The Common Cold (Book 2): A Zombie Chronicle-Cabin Fever (25 page)

Denver, with a population of well over six hundred thousand,
was emptying of its citizenry, and even if you divided that number by the
points of the compass, that still left something like one hundred and fifty
thousand potential zombie threats coming their way. Although the killing was indescribable
and terrible for all of them, their brains quickly adapted by numbing them to
the fact that they were wiping out humans, or at least a vague facsimile of
what was once human; the brain’s capacity for soaking up horror was well known
and in this scenario essential for survival. The fact that they may have
destroyed about a thousand of them in that one terrible attack, was as nothing
when they considered that there still remained enough Infected coming their way
to launch about one hundred and fifty more similar attacks. The numbers were
appalling to think about, and he was barely able to put them into some sort of
imaginable perspective. Their first mass encounter was bad enough.

Peeling himself gently away from Janet he got up and threw
his clothes on. Janet followed, getting ready to mount armed guard for the
cabin area. In the last few days there had been time to practice shooting and
by now everyone was approximately equally capable, with few showing any
squeamishness for the task. Flying the less practiced down to the supply dump
in the grounds of the National
Center
For
Atmospheric Research, they practiced shooting zombies
until everyone had shot at least half a dozen each. Although it was a
cold-blooded act, every one of them would need to overcome any resistance they
might still feel about killing the creatures. It was also decided that the
Infected would be known as zombies, dehumanising them as much as possible;
Janet’s idea had finally been taken up by the rest of the group.

In their brief rest periods when not erecting the fencing or
standing guard, they had all taken to sitting out front of the cabin basking in
the winter sun which, as long as there was no wind, could be quite warm - as
long as you wore warm clothes of course. At least they would get their daily
dose of vitamin D. Since the first heavy snow the clouds had stayed away but no-one
was under the illusion that would remain the case. If the reasonable weather
could just last until the fence was completed, it would be a miracle worth
celebrating and would ensure that any snow that did land within the confines
would be zombie-shark free.

The LRAD eradication team consisted of Rob at the wheel of
the
Splatterer
truck, Danny and Tom working and
securing the LRAD in the back, and Mike and Cliff manning the backup truck to
give fire power support if needed. They had worked out a standard route for the
clearing process. They would drive at no more than walking speed, aiming the
LRAD away from the lake and into the treeline, unless they found footprints
leading in another direction. This would enable them to eradicate any zombies that
might be hiding in the area, possibly under the snow if they were lucky and it
worked that way. The only risk they all saw was the potential for a non-zombie
hiding or innocently making their way past their territory to be killed by the
machine. While agreeing it would be a hideous way to die, they all agreed it to
be a risk worth taking; chances of a lone breather successfully making their
way through the hundreds of thousands of zombies circling the mid-western city
was slight.

“Right, guys.”
Tom called. “Mount
up!”

Everyone ran to their trucks and took up their positions.
Danny got out his freshly charged iPhone and set the music for kick-ass Kylie’s
‘Can’t get You
Out
of My Head’ and put it on repeat.
Plugging it in he gave the thumbs up signal and Rob pulled away slipping into
second gear and staying slow. With only faint echoes of the tune reaching
Danny’s ears - thankfully - it was hard to tell the device was functioning
properly.

“Is this thing working?” Tom asked, clearly echoing Danny’s
doubts.

“See the lights indicating volume? They’re one away from
full volume, just like before. I can faintly hear it. We won’t know until it hits
something, I guess.”

“What about the animals out there?” Tom asked. It was a
question that had crossed Danny’s mind. As a city dweller, he probably had more
concern for the sanctity of countryside wildlife than out-of-towners who
usually had a more utilitarian and pragmatic approach to life and death,
especially that of small, furry creatures.

“Well, if it’s a deer or something edible we won’t waste it.
I’m gagging for a bit of fresh meat. The sooner we can get off bloody MREs
won’t be a minute too soon.”

“Can’t complain though, without them we’d be in a pretty bad
place right now.”

“You’re not kidding, Tom. How much of it do we have left?”

“I’d say a couple of weeks as long as we all stick to the
diet allocated.”

Poor old Chuck hadn’t intended to support over twenty people
for a sustained period with his provisions. His supply had done the group
proud, that was for sure, and certainly helped
them
get through the first few days, removing desperation at least as a reason for
leaving the safe haven. It was also a relief they had gone down the mountain to
the emergency supply buildings and discovered such a haul. The food supplies
they’d found there meant they would have a varied diet, albeit more bloody
MREs. When Laurie had seen the food supplies brought back she had been
surprised. It was not supposed to be a food resource point, so it was with deep
gratitude they all thanked the god of administrative fuckups who had seen fit
to deliver it within reach of people who needed it.

Tom brought him back to the present by tugging his sleeve
and pointing. Ahead they could see several zombies loitering among the trees.
They appeared to be wearing military uniforms and there was evidence of what
looked like recent blood in the snow.

“Where’s the blood come from? Have they just turned? Or
would they eat wild animals. Do you think?” Danny asked, trying to understand
what he was seeing. As he spoke the walkers came out from among the trees. Some
carried guns but did not appear to understand their use for they were not being
carried or aimed in any useful manner. It was as if they had forgotten they had
them.

“I doubt a wild animal would get near enough to be caught.
My guess is that we’ve had recent visitors that have been attacked. The recent
visitors might even be them.”

As the truck drew near and the undead came within the arc of
the LRAD’s range they started to stiffen, as if realising something was wrong,
although in truth it was probably just the sound frequency grabbing the
attention of what passed for brain function. Their jaws began to drop as bodily
control was given up. One, wearing corporal stripes stood ahead of the others,
his dominance in life appearing to reside in death. In his belt was a radio and
something else, Danny couldn’t make it out. Almost in unison, their heads began
to vibrate rapidly, steam pouring out of their available orifices. Even their
eyes seemed to steam before popping like over-ripe tomatoes, blood and solid
matter splattering down their fronts before their heads finally began to crack
open with the now-familiar wet popcorn sound they’d all heard before. As every
one of them lay in the snow, bodies steaming, they began slowly to sink into
the frozen ice crystals as it melted under them. In the immediate area of the
zombies the snow was also affected by the sound; as with the heads, the brain
matter boiling before exploding outward like a faulty pressure cooker, so the
snow melted, thick steam rising and pits deepening in the surface as the ice
within the drifts was melted.

“I want their radio,” Danny said.

“Why? We have radios,” Tom challenged.

“What if they’re in contact with someone? They might be able
to help us.”

Before Tom could object, Danny flicked off the LRAD and jumped
down, hurrying across to the corporal. As he approached he noticed a small,
slightly discoloured crater next to the body. Curious, he dug into the snow
while holding his pistol in case there was something alive underneath. His hand
dug into cooling goo and he withdrew it quickly in shock. Greenish red blood
covered his hand like a thick gelatinous glove.

“Oh, crap!” he exclaimed in horror, desperately wiping it
off in clean snow. It took surprisingly more effort than he might have imagined
removing the substance. More carefully this time, he dug to one side of the
crater and finally found a shoulder. Lifting with all his might, he uncovered a
headless body. The LRAD had taken this one out under the snow. “Yes!” he
exclaimed, excited by the discovery.

Moving on he dug out the corporal’s body a little to see him
more clearly. Picking up what appeared to be some form of necklace he threw it
down in horror realising what he had in his hand. Ears on a string!

“Jesus!” he exclaimed, shuddering. Somehow seeing thousands
of corpses did nothing to alleviate the creepiness of what he had just
discovered. Were these bastards on their way here, he wondered? He suddenly
realised that protecting the group from zombies was the easy bit, certainly by
comparison to defending against a trained group of killers. God knew what these
soldiers had done before coming here to turn. If the corporal was a wrong ’un
then it was likely that most if not all of his men were in the same league of depravity.

Careful this time as to where he put his hand, he pulled the
radio from the corporal’s belt. Pulling the other thing off he had seen from
the truck, he discovered it to be a hand-held GPS unit. The battery was still
functional and the screen was lit, showing a map. His blood ran cold; the destination
of this group was shown clearly on the screen - it appeared to be the
survivor’s group of huts. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked himself. He ran
back to the truck with his prizes and climbed aboard.

“What you got?” Tom asked. He’d seen the stunned look on
Danny’s face.

Instead of answering Danny banged on the roof of the truck.
“Let’s go, Rob buddy.” The truck jerked into motion and they continued their
clearance of the area.

In answer to Tom’s question, Danny handed over the GPS unit.
Tom’s face went pale. “What the…”

“My sentiments exactly,” Danny muttered.

“Have you tried the radio?”

“Not yet, it’s switched on but I haven’t tried calling out.
Considering the GPS was pointing at us I was wondering what it might bring down
on us if we used
it.
”

“Good point. Let’s have a proper discussion when we get
back.”

“Yeah, let’s.
The upside is that
the LRAD works on the under-snow fuckers.”

“That’s good news, Danny. So what does lightly boiled brain
feel like, then?” Tom chuckled showing he had enjoyed Danny’s reaction to his inadvertent
handful. Without waiting for an answer he suggested they collect the weapons.

“Why? We’ve got plenty.”

“If they’re left out here they could be collected by someone
else and might be used against us, and they can also be cannibalised to provide
parts as our weapons begin to fail in time.”

“Good idea.” Danny slid open the window. “Hey, Rob. Once
we’ve done the circuit, can we come back to this point? We need to scavenge the
weapons those guys were carrying.”

“Sure thing.”

*

 
“Stacey. Sir” Ethan spoke,
pressing the intercom switch to the commander’s office. One of his pet hates
was calling an officer by his first name, whether ordered to or not. It just
wasn’t right. He didn’t even like the guy. Admittedly he was the only one left
to speak to at all. Everyone else seemed to have made the decision to go their
own way, ignoring everyone else. God knew where they were in this bunker while
Ethan spent his time at his terminal doing his job. Sometimes it felt like he
was the last one in this place that gave a damn. His colleagues’ actions didn’t
feel malicious; it just seemed to be what they wanted. He hadn’t seen another
soul for over an hour and for now Ethan didn’t really mind; he wasn’t feeling
good and his headache was beginning to make his thinking fuzzy. That and
strange thoughts were passing through his fevered brain.

Colonel Stacey Bradford hobbled into the small comms room
and over to Ethan’s monitoring station. He seemed to have an injury of sorts;
Ethan wondered what the problem was as he could see blood on the officer’s
shirt, up near the neck. It might have been a shaving cut, but the amount of
blood was way too serious for a small nick. And what was the limp about? He was
absolutely certain he didn’t have one before. He appeared almost to be dragging
his foot as if the ankle had failed.

“I have someone on the radio, sir,” he began when the
officer arrived, trying to ignore his demeanour.

Stacey nodded. “Who is it?”

“I believe it’s the people we sent the soldiers to assist.”

Stacey appeared to raise his eyebrow, surprised that it
wasn’t the helpful Corporal they’d been in touch with earlier.

“Go ahead.”

“NASA calling Stapp Lakes.
NASA calling Stapp Lakes.
Come in.” Ethan’s voice sounded
croaky, this cold deepening it significantly.

“Hello. Did you say NASA? You are sounding garbled, unclear.
Over.”

“Affirmative.
We sent soldiers to
protect you, to assist if they could.
Over.”

“You sent the soldiers?”

There seemed to be irritation in the survivor’s voice, Ethan
couldn’t understand why that would be so, they were only trying to help.

“We have satellite feeds and drones,” he explained. “We have
been looking at the whole US of A for survivors, trying to connect them with
each other.”

“And are there many?
Over.”