The Thin Veneer of Civilization
We waited.
The sun went down.
“Stay alert.” Steve told us over the radio. “Hold positions. I’m going to recon the house. Maintain radio silence until I say otherwise. Out.”
Great. More waiting, I thought.
But there was nothing for it, so I waited. The pale blue night sky faded to full black as the stars wheeled overhead. The temperature dropped, and I did my best not to shiver in the chill autumn air. Two more hours passed. I must have dozed off at some point, because the radio woke me up.
“All positions, radio check.”
“Loud and clear,” I whispered.
“Where the hell have you been?” Cody asked.
“Ditto,” Stan said.
“Listen up, and hold the fucking questions. There are people being held captive in the barn. At least three women and one man, maybe more. Don’t let any shots go toward the barn if you can help it. There were two sentries on patrol, but I already took care of them. The rest are in the house. I’ve got the back covered, and I want you four to approach from the front of the house. Spread out ten yards apart in a skirmish line. I’m going to set fire to the house on this side, and try to flush them out to you. Stay low until they come out. Kill anything carrying a gun, and take the rest prisoner if you can. I don’t know for certain if there are any hostages in the house, so don’t shoot the place up. Everybody clear?”
We gave affirmatives, and I slowly eased up from my hide. I took a moment to stretch and check my weapons, then began working my way toward the farm house in a low crouch. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could see well enough by moonlight to watch my step. I managed not to break any twigs or trip on anything loud until I reached the tree line. I low crawled slowly through the tall grass the way Gabriel once taught me on a hunting trip in Kentucky. If I moved quietly enough to fool a buck, I could probably do the same to a person. It took me nearly half an hour to reach the edge of the field. The grass in front of me was shorter, and I had a clear view of the house and the barn. I could hear the faint sounds of rustling grass as Cody moved into position on my right. I couldn’t tell where Stan and Robert were.
“Status?” Steve asked.
I keyed my radio. “In position, over.”
“Ready to go,” Cody said.
“Been waiting for you guys,” Stan said. “Robert is with me. Cody, I’m twenty yards to your right, over.”
“I’m going to start the fireworks,” Steve said. “Be ready.”
This time I had remembered to bring a tactical light and a bipod, both of which I had mounted on my HK’s quad rail. I extended the bipod and sighted in on the door. Lying in the prone position would make my shots more accurate, but I would have less room to maneuver for running targets. I looked over to Cody’s position, and he had come up to one knee with his weight on his back leg in a seated firing stance.
Two crashes from the other side of the house echoed out into the still night. Bright yellow light seared the night sky as the roof burst into flame. Black smoke roiled up into the air, illuminated in reds and oranges by the flames beneath. Less than a minute later, a tall man with a rifle clenched in his fist ripped open the front door and stumbled out, bent over and coughing. Smoke rolled out the front door behind him. I let him get halfway down the steps on the front porch before I hit him with a double tap center of mass. He clutched his chest and pitched forward onto the ground. He dropped his rifle, and it clattered down the steps next to him. Several more men poured out behind him. The two in the lead tripped over their cohort’s dead body and fell down the porch. The ones behind them leaped over the tangled pile of bodies and spread out, brandishing weapons.
“Don’t move!” Stan shouted. “You’re under arrest!”
The men responded by lifting their weapons and firing in his general direction. The three of us with suppressed rifles opened up and began cutting the gunmen down. I heard Robert’s SKS roar as he sent hot lead at the men who had abducted his sister. Three of them curled up on the ground with their hands over their heads shouting for us not to shoot them. I counted five dead, and the three soon-to-be prisoners. That left one asshole unaccounted for.
“Anyone left in the house, come out with your hands up!” Stan shouted.
After a few seconds, a short, rotund man with a bald head and a short beard crawled out of the house on all fours. I kept my rifle trained on him while Stan shouted instructions. In a few moments, we had all four of our prisoners lined up facing the house kneeling in the dirt with their hands clasped on top of their heads.
“Steve, how you doing? Over,” I said over the radio.
“I’m clearing the house. Be out in a minute,” he responded.
I thought about going in to help him, but decided against it. The flames on the roof were spreading rapidly. The fire consuming the house grew steadily brighter, casting an angry ring of writhing shadows around it. A tense minute went by before Steve radioed to us again.
“I’m coming out. I have a victim with me, check your fire.”
Steve emerged from the smoke filled doorway. He half carried and half dragged a young woman with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Cuts and bruises covered her bare legs and feet where they were visible. She wept and clung tightly to Steve as he brought her over to us and sat her down on the lawn. Steve knelt down beside the distraught girl and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Listen, you’re safe now,” he said in a gentle voice. “No one else is going to hurt you. These men are here to help you. I have to go and check on the others in the barn. Do you know if there is a guard in there?”
“No, I don’t think so,” the girl said between sobs. “Please stay with me, don’t leave me here.”
The girl clutched Steve’s arm and looked at him with desperate, terrified eyes. I walked over to them and kneeled down in front of her.
“Hey, my name is Eric. I’m going to stay with you, okay? Steve here has to go help the others.”
Steve gave me a grateful nod, and stood up from beside the girl. I sat down beside her and pulled her close, keeping my free hand on my rifle. Steve motioned to Stan and Robert, and the three of them set off toward the barn. Cody covered our prisoners while I tried to console the poor frightened girl. She shivered under my arm as I held her. I could feel her petite, frail little bones against the skin of her shoulders. She had bruises around both of her eyes and a split lower lip. A cold anger began to burn inside me as I stared at the prisoners who captured her. They looked terrified, and they were right to be. Wide, bloodshot eyes gaped at me in the firelight. The fat one was the first to speak up.
“Listen, man, I didn’t touch her. I didn’t touch any of them, okay? I’m only with these guys because-”
“Shut up.” I told him.
“Look I’m telling you-”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I yelled, coming up to one knee and leveling my rifle at him. Cody took a step forward and swung the toe of his boot into the bastard’s kidney. He emitted a choked hiss and clutched his back.
“Hands up, fucker,” Cody said, nudging the man in the back of the head with his rifle. He grimaced in pain as he complied.
The girl beside me moaned in fear and curled up into a little ball, hands clutching the blanket around her. I sat back down and put an arm around her. I spent a few minutes saying soft, comforting words to her and holding her close. She relaxed a bit and laid her head on my shoulders as she cried into my bush jacket. It was not long before Steve returned with the other hostages. Robert carried a woman who I assumed to be his sister in his arms. He gently laid her on the ground and knelt down beside her. She had long brown hair, and her face was bruised and bloody. Robert had wrapped a bloody sheet around her naked, battered body.
The other victims could walk under their own power, barely. There were three women and one man. All four of them bore scores of bruises and small lacerations. One of the women sobbed silently and clutched her arm to her side. As badly as the women had been used, the man was the worst off. Sharp cheekbones jutted out over gaunt hollows above his jaw. He had several large hematomas on his forehead beneath lank, matted hair. A broken nose angled down the middle of his face in three directions, and one of his eyes had completely swelled shut. He looked monstrous in the light of the burning house. My throat tightened, and I looked away.
“What are you going to do with us?” The woman with the broken arm asked. Her voice shook, and her eyes were fearful. It made me want to cry for her. Steve tried to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but she flinched and cringed away. Steve held his hand up and took a step away.
“The first thing we need to do is get you medical attention. We have a doctor and medical supplies at our compound,” Steve said.
As he spoke, I head a faint moan carried on the wind. And then another, and another, growing louder. I sat up and cupped a hand to my ear.
“Steve. You hear that?” I asked.
Steve turned and raised his NVGs.
“Shit. Creeps, less than two hundred yards out, coming across the field. Lots of them. We need to move.”
I cursed and got to my feet. “We have to get these people to the truck,” I said.
Steve pointed at the four prisoners with his rifle and motioned to Stan and Cody. “Zip-tie those fuckers and bring them with us.”
The two former policemen quickly zip-tied the prisoner’s hands behind their backs and bound them together with a length of Steve’s parachute cord. Robert held his SKS level with the men’s heads as Cody tied their bindings.
“Give me a fucking excuse you cocksuckers. One reason, just one goddamn reason. I dare you. I motherfucking double dare you,” Robert said, his eyes blazing. The prisoners looked down, afraid to meet his gaze.
We had everyone up and ready to move as the first walking corpse appeared at the edge of the fire light. Flames engulfed the house behind us, and a large section of the roof collapsed into the inferno as we began to move away. Robert carried his sister in his arms. Her head lolled to one side as he walked. I hadn’t noticed before that she was unconscious. Not good.
As we set off across the field back toward the forest, Steve put on his NVGs and began to pick off the infected that got too close. I clicked on my tactical light and lit up the ground in front of us with a bright penetrating beam from the LEDs. The powerful little flashlight gave me good visibility for ten yards ahead. I was as good as ringing a dinner bell for the creeps, but I had no choice. The massive conflagration consuming the farmhouse had ruined everyone’s night vision, and without any light to see by, we would be stumbling blind through a forest infested with the undead. Luckily, Stan and Cody had thought to bring flashlights as well. They guided the victims and prisoners over the uneven terrain behind me. Steve fired off a few rounds into the darkness before he made his way back over to us.
“Eric, you got point?” he asked.
“I got it, cover our rear. Stan, you and Cody keep our flanks clear.” I rounded on the zip-tied prisoners marching behind me single file. “As for you fuckers, if you even think about running and I’ll shoot you in the legs and leave your sorry asses for the infected.”
They blinked and cringed away from the harsh glare of my tactical light. We made our way as quickly as we could across the field and into the forest. Trees and undergrowth made it difficult to spot the undead in the dark gloom. Several times, I had to send multiple rounds at infected before getting a head shot. Judging by the sounds erupting from the surrounding forest, the infected were closing in on us in spite of the efforts of our shooters to keep them away. I drew my pistol and handed it to the man with the badly beaten face.
“Here take this. If any infected get too close, put a bullet in their head. The safety is off, and there is a round in the chamber. You have thirty rounds, so make them count. Remember,” I said pointing a finger between my eyes. “Head shots only. Anything else, and it’s your ass.” The man nodded and took the pistol.
“And watch where you point that thing,” I added.
I stepped around a tree and damn near got tackled by a ghoul emerging from a thick patch of thorn bushes. I managed to bring my rifle up between us and hold him back. My barrel was too low to shoot him in the head. The thought flashed through my mind that body mechanics are body mechanics, regardless of whether you are alive or dead. I released the fore-end of my rifle and pushed against the revenant’s throat with my left hand while hooking my right leg between his and executing a textbook inside reap. The combined push-pull effect caused the infected to stumble over backward and fall on its ass. The rotten fucker hissed at me and bared its black teeth as I leveled my rifle and put a bullet through its head. I raised the carbine and swept the forest ahead. It looked clear as far as I could see, so I continued on and signaled for the others to follow.
It took us nearly an hour to make our desperate, exhausted way back to the road. Groaning, shambling shapes weaved inexorably through the pitch-black night behind us in relentless pursuit. If it were just the other shooters and I, we could have made it in half the time. The man to whom I had loaned my pistol used nearly an entire magazine keeping the creeps away from the women behind him. The poor girls were having a hard time of it due to their injuries. The one with the broken arm, and the young girl I had tried to comfort, wailed in fear every time a gun fired too close to them. I wanted to turn around and hold them, and tell them everything would be okay. They sounded so afraid. I pushed the thought out of my head and focused on getting back to the truck stashed nearby.
We urged everyone into a slow jog down the dark road. My flashlight illuminated the way ahead much better once we cleared the oppressive forest. A ghoul staggered out onto the road ahead of me and half jogged in my direction. She had been a middle-aged Hispanic woman in life, but death had turned her into a hideous, blood-drenched abomination. Something had torn her lips away, and exposed white bone shined grotesquely through savaged skin and muscle tissue under the moonlight. Black ichor covered her teeth, and a rotten, shredded tongue roiled around in her mouth. I didn’t want to stop long enough to line up a shot, so I took four running steps and put all my weight into a front kick that launched her head over heels backwards. She came to a rolling stop head down in a ditch, thrashing and struggling to get up. I threw the kick so hard that I knocked myself over. Strong hands gripped me under the arms and hauled me to my feet. I turned around and saw the poor man with the beaten face that I had given my pistol to. He flashed a broken-toothed smile and patted me on the shoulder. I nodded by way of thanks, and kept moving.
The horde of infected must have numbered a least a hundred or more, despite the several dozen we put down with our guns. I had to reload twice, and was more than halfway through a third magazine before we reached the clearing where Steve stashed the truck. He fished the keys out from beneath the driver’s seat and hopped in. Stan and Cody loaded the prisoners and rescues in the back. I hopped into the passenger seat after helping Robert lay his sister down in the bed. The freed victims threw all of the assorted junk out to make room for themselves. Stan made the prisoners curl up into balls and pack in tightly toward the truck’s cab. Steve threw the truck into gear, and kicked up dirt and gravel as he brought the vehicle around and bounced across the field back to the road. Once he put some distance between us and the horde, he reduced speed and followed the winding hill country road back to the compound.
The guards on duty at the compound sounded the alarm as our vehicle approached. It was late at night, and all that they could see was the headlights of a large truck coming toward them. As we got close, Steve turned off the lights and pulled up next to the warehouse with his window down.
“Don’t shoot. It’s Steve,” he called out.
Bill came out with Ethan and Earl in tow. Ethan took the people we rescued inside to treat their wounds and get some food into them. As if being horrifically traumatized wasn’t bad enough, they were severely dehydrated and suffering from malnourishment. We kept the prisoners outside. Steve and I spent a few minutes in terse, hushed conversation with Bill about what to do with them.
“There is a lot to talk about Bill,” Steve said. “These guys were doing terrible things. I think they might be the reason that we haven’t found any other survivors in so long.”
“So what do you want to do with them?” he asked.
“For right now, we give them food and water and confine them under guard in the factory,” Steve responded. “Tomorrow, we ask the people they kidnapped what we should do about them.”
Bill paled at that, and nodded slowly. He had seen the terrible condition those poor people were in. Whatever they decided to do with the bastards that hurt them was not going to be pretty.
I helped Steve and a few others secure the prisoners on the factory floor. We found some chains and padlocks, and used them to manacle the sick fucks to iron rings in the concrete that once supported factory equipment. Justin and Rick volunteered to take the first watch so that the four of us who went out that morning could get some rest.
“Watch them close,” I told Justin. “Don’t let them talk, or do anything else but sit there. These fuckers are dangerous, and if you give them half a chance, they will kill you to get away.”
“What did they do to those people you brought in?” he asked, his boyish face stiff with anger.
“Long story short, they beat, raped, and brutalized them. Tomorrow, we will find out everything that happened. For now, we keep these bastards on lock-down until we can decide how to deal with them.”
“I vote we just put a bullet in their heads and be done with it,” Justin said.
“Judging by what I’ve seen tonight, that might be too good for them. We’ll see what their victims have to say about it tomorrow.”
The four of us who captured the marauders and rescued their victims, along with Bill, Ethan, and Andrea, divided our time the next day between debriefing the victims and interrogating the evil pieces of shit that captured them. Stan and Cody turned out to be invaluable. They both had experience interrogating suspects, and suggested how we should go about getting their story out of them. We started with the fat bald one, since he seemed to be the weakest. Steve and I took him away from the others, forced him to strip down to his underwear, and chained him to a tree a few miles from the factory.
“You and I are going to have a little chat,” Steve said, standing in front of the man. “I’m going to ask you questions, and you are going to answer them completely and honestly. Are we clear?”
The man tried to nod, but the chain around his forehead prevented it.
“Yeah, whatever you want man. Just don’t hurt me,” he said. Even though it was cool that morning, sweat ran down the man’s fat, jiggling hide in long rivulets. Steve smiled. He looked like a hungry crocodile, and about as cold-blooded.
“Let’s start with your name.”
“Don. Don Grable.”
“Okay Don, how did you come to be a part of that little ensemble you were with?”
“We used to work together at the water treatment plant. When the infection spread out of Atlanta, we all got together and said we would work together to survive if it reached us. We didn’t think it would really happen, but it did. A couple of the guys who had families went north to Iron Station where the military was trying to set up a safe zone. Only one of them came back, and he lost his wife and kids to the infected. The rest of us holed up at Jack’s place out in the country for a while, until we started to run low on food. That was when the trouble started.”
“And what trouble was that?” I asked.
“And which one of you is Jack?” Steve added.
“Jack is dead. He was one of the guys you killed at the farm.”
“Too bad for him,” I deadpanned. “Back to my question. What trouble?”
“We…we were getting desperate. We were starting to fight over food. Jack caught a guy trying to take some stuff and run off one night while the rest of us were asleep. He…uh…stopped him.”
“You mean he killed him,” Steve said.
“Yeah. Fuck, man, Jack was crazy. He always had a screw loose, but it wasn’t until then that I started to realize how fucked up he really was.”
“Explain,” Steve said.
“Well, that night when he caught him, he didn’t kill him right away. He shot him in the foot so he couldn’t run off, and gathered the rest of us around him. He had Ray tied up. He was bleeding all over the place and begging for help. Ray was our friend and all, but we were pretty pissed at him for trying to steal from us. We felt betrayed, you know? Jack gave this speech about it being the end of the world, and survival of the fittest, and shit like that. I didn’t pay much attention to most of it, except the part where he told us that the only way we were going to survive was to stick together. That part kind of made sense. He said that Ray was a traitor for trying to run off with our food. He was leaving us to die, and that he didn’t deserve any mercy from us.”
The man stopped talking for a moment as his gaze became distant. Steve snapped his fingers in front of his face. The man jerked, and swiveled his eyes back to us.
“What happened then?”
“He…he shot him. Right in the head. Right there in front of us. Something changed then, in all of us. It was like, some kind of ceremony or something. We just quit giving a shit about anything. We didn’t have any women with us, so when we found some…we…did things to them.”
“Like beating and raping them?” I asked. “Starving them? Terrorizing them?”
The man nodded as much as his bindings allowed him to and closed his eyes. Tears slid down his sweaty cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Fuck, man, I never wanted any of this. Jack always knew what to say to keep people on his side, no matter what he did. After a while, it was like everybody started to enjoy it. Not having any rules, not having anybody to answer to. We could do whatever we wanted, take whatever we wanted. Nobody could stop us. It felt…good. Powerful. We didn’t have to bust our asses for shit pay in a stinking sewer any more. Jack always talked about some fucker named Darwin and how we were apex predators, and all kinds of crazy shit. The other guys bought into it. I wasn’t so sure, but I was scared to piss the others off, so I went along.”
“Why didn’t you just leave?” Steve asked. “Why stay, if you disagreed with what they were doing?”
“Because of the infected, man,” Don wailed. “There are so goddamn many of them. There’s no way I could survive on my own. Hell, even with sixteen of us, we were having a hard time keeping them away. We kept having to move from one place to another. About the time we settled in somewhere, the damn infected would come around and we had to run away. That’s why we were…”
He stopped talking, stammering as if realizing he had said too much.
“That’s why you were what?” Steve said.
“That’s…that’s why we were staying in that farm house. It looked safe.”
Steve smiled that creepy-ass smile of his and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a sixteen-penny nail and held it up for Don to see before taking a step back and kicking a fist sized rock up out of the dirt.
“Don, up until now you have been doing pretty well. That being said, I know a lie when I hear one. Now in order to avoid any unpleasantness, I’m going to ask you that question again, and this time you are going to tell me the truth. What were you doing to protect yourselves from the undead?”
“What do you mean? We were staying at that farm. It was out in the middle of nowhere, we didn’t think…”
Don trailed off as Steve approached him. Steve put the tip of the nail against Don’s shoulder and held the rock a few inches above it.
“Let’s try that one more time, Don. What were you planning?”
“I don’t know what-”
His words turned into a scream when Steve cracked the rock against the nail and drove it an inch into Don’s shoulder. Steve stepped back as the man writhed against his chains and sobbed in pain.
“That was just a taste, Don. Just a taste. If you don’t start telling me the truth, you are going to get the whole fucking menu. What were you and your asshole buddies planning?”
“We…we needed a place with a wall. Something we could reinforce. A couple of us found that housing development, and some people were already there.” Don gasped between sobs. “Jack wanted us to watch you guys and figure out how many of you there were.”
Steve nodded, then reached up and ripped the nail out of Don’s shoulder. He screamed again, and sagged against his bindings.
“Let me see if I can sum this up for you, since you seem to be having a little difficulty,” Steve said. “You and those other sons of bitches saw us clearing the dead out of that neighborhood, and decided to hang back while we did the hard work. I’m guessing you followed some of the workers back to the compound, and realized that you were outnumbered. Somebody goes back to your buddy Jack, and tells him that there is this big group of people with lots of food and weapons just waiting to be murdered and robbed. Jack gets stars in his eyes, and starts coming up with ways to take us out and steal all of our shit. How am I doing so far?”
Don said nothing. He just hung there, crying like a baby. Steve continued on, his voice growing in volume.
“You know what else I think? I don’t believe for one second that you were an unwilling participant. A fat tub of shit like you, you’ve probably never had a piece of ass in your life that wasn’t drugged, or making you pay for it. I bet every time somebody brought in some poor helpless girl who was terrified and begging for her life, you jumped to the front of the line to get your tiny little dick wet, didn’t you? Well I hope you enjoyed it, you worthless hog-fat motherfucker. ‘Cause that was the last thing that you will feel for the rest of your very fucking short life that will not be agonizing pain.”
Steve turned to me, his face a mask of disgust. “Help me get this piece of shit down.”
Don sobbed, and begged, and apologized as we loaded him into the back of the truck, trussed up like an animal. His pleas fell on deaf ears. We took him back to the compound and dumped him on the floor next to his buddies. Any hint of hope or defiance went out of them like air out of a balloon when they saw Don’s bloated, sobbing carcass slap the concrete in front of them. We took the rest out to the same tree, one by one, and got roughly the same story out of every one of them. They all tried to make it sound like they were the victims, that they did not have a choice, they only did it because they were scared. I didn’t really give a shit. They did it. I had spent all the previous night listening to Andrea try to comfort the victims. Listening to them cry. Thanking Andrea for feeding them. They were so hungry, so thirsty. It had been days since they had eaten. Since they were given water. Please don’t let them take us again…
Bill and Ethan finished with the victims by four in the afternoon. Ethan looked like he was ready to rip the prisoners apart with his bare hands. Bill just looked sad, and very tired. Robert was with Andrea and Stacy. His sister was not doing well at all. Bill had done everything he could for her, but her internal injuries were extensive and severe. Bill just didn’t have the equipment he needed to operate. Robert’s ruined face went still when Bill gave him the bad news that Marissa probably would not last the night. He nodded, and walked slowly and carefully back to where his sister lay, as though he might shatter if he stepped too hard.
Two of other victims were doing better. A few meals, some clean water, and a little medical treatment had done wonders for them. The man and one of the women were effusive with their thanks. They were the marauders most recent acquisition. Fortunately for them, they had not been used quite as hard as the victims captured before them. The other two women were silent, speaking only when asked a question, or offered food. Their glassy eyes stared off into an unfathomable distance while they sat listless on the ground. I felt so sorry for them. If I had thought I could do anything to comfort them I would have, but there just wasn’t anyone home to talk to by that point.
Bill called a meeting. Steve explained to everyone what happened the previous day. After setting the rest of the team up in surveillance positions, he made his way to the marauder’s camp near the housing development. They had returned sometime the previous night, and Steve watched them through a scope when Robert and his sister happened by. They were talking loud enough for the marauders to hear them from their camp. Robert and Marissa were on the other side of a ridge from the marauders and did not see them until after the bastards were already on top of them. The cold-blooded shits took them prisoner at gunpoint. Once they had them tied up, Steve crept closer to listen in on their conversation. They were taking the girl back to the abandoned farm, and they were planning to have some sport with Robert. Their idea of sport was tying a man up to a tree, firing a few shots in the air, and watching from a distance while the infected tore them apart. Apparently, they had done this more than once.
The leader, Jack, explained to Robert and his sister exactly what was going to happen to them, and then ordered four of his men to go with him to the gas station to pick up supplies. It was just dumb luck that we had planned to use the same gas station as a rally point and were able to set up the ambush.
Two of the marauders took Marissa back to the farm. We found out from the other victims that they made the captives watch while she was gang raped. One of them got too close to her mouth, and she bit a piece of his face off. I would have cheered for her, except for the fact that the man she bit flew into a rage and nearly beat her to death on the spot. He only stopped because one of the other rapists puller him off of her. He did not do this out of pity. He simply had not taken his turn yet. He did his business while Marissa was unconscious, the sick fuck. As the meeting went on, I felt less and less bad about killing them.
It took everyone by surprise when Steve told them that the marauders had been watching us for some time, and were trying to work out a way to attack us. That little bit of news caused the blood to drain from quite a few faces. At the end of the meeting, Bill informed everyone that he was going to ask the victims what they wanted to do with the surviving marauders. That night, Bill sat down with the victims and spoke with them for a long time. Robert was the one that finally came up with their sentence. I turns out that Robert was a firm believer in an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
We drove them out to a secluded spot and cut down a tree. Steve drove anchors into the ground on both sides of it and tied the prisoners down. One of the victims, the petite teenager that Steve rescued from the fire at the farmhouse, asked us to cut their clothes off them. We complied. When we finished, Steve set a small black duffel bag on the ground, and gave Robert a radio with instructions to call us if there was any trouble. Then we walked away.
It was not long before the screaming started.
I’m not sure what they did to them, but they were at it for a while. After they had taken their pound of flesh (literally), Robert called us back over on the radio. I almost lost my lunch when I saw the prisoners. The thing that made their condition so terrible was not necessarily what their victims did to them, but the fact that they were still alive. The victim’s revenge wasn’t complete, however. Robert whispered something to Steve, and Steve nodded. He pulled his pistol out and fired a few rounds into the air, then told everyone to back off up a hill nearby. We got about fifty yards away and hunkered down behind an old fallen pine near the top of the hill. The road where we parked our vehicles was close by, just in case we needed to bug out. We sat down and waited.
I think the prisoners were begging us to help them, or maybe kill them. It was hard to tell, considering that none of them had a tongue in their heads. They really started crooning when the infected showed up. I didn’t stay to watch the rest. They may have deserved it, but I already had enough nightmare material to last a lifetime. Listening to the screams was bad enough. A few endless minutes passed while I sat motionless in the cab of my truck. The screaming stopped, and I heard four muted cracks. I decided to let Steve keep my sniper rifle. I didn’t want it after that. The others came back to the trucks soon thereafter, and we rode back to the compound in silence.
That night, as I lay in Stacy’s bed trying not to think about the last couple of days, I heard three loud reports in rapid succession. Coils of dread wrapped around my gut as I grabbed a rifle and rushed outside the compound to see what happened.
It was Robert and two of the other victims. The two women with the thousand-yard stares, the silent ones. The three of them lay on the ground in a rough triangle, each of them clutching a pistol in one blood-spattered hand. Under what was left of their heads, black pools of blood expanded outward reflecting the silver moonlight. The guards on the roof came down and told us what they saw. The victims came outside, and walked about thirty yards from the warehouse. The guards didn’t think anything of it, as people often left the compound in the early evening to enjoy the cool fall air.
“Man, I expected them to walk around the factory, or sit down and talk or something. Next thing I know, they all pull out guns. The guy, he says ‘On the count of three…’ and when he gets to three, bang. I tried yelling at them, but they acted like they didn’t hear. I swear to God, I couldn’t do anything to stop them,” said one of the guards.
“It’s alright,” Bill reassured him. “Go on back inside. I’ll get volunteers to take the watch.”
Ethan walked over and stood next to me. He huddled inside a wool jacket in the cold, and stared at the bodies.
“Why do you think they came all the way out here?” he asked.
“I’m guessing they didn’t want a stray bullet to hit anyone inside the warehouse,” I replied.
Ethan turned away and went back inside.
I sat down and cried.
The next morning, we gave them a proper burial, and Bill said a few words over them. We found a note in Robert’s shirt pocket.
Everyone should get to choose when and how they leave this ruined world. We have seen too much. Hurt too much. There is no hope for us. Nothing left. We just want it to be over with. We know how hard you fought to save us, and we hope you take comfort in the knowledge that you spared us a great deal of suffering. You gave us our revenge. You gave us a choice. You are good people.
We are so sorry.
Thank you for everything.
I understood. God help me, I understood.
I began preparing to leave the day after we buried the victims. I loaded all my gear back into the truck, and found some gasoline to put in the tank. I did not go to Stacy’s bed that night. I laid out my bedroll and settled into it. Stacy came out of her little shack just before eleven that night and climbed into my sleeping bag. I held her for a little while.
“We’re over, aren’t we?” she asked.
“I care about you, Stacy.”
“Do you love me?”
Four little words. But they have so much power, don’t they?
“I’m not in love with you, but I do love you. Does that make any sense?” I said.
“Yeah, it does. I…I feel the same way.” She rolled over and looked me in the eye.
“You are a good man. I’m so sorry for what you have been through in the last few weeks. I’m very happy that we have…well…whatever it is that we are. I’m glad for it. I just wish…”
“I know,” I said.
Stacy smiled, and we kissed. She rolled over and I held her close as we fell asleep.
The next day, everything changed.
Justin was on watch that morning. The kid has sharp eyes, and he saw the vehicles winding their way down through the hills in the early morning sun. Because of our location, we had little time to react. Not that it would have done us much good if our visitors had turned out to be hostile.
A small convoy of several different types of vehicles rumbled and crunched down the narrow service road leading behind the factory. I recognized two Bradley fighting vehicles, two armored personnel carriers (APCs), two Humvees, and a large deuce-and-a-half cargo truck with the back covered in olive drab canvas. Green, brown, and black paint coated their sides in the distinctive pattern of US military vehicles. A man in the lead Bradley climbed down and turned to face the convoy. He held a radio up to his mouth and said a few words into it before passing it to someone in his Bradley. Afterward, he stepped into view and made a show of putting his weapons down on the ground in front of him. He stepped over his rifle, pistol, and what looked from a distance like a long-handled hatchet, and approached the warehouse with his hands in the air.
The fact that any one of his Bradley fighting vehicles could have leveled our little fortress with a minimum of effort spoke volumes about his intentions. Even still, Bill was apprehensive, and asked Steve and I to engage the military men. I could tell he hated doing it, but a leader has to be willing to make the hard decisions. I did what he asked, and so did Steve.
We went out unarmed. We figured that a couple of rifles, one way or the other, were not going to affect the outcome of the situation. With all the badass hardware they had, resistance would not last long if they decided to break bad on us. Steve wore a pair of old BDUs that still bore his insignia that he had kept around for sentimental reasons after the war. He looked legit in my book, but what the hell did I know? Steve assured me that anyone who served in the Army would know his rank and occupation with a scant glance at his uniform. I took his word on faith.
We met the leader of this new group in front of the warehouse. He stood a little taller than me, and had several days growth of beard on his face. His uniform sagged on his frame somewhat. As Steve began speaking with him, I wondered if he was looking for food.
“I’m Sergeant First Class Steven McCray. This is Eric Riordan. What can we do for you gentlemen?” he asked.
“Lieutenant Clay Jonas, formerly of the 82nd Airborne, now serving with the First Reconnaissance Expeditionary Division. We’re on patrol out of the Fort Bragg Safe Zone, looking for survivors.”
“I’ve never heard of your unit, Lieutenant. And at the risk of being impolite, you look a little old to be a butter-bar,” Steve said, eyeing the officer skeptically.
Lieutenant Jonas surprised me by laughing at Steve’s comment. “I imagine I do. I haven’t been an officer for very long, I got a field commission about two months ago. As for hearing of my unit, I would honestly be mighty surprised if you had. We haven’t been around for very long. The President ordered our creation back about a month ago. We’re not all Army, either. Got some marine’s, and even a few airmen back there. Pickings are slim for recruits these days, so we take whatever we can get.”
My eyebrows went up. “The President is still alive?” I said.
Lt. Jonas nodded. “The President, his family, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the VP, and the Speaker of the House all managed to get to a safe location in Colorado. We have enough satellites up and running to stay in contact with them.”
“You said Fort Bragg is a safe zone?” Steve asked.
“Yes, we managed to secure it before the Outbreak reached it. It wasn’t easy though, we had to fight like hell to keep the infected out. We took a lot of casualties. A few other units have managed to do the same thing out west. It has only been in the last six weeks that things have settled down enough for us to start patrolling for survivors.”
“How many have you found?” I asked.
Lt. Jonas sighed and shook his head. “Not many, unfortunately. And not all those that we found have been what you might call ‘friendly’.”
Steve and I exchanged a look.
“Well, it sounds like we have a lot to talk about, Lieutenant,” I said. “Do your men need anything? Food, water, medical attention?”
The Lieutenant perked up. “Actually, we do have a couple of wounded. A couple of guys ran into a booby trap a few days ago, and their legs got pretty torn up. Do you have a doctor around?”
“We do. I’ll go back to camp and let them know we have wounded coming in. We can also prepare some space for your soldiers to rest for a while, and put a meal together. How many should we expect?”
“Twenty four, including myself. We have our own supplies though, I don’t want to impose.”
“No trouble at all, Lieutenant,” I replied.
“While we get everything ready,” Steve interjected, “you might want to keep your men here until we have a chance to talk to the others. These people here have been through a lot lately, and they’re kind of jumpy. We wouldn’t want any accidents.”
Lt. Jonas nodded. “Understood. Honestly, these guys behind me are a little jumpy themselves. The last group we found didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for us. I’ll talk to them and make sure they mind their manners while we’re here.”
Steve and I shook hands with him, and set off back to the compound.
“What do you think?” I asked Steve in a low voice as we walked.
“He’s definitely legit Army. I don’t know if I believe all that stuff about a safe zone, and the President.”
“Well, if they wanted to kill us, they could have done it already. I don’t think we have much of a choice but to trust them, at least for right now.”
We walked into an anxious crowd of people as we entered the warehouse. Bill called a quick meeting, and we told them everything we had learned so far. There were a lot of skeptical faces, but the overall mood was hopeful. The possibility of receiving help from the military seemed to energize most of the survivors. Bill, Andrea, and Ethan started gathering medical supplies to treat the wounded soldiers. Everyone else went to work clearing space for the soldiers to sleep, and preparing a meal for everyone.
Steve and I went back outside to give Lt. Jonas the all clear. He ordered his men to advance and park their vehicles in the cracked and broken parking lot behind the factory. They formed their Bradley Fighting Vehicles, APCs, and Humvees into a circle. The supply truck parked outside the circle, and soldiers began unloading thin steel plates with metal rings welded to their sides. Upon closer inspection, I saw that all of the vehicles had modifications that looked recently made. Steel grates covered each vehicle’s windows, and they had steel rings welded onto the sides. Lt. Jonas’ men used chains and bolt clamps to fasten the steel plates to the gaps between the vehicles. After they secured the plates, they unloaded tangled cylinders of welded re-bar and laid them out in a circle several feet beyond the makeshift wall.
“That’s a pretty clever design,” I commented to the Lieutenant.
He smiled. “Yeah, it is. My twelve year old son came up with it.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “No shit?”
“No shit. It works great, too. We can stand on top of the vehicles and take out the infected as they gather round. Those pieces of cut up re-bar are called trippers. I’ll give you one guess what they do.”
“I’m guessing the undead aren’t smart enough to just step over them.”
Jonas smirked. “Nope.”
Jonas wasn’t lying when he said they had their own supplies. They had enough MREs to last them a month, and more than a hundred thousand rounds of ammunition for their M4 rifles. Most of the soldiers also carried some kind of hand held weapon with them. Hatchets and axes seemed to be popular choices. One guy carried a long handled pick-axe with one of the spikes cut off in a handmade harness on his back. They had spare parts for the vehicles, spare tires, and they even had spare guns. The cannons on the Bradleys were not just for show, either. They had plenty of ordnance for them. I sincerely hoped these guys really were who they said they were. If they decided to make trouble for us, well…it would be over quickly, at least.
Ethan came outside and made his way over to Lt. Jonas and me. His expression was troubled, but he was polite as he greeted the soldiers.
“I understand you have wounded?” he asked a group of men standing near the supply truck.
“Yes sir,” one of them replied. He was a short, stocky private with dark brown skin. He looked Somoan, or maybe Hawaiian. His nametag read ‘Maiuna’.
“They’re on stretchers in the back of the truck. Where do you want us to move them?” he said.
“Bring them over to the other side of the warehouse and take them in through the back door. We already have operating tables set up. What kinds of wounds are we dealing with?”
“Some asshole set up a homemade claymore on a tripwire. It was loaded with nails and bolts and shit. Their legs are in bad shape.”
Ethan nodded, and climbed into the truck to help the soldiers bring out their wounded comrades. When they came out, I saw that someone had cut their pants away, and their legs were swathed in bloody field dressings. Both men ground their teeth and did their best not to scream as their fellow soldiers passed them hand-over-hand down to the troops waiting on the ground. Ethan helped carry one of them inside the warehouse. I wanted to follow them and try to help, but decided to stay put. I did not have very much medical training beyond first aid and CPR, and I figured that I would probably just get in the way.
“Is your doctor any good?” Lt. Jonas asked as his men were carried to the warehouse.
I shrugged. “He used to be a heart surgeon. We also have an ER nurse with us. Ethan, the big guy who just came by, he used to be an EMT. Our doctor has been working on training some people, but only for the last couple of weeks. I doubt they’ll be much use yet.”
Jonas nodded. “Well, any port in a fuckin’ storm, and all that. Those two kids are in a lot of pain, and I’d bet the beer money that their wounds are getting infected.”
“Bill will do everything he can,” I reassured him. “We have pain medicine and antibiotics, so we should at least be able to make them comfortable and treat their infections. Do you have medical facilities at Fort Bragg?”
“We do, but I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to get those two back in time to save them. Whatever happens, I’m grateful for the help.”
“You can thank us after Bill gets done with them,” I replied.
I found out later that Bill gave the two soldiers a strong dose of Oxycontin to ease their pain. He and Andrea spent nearly three hours pulling nails and scraps of metal out of the two soldier’s legs. The wounds were as numerous as they were painful, and the soldiers had lost a lot of blood. There was nothing we could do about that, but thankfully none of the shrapnel caused permanently debilitating injury. Bill approached Lt. Jonas at his command tent after he finished stitching the last injury. He had taken off his blood-stained scrubs, and changed into a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. Swollen, puffy circles hung beneath his weary eyes.
“How they doing, doc?” Jonas asked.
“As good as can be expected, given the circumstances. I wish we could get them to a proper medical facility, but…” The old doctor held up his hands and shrugged.
“I understand, sir. Thank you for offering your help. Do you think they’ll recover?” Jonas asked.
“They should. They had a lot of puncture wounds, but none of them were deep enough to cause any serious damage. My main concern is blood loss. We will have to make sure that they get plenty of fluids and food, so that their bodies can replace what they lost. I stitched them up as best I could, but they are going to have a lot of scarring. Not much I can do about that. I’ve started them on a round of antibiotics to treat their infections. If they can bounce back from the blood loss, they should make a full recovery. That being said, it’s likely to be two to three weeks before they’re back on their feet again. When were you planning on heading back to Fort Bragg?”
Lt. Jonas grimaced. “I was planning to stay out on patrol for another three weeks before those two got hit. Do you think I should go ahead and take them back? We have better facilities in the safe zone.”
Bill shook his head. “There is not much else that can be done for them at this point, regardless of where they are. If you need to keep searching for survivors, you can leave them here and we’ll look after them. They should be up and walking by the time your patrol is over, and you can pick them up on the way back to Fort Bragg.”
Jonas considered it for a few seconds, and slowly started to nod.
“That actually sounds like a good idea. Are you sure you don’t mind? I know things are hard for you folks. I don’t want you to stretch your resources on our account. We are supposed to be helping you, not the other way around.”
Bill gave him a weary smile. “We’ve been managing okay. We have some good people here.”
Jonas held a hand out to Bill. “I really appreciate the help, Doc. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. You folks are the first people we’ve run into that didn’t shoot at us and run away. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well for yourselves.”
Bill shook his hand, and held it. “If you really are who you say you are, then these people are going to be very happy to welcome you in. If not, and you try anything, these people know how to fight. I don’t have any illusions about how it would end, but you will take casualties in the process. These folks have been through too much to bow down to would-be conquerors. Are we clear, Lieutenant?”
Jonas nodded. “Crystal.”
Bill stared at him for a moment, and then released his hand.
“Well, once you boys are all set up, come on in. We put together a nice dinner for you.”
Jonas smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”
The meal was a hodge-podge of venison steaks, canned vegetables, dried pasta, flat bread, and wild edibles scavenged from the forest. I helped myself to a hunk of deer meat, bread, and a bowl of slow cooked pinto beans. Bill sent Emily and Justin to fetch a few cases of wine and some plastic cups. As the wine flowed, the mood became festive in the compound. The soldiers were more than happy to sit down with other survivors and eat something other than MREs for a change. The compound’s residents were anxious for news from the outside world, and peppered Lt. Jonas and his men with a barrage of questions.
Stacy brought plates to the two injured men, but no wine. The painkillers in their blood made it too dangerous for them to drink. They thanked her, and tore into their meal with gusto. Stacy sat down and kept them company while they ate. A warm meal and a pretty girl to talk to picked their spirits right up. I couldn’t help but wonder if Stacy was just being kind, or if she was avoiding me. Or both.
While we were clearing out dead bodies from the housing development a few miles away, I found a beautiful Taylor six-string, and brought it with me back to the compound. I’m no Eric Clapton, but I can play pretty well and I have a decent singing voice. To take my mind off of Stacy, I fetched my guitar and offered to play a few songs during the meal. I got a round of applause before I even picked the first note.
The show started with a paced acoustic version of All Along the Watchtower that got people tapping their feet, and bobbing their heads. I followed that up with a couple of Dave Matthews tunes, and a rendition of Good Times by Charlie Robinson. That one got people out of their chairs and moving. Andrea surprised the hell out of me by disappearing into her shack and returning with a violin. Or a fiddle, as she called it. Her husband bounced little Aiden on his knee in time to an impromptu acoustic version of several Flogging Molly and The Dropkick Murphys songs. I had no idea that Andrea liked Irish punk rock.
Before I knew it, people were breaking out private stashes of booze, and Justin brought out a few more cases of wine. Bill scowled at him, but didn’t say anything. He would never admit it, but I think the old man was having a good time right along with everyone else. Andrea and I played every song we could think of, and even took a few requests. After a couple of hours, Bill called in the guards on the roof. All of the people who could replace them were either drunk, or well on their way to it. There didn’t seem to be much sense in leaving them up there to miss the party.
People danced, and drank, and laughed, and drank some more. A few soldiers were lucky enough to catch the eye of what few single women lived in the compound, and joined them in their shacks for the evening. A tall soldier named Bryson, who looked like an NFL linebacker, sat down next to Cody and began chatting him up. At one point, I caught Cody’s eye, and gave him a smile and a thumbs up. He turned red and laughed as he held up his cup in return.
When it looked like things were starting to wind down, I called everyone over and asked them to take a seat. Once the boozed up crowd settled down, I strummed my guitar and played a slow version of It’s a Great Day to be Alive by Travis Tritt. I’ve never been a big fan of country-western, but I like that song. Andrea accompanied on the fiddle, and by the last chorus everyone not unconscious or en coitus was singing right along. After we finished, Andrea leaned over to me.
“Do you know that old song by Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know it.”
I held up a hand to get everyone’s attention. “Okay folks, one last song, and then I have to call it a night.”
That elicited a chorus of boos. I laughed and began to play. The opening notes rose and fell, and the drunken partiers began to sway back in forth in time with the tune. Andrea pulled heartache from her violin in slow, bitter sweet falls and crescendos. There was not a dry eye in the place by the time we got to the last chorus.
Andrea kept time with me and played the last notes on the violin in perfect harmony with my voice as I sang the last bar. Hallelujah is a long one, and my fingers were burning as I played the final chords. The other survivors were quiet for a moment, and then burst into applause. I tell you, ol’ Leonard sure as hell knew how to put a song together. I looked around and found Stacy seated near the back of the audience. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she gave me a smile and a little wave.
On the way over to my truck, I endured numerous enthusiastic back slaps and even a few hugs from the soldiers. Stacy pulled me aside and gave me a long, heartfelt kiss.
“That was beautiful,” she said.
“You’re beautiful,” I replied.
We laid down in her bed and fell asleep to the sounds of the last revelers settling down for the night. I felt better than I had in a long time. As I fell asleep, I wondered how long it would last.