The Neuropathology Of Zombies (4 page)

Ramos finally reached the police barracks. A group of officers held the main gate open, allowing the fleeing patrol cars to enter the base. Several of his comrades stood out front, shooting into a thickening mob of what the men were now calling ‘zombies’. Ramos darted the squad car around the amassing swarm, snaking through the gate. The tires screeched as he came to a stop in the station parking lot. As the heavy metal gate slammed shut, Ramos exhaled deeply and pressed his head against the steering wheel.
Ramos struggled to lift the lieutenant out of the back seat. Two officers sensed his urgency and came to his aide.
“Let’s get him inside, he needs water!” the Sergeant instructed.
They brought the Lieutenant into the station and laid him on the floor of a small office just off the reception area. Ramos held Morales’s head. Morales had fallen unconscious and could not drink from the cup of water held against his lips. Ramos laid him back down and covered his forehead with a cold, wet towel. Ramos stepped away and one of the officers trained in first aide attended to the lieutenant’s injuries.
Ramos waited impatiently while the Lieutenant was cleaned. He saw a gaping wound across Morales’s neck, the trachea was visible, as were the pulsing carotid arteries. Air leaked from the perforated windpipe forming bubbles in the blood as it pooled in the deep gash. Ramos saw a second bite mark on Morales’s left shoulder, it was swollen and red and already looked infected. The Lieutenant’s skin was pale and clammy, his hair was soaked, and stuck to his forehead.
“He’s in trouble,” the treating officer said. “There’s nothing else I can do. We’ll have to wait for help.”
Ramos nodded and exited the building. He joined the rest of his unit as they sat outside. No one spoke.
A 40-foot concrete wall separated the barracks from the outside world. The only way in or out was the through the main gate. Outside the barracks, the raging crowd pounded on the gate. The officers watched it vibrate from the constant barrage and wondered how long the steel could hold.
The sun was beginning to set as the Chief gathered his troops for an announcement. His grave expression prophesized bad news. “I’ve been on the phone with the Governor. The government has dissolved; the entire senate has either been killed or has fled into the countryside.”
The officer’s eyes widened. “They’ve abandoned us!” cried one of the men.
“No, the Governor informs me the Americans are coming. There’s a ship close by. They’ve been given our coordinates and should be here tonight. We just need to hold tight a little longer, help is on the way!” the Chief said. After speaking he sat with his men and waited for the Americans.
The vocalizations from the mob amassing around the barracks seemed more sinister as night fell. The majority of the officers spent the evening inside the station, shielding themselves from the terrifying racket. A few men lingered outside, standing guard over the encampment. They had no choice but to listen to the unnerving groans and wails that floated over the top of the wall.
“Do you hear that?” asked one of the officers.
“No, what?” his partner replied.
“Shhh, listen!”
Both men stood still. They could barely hear a gentle flapping sound. The noise grew louder and the two officers were sure it was mechanical. They gazed into the sky and saw a soft yellow light glowing in the distance.
“Helicopter!” they shouted simultaneously.
Within a few seconds of hearing the rotors, the men emptied from the station and ran into the parking lot. A loud cheer erupted as the helicopter descended. Overcome by a sense of relief, the officers embraced each other.
The officers watched the helicopter land on the roof and the wind from the rotating blades blew sand into their eyes. The surrounding street lights reflected off the black fuselage, but it was hard to gauge the size of the machine in the dark. The Sergeant was disappointed, and thought to himself, “It doesn’t look big enough to hold many soldiers.” The chief smiled at his men and straightened his uniform before walking into the barracks to greet the visitors.
The blades were still slowing when a tall Marine, a General, stepped off the craft. He appeared to be in his late fifties and his muscular physique was visible under his desert fatigues. The police chief hurried towards him.
“General, thank you for coming to our Island.”
“I assume you’re the Police Chief?” the General said.
“Yes, sir, I’m Chief...,” the Chief spoke, trying to introduce himself.
The General interrupted, “Ok, show me around the building, I need to see where we can set up. There’s another helicopter en route with our gear. I’ll also need a detailed map of the island. We need to establish a perimeter and seal off this rock pile, now.”
The General walked towards the stairs without introducing himself. The Chief thought he saw the name ‘Fitch’ stitched across the Marine’s chest. The Chief was offended by the General’s abruptness, but somehow he admired it.
The Chief led General Fitch down the four flights of stairs to the modest conference room on the ground floor of the station. The area was small and a round table took up most of the space. One of the police officers unrolled a map of the Island and laid it on the table. The General stood over the map flanked by the Chief, a few other police officers, and a handful of Marines. They carefully studied the geography.
The Chief spoke as he pointed at the map, “The town is on the eastern coast of the island. There are three main roads, they travel north, south and west. The Island is only fourteen miles long and eight miles wide, but the terrain beyond the town is rugged. There’s a small mountain range surrounding us, the mountains were once volcanoes and are filled with lava caves; it’s an area used frequently by the local drug cartel.”
The General nodded, “Excellent. We’ll set up road blocks just outside of town, one at each stretch of highway. I’ll send some of your men out with mine, they can help ease any fears we may provoke. Plus, your guys can also help us get around. They know the area much better than we do. At daylight we’ll sweep the caves.”
The police officers looked at the chief wondering if they had just lost control of the Island. The Chief placed his hands on his hips and inhaled deeply.
The General turned to the Marines at his side, “I want to place units at the north, south, and west ends of the Island, I want them to move towards the town and detain any individuals they encounter. No exceptions. Everyone. Alright, for now, let’s get ready to unpack.”
The General turned to the Chief, “Major Thomas will coordinate the road blocks and sweeps. He’ll be on the next chopper.” Fitch exited the room.
The Chief chased behind, “General, General, please, wait!”
“Yes?” the General said, slowing but not stopping to talk.
“One of our men is badly injured and he needs medical attention,” the Chief pleaded.
“There will be some medical equipment on the next bird, it should be here soon.”
“Thank you, sir,” the Chief said. The General kept walking.
The first helicopter lifted off and turned out towards the sea as the second touched down on the roof. Marines hurried to unpack the boxes piling up in the parking lot. The police officers stood and watched.
Ramos walked into the office where Morales lay unconscious on the floor. The lieutenant was wrapped in white towels taken from the locker room. Ramos leaned over the body and was relieved when he saw Morales’s chest rise and fall; he was still breathing. Ramos hoped the Lieutenant’s wife and two sons were okay, but feared for the worst. For the first time in the Sergeant’s life he was thankful he never married, he only had to worry about himself. He knelt and prayed.
Outside, the General stood talking to another military officer. He spotted the Chief and waved him over.
“Chief!” the General yelled. “This is Major Thomas; he’ll be organizing all the troop movements. He’ll place your men out in the field with the Marines. He’s in charge. You deal directly with him.”
The Chief nodded and he shook hands with the Major. The Chief’s self-confidence was fading, and he was feeling inadequate surrounded by the well trained Marines.
“Chief, tell us what’s been going on,” the Major said.
The Chief recanted the events of the day, and told the Americans the stories he had heard over the radio about the dead coming back to life. The two Marines seemed unaffected by the report. The Chief was puzzled by their lack of emotion and thought, “
Shouldn’ttheybe surprised?Dead bodies, nowalive, runningthroughthe streets, huntingthe livingandeating theirflesh?
”
The Chief hesitated before speaking again, he felt like a peasant in audience with the lord, “General, I hate to be a pest, but my injured man needs medical attention.”
“I’ll get one of the medics to look at him immediately, Chief,” the General replied and placed his hand on the Chief’s shoulder.
The General looked towards the group of soldiers scampering across the parking lot and shouted to no one in particular, “Has anyone set up the communication center yet? I need to get those men out into the field and I can’t do it until I can talk to them!”
A boyish looking soldier came running over, “No, sir, not yet, sir. The jammer just went live; we’re now blocking all the airwaves on the Island; no cell phones, no ham radios.”
“Excellent, keep me posted, Marine, we’re wasting time!”

**********************

Ramos was surprised by the sudden flash of light as the office door opened. He squinted and covered his eyes as a tall Corpsman entered the room.

“Is this the injured man?” he asked.
The Sergeant stuttered, “Yes, yes it is.”
The medic knelt beside the lieutenant, feeling his pulse, “What

happened to him?”
“He was attacked by one of those lunatics.”
The medic removed the gauze from the neck wound. He gasped,

“What the hell did they do to him?”

The Sergeant cleared his throat before replying, “The fucker tried to eat him.”
The medic was confused, “So, these are bite marks?” “Yes, the madman jumped on top of him and just started biting

him.”
“How soon after did he get sick?”
“He lost a lot of blood during the attack and went unconscious after

a few minutes, but he got the fever after about fifteen minutes, I think. He had the fever when I got him back to the station, anyway, I think that was about fifteen minutes,” the sergeant said, thinking hard as he replayed the events in his mind.

The medic inserted a needle into the lieutenant’s arm. Attached to the needle was a thin plastic tube that led to a bag of clear fluid.
“Intravenous fluids,” the medic said. “I’m going to inject some antibiotics into the solution; it looks like he has an infection. I don’t know if this is going to help, but it’s the best I can do for now. There’s a doctor on our ship, I’ll talk to him. It may be best to bring your friend on board for more treatment.”
Ramos became hot as he watched the soldier work. He rubbed the back of his neck and walked hastily out of the room.
The medic recorded the heart and respiratory rates and the body temperature on a piece of paper and tucked it into his pants pocket. Suddenly, the door to the office opened. The General stood in the entrance.
“General, this cop is one sick dude. His pulse is rapid and weak; his breathing is irregular, fast and shallow. I think he’s septic. He has two injuries to his body, which apparently are bite marks. I guess he was attacked by one of the freaks and was bitten. I don’t think he’s going to make it. We may have to bring him out to the ship,” the medic said.
“Thank you, Doc. Keep me posted,” the General replied. He hesitated for a moment and then exited the office.
The night had been spent setting up the temporary headquarters. By mid-morning the United States Marines had been able to evaluate their situation. Several military officers gathered in the conference room for a briefing.
“Have the helicopters been out over the town? Have they found anyone alive? I need an idea of how bad this thing is,” the General said.
A man in beige fatigues began to speak, “Yes, General, we’ve done a few fly overs. The streets are full of, of, well, I don’t know what, but there’s a ton of them. There’s no way we can drive through the town right now, it’s not safe. We’ve seen acts of cannibalism, there are hundreds of half eaten bodies lining the streets and covering the beaches. Some of these mutilated bodies are crawling around, how, I don’t know, but they’re moving. We’ve also watched packs of these things attack survivors who were trying to escape on foot. Our sniper was able to take a number of them out; he had to fire several times, body shots don’t stop them, only a shot to the head kills them, just like the police said. We have found a few survivors hiding on rooftops. We’ve brought them to the aircraft carrier.”
The General sighed. “Major, any idea how the perimeter is coming?”
Major Thomas sat back in his chair, “Well, sir, the men are in place. They haven’t encountered any of the cannibals. However, they have been taking gun fire from small pockets of local resistors. We believe they’re located in the caves. We’ve managed to detain seven survivors and have placed them in custody on the aircraft carrier.”
The General looked perplexed, “What the hell is going on here? Are we talking zombies? Really? Let’s just say it. The dead have risen and are feeding on the living. It’s like Night of the fucking Living Dead out there!”
As the General finished his sentence, the door burst open. A Marine stood shaking in the doorway, “Come quick, it’s the cop!”
The men jumped from their chairs and ran with the Marine towards the jail cells. They were met outside the prison block by the medic, who was pacing and panicked, “He died about thirty minutes ago. He died. I am sure of it, swear to god. We wrapped him up and put him in one of the holding cells because it was cooler in there. Look.” The medic panted as he opened the door to the cell block.
In the center of one of the cells stood the dead lieutenant. He ferociously leaped at the group, hissing and spitting. His mouth opened, releasing a deep, rumbling growl, His arms swung frantically between the steel bars.
“Fuck, he’s one of them! Fucking shoot him!” yelled one of the Marines, lifting his weapon.
“No wait!” shouted the medic, jumping into the line of fire. “We need to study him, find out what the hell is going on!” He stood, his arms outstretched, protecting the reanimated corpse.
A firm voice spoke from behind the group, “Doc is correct, lower your weapon, Marine . I think I know someone who can be of assistance to us.”