Zompoc Survivor: Inferno (8 page)

“About as good as can be expected for a girl who just lost her father during the zombie apocalypse,” I said.

“As long as she keeps it together,” he said. “There’s movement on the street, so keep an eye out for infected coming into the yard. If it looks like they’re going to make contact or if you think they see us, don’t try to handle it yourself. Come wake me up. Your shift ends at oh-seven-hundred.” He turned and went into the room, leaving me wondering when I’d enlisted as I headed for the other bedroom. The watch post was set up a few feet from the window, giving me a view of the street without being visible. I set my rifle on the pillows that had been laid atop a set of dressers and then checked the view outside.

The sky overhead glowed a dark red, and off in the distance I heard the dull thud of an explosion. Off to the southwest, part of the sky got a little brighter. The light from a thousand fires kept the night from being pitch black, and I didn’t need the NVGs to see the zombies moving in the street. Mostly, they shuffled toward the hospital, but a couple wandered off the road. One wandered into a house across the way, but it came out a little bit later and stumbled on. A little while later, I saw another one negotiate the front steps of a house and start pushing at the front door. Eventually it cracked and opened, and the zombie wandered inside.

After that I stopped watching them so closely. I had enough fuel for my nightmares; I didn’t need to add to it. Instead, I pulled out the MP3 player and recorder I’d found in the Monos lab and stuck one of the earbuds in my ear, then queued up the first entry while I watched for anything coming into the yard of our bolt hole.

“Executive summary,” I heard a crisp female voice come over the earphone. “Simplified version for the suits in St Louis, someone created a monster. The Asura virus is all but unstoppable so far. Every attempt to stop it or slow it down just seems to give it an excuse to mutate in new and unusual ways. Cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy who were infected with the Asura virus saw almost immediate metastasis and massive spread of tumors, with an abnormally high incidence of random cellular cohesion resulting in bones and organs being replicated in the tumors themselves. It also creates massive production of growth hormone, creating a form of acromegaly. The AS7 immuno-booster administered to health care workers either had no significant impact or caused a mutation in the virus that allowed them to somehow affect other infected. Dr. Shigara theorizes that the medical profession may draw people who are naturally empathic and that this otherwise latent ability is the root cause of the very vocal first stage infected we’ve encountered on lower floors. Before seeing Patient Alpha, I would have discounted his theory completely, but he’s been ordered to follow up on this line of inquiry. We will continue to conduct putrefaction tests, but I doubt we’re going to see significant progress along those lines for some time. Nothing survives contact with this thing, especially not bacteria. Per my previous entries, we’ve made some strides in identifying what the virus does, but not how it does it. Once introduced to a host, the Asura virus suppresses uptake of melatonin and serotonin. In layman’s terms, it makes the infected host constantly hungry and unable to feel sated. This also induces a constant rage state after a few hours, making the host prone to violence. However, there is one thing I am certain of: this bug is bioengineered. We’ve discovered markers that indicate its DNA has been spliced with something. Whoever did this was using some highly advanced techniques. If it wasn’t for our own strides in this field, we would never have found the DNA tampering. If I didn’t know better, I would almost say that the Asura virus isn’t actually a …what the hell was that? Damn it, we’re not supposed to be evacuated for another forty-eight hours. That better not be that bastard Sikes again…” The recording stopped with the sound of the device being set down. For the next hour or so, I listened to the other recordings, mostly scientific gibberish to me. What I could understand, I wrote down on a pad of paper I found in one of the pockets on my vest, using the dresser drawers to cover the blue glow of the LED flashlight. None of it was pretty.

The rest of the shift crept by as I tried to digest what I’d learned, but as the sky started to turn a lighter shade of black outside, I heard something that made my ears perk up. At first, it was hard to tell exactly what it was since the constant, low moaning of the infected almost drowned it out. Then it got louder and resolved itself into the low rumble of a train engine. The infected in the street turned toward it and started moving west. Just as I was about to go wake up Kaplan, though, the engine stopped and with it, so did the infected. I held still as they started looking around, and after a few minutes they started to move off in different directions. The implications rattled around in my head as I watched the sky turn a dark red through the windows. Someone out there was working on a train. Someone who knew how to not only
work
on a locomotive, but who might also know how to operate one. That could have meant a pretty good sized group of people. I logged the time and watched the last of the infected wander north. Without anything else to keep my brain occupied, my thoughts went straight to Maya. I tried to imagine where she was. The C-130 she’d been on had been trailing smoke from one of her engines. The Herkie Bird was one tough plane, and it could make it a ways on three engines, but I figured it would be a stone cold bitch to fly. I tried to imagine her asleep in the back of the Land Master. My brain knew her better, though. She would probably be racked out in the driver’s seat with the short wave set to scan. I wanted to hear her voice again, wanted her in my arms.

Half an hour before seven, I heard movement in the hallway. “Chill, Stewart,” I heard Hernandez mutter as I took a step back toward the door. A few minutes after that I heard someone else moving around and heard Kaplan utter a soft curse before I heard his footsteps come down the hallway.

“Anything to report?” he said from the door.

“A few things, but only one thing of note while I was on watch. I heard a locomotive start up west of here and run for a few minutes about an hour ago.”

“Hmm, we may have to keep aware of that on our way out. But for today, we look for a way out of town and supplies. Get yourself cleaned up, grab something to eat, and be ready for briefing by oh-eight-hundred. I want to be out of here in forty-eight hours.”

“Lieutenant, I’m not a Marine,” I said tersely as I grabbed the M39.

“No, Mr. Stewart, but I am and as long as I’m in charge, we run a tight unit. I don’t expect you to salute or to be in uniform, but I do expect you to do what you’re told, when you’re told to. Are we clear?” Even though he kept his voice low, he gave the impression he might as well be yelling at me.

“Oh, I read you loud and clear, lieutenant,” I said as I stepped into the doorway. “I’m just not getting the same message you think you’re sending.” I stepped around him and went to the bedroom door. The bedroom was still dark in spite of the weak light outside, so I hit the flashlight and thumbed it to the brightest setting. Amy was sprawled across half of the king sized mattress in the graceful disarray that only kids, cats, and dogs seemed to be capable of. She stirred as I flipped the light from blue to white, and uttered a long suffering moan.

“Turn the light off,” she grumbled and rolled over to face the wall. When her hand flopped against the wall, she rolled back over and sat up blinking.

“Good morning,” I said with a false cheer.

“Morning,” she offered listlessly. “What time is it?”

“A little before seven. Time to get up and get ready for an exciting day.”

“You’re an asshole,” she said as she got to her feet and walked across the mattress to the door. “I’ve killed people for being that perky before noon.”

An hour later, we were all sitting in the kitchen with the last bites of eggs in a hole being wolfed down and lukewarm instant coffee warming our bellies.

“We were lucky to find those three junk heaps last night,” Hernandez picked up the thread of the conversation. “If it ran, someone tried to drive it out of the city.”

“If they tried to drive out of the city, odds are they didn’t make it,” Kaplan said. “The military and federal law enforcement blocked off the major roads, and local police covered the back roads under orders to shoot anyone who tried to make it past.”

“So, most civilian vehicles you’re going to find in the city are either shot to shit, or more likely stuck in a permanent traffic jam. Even if we do find a working vehicle, how the hell are we going to get out of the city?” Hernandez asked.

“Good question,” Kaplan conceded. “And I think it’s the one we need to address first. How did you get out of Springfield?” he asked.

“On bicycles,” Amy offered. “We were ready to bike all the way to Wyoming if we had to.”

“How did you get past the roadblocks?” Hernandez said.

“We didn’t follow the roads out of the city,” I said. “I counted on the streets being backed up when I planned our route. We followed the easement beside the railroad tracks out of town. That got us past the worst of it, and we took rural roads the rest of the way to a little homestead we had outside town. There’s another problem with trying to find a vehicle right now. West of here is the Missouri River. You can bet every bridge across it is blocked or destroyed.”

“So, we get ready to travel, find a way across the river and out of town, then we find a vehicle and head to Wyoming,” Kaplan said. In the distance, gunfire sounded, and all eyes went to the window. “And we avoid people if at all possible. Our first priority is shelter, then food and water. We’ll need some sleeping bags and warmer clothes.”

“I saw a little market just up the road,” I offered. “I’m not sure how much they’d have, but it would be a start on the food problem. If they have a phone book and some maps, we can find the stores that have what we need.” I washed the last bite of my egg down with the last of my coffee and got up when Kaplan did.

“Sounds good. Let’s get this place secured and get ready to move out for the day. Corporal, you and Mr. Stewart have latrine detail. Miss Weiss, you keep watch from the upstairs. I’ll see to the fireplace and our bunks.” Hernandez moaned at our assignment, but I kept my complaints to myself. I got the distinct feeling he was testing me to see how I’d react. We found a shovel and some other tools in the garage. The shovel got put to use right away.

Once we finished taking care of our job, we grabbed a pry-bar and crowbar we found and double timed it to the back door and pushed the refrigerator back in place. While we waited for Kaplan to come down, I went to my pack and pulled one of the two olive drab
shemaghs
from a side compartment. The smoke in the air was getting thicker, and just the little bit of time we’d spent outside was already making my throat start to burn a little. I tied it bandit style so it covered my nose, then pulled it down and grabbed the second one.

“Let’s get ready to head out,” Kaplan said as he walked into the room. “The streets seem to be pretty clear for now, so let’s get busy.” Amy was right behind him, rifle slung across her shoulder. I handed her the
shemagh
and showed her how to tie it. Kaplan and Hernandez covered their faces as well, and we headed out the door.

The street was clear, so we hoofed it to the left and crouched by the thick hedge that ran along the side of the last house on our side of the street. An empty lot occupied the corner on both sides of the street, with big real estate signs facing the road. Across the four lane street ahead of us, I could see the tan building that proclaimed itself the Campbell Food Mart. A chest high fence ran around it, with a rolling gate across the driveway. Weeds grew up through the chain link fencing, but it looked like it had stood up to the zombie apocalypse well enough. Kaplan and Hernandez looked left and right for a couple of minutes before he shrugged and started across the lot toward the Food Mart. Kaplan didn’t even bother with trying to open the gate. He planted one hand on it and vaulted over while Hernandez pointed to the left and broke right so she could cover the street that ran beside the store. Taking my cue from her, I turned and looked to my left, covering the street. I heard the fence rattle as Amy climbed over it, then Kaplan was calling my name. I holstered the SOCOM and hopped the fence using both hands to get me over it. Hernandez jumped the side fence and moved to the corner of the building as Kaplan kicked the glass door in. He gestured to me to follow him in and ducked under the bar on the door. I drew the pistol and stepped in behind him. Inside, the store smelled of spoiled milk, stale beer and blood. To our right was the checkout, with racks of cigarettes and hard liquor in cases behind the two cashier’s stations, and a clear display of lottery tickets taking up the counter space between them. Two narrow aisles took up most of the store to the left of the door, with a couple of shelves directly in front of the door and an office to the right. I brought the pistol up and clicked the tac light on.

“You hear that?” Kaplan asked after a few seconds. A moment later, I heard a thump and the sound of bottles clanking together from the murky depths in front of me.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sounds like it’s coming from back by the cooler.” From behind me I heard Kaplan’s boots on the linoleum as he came up beside me and pointed his flashlight down the narrow aisle. When we saw no movement there, we stepped over to the next aisle and pointed our lights down it. Both of us jumped when the glass door at the far end opened slightly and closed again with the clink of glass on glass again. A few seconds later it moved again, and we walked toward it. Another door bumped open, and I turned toward the cooler to try to see which one moved. The smell of beer got stronger as we got closer to the end of the aisle, and I caught movement behind the display cases in the cooler.