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Authors: Brian Parker

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Gnash (38 page)

BOOK: Gnash
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She thought less and less often of Grayson.  The odds of him being alive were slim and even if he was, he would never return east.  The city they’d shared was gone, infested with undead creatures.  That secret had gotten out fairly quickly and the networks loved showing footage of former D.C. residents-turned zombies getting their brains blown out by our nation’s heroes.  If he was alive, he thought her either dead or worse, undead.

In fact, her inability to locate Grayson is what led her to her current career.  In May, when she was really looking for him, there wasn’t an official way the survivors could contact relatives to let them know they were alright, so Emory had made that her mission once they’d settled in Quantico.  She established a community website for survivors, family members and friends to locate each other or to mourn their loss.

She’d been able to contact her insurance company and convince them that she was still alive, so her apartment’s rental insurance policy provided her with a large settlement payment for the total loss of everything she owned.  She’d taken part of that money and purchased a computer and website address and began building a searchable database of victims and developed message boards where people could go and find information.  Within a few weeks she had official government sponsorship with links directing people to her page for research and support.

She tried to read all the messages at first, but it quickly became overwhelming once the word was out about her site so she’d enlisted the help of online moderators and finally had to hire a couple of real IT guys to assist with the technical aspect of managing hundreds of thousands of hits a day.  She’d even rented a small office space just outside of the Marine Corps base to house her staff and the rapidly expanding computer systems.

Besides the facts that her entire life had been vaporized by a nuclear blast, that she’d been the sole survivor of a zombie attack at a secure government installation, that her former fiancé was dead somewhere in the Midwest and that her current boyfriend spent his work days hunting zombies, she had a pretty normal life developing here in Virginia.  Her website,
Gone, But Never Forgotten: A Resource for Survivors
, was almost constantly in her thoughts.  It had started out as a simple tool for families and friends to track information on survivors, known deaths and missing persons from the DelMarVa area had now grown exponentially into a full-fledged business that was actually generating a lot of income from sponsorship and donations. 

Hank was trying to be quiet, but all the gear he carried made noise just the same.  Little things like the metallic noise his rifle made as he rested it in the corner against the wall and the dull clunk as he unlatched the straps on his ballistic tactical vest so he could take it off and set it on the floor.  She rolled over to face him.  “Good hunting?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“I was up late working on the site.  I just laid down a few minutes ago,” she lied and sat up with her lower back resting on the pillows.

“Okay.  Um, well, yeah, we had a good day.  More flying low on the Little Birds looking for Primaries,” he said.  The main effort for the Special Forces and SEAL-type guys had switched from survival to the offensive.  Now they actively sought out the Type One zombies on a daily basis, mainly by overflight with the small Special Operations helicopters known as “Little Birds” and then upon identification, they’d either take them out from the air or land and insert on the ground.  The Regular Army and the Marines were responsible for the tightening of the noose around the entire DelMarVa region, which involved fighting the zombies as they encountered them, sanitizing and decontaminating the areas the zombies had been, and the slow, methodical clearing of every building, tunnel and structure.  Their main enemies were the seemingly endless supply of Type Twos as the presence of Type Ones decreased with each successful mission by men like Hank and his teammates.

“We killed three of them out in the open down near the old National Harbor.  We landed to investigate, but didn’t find any more.  It was definitely strange that they were together like that.  Typically we only see one Primary at a time, like they’re territorial or something.”

“But maybe it means we’ve really got them on the run and they’re trying to regroup,” she said enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that,” he said as he shrugged out of the heavily padded long-sleeved shirt which helped to protect him against zombie bites.  “Maybe we should try to focus on that area, see if we can turn anything up.  Hell, we’ve got enough teams zigzagging all over the region just looking for targets of opportunity, maybe we can actually have a designated target for once.  It’s frustrating because we don’t really have a strategy other than kill what we see, maybe my higher-ups will agree to me setting my team down and checking things out.”

“It couldn’t hurt right?  I mean there were three of them together and before that, it’s been months since you saw more than one with a group of Type Twos.”

“Hell, it’s been even less recently.  We’ve had a hard time finding any more of the Type Ones at all.  Intelligence tells us that they believe there should be less than a hundred of those smart little bastards left.”

“So this may really be the beginning of the end for them right?”

“I hope so.  But it only takes one zombie, Type One or Two to re-infect and entire region, even the entire continent if it gets out of the quarantine zone.  That’s why we’ve been so careful with the perimeter here and in Indianapolis.  The main difference is that the Type Twos are too dumb to do anything but charge towards the sound of gunfire, but the Primaries, they’re likely to just hole up somewhere and let the ring of troops go past them, then start infecting people in the ‘cleared’ areas,” he said making quotation marks in the air.

He finished getting undressed and put all of his clothes into a decontamination bag and placed them in the hallway.  “Are you going to be awake long enough for me to take a shower?  I really want to talk to you about something, but we’re only allowed to skip the field decon provided we bathe immediately upon return to the barracks.”

“Yeah I know.  It’s really late, but since I’m the boss, I can afford to sleep in a little bit and go in late.  Get cleaned up and I’ll still be awake.”

Hank came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and his toothbrush furiously scrubbing back and forth.  He walked behind the wall locker that his clothes were stored in and reemerged wearing a pair of sleeping pants.  He went to the bathroom and quickly finished brushing and hung up his towel.

When he came out, Emory was yawning.  “I’m sorry it’s so late, you but you know, the best hunting for these guys is the late afternoon and into the early morning.”

“It’s ok, what did you want to talk about?” she asked.

“I think that I’m ready to retire once this is over,” he said.

“Wow, that just kind of came out of nowhere,” she said sitting up a little straighter.

“I know.  I hit twenty years last fall, so I’ve been eligible to retire for over a year, I just didn’t have the desire to hang it up like I do now.  I mean, I love my job and I’ve had a great time serving my nation doing some really awesome shit in Delta, but I’m ready to settle down, maybe start a family…” he took her hand and knelt beside the bed.

“I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of being my wife?” he asked.

“Yes!” she nearly screamed.

“Oh thank God!  I was worried you’d say no.  You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  I don’t have a ring for you, yet…”

“Hank, you hunt zombies for almost fourteen hours a day, it can wait,” she cut him off.

“Oh man, I was so nervous just now,” he said and they both laughed at the absurdity of a member of the U.S. Army Delta being nervous about anything.

She stopped laughing and used the back of her hand to wipe away a tear that appeared unbidden on her cheek.  “I want to get married as soon as you’re ready.  I don’t want to rush you, we can talk about that later.  But that was a really big source of tension between Grayson and me.  I mean we dated for four years, engaged for almost three, but he would never settle on a date.  It drove me crazy.  I’ve never even met his parents for Pete’s sake, it’s ridiculous.”

“I want to get married as soon as we can too.  I’ve given my entire life to the special operations community.  I’ve never really had a serious girlfriend before you because I was always off doing…things.  But I’m ready to take that next step and get married.”  He grinned at her and squeezed her hand, “My parents live in Florida, as soon as we’re done here, we can go meet them.”

She pulled him from his half-crouched position beside the bed on top of herself and kissed him.  “You said you wanted a family?  How many children are we talking about here, Mister?”

“I don’t know, two or three.  How many do you want?”

“I was thinking at least three.  But, we’re not getting any younger and I don’t want to be one of those parents that are too old to go out and play with our kids.”

“So does that mean you’re not tired anymore?” he said slipping his hand under her nightshirt.

“Oh, I’m still tired.  Just not
that
tired…”

***

19 November, 0945 hrs local

Shelbyville Municipal Airport

Shelbyville, Indiana

“The reason I called this emergency meeting is that President Holmes has seen sufficient evidence to lift the quarantine for citizens living inside Indianapolis,” Major General Sir Ian Clarke said in his crisp Midlands English accent.

He looked around the table at the five community leaders.  It was the same group he’d been meeting with monthly for over six months minus two members whose areas had been overran by zombie hordes, despite his best efforts to protect the population centers. 

“I have been informed that our joint panel of government scientists has determined that the
Alex-C
virus is not airborne.  However, it is now their concern that it may mutate before the winter months set in and have recommended to the president that you be evacuated immediately.  You will have one day to pack what items your community members desire to take.  However, the intent is to move your personal items to your new homes after the zombie threat is eliminated.  So pack light, you will see your property in the future.

“Starting tomorrow morning, one community will be evacuated per day.  My men will arrive at the designated community at 10 o’clock in the morning to provide escort.  The convoy will leave the city via Interstate 74 to the southeast.

“We have set up a temporary camp in the town of Shelbyville that has a capacity of over four thousand beds, which should be more than enough space.  Once there, we will record everyone’s information and allow them to either stay or move on to other locations if they desire.  It is imperative that every person’s information is obtained for your government.  There is a fund set up to provide you with housing, recoupment of your losses, employment, et cetera. 

“We will operate the camp for one week after the final community is evacuated.  At that time, we will no longer provide anything except the pre-packaged MRE for the citizens who decide to stay.  It is strongly recommended that everyone try to find housing elsewhere until the government aid is established.”

He paused for dramatic effect as all eyes were riveted on him.  “The order of evacuation has been determined based on our assessment of your community’s ability to defend itself for a few more days until your time to evacuate comes around.  The first community will be Cedar Ridge, then the Fourth Street Commons, Arora Highlands, Three Pillars and finally Pecan Valley.  What are your questions?” 

“Why do the people who are less prepared than us get to go first,” Chante asked pointing towards the Cedar Ridge representative.  The general sighed and began his effort to quiet the bickering.

***

21 November, 2148 hrs local

The Awakening

National Harbor, Maryland

Master Sergeant Hank Dawson patted his best friend’s leg to get his attention as the helicopter banked.  The only thing that kept them from falling to their deaths was their chest harnesses which were secured by straps to the floor inside the Little Bird.  He held up his index finger to indicate that he’d just been told by the pilots over the intercom that they were one minute out from their designated insertion point at the National Harbor area.   

On their previous trip to the area Hank’s rebuilt Delta team 378, which consisted of himself and Sergeant First Class Jeffery Sanders plus ten other special operators, had identified the only place relatively clear of debris.  Their landing zone would be along the Potomac River waterfront at the site of
The Awakening
, a large, multi-piece sculpture that was designed to resemble a giant climbing its way out of the ground.  The statue was creepy as hell when it was just a regular tourist stop, but now that most of the buildings were a least partially collapsed from the nuclear detonation and there were fucking zombies running around, the place was downright scary.

Jeff gave Hank the thumbs up sign and slapped up on the magazine of his SCAR to ensure it was seated properly.  For this mission, he would be on the ground with the rest of the team instead of being located in a stationary sniper overwatch position.  The teams had learned the hard way that you couldn’t leave one or two men by themselves in a hide because the zombies invariably found them.  Plus, he did have his
Lapua Magnum .338 sniper rifle slung across his back, so he could provide long-range coverage if the need arose. 

Hank looked aft of the helicopter he was riding in and saw the other two Little Birds following in formation behind them.  Each helo carried four of his teammates, plus two pilots from the 160
SOAR
[33]
.  His stomach lurched into his throat as the birds flared quickly and set down.  He hit the quick disconnect button on the front of his chest harness and it fell away so he could jump the moment the skids hit the pavement. 

BOOK: Gnash
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