire made him flinch in fear. The sailors discovered an infected person in his group and they forced her to the edge, crying and begging for her life, and they killed her. She hit the deck in a dead heap, but didn’t fall over. A sailor kicked her over the edge.

            The senator watched with tearful eyes, but wiped them quickly when two sailors approached him.

            “Sir, I’m going to need you to remove your jacket,” one of them said.

            His was too scared to say anything so he just took off his jacket quietly.

            The sailors looked at him from all angles and they didn’t see any trace of blood.

            “Okay, sir, can you please open your shirt and roll up your sleeves,” another said.

            The senator finally found some courage, “This is ridiculous, I haven’t been bitten.”

            “I’m sure you haven’t, sir, but I’m following the captain’s orders. Now please, open your shirt and roll up your sleeves.”

            He undid his tie, unbuttoned his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, the sailors looked him over and he had no signs of any wounds.

            “Thank you, sir, you can button your shirt.”

            The senator buttoned his shirt and he was clearly annoyed. “When can I get some food and something to drink, sailor?” he asked.

            “Once we’re done here, we’ll be taking you below where we have temporary lodgings in hangar bay two. Food and drinks will be waiting for you there, sir,” the sailor explained.

            “Fine, can we go now?” the senator asked as he finished buttoning his shirt.

            “No, sir, we’re not done here,” the sailor said.

            “What?” the senator said incredulously.

            “I need you to remove your shoes and socks, and then raise your pant legs as high as they’ll go, if you will, please,” the sailor ordered.

            “This is ridiculous!” the senator spat.

            “Captain’s orders, sir,” the sailor reiterated.

            “Where is the captain? I want to speak with him!”

            “The captain is unavailable, sir. Please remove your shoes and socks and raise your pant legs.”

            “Do you know who I am?”

            “Yes, Senator, I do. You’re one of the senators that voted on military budget cuts, I know exactly who you are,” the sailor said and raised his rifle toward him. “Now do as I say.”

            “Fine!” he said and removed his left shoe and sock, and then pulled up his pant leg to his knee, exposing his extremely white calf, which was wound-free. “Satisfied now?”

            “Now the right leg, sir.”

            “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” the senator snickered as he untied the laces on his expensive shoe.

            “No, sir, I’m just following—”

            “—The captain’s orders, I know!” the senator barked.

            The lace on his right shoe got knotted up and he couldn’t untie it.

            “Goddamit!” he muttered in frustration.

            The sailor produced a pocket knife, “Here, sir, cut it off.”

            “Are you insane, these are five hundred dollar shoes!” He continued to struggle with it.

            “Sir, I need you to remove your shoe immediately,” the sailor ordered.

            “Fuck!” the senator growled at the lace. “Okay, okay, fine!” the senator shouted and gave up on the lace. He stood up, unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants down to his ankles.

            “There, are you happy now?” the senator shouted as he threw his arms up in surrender. “Is this humiliating enough for you?”

            He turned around so they could see his bare legs. He was clear of any wounds, but the sailors tried to keep from laughing at the spectacle.

            “That’s fine, Senator, you can redress now, sir.”

            The sailors moved on to other survivors and the senator dressed himself. They finished checking out their group and found another person that was trying to hide the scratch marks on his stomach; they separated him.