World of Ashes (50 page)

             
The kid nodded, “Yeah, is the mask supposed to smell like this?”

             
“Like what?”

             
“Cheap rubber McDonald’s toys.” The kid answered. “And I can still smell all the rot. I don’t think this thing works.”

             
“The masks aren’t designed to filter out benign particles. They’re meant to filter out weaponized agents and nuclear fallout.” Ethan said as they stepped through the door, their powerful LED flashlights illuminating the carnage like a medical exam table. As a joke Ethan turned the light upwards to create shadows on his face. “
Private… I am your father.
” Ethan breathed deeply to imitate Darth Vader’s respirator. The kid got the joke, but wasn’t much in the mood for laughing.

             
Bodies hung from the banisters of the upper level, a sea of death rolling down the stair cases like a stagnant waterfall. Foot and hand prints in the gore where people had slipped in their own blood, the blood of friends and comrades painted a nightmarish tale. Some people had been dragged away and devoured even as the machine guns rained brass and lead around them. Piles and piles of bodies outside doors and windows of offices had once been living, vibrant people. Ethan motioned for the Soldier, Private Riveera, to follow him into the main offices. The scene inside the maze of bullet riddled cubicles was no different than the putrefaction factory in the main halls, just fewer bodies to make a bigger mess. Not many people had died in this room, it had been a running battle from here.

             
“Sheriff, I think they shot the computers.” Riveera whispered, conscious of the fact that there were sounds coming from a nearby office. There was no doubt someone had locked a number of infected inside. Without the elements to decompose them they were still in good enough shape to be dangerous. The stone building acting as a modern sarcophagus for these heinous creatures.

             
“Yeah, I can see that.” Ethan whipped out his Leatherman and unscrewed the outer case of a desktop computer. Whoever did this had known exactly what they were doing, a 9mm round had been put through the hard drive of every computer in the office. Ethan removed it anyhow, hoping something could be made of it. “Hey, Riveera, start unscrewing these things. I don’t care if there’s a round in them or not.”

             
“Yessir.” Riveera went at the task as well. They had each removed maybe three hard drives when the kid backed into a cubicle, unable to see clearly in his mask. The flimsy cardboard wall fell backward with a loud pop as its dry rotted base gave way. There was nothing behind it, thankfully, but now the Zims behind the door knew the two of them were there and instantly the moaning started. Riveera freaked out, yelping then freezing with fear, his breathing becoming loud enough to hear across the room.

             
Ethan grabbed the kid before he could run out the wrong door or into another office with no escape routes and shoved him through the right hatch just as the Zims broke down the moldy wooden door. Ethan had the presence of mind to shine the light on them and wished to God he hadn’t. They were rotted, bloated, blackened puss oozing bubbles of infected shit, gurgling and waddling toward them like a herd of ravenous trolls with Prader-Willi Syndrome in a donut shop. Ethan wanted to shoot them, but there was no point. They could outrun the Zims easily, shooting them would only draw attention. Turning the corner to run down the second floor hallway Ethan saw that his momentary lapse in focus on Riveera had allowed the terrified young man to run full steam in the wrong direction.

             
“FUCK! Riveera, this way, damnit!” Ethan shouted. The kid turned his head to look back and plowed headlong into a support pillar, knocking him out cold and shattering one of the lenses on his mask. Ethan stood for a second, staring at the idiotic kid sprawled out of the floor, trying not to laugh as the situation became more and more dire.

             
Lifting his arm Ethan shot the closest puss bag in the head and stepped forward just in time for it to fall where he’d been standing, its blackened puss/blood spewing out on the floor in every direction, causing the one behind it, which had been a large woman before she died, to slip and fall as well. The immobile zombies blocked those behind them for now, but it wouldn’t last. Ethan ran up to Riveera and tore the kid’s mask off. His right eyebrow was cut and bleeding, but otherwise he looked no worse for wear.

             
“Real nice, kid.” Hauling the soldier up in the fireman’s carry Ethan remembered why he hadn’t volunteered for the Army the second time around. His knees were shaking, ready to give way just because of the awkward carry. He had the muscle to do the job, his joints just weren’t willing anymore.

             
Someone had heard the gunshot and now half the platoon was inside the building on the first floor, shouting for them to come back. Ethan was tempted to toss Riveera over the bannister, but it was a long way down and there was no guarantee the fall or the jagged bones below wouldn’t kill him anyhow. Instead he had to carry the kid down the stairs, a punishment adrenaline wasn’t going to compensate for. The bloated Zims had finally climbed over their comrades and were lumbering toward them faster than Ethan could shuffle. Just as they were starting down the steps Ethan’s knees gave way with a grotesque popping sound that everyone must have heard. Together Ethan and Riveera toppled halfway down the steps before stopping on a midlevel with a thud. Dazed, Ethan looked up and saw the closest Zim looking down at him, black goo dripping from its mouth while it’s disease addled brain tried to negotiate the obstacle between it and food. Raising his sidearm Ethan put a round in its head, expecting the .45 to blow the body backwards. Unfortunately the Zim was so large it only staggered back a couple of inches before the Zim behind it pushed it forward. Ethan didn’t even have time to scream as the tidal wave of rot tumbled over him like a cold, smelly trash bag filled with trash juice and rotten blood. Some of them popped on the way down, their guck lubricating the way for the Zimalanche that hit the bottom of the steps. All at once the stretched skin of the Zims exploded, a tsunami of gross washed over everything, narrowly missing the cavalrymen below. Ethan took a deep breath of smelly air and then it was lights out…

…
The next thing Ethan remembered he was in the fresh air looking up at a purple sky. He blinked and tried to sit up. He was more sore than he’d ever been in his life, even after the time his platoon had been caught with food in the barracks. What their Drill Sergeant had done to them was nearly criminal. They had also deserved it, so bygones would stay bygones. What, though, had Ethan done to deserve this kind of pain again? He also noticed he had been stripped and hosed down and poorly redressed in blue scrubs. From what he remembered about the capital building that was a mercy.

             
“Damn, dude.” Keith said from off to one side of a water-buffalo, (an Army water tank.) He was sitting on the back of a patrol car with no windows, smoking a cigarette. “Think you could go on one mission without causing a fuckin’ calamity?”

             
“What happened?” Ethan finally managed to sit up. All of his joins hurt and there was a nasty pain coming from his right temple.

             
“They pulled you and Private Riveera out of the capitol building after you survived an avalanche of Zim guts.” Keith blew smoke in a cloud that mixed with the fog of his breath as the dimming light started to cool the land. A perfect smoke ring.

             
“Did we find any gas?” Ethan asked, hoping the mission wasn’t a total failure.

             
“Yeah, actually.” Keith pointed towards a Humvee that someone was starting. “The National Guard headquarters had like two dozen full fuel trucks sitting in a back lot behind some other junk. That’ll keep us going for a good long time. Certainly until Texas gets back. Rationing might not even be so bad this year.”

             
“Seriously?” Ethan worked his joints and muscles, wishing he
had
a ‘joint’ right about now. “Is that kid okay? Sorry I forgot to ask before. My head’s killing me.”

             
“Yeah, actually. We caught a real break this time. I couldn’t believe it either.” Keith helped Ethan to his feet. “Riveera’s gonna be more than fine. Did he seriously head-butt a Zim that was about to get you guys? Because that’s what he told all the ladies at dinner chow.”

             
Ethan raised an eyebrow, knowing the truth was much less heroic. How could the kid ever face his peers again if they knew he’d run the wrong way and hit a pillar because he was freaking out like a teenager about to die? “Yeah, man, kid did a great job.” Ethan reaffirmed the story. The truth was safe with him.

             
“That’s awesome. C’mon, we’re camping in the HQ’s gym tonight.” They piled in the Humvee Keith had brought to finish cleaning up his med bay at the State Trooper HQ. The ride to the armory was short, but Ethan was asleep again when they got there. Keith unceremoniously opened the canvas door his friend was drooling down and let him flop out onto the parking lot. What else were buddies for? Once inside Ethan got up and chased Keith for a minute he found Lee in some colonel’s office. He was reading over a stack of classified papers he had found in an unlocked safe, the previous owner’s hand still wrapped around the latch, but nothing else.

             
“They had orders to evacuate and meet at Cheyenne Mountain, Wyoming.” Lee set some papers on the desk. “What were your impressions of the scene, Sheriff?” This chat was in an official capacity.

             
“I think the entire scene was a planned pullout that went to hell. I wouldn’t doubt if it was related to the Army’s pullout the day Keith and I were abandoned.” Ethan tried to give an accurate report. “The entire inside of the capitol building is trashed, the courtyard in the rear as well. Whoever was sent into the mop up the mess took more time to destroy the hard drives of government computers than they did stopping Zim. We got nothin’ from it.”

             
“Sounds about right.” Lee handed Ethan an MRE. “Bon apatite. Breakfast Omelet, dinner of champions. That, and the other guys ratfucked the boxes and took all the ones worth eating.”

             
That night, while the mechanics toiled in the forgotten motor pool Ethan laid in his cot next to Lee’s in a spare office. Lee snored, but that wasn’t what kept him awake. Today he’d nearly died, the fear hadn’t hit him then, but now it was impossible to avoid. What the fuck was he doing taking these risks? Four or five years ago he’d have thrown himself on a grenade to save another’s life just out of instinct, but back then the worst that could happen was Nicole and his parents would get $400,000 from his Death Gratuity. Now if he died he’d widow Mary and leave Samuel with no one to call father. Ethan and Lee had a relatively normal, nuclear family upbringing. The children of this new world often had no opportunity for such a life. They were often illiterate and socially inept, a curse Ethan was terrified he might bestow upon his own son. He had something, and someone to live for now. This would have to be his last mission playing soldier. Those days were done and he had to finally accept that. Slowly, and with the help of some pain meds from Keith, Ethan managed to drift to sleep.  

             
Only six out of the twenty seven tanker trucks would start with the scant resources they had to repair them on the spot. However, six was better than none when they would have gladly settled for just one. The diesel they’d found would need to be horded and protected lest someone should find it and ultimately use it against them. The company mounted their vehicles and pulled out of the Missouri National Guard Headquarters after just twenty four hours. Four people would stay behind and try to get some of the other trucks started, but with orders to pull out if confronted by living hostiles. Another convoy would be back as soon as the trucks could be refueled and the men rotated. This was all supposed to be a practiced event, but Lee was sure someone would gum up the works just enough to piss him off.

They still hadn’t seen so much as a living soul, which worried many of them. There were always drifters. Where were they now?
Could Newton have been out here too? No, his journals never mentioned Jefferson City. There had to be another reason. Perhaps the place had been such a hot zone once upon a time that those left alive wouldn’t go near it again.

             
Halfway home a gunner noticed someone had been moving the abandoned cars again, making subtle changes to the route home. Roadsigns had been switched around again, just like near Hillsboro the winter before. This wasn’t so uncommon, refugees had told of signs being taken down or switched around for every reason from trying to keep people away from an area to trying to lure them in. As where abandoned vehicles had lined the road leaving Jefferson City, now there were several pushed sideways just before the bridge over the Gasconade River at Mt. Sterling. The lead vehicle approached the roadblock and a gang of twenty or so armed people on either side of the bridge appeared. The convoy slammed to a halt and took perfect defensive positions. Lee had expected something like this, so out of the kindness of his heart he decided to give the gang a fighting chance not to get slaughtered. Unfortunately, being found out like this meant someone would have to go back for the men left at the armory and find another route home. Highway 50 was about to be officially closed to Sullivan traffic if this gang was going to be a problem in the future.