The Living Dead (Book 1): Contagion (20 page)

            “The Laurels? Just the two of you?” He frowned.

            “No Ian, the
three
of us. Daniel has been with me almost from the beginning.”

            “Should I ask what’s been going on with ‘the handsome sheriff’?”

            “I don’t think you should. I can‘t imagine why it would be any of your business.”

            “Really?”

            “Really. Don’t be stupid. You know me. You don’t know Charles but he’s been a true friend throughout this whole nightmare and-”

            He took her hand before she could snatch it away. “You’re still wearing my ring.”

            “It doesn’t mean anything. I just thought someone might break into the house and steal it.”

            “Virginia, you’re not supposed to say ‘stupid’.” Daniel said.

            “You’re right. I‘ll try not to say it again.” She walked faster until she caught up with Charles. He smiled at her then looked back at Ian.

            “What was DC like when you got out?”

            “Smoky and filled with infected. The higher ups already knew the virus had jumped into the general population and they left hours before the announcement about the ‘successful sterilization.’ When word leaked that the virus had not been contained at Walter Reed the town became pandemonium. Commuters stuffed themselves into the Metro trains like cattle. The automated trains ran for a while but finally breakdowns stranded thousands of people in the tunnels.  There were infected among them. Even before I left, no one went near the underground entrances anymore. There are probably countless thousands of zombies roaming down there. The interstates leading out of the city were worse. Some of the smoke cleared by the time I flew out in the chopper. I- 495 was completely impassible and full of roving dead.”

            “You said the chopper was headed to the CDC. Any news on a cure or vaccine?” Obviously, Charles had overheard their previous conversation.

            “Sorry, that’s way above my pay grade and access level. I was just grateful for the ride. Everyone wants out or rather everyone still alive does. There are some hardened, fully stocked shelters being held ‘in reserve ‘for officials who are probably dead or worse. They need to open them up. The old protocols don‘t apply anymore.”

            “Did you make it to our house? The whole neighborhood was infested when Daniel and I got out. Did you see anyone left alive?”

            “No, but I didn’t look too hard. There were a few dead still there but they weren’t moving much. I think the decay had become debilitating. We were already seeing a few like that in DC. The whole decay process is pretty rapid and warmth speeds it up even more. Haiti has less than a quarter of their previous population but most of the living dead are not mobile anymore. Body disposal is obviously a problem and their water is contaminated. The bacteria supposedly caused this new illness and it’s devastated them.”

            “Bill and Portia are both dead. Did you get Bill’s documents I emailed to you?”

            “Yeah, thanks. I sent them to a few people but the situation was still evolving, still is, and there wasn’t a lot of time for historical reflection. Do you remember David Chambord?”

            “Vaguely.”

            “Years ago he found some old documents in the archives about the Marine Corps expedition in Haiti. Apparently, in the early 1920’s, there were a few experiments where they tried to use the virus to create a new ‘invincible soldier’. They didn’t go well and everything was hushed up. David did some research on his own and traced the issue back even further. Some Portuguese traders and priests in Africa encountered something like it in the 1400’s.”

            “Our own government tried to harness this and use it in the military?”

            “It’s not that surprising. Think about the LSD experiments they tried on people in the fifties and sixties and don‘t forget the Tuskegee syphilis ‘research‘.”

            “Why didn’t they start looking for a cure back then?”

            “They tried but science was more primitive then and I guess the issue hasn’t been re-visited. Have you ever wondered why Haiti is as isolated as it is? I think it started as a deliberate policy to keep the genetic component confined to the island.”

            They came to a fork in the road and took the uphill road to the right. An old, white farmhouse crowned the gently sloping hillside. Blown out windows and a partially collapsed roof made the once picturesque farm look desolate. An older woman in a nightgown stained dark red, clawed at the front porch windows dragging two mangled legs behind her. She heard them walking, turned her head toward the road and dragged herself to the porch steps, tumbling down to the ground. One leg broke off and remained on the porch. She rose up on her arms and they saw the fall had broken something in her neck. Her head now wobbled crazily on her back and shoulders, making her look headless from the front. Still, she pulled herself toward the road.

            “I don’t think she’s worth risking a gunshot for. We’d just draw attention to ourselves. How far are we now from your folks’ house Ian?

            Ian stared at the woman crawling toward them. “About thirty minutes.”

            “We’ll make it before dark then. Good.”

            Walking on in silence, they saw more abandoned houses. A burned out gas station added to the air of lethal desolation. The sun fell behind a copse of bare trees to the west and a chill wind picked up, sending gray clouds scudding across the horizon.

            Coming round a bend they passed between two blue spruces Carolyn had planted to mark the driveway and the beginning of the property. Pea gravel crunched softly under their feet. The tall stone and stucco house looked deserted. No smoke poured from either of the two chimneys and Ian frowned.

            “Are they out of firewood? There was plenty when I left.”

            Virginia quickened her pace. She pulled Greg’s blanket from the backpack and folded it over her shoulder. It still held that indescribably fresh baby smell. The thought of holding him again made her feel she could dance all the way to the door. To the side of the house a freshly dug mound of earth marked where Ian had buried Dan. Two bodies, badly decomposed, lay at the edge of the woodland.

            “I’ll miss him. He was a wonderful father-in-law and grandfather.”

            “He was. He died trying to keep my children safe. I’ll never forget that and I want them to understand what he did when they’re older.” Ian’s mouth hardened into a straight line and he walked faster, pulling ahead of her. She hurried to catch up and slipped on a patch of ice. He caught her and his arms around her felt so familiar, so right. Angry with herself, she pulled away and walked on, reaching the front walkway. She stopped so fast she skidded, shock turning to fear and dread. The front door stood wide open.

Chapter 21

So times were pleasant for the people there until finally one, a fiend out of hell, began to work his evil in the world.

Beowulf

             The door framed gaping darkness within. An overturned stone urn partially blocked the doorway, dirt and pansies trampled on the steps. Blood rushed to her head and pounded in her ears. She turned around, looking at Ian and Charles in mute appeal, wanting someone to tell her everything was ok and she saw
them
, the rest of the dead platoon, shambling out from the woodland. The zombie at the head of the pack stumped forward on legs that were little more than sinew and bone, skin flapping around the enormous hole where his stomach used to be. Still unable to speak, she pointed. Daniel looked and screamed then ran into her arms, knocking her down. Charles and Ian ran, scooping up her and Daniel and slamming the front door. Scratching and pounding, the frustrated dead massed against the doors and windows.

            Virginia moved from room to room, searching frenziedly. The closed blinds and curtains made the house dark and dismal. She found no one. There were no signs of violence, no bodies, no blood. Upstairs she went into ‘their’ room and sank to the floor between the twin beds. Bright checkered curtains filtered the sunlight from the windows, making the room blue and shadowy. She took the pillows from the unmade beds in her arms, holding them tight and closing her eyes. Despair deeper than she had ever experienced washed over her. What now?

            A small object, round and hard, fell out of a pillowcase and rolled under the bed. She groped for it and pulled out an eyeball. She flinched and dropped it then picked it up again. A glass eyeball. Turning it over in her hand, she remembered. Miss Alice’s eye. The one Anna lost the first night she was here. Virginia looked around the room for Miss Alice but the doll wasn’t anywhere. Neither were their sleep away backpacks. She put the eye in her pocket and went downstairs.

            Charles sat on the sofa, trying to rewind her improvised sling back around his neck and shoulder. It had come undone in their long walk and mad dash for the door. He looked up.

            “Anything?”

            “I think they left on their own. Something must have happened that made Carolyn decide it was safer to get out.” She swallowed her fear and disappointment and took the ends of the sling. “Just hold still and let me do it. We should probably check the bandage later too. How does that feel?” She reached behind his neck to tie the ends together just as Ian, along with Daniel, came back into the room. She caught a bright flare of anger on his face, quickly suppressed.

            “Better.” Charles lay back and closed his eyes.

            “The old Land Rover is gone. Something happened that made Mom feel it was safer to bug out than stay here. I‘m sorry Virginia, you were right. I should never have left them”

            “No you shouldn’t have. Miss Alice and both their backpacks are gone so yes, Carolyn probably took them somewhere she thought would be safer. But where and why no note? And why was the door open?”

            “They may have forgotten to lock it and an infected pressed against the latch. That might explain the broken flower pot too.”

            The assault from without continued. Fortunately, the elevation of the house set the windows above ground level and the doors were solid maple. The incessant moaning seemed to be coming from everywhere. It gave her chills.

            “Ian, would it be ok if we looked for something to eat? The last week or so has been lean on meals.” Charles had already started toward the kitchen.

            “You’re welcome to whatever you find. Mom wouldn’t have been able to take it all with them.”

            Carolyn’s kitchen was state of the art and comfortable. Virginia used to love to come here and spend time with her mother-in-law while copper pots simmered and delicious smells wafted around the white cupboards and old marble countertops. She found Charles and Daniel devouring cold, canned ham and crackers, washing it down with tea. The breakfast nook window framed the last dying light of the day. They were up high enough that they couldn’t see the roving, infected guardsmen.

            “Can we get up on the roof and take them out from there? We’ve more than enough ammo.” She wrapped her arms around herself and couldn’t stop shivering. Now that they were inside and not moving around much, the cold seeped into her bones.

            “That roof looks steep and still has icy spots Virginia. We don‘t want to get up there tonight.”

            “I’m not suggesting getting up there tonight. I’m just trying to plan ahead for in the morning. Yes, I am a little worried they might get in but we don’t have much control over that at the moment.” The kitchen grew darker. The daylight was gone. “Let me see if I can find some oil lamps or candles.”

            “Already done.” Ian entered the kitchen carrying two lit lamps. “There’s one in each bedroom too. Where did you find that ham?”

            “In the cupboard.”

            They all sat around the little table and ate. The oil lamps cast a warm glow and, if they ignored the blows on the house, it seemed almost like a normal winter evening. Ian brought them up to date with what he knew of how the rest of the world was coping.

            “Like I said before, Haiti is severely depopulated and contaminated. Everyone figures Cuba is a goner too because no one had heard from Gitmo in several days. We think most of the local Caribbean islands are little more than toxic body dumps by now.”      

            “What about Europe? Does anyone know what‘s happening there?”

           
“They’re fighting for survival just like we are. Parts of the Middle East and Africa are finished. They’re sacrificing children and women to what they consider demons. Turning on the most helpless members of your society like that…they won‘t be able to repopulate when this is over.”

            “We heard that gangs are taking over cities.“

            “That is probably true. Time will tell how long they hold them. Right before I left there was info indicating that China had re-routed several of their troop transport ships to California. When I left we were still trying to find out what they planned to do once they got there. This is still our country though; we may be down but we’re not out of the game yet.”

            They sat in silence while Virginia gently folded Greg’s blanket and placed it in the backpack. Bill’s documents rustled and she placed the envelope on the table.

            “Are these the docs you sent me?” Ian picked the packet up.

            “Yes, they’re Bill’s originals. I haven’t finished reading them yet.”

            “Mind if I take a look?”

            “He wanted you to see them. That’s why I sent them to you. He would’ve been disappointed if you didn’t look at them.”

            Ian rifled through them and then exclaimed “This is what David was talking about! It’s much more detailed than what he had though. Bill was a thorough guy. Listen to this.”

           
The following tale, taken from writings of Frey Segun de Villambra, details the rigors of the journeys of the Catholic friar accompanying Portuguese traders seeking trade routes in Africa in the late 1400‘s. Frey Segun sought to bring Roman Christianity to the region. It should be noted that parts of Africa had been Christian, albeit not the Roman version, since the 1
^st
century after Christ.

           
When Christmas fell, I had been with these villagers for many weeks preaching the Good News of the life everlasting. I feel I have made progress with their chief though his subjects continue to express their disappointment with me for refusing (and in their eyes failing) to have my God make the rains come for them.

            Every tribe identifies itself with some animal and this tribe is known as the Batlapi or ‘they of the fish‘. If one wants to know the name of a particular tribe one asks not the name but rather ‘What do you dance?‘ and indeed each tribe has their own dance that exemplifies their mascot. Thus far I have visited with the ’Bakatla’ or the people of the monkey and the ‘Bakuena’’, the people of the alligator. My hosts spoke of other tribes they came into contact with from time to time and it is thus that I first heard of the Aidophedo tribe, the people of the snake. This people live deep in the interior of the jungle and have little contact with other tribes. Indeed, I gather they are disliked and shunned and I became determined to find and treat with them.

            At this time of year, enervating heat sets in by noon. I set out early with a small party of traders whose intended route would take them near the region of the Aidophedo. The nearby river Niger offers the fastest course though there is danger of unpleasant encounters with both the hippo and crocodile. The boats we embarked in seemed undermanned and I suspect this is deliberate so that if one boat is lost there is room for survivors in the others. However, for my part of the journey, while we saw several crocodiles sunning themselves on the mud banks, we had no dangerous dealings with them or hippos.

            Three days of swift currents bore us to the village of the Ambonda. Built on a long, rocky slope leading down to the river, it is a clean and handsome town with clearly marked streets built on varying levels of exposed rock strata. The Ambonda are a tall people who knock out the front teeth, top and bottom, as symbols of status or marks of beauty. My trading companions were well received, as was I until they were told of my destination. The holy man or okomfu advised me to not risk the death or enchantment he was sure would befall me if I continued on. When I told him that my God would protect me and indeed was with me at all times, he demanded I show Him to the village and was scornful when I explained that my God is Most High and can only be seen when He wishes to be seen. He proudly led me to a shrine and showed me his god, an orb of black stone that can be seen anytime he wishes and he advised me to acquire such a god, as it is more practical than the unreliable one I appear to have. Thanking him for his advice, I resolved to spend time with this tribe on my return from the Aidophedo.

            The Ambonda escorted me a goodly way into the forest before sorrowfully bidding me goodbye. They were convinced I would never leave the Aidophedo village alive.

            Five hours walk brought me to the small stream that marks the northern boundary of the Aidophedo domain. This stream flows into a noisome swamp that forms the southern portion of their lands. Human skulls in varying stages of decay adorned a large black wattle tree leaning over the water. An intimidating boundary marker for a people who must want to be left alone. I knelt to pray for courage and wisdom to touch the hearts of the Aidophedo.

            An hour or so of slashing through undergrowth and I found myself outside their humble village. Naked children stared at me open mouthed. These children showed signs of disease and deformity on a scale I had not encountered elsewhere in Africa. Tiny heads with close set eyes and withered limbs were just some of the afflictions on display. An elderly woman came out of a rude mud hut and shooed the children away before hobbling toward me.

            She limped badly and the left side of her mouth drooped. Poking me with a stick, she seemed surprised to find me solid then turned and entered the largest house in view. Within minutes an old man burst forth and strode toward me angrily, shaking a staff from which hung dried, coiling snake skins making a sibilant rustling. I recognized some of the words in his shouted inquiry and mildly replied that I was an okomfu from across many waters and had traveled far to meet with him and learn of his people and share the news of my God with them. He contemptuously replied that he is the okomfu of his people and they need no other god but their own. I judged it best to bide my time for now and merely asked for shelter for the night. This was granted.

            Evening approached and the deserted air of the village puzzled me. I was about to inquire of mine host concerning this when a party of warriors emerged from the surrounding jungle bearing several small deer-like kills along with three large chimpanzee, skinned and ready for the fire. I must say they were a disturbing sight and I did not partake of this simian delicacy during the communal meal that followed.