Het Madden

A Zombie Perspective

Book One: WRATH 2012

Calvin A. L. Miller II

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors imagination or are used fictionally. And resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2009 Calvin A. L. Miller II

Cal_in_Space@Yahoo.com

Zilyon Publishing, Inc.

4094 Fountainside Lane

Fairfax, VA 22030

www.zilyonpublishing.com

For all of my family and friends who believe in me.

You know who you are.

And so do I.

-Cal

I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.

- Thomas Jefferson

Who is Alive?

I keep moving continuously, like I have somewhere to go. But I don’t know where. I’m so starving and thirsty I can hardly think. I’m not sure who I am anymore, at least not all the time, and I don’t know how long I’ve been this way. But I do know we are getting better organized, and we are mad as Hell.

Everything hurts; the pain is unbearable, replacing all sensations. I don’t always understand words I hear and can’t remember how to speak at times, but my thoughts remain fairly coherent and I can still read. I can’t see well but my sense of smell remains intact; I can smell one of them a mile away. Must be chemicals they use to protect them from the outbreak. Why don’t they help us, why don’t they try? Who did this? Terrorists? The military? Aliens? How could they let this spread so out of control?

I hate them for letting this happen and I hate them for not being sick like me and I hate myself more than ever. And the poor bastards that are worse off than me stagger around like dead people...

Oh God, not that... It can’t be that...

I have to get those thoughts out of my head. I AM ALIVE, I am Hetfield Madden, a real person. Period. I’ll just keep moving, remembering when I can... And forgetting when I can.

Memories come and go like trucks passing on a freeway... it’s hard to see one long enough to understand it. If I concentrate I can grab hold of one and let it consume me. Like a dream... an escape. I relive the memory in the moment, vividly in its entirety, exactly as if it was happening...

1

Genesis

I remember when it all started. It feels like a dream but I know it’s real; I know I’m real. It was a regular day at first. But that didn’t last long.

I remember...

“This sudden crisis has hospitals and urgent care facilities filled and police and fire/rescue squads operating at full capacity.” The news anchor looked scared.

I had been staring at the TV for over an hour. People were sick, a lot of people. I sat and watched reports that hospitals were overflowing with a flu epidemic, seemingly overnight.

“The cause of the outbreak is still unknown and the Center for Disease Control is not answering questions at this time.”

I was beginning to feel sick but I figured it was just the power of suggestion. So I got up, took a shower, and hit it.

Route 66 was a parking lot and there were sirens and smoke coming from several fires in the distance. It was so hot out and had been all month. Unseasonably hot for here in the Washington, D.C. area; 95 degrees at 8am in December. Maybe that’s why everyone felt sick, it was almost unbearable. Hard to get in the Christmas spirit when it was so hot.

It took a while but I finally got through to Bob, my boss, on his cell. He said the Federal Government just closed and things looked like shit so I should just come into the Manassas office instead of heading downtown. Sounded like a good idea, staying close to home and away from the city. I cut across the median and headed west.

When I got into the office everyone looked nervous and pale.

“Morning Het”, Michelle said.

“You been listening to the news? They say there are unofficial reports that terrorists released some virus to make us all sick.” She looked concerned.

“Unofficial reports”, I thought. It always starts with “unofficial reports”.

About half of the company had called in sick. I still felt a little off, but not too bad. The official term the news was using was “Outbreak 2012”. The news even had shiny graphics for it already. Impressive; not so much the graphics, but how fast they had them ready. The office sat around watching the conference room TV for about an hour and through the window we could see people already starting to leave the other buildings to go home to their families. I had no one to go home to anymore so I stayed and hung out with 4 others. Bob, Carl, Michelle, and Janet.

“Glad you could make it.” Bob said as he walked in. “It’s hot out there and the traffic is a mess.”

Bob Abbott was a nice guy and a good boss with a wife and two kids at home out in Haymarket. He was in the Air Force, a fighter pilot. He was active with the school and the church and always took the time to listen. I flew small planes in college, so I love hearing his stories about fighter jets. Carl Richards is single, no kids. Salesman, big boat, BMW; you get it. No one is gonna miss him. Michelle Gibbs is the receptionist. She dropped out of med school to take care of her mother. Nice girl, really smart, I hope she goes back to finish her degree. Janet Spivey is an older lady, a widow with a lot of cats. Travels a lot, and wants to go to Europe next summer. She is really into new age stuff and spiritualism. Over coffee and donuts we theorized about what was going on.

“It could really just be the flu.” Bob said.

“Yeah, it could be the flu.” Michelle piped in. “You know when I was a med student we saw this all the time, not as big, but still. People get sick, it happens”.

“I think it’s got to be the drug companies.” Carl added. “They are always experimenting with things, almost as much as the DOD. It probably was the DOD!!!”

Bob looked uneasy at Carl’s suggestion and immediately changed the subject.

“Michelle’s right; people get sick, it happens.”

We all wanted to believe him so badly, but none of us really did.

Bob continued. “Anybody want some more coffee? Janet, what do you think?”

He loved to get her going and she spoke up immediately.

“It’s the end of 2012. I have been telling you all year this would be a time of great spiritual transformation, an apocalypse!”

She had been telling us this, at least once a day it seemed.

“You mean a war?” asked Carl.

“Not necessarily. Apocalypse translates literally to ‘lifting of the veil’ or ‘revelation’”. She explained. “The completion of the thirteenth and final cycle of the Mayan Calendar is tomorrow, December 21^st. The major change in world order has begun.”

There had been a lot of talk about the year 2012 and how on the first day of winter the sun will rise in line with the middle of our galaxy, thus causing an alignment between the earth, sun, and the galactic center. This had prompted a lot of different theories and as many TV shows. People love to be afraid but I just don’t buy into it. However, all this was very coincidental, I’ll give Janet that.

The TV reports remained general and cautious but information on the internet started getting more bizarre. All over the world people were sick with this flu, it wasn’t just local. Some websites said people were being killed, attacked, in all the major cities, including downtown D.C. and its suburbs. Why wasn’t this being reported on TV and radio? Now we were all getting a little bit scared and we weren’t sure what to do. As the hours went by we continually heard more sirens and saw several fires on the horizon. We all decided we’d better head home.

But that was harder than it sounded.

The streets were packed with people walking and running and cars were barely moving. I can’t imagine how I would’ve gotten out of the city if it was this bad way out here. I saw cops arresting people, beating them. Some of them looked sick but a lot looked crazed. Some were even fighting the police and paramedics. I swear one guy was trying to bite a cop. The radio said the flu could be transmitted through bites. Bites? Strange friggin’ thing to say, I thought...

Just then a cop came up to my driver’s side window. He knocked on the window and I hesitated, but then opened it. He just looked at me for a few seconds, trying to form words.

“I... Uhhrr... Mmmm... Po-leese...” was all he could get out.

“What is it officer?” I asked. “Do you need help, I can drive you somewhere. I...”

Then he vomited all over me and stumbled off.

I had never smelled anything so vile and my skin burned terribly from it. I had some tissues and tried to wipe off as much from my face as I could and continued on, keeping my windows up.

I finally got home, sat on the couch and fell asleep, my head pounding. When I woke up I felt ice-cold and my whole body ached. I knew I was sick. It felt like the flu but much worse. I got up and drank some water but immediately threw it back up. I noticed the couch was covered in vomit. I must have gotten sick like that cop while I slept.

My eyes were filmy and I was in a lot of pain. I tried to call the hospital, but couldn’t get a line, land or cell. I decided to drive myself so I went out to get into my car. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out how to unlock the door, much less drive it. I stood there for what seemed like an hour, staring at the car curiously. I just couldn’t remember how to get in or what to do.

Then out of nowhere someone staggered up to me moaning, mouth hanging open, with terror in his eyes like he was scared and not in control of his actions. He was going to attack me, bite me, I thought so I pushed him to the ground. He just laid there looking confused, almost crying it seemed, so I went back inside my apartment building.

I looked out the window to see if the man had gotten up to come after me and I saw a van pull up in front of my building. Three men wearing white biohazard-looking gear jumped out and tasered him. Two of them grabbed him and held him, one on each arm, as the other opened the back of the van. I could see there were more people inside. They tasered the ones near the door and threw the guy in the van. Then they took off. Who were they? WHAT IS GOING ON?!

Against my better judgment I ran out to flag them down to find out and maybe get some help but I felt a slam to the back of my head, and fell hard. The next thing I remember was waking up on the sidewalk. It was morning. I must’ve passed out from the blow to the head, but who hit me? I got up off the ground feeling dizzy. I looked down and saw a brick. Maybe that had hit me in the head. I was so hungry but I knew I didn’t have any food in the apartment so, still unable to drive, I started walking.

I headed to the café down the street. I went inside and no one was there. The Corner Café is one of those places where someone is always there. I yelled for Debbie, the girl who worked the counter, but got no answer. I sat down, grabbed a bagel, and took a bite. I threw up immediately after I swallowed. Must have gone bad I thought. I went in the back looking for Randy the owner.

The radio was on and so was the grill but he was gone. I looked around and saw some raw hamburger patties sitting out. I grabbed a couple to put on the grill but I was so hungry I couldn’t control myself. I shoved them down my throat. They tasted so good I shivered. Somehow they stayed down, unlike the bagel.

I ate more, almost ravenously, and started to feel a lot better. I guess I needed some protein. I walked home and got in my car and headed to work. For some reason I could get in the car and drive now, no problem. Headache was gone. Must be getting better I thought. I got into work and Bob, Michelle, and Carl were there. They looked at me in horror and asked if I was OK. After all I was covered in dried puke and stunk of raw meat.

They didn’t look much better.

“I hope we’re not getting this flu.” Michelle said while she got the first aid kit from the kitchen; the nurse in her taking over.

“Open up.” She put a thermometer in my mouth.

Bob came in the lobby. “Janet’s brother is on the line. She never came home last night. Anybody know anything?”

Everybody shook their heads. No one had seen her since yesterday. A lot of folks hadn’t come home. Missing persons reports were all over the news.

Michelle took the thermometer out of my mouth. “No fever.” she said pensively.

I really felt better. Not 100% better, but better. I had some gym clothes in the car so I went and got them, cleaned up, and changed.

We all went into the conference room and crowded around the TV again. Reports of people going mad and attacking others had the medical community thinking this might not be the flu but a rabies epidemic spread by small mammals like bats. BATS?! What the...? This just keeps getting stranger. Today was Friday and the Federal Government announced it was closing next week, all week, not just for Christmas. People were to stay home and lock their doors.

But we weren’t to panic...

Deaths were being reported worldwide, especially in third world nations. There were even reports of cannibalism. Had disease and desperation forced people into eating each other? It had only been two days, right? Wrong. Turns out this had been going on quite a while and was just now being reported. Radio and TV news were finally coming around.

“Africa now reports that people have been sick and dying for weeks”, the news said.

For WEEKS?! Roving bands of “rabid” assassins had been killing people in Central Africa, Sudan, Darfur. I guess all the crap going on over there had just made folks numb and no one paid attention any more. Cannibalism and mutilation were spreading across the continent and the UN had called for quarantine.

We all said “Too late.” Almost in unison.

It’s amazing how quickly things can fall apart in a society. It had been a couple days here and already the streets were covered in trash, people were missing, just gone, and the Federal Government was closed. I think I now know what the folks in New Orleans felt like after Katrina; helpless, deserted, alone. Society is truly built on a hill of sand.

After a few hours the other three began to look even sicker. Grey even. There was no way to get an ambulance and news reported that the hospitals weren’t taking people who “only” had the flu. They were too busy handling injuries from attacks and other accidents. I felt better, but they were in no condition to go anywhere. Even though they were worried about their families and friends, I felt that I could care for the group so we decided to stay put for a while. Of course they could have blamed me for getting them sick, but seeing how the whole world was infected they realized it wasn’t “if” it was “when”.

I helped them get as comfortable as possible and went out to find an open store to get some food and medicine. I walked across the street to the grocery store; it was open, but very crowded. There were people everywhere and the second I got inside I went straight for the meat section. I wanted the raw meat. I needed it. And I wasn’t alone. There were others there gorging themselves, moaning as they ate. I joined in and one woman screamed at me; a long, loud scream. I ignored her and stuffed the meat down my throat. It made me feel so good. I figured it would be easy for the group to digest because I could keep it down so I threw as much as I could into a cart. Maybe this flu caused an iron or protein deficiency. I got medicine, water, and other food as well. There were no clerks, no employees at all so I pushed the cartful back to the office.

When I got there all three of my coworkers were asleep so I put everything away and then sat down to relax. It had been a long day and was beginning to get dark. I grabbed the baseball bat out of my office for protection, locked the doors, and turned out the lights. I didn’t know who may try to break in and attack us so I thought it would be wise if the place looked empty. I sat there quietly and heard screams, car horns, sirens... even gun shots... It was a mess out there. Every once in a while I heard someone try to get in the front doors. They would rattle a while and then leave. The news had nothing new to offer so I turned off the radio and closed my eyes.

The next thing I knew it was morning. The others were up and dizzy, tired, in a lot of pain like me, but still alive. It almost felt like being on fire, the pain I mean. It was terrible, like my skin was burning on the inside. They tried to eat some of the things I brought. Donuts, bread, fruit but nothing would stay down. Then I took the raw meat out of the fridge. They hesitated at first but craving took them over completely and we all gorged ourselves. And we felt better. A lot better. It really must be the protein in the meat, and maybe the iron, I didn’t understand.

Since we were all feeling so much better we decided we should all go home. We got to the front door and looked outside to see if it was safe. We stood there staring in horror.

It was Janet.

She was on top of a man with her hands around his throat. She was biting and tearing at his tongue and lips and... Eating... Them...

I had never heard a man scream like that before. We rushed her and I swear she hissed at us. She didn’t attack us; it was just like she didn’t want to share. Like the lady in the store. I stepped back but saw Bob kick Janet in the head, step on the man’s throat and tear his cheek off and eat it. He kept his foot on the man’s throat so he couldn’t escape, and had a look on his face like he didn’t know what he was doing and couldn’t stop. He was shaking violently. Then we all joined in. We were uncontrollable. It’s like something took over and made us animals. We tore into him like jackals.

He didn’t stop screaming until we finished his organs.

He was dead and we had killed and eaten him.

We all sat there covered in blood and meat and Carl started to scream, so did I. This disease had turned us into something. Changed us. Had it made us mad? We remembered then that the TV said it might be rabies. We just attacked a man and ate him like animals would, with no regard to who he was or his loved ones. I looked over and saw Janet staring at the sun. Babbling something that sounded like a song and then running off. We all went inside and no one said a word until I spoke up.

“Why?” That was all I could say.

“We just killed a man. We ate him alive until he died.” Michelle said staring at the wall.

We were all silent.

The most disturbing thing was that I felt better after the attack; energized and almost ecstatic with no pain at all. I could tell the others felt the same.

“Whatever disease we now have made us do this, made us insane, just like everywhere else. We need to get to a doctor now!” I said. “This isn’t just the flu or rabies. It’s something else.”

All agreed. None of them wanted to risk harming their families. Bob had the biggest vehicle so we got in his SUV and headed to the hospital. We thought it would be best to stay together. Now the streets were eerily empty of moving vehicles. There were people, abandoned cars, and fires everywhere. And a lot of blood and dead bodies.

We arrived and the hospital grounds were crawling with madmen, attacking and eating anyone they could.

“Are you all seeing this?” Carl asked in disbelief.

Police were shooting people and the National Guard had obviously been called in because there were military everywhere. A bullet hit the windshield and Bob floored it.

“Let’s go to my place.” I said. “It’s the closest. We need to get ourselves together.”

We got there and there was still no phone, no way to communicate at all except via the internet. I was on my laptop and I turned on the TV. We took turns cleaning ourselves up, Carl first.

According to blogs and chat rooms from all over the world this shit was literally everywhere now, not just major cities... People were going crazy and becoming killers, no one was safe. There was a rumored vaccine that was being developed at the Pentagon; the “heavily guarded” Pentagon.

Something suddenly dawned on me.

“Why do you think none of us feel like eating any of our group?” I wondered out loud.

“It has to be because we are friends.” Bob said.

“I hate Carl, he’s an asshole.” Michelle chimed in. “He’s always staring at me.”

“But do you hate him enough to eat him?” I said, realizing how insane that sounded just after the words came out of my mouth.

She said nothing, just kind of smiled a little.

We continued to clean up and flip from news channel to news channel. The news was now reporting that a vaccine did exist and prevented people from catching the disease, but nothing out there cured it yet. No news organizations or web sites were saying what the disease was, just the usual speculation of flu and rabies.

“If they have a vaccine for it then they have to know what it is.” Bob said authoritatively.

“They could synthesize the virus for a preventative vaccine without knowing exactly what it is.” Michelle said.

Bob looked at her sternly.

I didn’t care, all I knew is that I was getting hungry again and that maybe I could eat Carl. He is an asshole after all.

We finished cleaning up and decided to go out and look for help. We didn’t know what else to do. We all had weapons. I still had my baseball bat. Bob had a gun in his truck. Michelle had a gun in her purse and Carl had one as well. What the hell, I felt like “Joey Ballpark”. But this is Virginia...

Bob drove us through the streets and we saw people staggering around bloodstained and staring into the distance. Literally falling apart, mentally and physically. Bleeding, insides hanging out, looking at us and screaming. Some would walk up to the truck and attack it.

Is this what we would become? Is this what the disease would do to us?

We drove for a while and I began to think about my son and if he was alright. I missed him and I was worried. Then I heard something from the back seat and turned to look. Horrified, I saw Michelle chewing into Carl’s neck. There was dark red blood all over him, just pouring out. Carl didn’t make any noise at first; he just stared blankly out the window. Then he began to scream and shake as she completely ate through his neck, tore his head free, and continued eating it.

Her face and hair was covered in blood and her eyes were lifeless yet somehow menacing. Carl’s headless body twitched and flailed uncontrollably. Just then Bob let go of the wheel and lunged into the back seat at Carl’s body. The truck lurched to the right and I grabbed the wheel and pulled myself into the driver’s seat. I straightened us out and hit the brakes. I didn’t know what was going on, but needed to get the hell out of the truck.

Bob and Michelle looked different than when we attacked the man at the office. Really different. Soulless, with no regret. I got out and went around and pulled Carl’s body out of the truck while Bob growled at me. He fell out of the truck and kept eating, tearing Carl’s torso to shreds. I gouged Michelle’s eye while I wrestled her out as she was biting into Carl’s cheek. I then saw his eye turn and look at me. I will never forget that. I may forget other things, but not that. He, or his head, was still conscious while she was eating him. I got back in the truck, drove off and never looked back.

The truck radio said that there were “safe zones” set up by the military in the Norfolk/VA Beach area, so that’s where I was headed. After a while I saw I needed gas if I was going to go any further. To make things worse, the terrible, burning pain was back and all my muscles were knotting up and fire hot. I pulled into one of the few gas stations that wasn’t on fire, put my credit card in the pump’s slot, and crossed my fingers that what was left of the infrastructure would read it and unlock the pump. It worked! I filled up the truck and went inside to see if there was food.

There were three dead and half eaten bodies on the floor. There was a woman hiding behind the counter screaming.

“What’s your name?” I asked. “Do you know where I could get some help?”

She just kept screaming. So loud I couldn’t hear myself talk. “Get out, you monster. Get away from me!” Then she started to take bottles from off the shelves behind her and throw them at me.

I grabbed her by the shoulders to calm her down. I wanted to help her but before I knew it I had thrown her to the ground and was on top of her tearing at her throat. God it felt good to kill her and eat her. The warm blood and flesh. I ate until I could no longer eat. I couldn’t control myself. I was a cannibal. What was I infected with?! Rabies doesn’t do this does it?

Just then a van pulled up out front. It was like the one that had taken the man from in front of my apartment. I looked down at myself and wondered how I would look to the people in the van. I was literally covered in that woman’s insides. Three men in hazmat clothes jumped from the van.

“Tag him and bag him!” I heard one of them shout.

They burst through the door, tasered me, grabbed me, and took me outside. Then they threw me in the van. Maybe they were going to take me to the hospital... or jail. I was a murderer after all. There were others just like me in the van. I asked them who they were but all that came out of my mouth was groans and gurgles. I couldn’t speak, however hard I tried. They groaned as well, but I thought I understood them somehow. Then I felt another huge shock throughout my body, and I was out.

2

Containment

I don't want any of them here. They are a dangerous element. There is no way to determine their loyalty... It makes no difference whether he is an American citizen, he is still a Jap.

American citizenship does not necessarily determine loyalty... But we must worry about the Japanese all the time until he is wiped off the map.

-General John L. DeWitt, February 1942, before the United States Congress. Internment of Japanese-American citizens began three months later.

I don't want any of them free. They are a dangerous element. There is no way to determine our safety... It makes no difference whether they are American citizens, they are still infected.

American citizenship does not necessarily determine safety... But we must contain and kill the infected until they are wiped off the map.

-General H. D. Forrest, December 2012, before the United States Congress. Internment of Infected American citizens began three HOURS later.

I woke up face down on a cement floor. Every muscle hurt, I had lost control of all bodily functions, and I was vomiting profusely. I turned my head and was in what looked like a large airplane hanger. There were hundreds of us, infected people, all lined up in rows rolling on the floor covered in our own bodily fluids like animals. I tried to get up but I couldn't. My hands were tied behind my back and my feet were tied together with plastic ties. Each of us was separated from the other by about 6 feet and we were secured to the floor. Hazmat teams were going from person to person giving what looked like some sort of shot or inoculation.

Then two men grabbed and held me still and another said “Madden”. One of the men holding me grabbed my wrist, looked at a bracelet that had been put on me, and also said “Madden”. Then they pushed what felt like a quarter under the skin on my arm and put a metal collar around my neck. I was lifted up, given an extremely painful injection in my lower back, burn branded on my forehead, and thrown back down to the floor. I felt a knee to the back of my neck, and heard what sounded like a power drill. I felt it go into the back of my head quite a ways and then pull out. “Bag it.” One of them said. They actually drilled into my head for some reason, and I saw it happening to others. Did they shoot something in or take something out? What is this place? I could smell burning flesh and felt pain in my forehead, and then I started to feel dizzy and must have passed out.

I came to being dragged outside into the bright sunlight while others were brought in. The shots must have been a tranquilizer because I was unable to fight. We were taken to large tents with little space, about 10 of us per 10’ X 10’ tent, and our ties were cut. I noticed that everyone in the tent had a Hazmat-type logo branded into their forehead. Mine still hurt. There wasn’t much room and I sat there dizzy, weak, and in complete disbelief.

A military man in protective gear came to the front of the tent and began to speak.

“I don't know if you can understand me but if you can please listen carefully. I am going to read you a message from the President of the United States. Greetings my fellow Americans. You are all in the Leesburg, Virginia, Infected Containment Center. You have been brought here to this ICC because you are infected with an as yet unknown virus or disease and you have been determined to be a danger to yourself and others. Your families have been notified of your whereabouts and there will be visitation in the near future. It will do you no good to try and leave this center to try and find them on your own as they have most likely been taken to safe zones. We believe this infection is the result of a terrorist attack and we intend to protect you here at this station until a cure can be found and it is safe to move about this great Nation of ours once again. I wish you all the best. Remain strong, and God Bless America.”

Then he walked out. Infected Containment Center? Visitation? I thought of my son. He had been interested in joining the Military. It had been too long since I had seen him. My work and his school and travel. Then the arguments, the stupid arguments. I hoped they told him where I was. I hoped he would come to see me...

I went to the front of the tent and looked out. A wall, maybe 15 feet high, surrounded this place. There were men with rifles on the wall, but they weren't facing the outside, they were facing inward toward us. Guards also manned four high towers; one tower was in each of the corners of the camp. I guess I hadn’t thought about the word containment and its implications...

I saw several people run from another tent toward the wall and they were immediately fired upon by the guards. They were shot many times before they went down. Their bodies were picked up and thrown onto a flatbed truck and taken to the other side of the grounds. I kept watching but lost site of the truck as it drove over a hill. I walked toward the hill to try and see what was going on. One of the military hazmat white suits saw me watching and had a soldier come up and slam the butt of his gun into my jaw. I fell to the ground in unbelievable pain. I crawled slowly back to the tent, went in, and made my way over bodies to an open space and passed out.

I awoke to what could only be described as a propaganda machine. We were walked out of the tent and into the night by guards. The pain was horrible and it showed on all of our faces. Someone else must have seen what went on with the group that was killed earlier today so I looked around to try and seek them out. Large screens and speakers showed films of our Government “helping” the infected to the containment centers and “protecting” them. Soldiers escorting smiling elderly infected folks tenderly into buses that would take them to beautiful places to get well.

The woman on the screen went to a lovely beachfront location for treatment. I could only imagine that this is what the general public was seeing, too. But why show us? Maybe they thought that if we saw it enough we would believe it and think that this would happen to us? People love to see the “star treatment”, whether it's a Hollywood starlet's “crib” or a musician's expensive car collection. The old woman that was helped by the soldier was shown at the beach now in front of a lovely bungalow with her family looking completely cured. The worse thing was that as I looked around, most of the others staring at the screens were smiling, and looked relieved.

Just then the flatbed trucks from last night rolled towards us. They had mounds of raw meat on them but I couldn’t tell what kind. There wasn’t nearly enough for all of us. The trucks parked and we all walked toward them and ate. The pain immediately left as the blood red meat slid down my throat. All of us groaned with pleasure. But it didn't seem to satisfy my hunger completely. I felt ravenous, we all did, and there wasn’t nearly enough. The meat was gone and I noticed a bloody shirt on the truck bed. Then I saw a shoe, and on further inspection noticed the foot still inside it. Before I could comprehend what was going on, it hit. Screams first, then growls. A sort of Frenzy took over. We all tore into each other. I bit into a man's neck, just above his metal collar and just kept eating. I was on top of him and had just torn off his head when I noticed that we were being filmed. Lights shown on us and cameras were rolling from atop a large military vehicle.

Men in Humvees were exchanging money, bets, based on who was being eaten. I continued to eat the head I had removed, I couldn't help it. When all was said and done about a third of the group remained. I tore the thing they stuck in our arms out of a dead body and put it in my pocket. I also shoved the collar from the head I ate under my shirt. They herded us back to our tent.

We all just sat there. Some of us were left mindless by now, whether because of the infection or the events that had transpired. I looked at the chip I dug out of the arm and it was obviously an electronic tracking device. A tag with the mans name, Charles Dunnis, printed on it. The collar, I couldn't figure out. Maybe a shock collar, like for invisible fences? Maybe not.

Morning came and the sunlight showed what the camp really was; an extermination facility. There were many burn piles where bodies had been torched, presumably the remains of the dead from last night's Frenzy, but who knows. The infected walked freely about the camp and we were all in various states of decomposition to some degree. Our wounds just didn’t heal. Some of the soldiers gave out duct tape and bandages. Some of them shot the infected for fun. They had various names for us, “Quarries”, short for Quarantines, seemed to be the most popular. And yeah, “Zombies” was used quite a lot.

Zombie. I hate the Z word.

I walked over to one of the men a soldier had shot. A thin man. Bullet right through the heart. Bled out completely all around his body. I reached down to feel for a pulse and there was nothing, I mean NOTHING. He was dead. No pulse is dead, right? I stared at him for a while, at how alive he still looked.

And then I realized he was alive.

He looked at me and held out a hand for help up. I staggered back in horror. He sat up a bit. I moved back toward him and heard “We got a walker!”

At that moment a bullet went through his skull. No blood whatsoever came out of his head, and he fell dead. I then felt a gun to my jaw.

“You make me sick.” a soldier said. “When we finally get the OK to kill you all then we can go home. Until then mind your own damn business, Quarry”. I walked away and knew we were all doomed. It was only a matter of time.

Weeks passed and I slowly began to lose my sanity. With nothing to look forward to and nothing to keep my mind sharp I literally was becoming a zombie. They rarely fed us and when they did it was obviously just scraps left over from those of us that had been shot by the guards, or rats, mice, and other vermin. The pain was unbearable, my body ached all the time, except when I fed.

I was always hungry, always thirsty, always searching for something; maybe for my soul... I would stagger about all day trying to communicate, trying to seem normal. It was hard to be still. Once I found a shopping cart and must have pushed it around the camp for hours, even days, before I threw it to the ground in disgust. I think I did it to feel normal. To hold on to my old life, what I had. I couldn’t explain what was happening to me but I knew I was losing my human-ness, if that is a word, and I desperately wanted to keep it. I missed driving my car, going to work, watching TV, getting gas, shopping. The little things we take for granted that sick people or captives always say they miss. Well, I missed those things, when I could remember them. Most of the time I thought of nothing at all. I was nothing now, and was forgetting what it was like to exist.

Weeks went by and we, as a group, would often go into Frenzies and devour each other but the guards no longer burned the remains. There were body parts and filth all over the camp now. When I saw a guard I would stagger toward him and moan for help. The horror in their faces, the disgust. Why wouldn’t they set us free? Why didn’t they just kill us? They would taunt me and all I could do was swipe the air trying to grab them, unable to communicate.

More infected were brought in every day. The guards had stopped taking care of the camp all together after the holidays and it fell into disarray. Food was scarce and survival was difficult. I had to learn how to fight, how to survive. We were encouraged by the guards to eat each other but save Frenzy, it didn’t appeal to me. Luckily, since Marshall Law had been declared there were a lot of healthy people being arrested. I guess they didn’t have anyone to watch the regular prisons because they would dump them in with us. And the guards didn’t seem to care. They had been all but abandoned by the Federal Government and were desperately trying to stay alive in this strange new world.

“If they aren’t sick now, they will be soon, so who cares?” was a common sentiment.

The look of horror on the faces of these Healthies as they were brought in to our camp was pleasurable to me. They knew what we were and were scared to death. Some would immediately try to kill us while others kept their distance. A whole society grew here in the camp based on Healthies and the infected living in the same environment. I soon figured out that we were all being watched, studied even, from the beginning. This was an extermination and experimentation camp. A microcosm of society, either of how it currently was outside these walls or how it could become. It was a test, and we were the subjects. I could sometimes see men in lab coats and military uniforms in the towers looking down and studying how we all interacted.

Infected outnumbered Healthies 10 to 1, otherwise they would massacre us. Still, I needed to learn the ways of warfare to survive in the camp and this gave me a new reason to live; something to concentrate on. A few guards were actually friendly, and I had known one. He saw that I was somewhat intelligent and gave me “The Art of War” by Sun Tsu. I could still read fairly well, but slow, and appreciated the book. I don’t really know if he gave it to me out of kindness, or if it was part of the “study” being done on the camp. You know, plant a book and see if the Quarry can learn.

Well I did learn.

I applied the techniques and information in the book. The parts about motivating the soldiers was un-needed. The motivation to kill Healthies was that they were our food. However, the parts concerning tactics; When to fight, how to fight, these were invaluable. One of my favorite quotes was “The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy's will to be imposed on him”. This was our calling card, as imposing will on our infected soldiers was nearly impossible.

We had limited mobility but little fear. We had to strike first and expect casualties on our side when we fought them. Pointing the most mindless and horribly disfigured of us toward the Healthies to shock them, absorb their fury, and tire them out was the best way. Attack the heart of the enemy with fear. Then the rest of us would move in and kill and feed on the minds and bodies.

These skirmishes became regular events. I had many followers and became a leader in the camp, even respected by many of the guards, some of which called me The Colonel... This adulation was good, but also bad. And I soon found out how bad.

One evening I was near my tent and I heard a guard’s voice. “Hey you know what Colonel? I think it’s time you were taken to the lab and cut up like the freak you are. I don’t care what they say, I am sick of watching you kill people and eat them, criminals or not.”

Then he and two others grabbed me and threw me in the back of a Humvee. We rode outside the walls of the compound and down a highway. A gun to my face and a bayonet in my ribs, inches deep, I was bleeding all over the floor but didn't feel any weaker.

When we arrived I was thrown out of the vehicle and attendants injected me with something. I was taken into a building and led down a hall. I had never been so scared in my life. Or so angry...

3

Escape

IF I AM CAPTURED I WILL CONTINUE TO RESIST BY ALL MEANS AVAILABLE. I WILL MAKE EVERY EFFORT TO ESCAPE AND AID OTHERS TO ESCAPE. I WILL ACCEPT NEITHER PAROLE NOR SPECIAL FAVORS FROM THE ENEMY. IF I BECOME A PRISONER OF WAR, I WILL KEEP FAITH WITH MY FELLOW PRISONERS. I WILL GIVE NO INFORMATION OR TAKE PART IN ANY ACTION WHICH MIGHT BE HARMFUL TO MY COMRADES. IF I AM SENIOR, I WILL TAKE COMMAND. IF NOT, I WILL OBEY THE LAWFUL ORDERS OF THOSE APPOINTED OVER ME AND WILL BACK THEM UP IN EVERY WAY.

-U.S. Fighting Force, Code of Conduct

The hall was lined with small rooms. We stopped in front of one, the door was opened, and I was stripped and thrown in. The room was tiled, and several nozzles were on each wall, the ceiling and floor. Water shot out of each nozzle; steaming hot water. It burned as it hit my skin from all directions. This seemed to go on for several minutes and I screamed the entire time. It finally stopped. The door burst open and three white suits came in. Two held me as the third thoroughly checked every one of my orifices and left. Then what smelled like bleach shot out of the nozzles, again for several minutes. When that stopped and I was left alone for a short while.

The white suits came back in and dragged me out. I was taken to a room with 12 others like me. I was placed against an upright table and metal cuffs built into the table itself held me at the wrists, ankles, and waist. The rest were held the same way, and there were 3 men and 2 women in lab coats with Government IDs pinned to them cutting the flesh off of a red-headed woman. They took all the meat off her leg, and it almost looked like they did it just to see if and how she would react. I shook and tried to free myself to help her but felt very weak.

She moaned and to someone who didn’t know must have looked severely mentally retarded; or even mindless. But I knew she just could no longer speak. None of us could. We couldn’t communicate to them at all. They probably thought we were so ill that we had lost our faculties and could no longer think intelligently. Honestly I wondered if that was true because I couldn’t understand all of what they were saying anymore. It sounded like gibberish, but some I could pick up. I also wondered if the effects of this disease would be reversible. I thought of trying to write something to show I could think, but my arms and legs were strapped to the table and I don’t think I could have written anything anyway. While I felt the danger, the fight or flight response was not ever-present. It would come, and go.

The red haired woman being tortured continued to moan until one of the men shot her in the forehead and killed her. They unstrapped her and dragged her from the room. Next, one by one, we were all examined. They pierced each of us with large needles in different areas of our bodies. They were extracting fluids, mostly concentrating on the torso; the organs. These fluid samples were meticulously labeled and stored on a crash cart.

They must have found something of special interest in three of us because they removed select organs from them by slicing and cutting each one out.

I was spared this, thankfully.

We were then given vaccinations from a large gun by one of the women and our collars were removed; A blond woman with short hair. Her ID said Blake, Linda Ann. Was this a cure?!?! Perhaps they removed infected organs from some and cleansed us in preparation for inoculating us with a cure!!! I was reaching. Why would they shoot a woman in the head after cutting her up like that if they intended to help us?

After the shots they all suddenly left the room. The lights were turned out and there we stood, attached to tables in the dark. All we could do was moan out of fear and wonder what was going on.

In the dark they say the mind plays tricks. It was too black to see much, even after an hour or so, and I don’t know if I fell asleep and dreamt or imagined or if this happened.... The moans of the others was... hypnotic, and I relaxed instead of struggling and somehow slipped free from my bonds. I left the room and walked down the hall to an operating room with windows facing out into the hall.

I crouched down and looked in.

Several Healthies lay on tables, each being operated on, some unconscious some awake. I watched curiously as what looked like the fluids removed from us were injected into the Healthies. Three of them looked like they were having the organs that were extracted from the infected transplanted into them. Fluids were rubbed in the eyes of some. Cuts were made and exposed to the parts and fluids taken from us. Some were simply murdered without being put in direct contact with the fluids. It was plain to see that they were testing methods of infection on Healthies.

In a matter of minutes the murdered victims reanimated. They had not been directly exposed to the infected fluids or organs, they had just died. Then the group that was directly exposed died and then minutes later reanimated. They were all put through the same examination we had undergone that night. Those that received transplants didn’t seem to die, but definitely turned and became infected as a result.

Then the “doctors” began to try and kill the reanimated in many different ways. I mean what good is testing how people become infected without using their reanimated infected bodies to see what will kill them, right? I can only imagine this sick, twisted, logic being used to excuse what came next. One man had his heart removed. A woman had her lungs taken, just dug out of her. Several of the infected had organs removed, and all that did survived. One had the brain removed and died on the spot. A head was removed and it lived on while the body expired. The torture going on was horrible, and I knew there could be worse in store for us. They were finishing up and I crept back to the room and slipped back into my bonds.

The next day, or at least I think it was the next day, the white coats came in and turned on the lights. Was I awake all this time or did I dream? I still don’t know. I felt scared, in pain, and hungry. I looked around and there were only 8 of us left. Just then Linda Ann Blake was directly in front of me. I think she said “Good morning” but I can’t be sure.

She had a drill in her hand with a large bit in it. She turned it on and one of the men called to her. She turned to respond and got just close enough. Wham! I crashed my head hard into hers. She lilted back and slammed into a red switch on the wall. At that moment an alarm went off and all of our bonds were released. As we moved off the tables, one of the Healthies shot and killed a man and what looked to be his son before we could get to him. Again, I was in a Frenzy. Blood and flesh everywhere. One of us snapped a Healthy’s neck as he screamed. We killed them all except Linda Ann. She ran out.

We gorged ourselves, uncontrollably, and again felt no pain afterwards and very little regret. Then I heard footsteps. I told everyone to be quiet. It came out as a groan, true, but an intelligible groan because they understood. I could now muster up what could be interpreted as crude speech. Was it the food? The shot? I picked up a gun from the floor and shot and killed several men who came through the door. They looked in disbelief at me as I fired at them, almost like they couldn’t believe it. Stomachs full, we stepped over them and headed for the exit.

Once outside we got in a Humvee, the 6 of us that were left, and I drove for the gate. We crashed through and headed into the night. They weren’t just killing us; they were doing experiments on us and on Healthies, too! All of us, U.S. citizens! WE were doing experiments on citizens, the U.S. Government, us.

I put some distance between us and the hospital, just driving. After a while we stopped in a field and got out. We could still understand each other’s groans and soon realized the outbreak had left us with limited capacity for speech, mobility, a lot of things; but we managed. It turns out we could write a bit so we used that too, and we could all read. It was just hard to concentrate.

The Humvee was full of guns and we decided it was us against them. Maybe it was a drug company and not the Government? This had to be an isolated incident. Someone had to be trying to help people like us! Our Government would not experiment on us and kill us. We are Americans! This doesn’t happen in America.

We were heading to Norfolk to hopefully find help. Deep down I still hated what I was doing and hated killing others. But I knew we couldn’t let them kill us. We had to fight. We were angry and wanted answers almost as much as we wanted to be cured.

I drove the whole way. None of the others can do anything too complex. I seem to be more capable than most. Don’t know whether they are in shock, injured, just exhausted.... Hey, I am shaken by the events, too, but I hold it together like always. I had been driving on the median, shoulder, over other cars whatever worked. But then we got a few hundred yards from a tunnel and had to stop dead on the bridge we were on. Abandoned cars blocked the road leading to the tunnel. Too many to drive over, even in the Humvee. We got out and started walking.

Mostly eaten Healthies were strewn along the road among the cars. Some still moved but few were what could be called ambulatory. We followed a trail of blood, flesh, and other remains to the tunnel. It was barely lit by a few dim car headlights but it was well into the morning so there was sunlight a ways in. We could hear attacks echoing everywhere as we entered. Gunshots, too. Sounded like a battle was going on in there.

We continued in and began to see fires in the distance inside the tunnel. I barely had time to think of the ramifications of fire in a tunnel full of vehicles with gasoline tanks when a woman and her child, maybe 8 years old, came up to us. They looked crazed, were covered in blood, but were healthy.

“Please d-don’t eat us, just bite us! Bite us so we can come back.” She said as she swayed from side to side and twitched. “The rest of our family are, are in there. They turned on us and t-tried to kill us. We want to change so we can be with them again. We want to be with them again!”

The child looked horrified and was crying. She continued to beg, but before I could react the group was on them. Eaten, and killed.

Pressing on through the dark wet tunnel, we attacked and killed any other Healthies we find. At times I would join in and eat, but mostly I kept us moving forward. My standing rule was that I wouldn’t harm the infected, and I kept to it... usually. But I really couldn’t tell who was infected and who wasn’t. There were times when we would come on a Frenzy between infected and we were compelled to join in. It was uncontrollable, I almost blacked out at times from the intensity.

Time seemed to stretch on; days, a week maybe, went by in there, I don’t know. The farther we got the less life, animate or reanimate, we saw. We had completed the descent down and were headed up the road to the surface. And then I smelled them. Past the fires and the corpses. I smelled Healthies. We got close enough to see they were National Guardsmen. Three of them had taken positions and were shooting and killing infected. They must have been trapped in there and were fighting their way out towards Norfolk because their backs were toward us.

I stopped the group before they noticed us; we hid and watched. They would fire 5 shots, and then move forward. 5 shots, move forward. I counted it off. It was rhythmic. So I began to advance right as they fired so they wouldn’t hear us. I would walk toward them for 5 shots and stop. Then repeat. The others picked up on it. It didn’t take long and we were upon them. We took down two, but one got away.

He went behind an overturned car and took out his radio. “Splash the tunnel, we are trapped or dead. Splash the tunnel... Splash the damn tunnel!!!”

I knew there were tons of water on top of this tunnel. And I figured out what “Splash the tunnel” meant when I heard the explosions and saw the water coming in; a lot of water coming in.

First it poured in from the ceiling, and as we walked toward the light it began to fill the tunnel until we were floating. Then it just fell on us. The tunnel was completely flooded and I started to panic. But I didn’t feel the need to breathe anymore.

I was dead, wasn’t I...

I pushed ahead, underwater, through cars, bodies, debris, until I got to the tunnel’s exit. I came up to another bridge and got to my feet on the pavement. There were about 10 more infected there. All wet. My new friends and I looked toward the city and noticed a barricade of barbed wire and military trucks with a guarded gate; hundreds of dead and injured infected lay all over the bridge. We walked up and all reached out our hands and moaned for help. We were sick and needed to be taken care of; cured. But the look on their faces.... They were horrified. Sickened.

Then sirens went off and they started shooting us. Some of our group took shots to the head and went down fast. The rest of us hit the dirt. I told the others to wipe blood on their heads and play dead. We heard them yell “Got ‘em!” and we didn’t move.

They loaded us up on a truck and headed toward the city. I saw so many bodies, lifeless by the road. Thousands of us. We arrived at what looked to be either a large hospital campus or some kind of military compound. I smelled burning flesh and felt the heat of a fire. That’s when I knew what they were doing here. They were burning the infected, cleansing society by fire, like at the ICC in Leesburg. Only here I heard the moans of living infected being thrown in the fires. They couldn’t have thrown us off the bridge; we could infect the sea and wash up to shore. This was an extermination process. There was no compassion for the diseased here either, and there was no cure.

As we got well inside the compound I rolled off the truck and got to my feet. It looked like we were on a Navy base. I still had a pistol and a knife; soaked but surely operational. The other four followed. The soldiers weren’t watching us; they thought we were dead so we went unnoticed. We headed for the woods behind the main building. There were others like us there milling around.

We had to do something. I decided we would wait until dark, and then head into the building. We were already past the guarded perimeter so it shouldn’t be hard. They were not very organized here. Many of them were dead or injured and we knew we could take advantage of this. As we headed to the building we killed and ate two guards. We also got two pistols and two rifles off them. We were armed and we wanted answers, and revenge.

Well fed, we headed in. What we saw next changed my attitude toward all Healthies forever. We passed a room and inside was an infected man being attacked and eaten by dogs while soldiers cheered and filmed it. The man moaned and begged for mercy as he was attacked. We couldn’t help him and didn’t want to give up our position yet. We continued past more of these torture chambers. One was full of people who were still alive as they were thrown into furnaces. In one room, we saw a doctor working on a woman’s torso cut open on the operating table; she was screaming and under no anesthesia. We saw many of these operations but pressed on.

We came upon what looked like a holding cell. At least 10 of our fellow citizens were being held. We shot the lock and they rushed us. They quickly realized we were the same as them and stood there staring at us waiting to follow, to imitate. We saw two large doors at the end of the hall and headed toward them; nearly 50 strong.

The guards screamed as we burst through the doors. The horror in their eyes, they were scared to death. Then they saw we had guns and they tried to run. We caught two and had them lead us to whoever was in charge. No words, just a gun in the back and they knew. They vomited and cried like babies as we walked a large corridor and then into an office with an older officer that had to be the ranking man. I took small bites out of them as we walked in. They screamed but kept going.

I stared at him and tried my best--I groaned out “Why are you killing people here?”

His jaw fell opened and his cigar hit the floor.

“You can talk.” Was all he said.

He had no way out and we were between him and his desk. I was beginning to understand speech again.

He kept screaming “You’re dead!” over and over as he stumbled around trying to avoid the rest of the group as they surrounded him. Dead? What was he saying? How was he going to kill all of us?

He looked at me and said “Don’t you know what you are?”

I knew exactly what we were.

A shot rang out. One of his men shot him between the eyes and then killed himself.

We turned and headed out of the office. We walked the entire building and rescued all of our people that we could--and killed every single guard, doctor, white coat, and uninfected person. We ate pieces of them and eventually left. On our way out I grabbed several sealed files and documents; all that I could carry. I hoped they held answers. These monsters were not covert members of a secret organization. These were not criminal employees of a billion dollar Drug Company. These were regular folks. Doctors, nurses, scientists, soldiers.... They looked at us--the diseased, the infected--as NOTHING. As GARBAGE. NOT WORTHY OF PITY. Well we didn’t want their God Damn pity. Whatever we were, it was definitely us against them now. There was no going back. Ever.

That’s how this all began. That’s how I remember it anyway. I hate them for letting this happen, I hate them for not being sick like me, and I hate them for EXTERMINATING us by the thousands, maybe even millions... and I hate myself more than ever. I hate myself for what I have become. And the poor bastards that are worse off than me that stagger around like dead people? Maybe they are, but I AM NOT! I AM ALIVE. I think, therefore I AM, whether I have blood in my veins or not. And this isn’t over, not by any stretch. We are out here, we are organizing, we are armed and we are hungry. We are an enemy that doesn’t simply want to defeat you and take your things, your land, or your life. We want to EAT you alive, we have to.... We want answers from our Government. We want our lives back, the lives STOLEN from us. And you are going to give them to us, or we will take yours.

I don’t know what we have become. But I know we are truly damned. I am Het Madden, the man in charge. Pleased to eat you. Heh heh...

4

Cursed Earth

Because thou hast... eaten of the tree,

whereof I commanded thee,

that thou shouldst not eat,

cursed is the earth in thy work:

with labour and toil shalt thou eat thereof

all the days of thy life.

-Genesis 3:17

Last count we are about 100 strong. We are cursed to wander, and damned to exist. Those of us who can carry and use weapons do just that. But for some reason that is a small percentage. Many can only stagger forward slowly. All of us can still think and read and plan, just at different speeds. I am constantly forced to help those worse off than I am re-learn even the basic motor skills. We as a whole are helpless, but for the most part, we are teachable. I have yet to find anyone close to being my equal, but many of my lieutenants are quite capable. I want answers and D.C. seems to be the best place to go, so I am headed home.

Norfolk to D.C. is a long stretch, especially on foot, but we will get there. Sticking to the highway seems to be the best idea. Many of us still have electronic Government pass cards that should get us into quite a few unguarded doors. There doesn’t seem to be any organized resistance in the area, all the Healthies seem to be dead or hiding, or both. Remains of the infected are everywhere. Whether killed in a Frenzy or by Healthies, it’s hard to tell. Thousands litter the landscape, sometimes dead, sometimes torn apart and lingering.

When we come upon Healthies we kill them and eat at least some of them whether we are hungry or not. A house, shopping mall, anyplace we think there are people, we will investigate. Interestingly, when one of us senses a Healthy we all seem to feel it before any one of us makes a sound. It is like a common consciousness in some ways. At first I try to rationalize it by telling myself that maybe we all smelled the Healthy at the same time and reacted, but this happens even when we are many yards apart.

We trust no one that isn’t sick and many of us grow stronger each and every day while some weaken and literally fall apart. I seem to be gaining intelligence while others lose all faculties and trail off into the woods alone. I wish I knew what caused the difference in the way we react to the infection. I begin to look for answers in the files I took from the Navy base, but I read so slowly now. I still have trouble concentrating at times and can completely forget what I am doing, but I am also intense when necessary. Many of the files reference a virus that was discovered on a plane that came to the U.S. from Africa in early December 2012.

It seems that some missionaries were helping care for a village that had an outbreak of a highly contagious flu-like virus. They worked with the people in a village near Darfur to take care of the sick and provide antibiotics and antivirals to them. They did what they could do and were called back by the church. They boarded a passenger plane in Zimbabwe that was full to capacity. It was delayed and sat on the runway for 8 hours, no one getting on or off.

After the long uncomfortable wait, it took off. During the flight a small child who had been bitten “by something” began to show signs of the flu, including fever and vomiting. After an hour or two the child finally fell asleep. A few minutes later she awoke, went “mad”, and attacked and bit a flight attendant and two other passengers. The pilot and co-pilot radioed that there was a commotion on the plane and they locked themselves behind the sealed cockpit door. Then everything went quiet, but per airline quarantine and terrorist-evasion rules, they remained locked away and safe to fly the plane.

They begged to land in Europe, Bermuda, anywhere--but were denied. They were forced to finish the trip to New York. When the plane finally landed, the pilots alone were healthy and behind the sealed cockpit door. Some passengers survived but were infected with this “flu” and were mad with fever. Others were not so lucky and showed signs of being severely bitten and even partially eaten. The missionaries were dead, as was the child. The pilots were checked and released and the sick were securely quarantined.

The next day both pilots had killed their families and were missing. The sick people from the plane became less violent so they had been moved to less secure accommodations for observation. An entire wing of the hospital was overrun within 1 hour and the entire building was burned to the ground. The fire was set by the military. More information had begun to trickle in about what was being called “Super Rabies” from Africa and a decision was made to quarantine by fire. Many healthy people were actually killed in the process. Next, several airport personnel were found half eaten and a cab driver was found without a head. It spread out to the rest of the city from there.

According to one document, the estimated infection rate had crossed 20% of New York’s population before local governments around the country were told the truth. And soon after that, it leaked to the internet and media--but by that time it was everywhere. It spanned out from New York to airports in Miami, Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., Seattle.... As I read this, the estimated infection of over half of the population of the United States is one week from today. Similar scenarios were reported in Europe and Asia. African casualties were much higher much earlier.

There are still relatively uninfected areas in the country east of the Rockies and west of the Appalachians. In these strongholds, Marshall Law rules, and infected bodies, dead and alive, are burned immediately. They are simply eradicating us, not even trying to cure us. I look up and see a man sitting on the ground to my left.

“I was responsible for creating the documents you are reading.” He says. “And I can see that there are many missing.”

“Who are you?” I ask angrily.

“Charles Darius. I was the Executive Officer for the Captain back at the Naval Base Hospital you, or we, sacked. I was bitten by a small child that was running loose on the grounds. I thought nothing of it but soon turned into what you see before you. By then I knew what we were doing to the infected so I headed for the woods on the base and hid out there with the others you came upon. I joined you in the killing and have followed you since.”

“What is missing from these documents?” I ask.

“There are a lot of people higher up in our government that truly believe that whole 2012 story. You know, the end of the world as we know it, planets aligning, raining blood, whatever.”

“How high up?” I am interested now.

“The highest. Billions of dollars were spent starting ten years previous to find out what, if any, of this stuff was true. I don’t’ know this for sure, but I had heard it was very much believed by some of the Free Masons. They started an offshoot group that spread throughout the Federal Government in the highest ranks. These people got to the point where they wanted this to happen, they thought it had to. And they were going to do what it took to help things along.”

I ask “So did they cause this? Is this man made?”

“That I don’t know for sure, but I would bet it is. This is all hearsay that I picked up in meetings and over drinks at the Officers Club. But I wonder and I am keeping my eyes open. You should, too, Madden. Something tells me there are answers and we deserve to know them.”

“How do you know my name, Darius?”

“I’ve always known your name, Madden. I’m surprised you still don’t recognize me. It will come in time.”

The whole time I’ve been talking to him I don’t remember seeing him until just now. The way my mind is, that doesn’t surprise me, however, Darius is extremely well spoken for an infected man. I look up and he is gone. I look around, and nothing. I have trouble keeping my mind on the things he said. The pain to feed is strong and I can see we all feel it. We need to eat. We need to kill.

In addition to being hungry there is the problem of the tunnel being flooded. I want to find answers and they can only be back in D.C. But how will we get back through a flooded tunnel? At that moment Darius is standing to my left again.

“There is a bridge that can get you on the road to Richmond. That is where you should be heading. There are answers there Madden. The houses along the way are full of scared Healthies; that will be more than enough to feed us all. There is a neighborhood just past those trees and most of the surviving Healthies are at Norview High School. Not much protection, just scared and alone. Warm blood coursing through healthy veins. It’s probably a good idea to head there now, Madden. Take your people there now to feed on them.” The more I look at him the more familiar he looks.

I know Darius. I know him well but can’t place him.

“How do you know so much?” I scream, out of frustration over not being able to place him, and excitement about feeding.

“I lived and worked here for years before doing some time at the Pentagon on a project.” He says.

“I worked with you, didn’t I? In D.C.”

“Yes Mr. Madden, we worked together. Now let’s get to that school.”

We head in the direction Darius suggests. There are no street lights and it is a cloudy night so it’s hard to see. After walking a few miles we see the school at the end of the road.

“That’s it Madden, that’s where the food is.”

I can’t help but notice that Darius is very eager to get us to that school. I also begin to notice that he does not really look that infected. He did at first and smelled like the rest of us but he is sweating a lot. I no longer sweat, none of us do, which is odd in a way, but I didn’t feel hot so it seemed normal. But why does Darius sweat? He seems nervous as we get closer to the school. I can smell him now, his warm blood. He must have covered himself in human remains, sewage, something to hide his scent. When we are all well inside the school grounds he shouts “Hit them!”

It’s a trap! He tricked us. But if it is a trap why is nothing happening? He shouts again, but still nothing. Now the rest of my people are realizing Darius is not infected. He runs to the main door of the school.

“Where are you?!?!? I have Madden, he’s right here, where are you?!?!?”

Just then the doors swing open and troops file out onto the grass. Infected troops, recently infected from the looks. They grab Darius and begin to eat him.

“No, I have Madden! No. no...” and he is done.

There look to be quite a few troops, maybe 50 or so. I go up to each and make sure he is infected. They are welcome allies, although many look at their weapons mindlessly.

But I’ll take ‘em...

Darius told us where the bridge was and seemed to want us to head to Richmond very badly. I can’t help but think it could be another trap, but I also realize that the whole world is going to shit and Richmond is probably shit too. So that’s where we are heading; after we get some food.

We head into the school and hear screams. There are Healthies in here hiding and they are probably unorganized now, since the soldiers were infected. We all fan out and there turn out to be plenty of them. We kill them and gorge ourselves until the last scream is silenced. There may be more but we’re full now. We head out and make our way through back streets and finally to the highway.

We follow the highway like Darius told us and see a bridge in the distance. The bridge lights show it is loaded with cars, and infected. This shouldn’t be like the tunnel though. The sun is coming up and we can see fairly well as we come up to it. Some of the infected on the bridge join our group as we cross. We are becoming a real army...

5

Coliseum

Many and sharp the num'rous ills
Inwoven with our frame!
More pointed still we make ourselves
Regret, remorse, and shame!
And Man, whose heav'n-erected face
The smiles of love adorn,
Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn!

-Robert Burns, 1785

We leave the bridge and continue west on Route 64 toward Richmond, the state capital. We will be looking for more answers there. As we walk down the highway, I see a steady plume of smoke far off in the distance. We see more Healthies. Some shoot us, some just run. I myself have a bullet in my shoulder and a couple in my back. We catch who we can, and kill and eat them. The others get away. We lose a lot of our own from gunshots, but take our share of them. We are hunted so we, ourselves, must never stop hunting or we are nothing but prey.

They are smarter than us, by and large, but unorganized they can do little harm. Our numbers grow by the minute, as theirs shrink. As we near the source of the smoke we can hear the sounds of people. Many more than our numbers. This both excites and scares me. I decide we should wait until dark to investigate, so we head into the woods to wait, and rest. As we wait, we see several vehicles roll by on the road. Cars, campers, trucks, you name it. A lot of Healthies are heading somewhere. There are many more than I had thought and I fear we are in danger.

We start out in the morning and decide to keep to the woods. We can see the smoke and hear the Healthies and there are still cars passing on the road. As we get closer we can see the noise is coming from a stadium; the kind that holds a few thousand people. Then we hear gunshots and barking dogs, and they are upon us. What seems to be a hundred dogs tear into us relentlessly. They are too fast and too well trained; and we are no match for them. Men on horseback and in jeeps capture those of us not taken by the dogs and kill the rest.

We are thrown in the back of semi trucks and locked in. I don’t think we killed even one of these Healthies. I feel the truck move and many of us that are the worse-off moan and cry out. We don’t fear many things, but we cannot stand the unknown. Whether it is confusion as to how to operate something we know we once could, the fate of lost loved ones, or simply being held captive. We all may not move fast, but we need to be able to move freely. A sort of claustrophobic paranoia... I can feel exactly what the group is feeling. I have always been like that.

The noise gets louder and louder, drowning out the truck engine, and I realize it is the roar of a crowd. The truck pulls to a stop and the noise is almost deafening. The door opens and the back of the truck raises in the front forcing us to spill out into what can only be described as an arena. The stands are full of Healthies, protected by a 12 foot metal fence around the arena floor. And that arena floor is full of the sick and diseased.

The group currently on the floor turns and looks at us. I study their faces. The look on most of them is suspicion. They have been here a while, this looks to be a place they consider their turf. They move toward us, almost in a kind of formation.

Most of them have weapons, close combat weapons not guns or explosives. There are lifeless bodies and body parts spread all over this arena; all partially eaten. We have been brought here to fight, to be made sport of, all to entertain the Healthies in the stands. Why this particular group of uninfected are not scared of us may be related to how drunk they appear to be. A bloodthirsty crowd, waiting for the Freaks to kill each other for their entertainment.

I turn to look at the other group and they have stopped at the middle of the arena. They just stand there staring at us, each one crying out his or her individual war cry. The cacophony is nearly deafening and I think we may Frenzy when suddenly, two thick steel fences drop down to separate our two groups. These fences are about 12 feet high, same as the ones around the arena floor, and the space between them is about 4 feet. The fencing makes it impossible to reach each other, but we can see and hear clearly through it.

An announcer comes on and although I can’t really understand him over the obviously damaged public address system, he seems to imply that a battle will take place tomorrow. I guess we are fighting. Almost all of our adversaries seem to be near, if not equal, to me in mobility but not cognition. Many of my own group still needs to have me help them relearn many basic tasks I have already re-taught them once; almost as though they had had a stroke or something. I don’t know why I am able to teach and so many are not.

The others are now seated and facing us through the fence, an obvious attempt to intimidate. I scan them and quickly realize we will not win this fight. Their group is larger and in tune to the movements of each other. Then I notice two familiar faces staring through the fencing. It is Bob and Michelle.

Friends!

I move towards them but their faces remain cold and menacing. I try to speak but they beat me to it. Even through their barely intelligible groaning, their looks and inflections say it all. Had I forgotten that I literally stole Bob’s truck after pushing him from it and practically blinded Michelle? Her eye still hung from its socket. I tried to explain that I was frightened and didn’t know what I was doing. All they answered with was the face of someone that intended on killing and eating me and my band of inexperienced foot soldiers.

I tried to explain that we shouldn’t be fighting each other... that we should be fighting them. But I can see how they could remain here without a fight. The Healthies brought them flesh and gave them a place to live. The promise of food and shelter to a weak mind has been the downfall of many civilizations, but I can’t let it happen to ours.

“You are living like pets!” I scream. “We have to stand up to this tyranny. These Healthies are our food! Not our captors!”

Some of them turn and begin to listen, including a large bald man with a Navy ID on his shirt that said his name was Will. He seems to have some leadership role, perhaps because of his size. At first he looked angry, but now I can see him listen and understand.

I tell them about the hospital and how we were all being systematically exterminated; in this case, for sport. I preach until I collapse. I can only hope some of it has sunk in. I only hope we have a chance.

I dream as I sleep. My father is telling me about the war. How he fought the Germans and his division marched through France and into Germany, winning the local people over as they went.

“You don’t win a war by killing soldiers”, he tells me, “You win a war by winning the hearts and minds of the common folk.”

I then take flight as a large and fearless winged lion. I come to rest atop thousands of dead bodies, and feed on them slowly. My mouth is covered in blood and my eyes are pure blue light. I look closer and see the dead bodies are actually holding me up as they sing my name, so loud I am deafened. They then fall apart and rot into nothing and I am left alone on a mountain, a child surrounded by a sea of burning blood... the last person alive.

I awake to the spray of a high powered fire hose. The sun is up and we are being cleaned for some reasons. We all stagger back to try and get away. Some of my people are literally torn apart by the water. None of us bath anymore and I can imagine the stench we give off to one of the uninfected. Believe me, we can smell them coming so they can probably smell us. The others remain staring at us as the water hits them. Motionless they sit, intimidating and powerful. As I said, I had been afraid of little since I took ill. Fearless and ravenous, I have attacked my way through life, but these ghouls scare the Hell out of me. Not as much for myself as for all my people.

Healthies start to file into the seats of the arena. Most are drunk or high. For generations, this has been a popular way to cope with the unknown. Still, our adversaries do not move from their places at the fence. Many of us, on the other hand, moan in pain and stagger hungrily about. We are starving and the burning pain is unbearable. Will, the large Navy man, looks at me through the fence. When he is sure I am looking, he slowly winks. I look in his eyes and know what it means.

At that moment the fences rise up and my people lurch back in fear. The others don’t move. I get it immediately. I motion my men forward with me near where the fence had been. I motion them to sit down as well. We plan our attack simply by looking in each other’s eyes. We don’t move. The loudspeaker shrieks with threats to us but we still don’t move. Then the Healthies’ security force enters the floor with weapons, dressed in heavy riot gear.

Too heavy to bite through I think, but I know what we have to do. They look like off duty cops and the bulk of the gear they wear limits their mobility and they are sweating terribly, I can see that... and smell them.

The fences come down again and the guards file in between them. But at each end of the fences there are barely noticeable piles of stacked debris, stones and metal mostly. The fences come down on top of the debris and stop leaving about 8 - 10 inches of room underneath and all the way across. The others had planned this! I hadn’t noticed them stacking the rocks, no one had!

Thinking they are safe from our reach the guards try to shock us into submission through the fences with electric shock sticks. We reach under the fence and grab the men’s legs. They scream as we tear at their suits and pull whatever parts of them fit under the gates. We can’t get at their flesh, but we can pull apart limbs and crush them. Then together we lift the fences up and slip as many of our own as we can underneath to attack the people in the stands. As many of us kill and eat the warm flesh of the spectators, Bob finds the main switch and raises all the arena fencing completely up and we are all on the crowd in no time. Some fight back, but few escape the attack.

This is the first attack I have truly enjoyed, and with no remorse. The sound of their screams, the smell of their fear, the taste of the adrenalin permeating their warm bloody flesh. It’s primal and rewarding like nothing I have ever felt. I love attacking the Healthies. How dare they enjoy life while we rot. Their flesh will feed us and they will live in FEAR of us, The Damned. They hide behind locked doors and underground waiting until its safe, but it will never be safe. We will never stop looking for them.

We rest, and the next morning decide to continue on to Richmond. The others have come from many different places and tell us of the things they have seen. Religious zealots in the infected world are out to cleanse us all. Infected animals attack anything they see, because their minds cannot handle this change. Flocks of birds fly and feed as one organism. Massive insect infestations; The list goes on. Many of the others don’t wish to find answers. They want to stay away from the Healthies and head to the mountains.

Some of the documents I’ve read say feeding is a necessity for the infected and the only material that the infected can metabolize is live human flesh. Everything else tested on our kind in their sick and disgusting hospital was vomited back up. The flesh of the infected ourselves, when cannibalized, is not expelled but it contains limited nutrients. The others, however, believe feeding is instinct and not necessity. They feel they can eat anything and still be fine. Because of what I have read, I feel otherwise--and so do Bob and Michelle. They want to join our group, and I can’t help but be suspicious. I will allow them in but I will keep an eye on them. You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. It seems there are two kinds of beings in my world now, enemies and enemies I haven’t met yet.

Our entire group will travel to Richmond. When we arrive there, the others will continue on west while we sack Richmond, gathering followers and killing the uninfected along the way. And after that, Washington is next...

6

Richmond Was Built on a Hill

I wish I could explain the way it feels to kill one of the uninfected. On one hand, it feels more powerful and pleasurable than anything I have ever felt. The fear in the victim’s eye as he feels himself being eaten and the taste of the warm blood and flesh running down my throat as I take the poor bastard is a huge rush. On the other hand, the closeness to the person I kill and eat is there as well. It borders on intimacy. How can you get closer to a person than by eating them alive? I like to start with the face, just tearing off lips and cheek while holding the head. A lot of my peers go right for the abdomen and organs. It is a personal preference, and seeing the expression of someone being eaten on a fully functioning face is something to watch. First and foremost, it’s fear and then pain. But then a different kind of disbelief and sheer horror takes over and they stop fighting. They know they are going to die and they almost seem to welcome it; I am releasing them from all their fears. Fears that perhaps used to be as simple as having enough money to support their materialistic nature, or as complicated as having enough money to live. The fears that the uninfected have now are most certainly the fears of us. And I release them from that. It’s a mercy killing really. Am I not providing a service? Am I not bringing the poor creatures peace? But no matter how we, the infected, kill we agree on one thing. We never try and kill them right away. We ALL like them to die while being eaten. I find myself becoming unapologetic for anything I do to them. They are the enemy. They are letting us ROT out here while they remain healthy. To Hell with them, all of them.

Now on another note, when we eat fellow infectees, killing first is usually the Modus Operandi. For this, we just want them dead and are merely eating to eat. Plain and simple. Personally, I rarely eat one of our own, but sometimes the feeling is uncontrollable and I resort to cannibalism. I say cannibalism in this case because eating one of the Healthies isn’t really cannibalism. They are not us. They are the enemy. They must pay for not helping us. For causing this. For being well. But it is important to quell the urge to slip into cannibalizing our own. We can’t win the war if we kill ourselves. I constantly look for food and lead attacks on the noninfected to make sure we don’t get so hungry we make the great mistake of cannibalism.

After what seems like days, we near Richmond. Many have joined our group and we number in the thousands now. As we get closer we notice a stark absence of Healthies and infected, but find a lot of dead bodies. Then we see what can only be one thing; the result of a huge battle. It looks like a fight took place between the Army and the infected. Soldiers bodies torn from tanks and ripped apart. Burned infected. Some still moving. A trail of blood and body parts paves the way to Richmond indicating to me that our side won this one and headed to town. I remember being told once that Richmond was built on a hill. And this turned out to be true.

We head into town and immediately begin climbing large hills which slow us down considerably. Many of the group can’t stagger more than a foot every few seconds. Many less than that, and we lose quite a few. They just stop, fall, or wander back down the hills. I look up and see soldiers on the overpasses heading into the city. Did they defeat our people? As we get closer we realize they are infected. Not as bad off as us, but definitely infected.

They open fire on us but aren’t the best shots. We return fire and I head into a building for shelter but most of my group simply walks cluelessly toward the gunfire. I motion them into the shelter and physically herd them to safety. Are they getting dumber? Bob and Michelle come up to me and we have what amounts to a discussion. I tell them it may be that the soldiers actually won the battle but became infected and are defending the city per orders. However there are documents and possibly answers here. This is the state capital. There could be people here that can be questioned and made to pay, but that are being protected by our own kind--the infected who may still think they are normal. How do we convince them to join us? How do we outfight the soldiers? I am the leader of what amounts to staggering, Alzheimer’s-riddled cripples. Armed, but not a real army. What can I do?

Night falls and fires are lit on both sides. We each know the other is there, but they are defending the city and waiting for us to move first. I look down and see a manhole cover. Well that’s it. Maybe we can enter the city using the sewers. I doubt they thought of that; if we are losing our faculties, so are they. They will only defend against what they can see and it is only a matter of time until they attack whoever is left in the city. I have Bob and Michelle as lieutenants now, and two others that are less intelligent. Steve and Mike are good men that need to be led now, but they can grasp concepts. Ten more of even lesser means join us.

We pull up the manhole cover with a tire iron Steve has been using as a weapon and drop into the sewer, one by one. We will leave the rest of our men and women here to draw the attention of the soldiers. They won’t miss a few of us and it’s doubtful they have had time to count our numbers.

Crawling through the sewer, the filth that surrounds us feels good on my skin and soothes the constant burning. We have no idea where we are going, but we hear sounds, like music, so we follow that. We also hear gunshots above us and realize the rest of our folks have headed towards the soldiers. Bob says that many of them were dying anyway and that this is a heroic sacrifice. His ability to speak is improving. I know that they don’t have the slightest idea what they are doing anymore, but Bob is right, despite himself. They provide an excellent decoy. We look up and see a manhole cover that has bright light shining through it. We climb the ladder, 15 of us total, push it open and climb out inside of a parking garage.

A car stereo is playing very loud music ahead and a man sits in the car reading a comic book. He doesn’t hear us as we approach. Before he can react we tear his body apart and feed. We continue on and enter double glass doors and find ourselves looking down into a large theater. Organ music is playing and I now see what is going on. It is a concert of some kind and all that are in attendance aren’t Healthies at all. Everyone is like us. There are people in robes on the stage and they are moaning along with the music. On second glance, the main person--what appears to be a minister--is an uninfected man. This is a CHURCH!

The parishioners on stage wearing robes kneel down in a circle and the minister drags out a live, and obviously drugged, healthy body. Then he reads a prayer.

“Lord we give thanks for the bounty you have given us. Let us enjoy and celebrate in your name. Amen.”

They feast, but don’t Frenzy. It is almost mannerly how they tear the flesh from the barely-struggling body and devour it. He brings another drugged Healthy out and the audience lines up and comes forward for what looks like communion. The minister cuts off pieces of the body and gives a piece to each of the infected that pass by, in a very orderly fashion.

“Come, take, this is my body I give unto you” he says.

He has organized the infected into a congregation and for some reason they are not attacking. I look around and all of our group but Michelle, Bob, and I have began walking down the isles.

“STOP!” The minister says over a loud PA system. “We have new members that wish to join us.” Soldiers come out from behind the sides of the pews and grab our people.

The minister welcomes them and they are forced into line and he gives each of them a piece of the body. They eat and are taken to sit down. They are entranced by the minister and whatever he is saying. I don’t get it all but it sounds like he is reading from the book of Revelation.

Those on the stage in robes stand up and go to the altar. The minister dips their heads in a large baptismal font. After that they each pick up a candle.

The minister chants, over and over, “Cleanse and thou wilt be cleansed, by fire thy soul will ascend... Cleanse and thou wilt be cleansed, by fire thy soul will ascend... Cleanse and thou wilt be cleansed, by fire thy soul will ascend”, the congregation joining in as they light themselves on fire. They go up so fast there has to be something flammable in that font. The crowd stares at them and doesn’t move. They then begin to cheer.

I shout out “Help them, help them!!!”

The minister looks at me in horror. Everyone turns and stares. They all stare at me, all of the infected. The minister cries out that I am a demon sent by the Devil himself. That my “kind” cannot speak. He runs off the stage and up the steps through the crowd towards me. As he comes closer I can tell he truly is uninfected, and quite mad. He jumps on top of me and stabs me with a large knife. I grab his head and bite hard into his neck. He drops to the floor and I eat him. No one joins, he is left for me.

I walk to the stage and I begin to preach. This captive audience, for the most part, barely understands. Soldiers in the seats seem to get it. “They are trying to kill us all. Has the Army sent help for you men?” Disapproving groans resonate. I continue to talk, moving through the crowd and gaining their minds and hearts. These are my people. I will lead them. I will teach them to walk, to talk... to fight.

Leaving the church I am ready to join in the battle we avoided before. But it is all but over. There is evidence of Frenzy, thousands of dead and wounded, and the remainder of both sides staggering around lost. I decide to head toward the State Government buildings to look for food and information. Unfortunately, I find neither. The people are gone, evacuated it seems. Cleanly gone, not killed and eaten. There are partially burned documents and computers that have been destroyed. Where were these people evacuated to? Then I come upon a thick document on a printer. The heading is Virally Reanimated And Functioning Inorganic Humanoid Lifeforms (V-RAFs). After a quick glance I realize that this is what they are “officially” calling us. I will have to read this thoroughly. But first I need to make sure my people are fed.

We haven’t eaten for a while, and if we don’t feed soon more cannibalism will follow--more infighting, and I can’t have that. We can search more buildings later, I know where we need to go. I get the attention of everyone, maybe only 500 now, and they follow me en route to the suburbs. This has to be where at least some of the missing Healthies went.

We stick to back streets and it takes a few hours but we arrive, only to find empty homes. They have to be around somewhere! We continue on and see lights in the distance when night falls. A lot of Healthies look to have set up camps just outside the neighborhoods. We creep into the camps expecting resistance but there isn’t much. Maybe they are exhausted. Maybe they thought we would stay near the houses and that there would only be a few, uh, V-RAFs coming at a time and that would make us easily handled. They were wrong if that was it. There are over a hundred people here, asleep, and unsuspecting. Not nearly the number that had been in the city, but enough for our needs. We circle around the camp and close in. Some shots are fired but there are too many of us and I don’t think these folks counted on an organized attack. We feed, all night.

When morning light comes I read the document I took off that printer. It tells the horrifying story that I discovered while watching experiments back in Leesburg when I thought I might be dreaming. It seems that this virus KILLS people. It then reanimates the body creating the inorganic life forms I am currently leading around. In addition, it is airborn and reanimates recently dead bodies, but the airborn virus does not infect Healthies. It doesn’t say it kills everyone, but I have to know. I go up to my men and women one by one and feel, patiently this time, for a pulse, a heart beat, something. I feel a weak heartbeat in everyone! We are not dead! Is it possible we are alive and simply infected with a virus? If we are alive, maybe we will eventually die from this. So I, we, have to find a cure! We need our lives back!

I read on and learn this virus that reanimates the body would cause the heart to pump and even a pulse to sometimes register by pushing any lifeless blood around a useless circulatory system. Even beating with no blood in the body; after all, it is a muscle so it would keep beating. My mind is sharp and I feel alive! Admittedly, some of my people are quite obviously brain dead. Some, like me, have barely any blood left at all with large gaping wounds that have long since bled out. And I remember being underwater so long without breathing.

We are dead. I mustn’t fool myself. It’s just so hard to accept...

But how does a virus reanimate dead flesh? What remains? I know first hand that the effects are different on different people. I have seen freshly infected people change over time into staggering non-thinking nothings that I have to practically drag along with me. Yet I am not nearly as affected, and am improving daily. It’s the same with Bob and Michelle. I have to find out more information. I have to find a working computer and get on whatever remains of the internet. With no radio, no TV, no newspapers there is no other way I can find out what is really going on in the world.

We head back toward the city and see no life at all. Nothing. We cross the highway and head into a different set of buildings. We walk into these offices and they are full of equipment, working equipment, and full filing cabinets. There is electrical power here. I seem to be able to relearn on my own so I will find a computer, sit down, and figure out how I used to use it. I have to. Just then I look over and Michelle is already seated at a PC. She has inserted her DOD-issued Common Access Card and logged into the DOD machine and motions me over. Can she read my mind? Or are we just thinking alike? I have since pushed her eye back into the socket and wrapped a tan scarf around her head, off center, to cover it. Every time I see it I remember what I did and how pretty she looked before. But to tell the truth, something about her rotting, oozing flesh attracts me as well.

Confused, I sit beside her and over the next few days we both slowly figure out how to access what remains of the internet. There are sites out there being maintained by people all over the country, all over the world. I haven’t found any sites or blogs maintained by infected but I wasn’t really expecting any. We work, and we stop to stalk and feed, and many Healthies who didn’t leave are hiding within the buildings we now occupy.

We take Richmond for ourselves and set up a command post. But it isn’t the first city taken by the dead and it won’t be the last. We are learning more every day. Many buildings still have power and its not the roof generator providing it. This alone tells us there are still healthy people running things somewhere. Healthy people with warm blood pumping through hot flesh. They are our food.

As Michelle attempts to teach Bob and a few others how to use the technology, I continue to read. Apparently the Healthies think they will be safe in the North; where it’s below or near freezing all the time. Us V-RAFs freeze up in the cold weather, the documents say. Can’t move, can’t attack. Well we won’t freeze up with me outfitting us for the cold. There will be answers in Washington, this is true, but the seat of North American Government--The Northern Alliance--is moving north high into Canada to re-establish civilized government, and then a civilized world. Translation, they are going to organize and kill all of us. There are millions of them still alive, the uninfected, the Healthies. The vaccination is said to still be working, keeping the uninfected uninfected.

So, it looks like the real answers are north. Far north, but no bother... we will go. To Washington, then to New York, then to Canada. We will find them and we will find answers and they will pay.

As soon as Michelle, Bob, and I learn to drive the buses in front of this building.

It shouldn’t be hard at all. We have nothing but time right now, and the internet is a wonderful thing.

7

Washington is Next

The human body is an amazing thing. It is a masterpiece of engineering, and with proper nutrition, maintains itself. The virally reanimated body, not so much. My people are dying, or dead. The virus does seem to somehow use the food we eat as nutrition, but there is evidence of decomposition in our ranks. Wounds don’t heal at all; they remain. They ooze. We are not dried-out like a mummy or decomposed body you might imagine in a grave. We are oozing, bleeding, fluid-ridden, and pus-filled. I ooze a lot and bleed a bit sometimes. Other times I don’t. There are little or no maggot infestations, the virus must kill parasitic organisms that would normally prey on rotting flesh. Broken ankles eventually become missing feet. I continue doctoring folks up with duct tape, wire, and whatever else I can find. It is pathetic. Rotting limbs fall off, and the pain is nearly unbearable. Nerve endings must be the last thing to go. Plus I’m sure the psycho-somatic aspect is there. Imagined pain can be just as real, and there’s also the shock of just falling apart. The only thing that really seems to help is the Frenzy brought on by feeding on the Healthies. The feeling of intense anger and the release that killing them gives us is like the highest high any drug could supply. It hurts to see innocent citizens dying before my eyes and our government ignoring us like we are animals. A species it wants to erase. Kill. This is GENOCIDE, make no mistake. And it feels so sweet to strike back. Revenge is my drug of choice. And I love to get high...

The way the roads are now, a bus ride to Washington could take several hours instead of the normal two. But walking would take days, or even weeks in our condition. Stopping buses to feed is not an option. Many of us are now hard to control. If the desire to feed comes on even one of us in the close quarters of a bus, it will take us all over. Simply put, we have to bring food with us. Live food. Live Healthies.

Bob, Steve, and Mike have already captured what appears to be a family that was hiding in the building. There are many more of them in there. Steve and Mike obviously want to devour them, but Bob realizes we need to bring them along. We stow them in the luggage area under the bus secretly so the others don’t go wild. A father, mother, and 3 children. I feel a twinge of what amounts to sorrow, especially that the smallest girl will die. But that is quickly erased when I draw obvious pleasure from the terrified look on her face. I have never felt satisfaction in the pain of others before. I am a monster now, there is no denying it.

The whole family is horrified, perhaps more so knowing we aren’t as lifeless and dumb as many of us seem. Two more groups of Healthies are brought to the buses. We get one stowed in the luggage area but the other group is screaming so loud it gets the attention of our people. They hear and there is nothing we can do but let them feed. Another group will need to be found and stowed. I join in and eat the face of a blond woman.

We have practiced our driving over the past few days and while it will be hard to get all of us on three buses, it would, again, be even more difficult for all of us to walk the entire way on creaking joints, on lifeless or near lifeless legs. Michelle and I have done well, while Bob seemingly struggles to maintain concentration. But he is all we have. The three of us are clearly the most intelligent. Others are gauged simply on their ability to learn and follow instruction. Original intelligent ideas are no longer evident in any of them. But they are all here. They feel pain. And they matter.

Getting our people on the buses isn’t easy, so I throw a Healthy in the passenger area of each bus. This makes it easy to get everyone on board. While they devour their prey, the three of us can start the engines and head toward our nation’s capital. For answers, and revenge.

For the most part we make good passengers. The humming of the bus seems to calm everyone, and most eventually take seats. I have Steve on my bus. Mike is on Michelle’s, and Bob has a woman named Alma. These three are very capable of carrying out instructions. When they are given a signal they go below the bus through an access door in the floor and retrieve a Healthy for the group. I get uncomfortable when they finally bring up the small girl on our bus. Her parents had been eaten and I enjoyed that, but I just can’t take pleasure in this killing. Maybe I’m not the monster I think I am. Unfortunately, putting it to a vote is not going to happen and she is quickly torn apart and devoured.

As we near the city of Springfield, I can see what looks like a wall blocking the highway in the distance. There are trees on either side of the highway and the wall goes deep into them. Michelle and Bob are behind me. As we approach it I can see that there are huge numbers of infected people on this side, just milling about. Hundreds of us. Michelle and I slow down our buses as we approach, but all of the sudden Bob’s bus speeds by and slams hard into the wall... and goes through, eventually coming to a stop. I don’t know if he did it on purpose or not. Michelle and I stop our buses, get out, and head to Bob’s. Almost noone is on it. They were all below at time of impact, including Bob. They had crawled down looking for more food I guess. How long was the bus driverless?

We walk over to the wall, and upon further inspection, it was obviously put up quickly and looked like nothing more than the kind used to keep sound out of neighborhoods near highways. An easy thing to take down, unless you didn’t know it was so weak; or how to drive a bus. I then look at what is on the other side and can’t believe my eyes.

Absolutely nothing. It is all gone. Completely leveled for miles, as far as I can see. Was the wall built after what ever did this? But by who, and why? If it was a familiar highway sound proofing wall, why would it block I-95? Had the Healthies nuked the area after leaving it to burn all of the infected? Burning seemed to be a recurring theme. But why build a wall? Some of the older stone buildings in the distance were still standing, but we had to keep going and find the Pentagon. There would be answers there. And people I imagine.

We are on foot from now on. No passable roads for buses, only rubble. No nothing actually. We get everyone off the buses and I realize that food is going to be a problem. This wasteland seems to hold no life at all. Soon it will be everyone for himself. I look over and realize Michelle is thinking the same thing. I grab her by the arm to let her know she is staying with me now. We will protect each other. A bloody faced Bob stares at us. He is slipping away, and he knows it. I don’t think we can trust him anymore. He seems intelligent enough to know how to survive, but lost enough not to care about much else.

We head North, our numbers in the hundreds once more as we are joined by others on the way. After hours of walking, past the fires in the distance, I see a city. Probably Arlington, VA. I can’t really tell, but it doesn’t look damaged at all. I figure if we followed it as a beacon we would hit the Pentagon, or what was left of it. And then out of nowhere it begins. Frenzy. My people begin to attack each other and there is nothing I can do to stop them. I try, screaming at the top of my lungs, but they are mesmerized, killing each other and eating ravenously. I look at Michelle and see she is slipping slowly into Frenzy so I hold her back. Bob is ripping through the group tearing oozing, rotting limbs from poor souls.

As I look on helplessly I noticed that Bob and some others are organized in their attack. Many of whom had been on his bus. My God this was a coup... he and his entourage had planned this! The whole thing of him slipping away is an act. He is as sentient as Michelle or I. When most everyone is dead, really dead, Bob and about 100 others stand in a line and just look at us both. Bob steps forward and screams out like an animal. He then points behind us. He is the leader of the remaining group and he is allowing us to leave. We are being banished. Steve, Mike, and Alma walk up to me and stand there. I grab Michelle and the five of us back away. I don’t know whether it is distrust or hunger but I grab Alma and tear her head completely off and eat most of her face. She was on his bus, she needed to die. Bob points and screams and we know we have to go before they change their minds. These are cannibals and are just as satisfied eating our own. There are undoubtedly more of them out there and the grim realization of a whole new enemy crept over me.

We head North while Bob and his army go their separate way, continuing to kill and eat anything moving I imagine. We have no weapons but we all trust each other. I think. After a long while we see the Pentagon and the lights of Washington, D.C. in the distance. It is getting dark and lights are on in the buildings. Not as much damage the closer we get. There are vehicles everywhere and a perimeter has been set up around the city. 4 infected people certainly aren’t getting in. No way, no how.

As darkness sets in we notice Washington, D.C., across the river lights up the whole sky. None of us feel safe so we take shelter in an office building that looks abandoned. I go to the elevator and push the button. It actually works. We ride up to the top floor, get out, and go into a large conference room. It is a lot like the ones I was used to when I worked as a DOD Contractor. Memories run through my mind but quickly leave. I look out the windows at the city. It appears that all bridges we can see, save one, have been destroyed. And the one remaining is lighted and heavily guarded. They city looks to be some kind of safe zone. The river protects it on this side, but what about the other side? Maybe another wall? There seems to be a lot going on, but we need rest. Not really sleep, I no longer sleep much. Just rest.

The sun shows strong through the window the next morning. Did I sleep? I never really know. As I look out, cars, trucks, and helicopters are all leaving the Pentagon. They are “bugging out”. Going north I imagine, to join the Northern Alliance I read about in Richmond. They couldn’t have taken everything with them, so we can still expect to find some answers. As the last of the convoy heads into the city, the bridge is destroyed behind it. Presumable to keep V-RAFs out, but who knows? We fight our own, and I bet they still do too. We will wait until tonight to head into the Pentagon, but right now we will look around for food and information here in this building. There have to be people in here somewhere. We leave the large conference room we are in through another door and to our surprise the office space is full of Healthies. FOOD! We head toward them but they are not scared like so many others we eat and kill. They look at us, then at each other, then rush us. Using whatever they have as weapons; we are outnumbered, and out cold.

We wake up in another room, strapped to chairs. An Asian woman and two men, one black and one white, walk in and sit down. There are military police lining the walls. She asks if we can understand her. Steve and Mike cannot. Michelle will not. It’s like she refuses to listen and I don’t know why. I can understand most of what she says, so I say “yes”. It comes out like a gurgling groan of course, but she knows I understood. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen and it strikes me as odd that I would be thinking this.

My grunts and groans while understandable by the infected, have got to be unintelligible to Healthies. She asks me to nod if I understand. I nod. She smiles and looks at the two men next to her at the table. These two men come toward me, grab my head and hold my jaw open. They reach in my mouth with what looks like a thick metal spoon and shovel out flesh, blood, hair, bones, fingernails and anything else that is in there. I can’t feel anything inside my mouth now, it is empty. The woman gives me a shot of something and they all sit back down.

She says “We cleaned out your mouth and gave you a shot of adrenaline. You should try and talk now. What is your name?”

I say “Madden. Who are you?” fairly plainly, which surprises me.

She replies “CDC. Center for Disease Control.” She goes on to explain that I and the other infected souls have an as yet incurable virus. Everyone in the building was vaccinated and cannot catch the virus from us. They are a small group that is sorry we are sick and are trying to find a cure, but it is very slow. She knows we will eat her if given the chance and plainly states we will not be given that chance. She then goes on to tell us things we do not know.

“You don’t have to eat much at all. The viral infection has left you the equivalent of inorganic life forms. While the food you ingest is metabolized into energy by your viral ridden bodies, you only actually NEED to eat once or twice a week for nutrition. However it makes you feel good whenever the virus receives energy. It stimulates your nerves with pleasure to ensure you eat to feed it. This virus degenerates some people, while some actually thrive.”

Amazing. I answer all her questions about the group and am beginning to wonder why I am being so cooperative.

She then says “Hetfield, the only way to find a cure is to do biopsies and autopsies of the infected.”

Wait, how does she know my name? When I ask she says “Everyone involved with this knows your name”. Confused, I listen.

“If you remain cooperative, we will let the woman live. The other two will be used to try and find a cure.”

Used?

“Murderer!” I scream as she walks away. “You’re going to kill them!”

She looks back, tilts her head to the side and says “You have never murdered? Besides, look at them”.

They were both drooling and Mike was biting through his own lip.

“They are now completely unaware of what is going on. You are all officially dead, even though your hearts beat within your chests. But you knew that already.”

They take our friends away and inform us we will be studied but not harmed. If we have been sick for as long as I think, she must wonder why I am still so intelligent. Michelle and I are taken to what looks like a secure hospital room. A man in a prison jump suit is thrown into our room. We attack and eat him immediately, feeding each other, Michelle and I. We are all we have and we share this nameless inmate and enjoy hearing his last breath bubble through his chewed throat. We settle next to each other to rest. I feel close to her. I try to make her feel safe.

We wake up to being scraped, prodded, and poked yet again. They take hair samples, what blood we have left, and test reflexes. We are told that the autopsies of Steve and Mike yield surprising results. The virus had infected their brains similarly to others they had examined. The virus takes over individual brain cells and takes over firing nerve impulses. It’s still our conscience, for a while at least, but virally animated. Eventually the brain is lost and the virus takes over only the most basic of instincts.

In Steve and Mike it hadn’t done this. They were still in control. However they were both mildly retarded from birth, or at least that’s what she came up with. The woman apologizes; she actually apologizes for killing my friends.

“I am sorry for what we had to do to your friends. I lost my family to the infected and I, along with everyone else in the building, lost most of my emotions long ago.”

Then she says something I can’t forget as she walks toward Michelle.

“They never should have created this damn virus”.

I feel hot all over.

I scream “WHO?!”

“Who do you think?” She looks back and says incredulously “The DOD of course.”

Then she turns toward Michelle and brushes her bloody hair back caressing her cheek. I look at Michelle. She is looking out at the Pentagon.

She turns to me and says “No one is innocent, Het.”

Our arms and legs are strapped to the chairs we are in. Michelle leans hard forward hard, her torso loudly snapping free from her arms. She stands up and sinks her teeth into the woman’s neck. Blood pours out as she rips a mouthful of flesh loose. A police guard fires and puts a bullet through Michelle’s head. She turns and stares at me, slumps over in the chair, and dies. For good.

At that moment infected burst through the door. They look familiar. Then in walks Bob. He must have followed us. They make short work of the guards, there are more infected than I can count. Bob looks at Michelle, and then looks at me. He gets me loose and grabs me by the neck and throws me against the wall. From the looks of the people with him, he has released them from pretty much the same situation as me. He beats his chest with one fist, spreads his arms and beats his chest again. I get it. He is the new sheriff in town and he has rescued our people. He has also killed everyone here that knew anything in the process.

I did learn one thing. This was created by the DOD, or at least the CDC woman thought so. But how and why was it spread? And how can it be reversed? Bob turns and walks out of the room, and they all follow him. I am alone, Michelle is dead, and I don’t have a plan. Not even a hint at one. I will have to head north alone, there is no other way. Then I hear a voice.

“It’s deeper than you think Mr. Madden. Deeper than anyone thinks.” I turn to find three men, the one in the middle talking.

“I know you can understand me. We want answers, do you? We have to go to New York. There are answers there.” He continued “My driver is outside.”

I follow them downstairs; it is a ticket to New York after all. One step closer north. We get in a car and drive down towards the Potomac River. The ride is quiet, no one speaks. When we get to a small Marina, the driver gets out and then I suddenly realize none of these people really look that infected. Maybe they turned recently? We get on a boat and I am overpowered and chained to a pole below deck.

“We think you hold the key to a real cure, Mr. Madden, so you will be coming with us. Do so without a fight and you will not only live, but you will get all your answers. Fight us and we will remove your brain, heart, and whatever else we need and toss the rest over the side. Understood Mr. Madden?” I nod. He throws some files at me. “Enjoy”. He leaves. It is going to be a long boat ride, and I have a lot of reading to do.

The more I read the angrier I become. The virus that was created is called Wrath. It was designed to be unleashed on an enemy, the Middle East in this case, in December 2012 to coincide with the whole Mayan/Nostradamus 2012 thing. It would be allowed to take over the population, and then a “cure” would be “discovered” and the good old U.S. of A. would be the hero. What a better way to win the hearts and minds of an enemy in the “War on Terror” than to save them from a disease of biblical proportion; A disease that made the dead walk and feed on the living? The Middle East would lose most of its people, “we” would be heroes, and “we” would have all the oil and adulation we could ever want. Perfect plan. Except testing in Africa, yup Africa, where the flight I read about that infected New York came from, didn’t go as planned.

The cure didn’t work. At all. The virus began to mutate so fast that it got out of control. It spread at an exponential rate and thousands were dead. Now it was clean up time. Erase the evidence. That Darfur genocide? Ever wonder why the U.S. didn’t do much to help? It’s because they had to erase the evidence, or let it erase itself. What better way to do that than to blame lawless warlords for horrendous atrocities?

And what about “us”? Americans? The plan to make sure the people here in the U.S., as well as all our allies, were safe? Give us all vaccines, of course. But it had to be secret, something not out of the ordinary, but still given via inoculation. Ever get a flu shot? Just a few million people get those, right? Unfortunately the vaccine given in the flu shot was a live virus, not dead like it was supposed to be, and it ended up infecting everyone that got the shot. That explains why I and a whole lot of other folks became infected without being bitten. It was also put in children’s vaccines with a similar result. Funny thing was that it was a dead virus before it was put in the millions of vials sent out all over the country, hell all over the free world. It just kind of “came to life” over a period of time. Sound familiar? Interesting thing was that it came to life in everyone at about the same time; right around the Winter Solstice. Unbelievable...

And what about all those people that were infected? Sometimes they got out of hand so low grade nuclear weapons would be burst over them, like back in Springfield when we had to stop driving the buses. I guess with all that was going on, nukes were the only reliable weapon.

They also burn people.

The company that came up with it, GenCap, was a Black Ops genetic research firm that was supposedly experimenting with the reanimation of genetically altered insects. Then one day, a group of animals that ate some of those test insects died and were immediately reanimated. GenCap, being the good citizens they are, immediately thought WEAPON and testing began. First on animals, then--on prisoners. Results were mixed at first. It was difficult to pass the virus through food to humans. Had to be fluid transfer. Hope was lost until an infected inmate bit one of the nurses. She died and was reanimated. The perfect, and most horrifying, method of transfer. This evidently started the whole thing.

The development of Wrath was worked on by different groups within GenCap and before you know it, we have an airliner landing in New York from Africa, infected flu shots, and an apocalypse beginning in December 2012; coincidentally the same timeframe planned for intentional release in the Middle East. Almost funny that it still happened to coincide with the 2012 hooplah... But why are we going to New York? What are they going to do with me there? How do I hold the key to a cure? Was it because I had not deteriorated like the others? Nothing, absolutely nothing, is making sense. I am tired of reading and the pain is overwhelming. I need to eat, and this pole I am chained to feels a little loose.

8

Friend or Foe

History is littered with The Damned; those condemned to live a life they never chose--as a result of the deeds perpetrated upon them by organized Government. Ask the ghost of any slave, in ancient Egypt, Rome or early century America. Ask the Jews that were annihilated during World War 2. Ask any prisoner of war. Cruelty can be accidental, or it can be ongoing. It’s one thing to make a mistake, regret it, and attempt to correct it. But the systematic destruction of the free world by a Government so greedy that it would risk the lives of its own citizens for wealth, victory, and cheap gas is entirely another. How can this happen without being noticed by SOMEONE and THAT SOMEONE saying “Stop, NO, I will not allow this to happen!” Well I have noticed, albeit to late perhaps, and I am shouting at the top of my lungs. It would have been easy to do nothing and go about my day staggering around eating whoever came my way. But I choose to horrify my enemy, the ones who did this. I will attack and leave the largest bloody mess in my wake to strike fear in them and make them all sorry they did this. Make them pray to God that I will stop, that I will just die, that it will go back to the way it was before. But it won’t. I won’t let it. I am Wrath embodied and they will pay, they will all pay with everything they hold dear and they will all travel through me, piece by piece, and be shit out like the garbage they are...

Before I can work the pole loose, the door to the room swings open and my kidnapper enters. He opens up a notebook computer and brings up a screen titled “Project Munchausen: Wrath” and sits it in front of me.

“Here are some more answers. Call it a history lesson”, he says as he unchains me.

I stare at the screen. It takes a while but I start to move the mouse and open files. I find an .mpg file called “CDC Ground Truth: Project Munchausen and the Wrath Virus”. It starts in what looks like a War Room. A high ranking official is speaking.

“Gentlemen, Project Munchausen has gone horribly wrong. The vaccinations we gave in the flu shots contained a dead version of the Wrath virus and so did the vaccinations we gave to the children at schools. Unfortunately, the virus itself reanimated. It started out causing some cases of autism in juveniles, along with asthma and food allergies like most of our germ and viral warfare experiments on the public have caused in the past. Acceptable risk and business as usual as far as we were concerned. Then it went further. As of this moment, it has already infected nearly half of the country.”

People gasp. A map of the U.S. lights up behind him and red was everywhere on both coasts. Pink and white down the middle and white to the north in Canada. He continues “The coasts are hot. The plains are not; for now. As far as the rest of the planet--Africa, Asia and Europe are 80% overrun due to the failure of the Darfur experiments, and we have limited choices now”.

“General Spicer, what can be done to cure them? We have to tr...” one woman said.

“Nothing.” He interrupted. “The infected will continue to spread the disease all over the world. Like I said, here at home the coasts are hot. Between the Rockies and the Appalachians there are many clean areas, but they won’t last at this rate. The plan to move north where it’s cold and the virus won’t spread is still in effect. The V-RAFs can’t function in the cold.”

He goes on to tell about groups of V-RAFs that herd together and roam the country by the thousands killing at will. Herds... huh? Rather disrespectful. The Army was doing all it could but our numbers are so great, totaling in the millions, that even using low grade nukes isn’t entirely successful.

“The sheer terror given off by an enemy that devours those it fights has many of our service men and women scared to death.” He pauses. “Pit that with the fact these are fellow Americans they have to kill, sometimes friends, family, and soldiers, and we are nearly helpless in the infantry.”

“We must find a way to eliminate the infected from the inside!” said a man in a white lab coat. “We can’t shoot them or burn them in large enough quantities, so we have to find a large-scale weakness to exploit.”

“And how do we do that, Mr. Einstein?” someone said.

“I don’t know yet, I just don’t know. There is no limit to how long the viral reanimation will allow the dead to walk. It could be months, but it is more likely years. We assume that food is used by the infected body to feed the virus, nourish the muscles and drive the beasts. We need more of them to study. We need more time.”

“You don’t have any more time” said a man who looks a lot like the man who kidnapped me and put me on this boat. Only he was obviously uninfected then. “No time at all. My name is Dimitri Maslow and something needs to be done to save American lives. These are citizens and we can’t let them die”. Then the General fires his pistol in the air and screams “No nonsense! We have to organize now and head north to reestablish Government!” Then the video file ends.

“Maslow?” I groan. “Maslow!”

He comes into the cabin. I ask him what he meant in the video.

“I don’t remember Mr. Madden.” He says. “I find it hard to concentrate on the past. We all, the ones who took you, are infected as well. But you knew that. We need to work together Mr. Madden. We need to find more answers.”

“Tell me all you know!” I demand.

“In time I will tell you everything.” He says. He leaves and brings back a small man, a Healthy, scared to death with his mouth gagged. “Will you join me for dinner, Mr. Madden? We eat and kill the man, pouring the blood from his heart into two glasses. We toast our new, if uneasy, alliance and watch him die.

Dimitri Maslow is not a man of few words, but his friends almost never speak. They simply do what they do for him.

“Look up ahead Mr. Madden, New York City! Still beautiful!” He says smiling. “You will find this city is nothing like Washington. It is unprotected except for Manhattan, which is heavily guarded and free of the infected. We will be heading into the city itself. You will be surprised at what you see, I assure you.”

We continue on and I can see the Statue of Liberty in the distance. Bloated bodies float in the water and gulls pick at them.

“Eating the flesh doesn’t necessarily infect them, the gulls, Mr. Madden. But they, and other animals, do get the virus--with increasingly strange results.” Just then we are ready to dock. 4 or 5 people come toward the boat. I was instinctively ready to attack, but I see they are also infected.

“They are the same as you and I. New York City, for the most part, is ours Mr. Madden.”

“Aren’t you scared of the Healthies. What if they decided to attack here, nuke the city.” I say.

“We live guarded lives in anticipation of that day. We can only hope their desperation doesn’t overtake their good sense.” We leave the boat and walk to a large building. It is a jail.

“The cells here are full of healthy food for us. You will find we have a nice establishment here.” He proudly says.

I have to ask. It’s burning in my head. “What are you going to do to me? Cut me up like they did to my friends to find out if I hold a cure?”

“Of course not”, he says, “We are going to try and help you remember. You are worth nothing to us dead and everything to us, well, alive. We believe you hold all the answers in your head, Mr. Madden, and we intend to do everything we can to allow you to save us all.” We walk to an apartment building and go upstairs.

His home is tasteful and quite bloody. Rotting flesh is strewn across the floor and furnishings, almost as if on purpose, but that doesn’t bother me in the least. I like it. I love it. It is a reminder of all the Healthies I have slaughtered. We sit down and a man comes in, this man obviously not infected.

“Mr. Madden I am Dr. Stout. I need you to relax so I can ask you some questions.” I figure I have nothing to lose. If they wanted to kill me, I would be dead already.

I lay down and am quickly injected with something by Mr. Maslow. Before long I become completely relaxed. I am almost in a trance.

“Where did you work when you were alive?” the Doctor asks.

Man they don’t mix words do they? I tell them I was a consultant contracted to work at GenCap Biotechnical Corporation. I hear the words come out of my mouth and can’t believe it. I had worked there for over 3 years. How did I not remember this when I watched the video file on the boat?

Sensing my confusion Dr. Stout says “Wrath plays tricks with our memories, Mr. Madden. We forget the obvious at times and can move from intelligent to, well, zombie in an instance. Wrath was used to take over the world, so we are up against a formidable foe.”

I had worked in the Reanimation Experimentation Division on-site with Bob. Our job was to find a way to bring frozen tissue back to life. When human tissue freezes ice can form between cells, causing mechanical and chemical damage. This means that when a person who is frozen becomes thawed, cells have been destroyed by the freezing process. If this problem could be eliminated people, could be frozen and unfrozen at a later date.

Other things, like adverse effects from solutions added to tissue to stop intracellular ice formation, extracellular ice formation in the areas outside the tissue cells, and cellular dehydration can also occur. They freeze people now, and have been doing it for years but the process depends on vitrification and cryoprotectants, which are not exact sciences and are for the most part, unreliable. Vitrification provides the benefits of cryopreservation, or freezing people, without the damage due to the ice crystal formation. In clinical cryropreservation, vitrification usually requires the addition of cryoprotectants prior to cooling. Cryoprotectant solutions are circulated through blood vessels to remove and replace the water inside cells with chemicals that prevent freezing. They act like antifreeze and lower the freezing temperature. They also increase the thickness or viscosity. Instead of crystallizing, the syrupy solution turns into an amorphous ice — i.e. it vitrifies. Unfortunately cryoprotectants are highly toxic and the damage they do is not reversible with present technology.

Our job was to come up with a way to fix frozen cells that were damaged, eliminating the need for unreliable vitrification and cryoprotectants. The applications for this would be endless, and included freezing the sick until they could be cured, for example, while waiting for a donor. In addition, donor organs--and even blood could be frozen instead of just refrigerated, and kept for much longer and more inexpensively. Long space journeys would be made possible by freezing astronauts, like in the movies.

We first tried to remove water from the cells before chemically freezing, then rehydrate them afterwards. This did not work. Then Bob and I... Bob worked on this with me, I just now remember that. We talked to a GenCap group that was working with genetically altered insects that could be used to kill other insects that were harmful to crops. They had success reanimating dead insects using a virus. The idea was to ship the insects in a dead state to comply with customs regulations. Once on-site, the insects would be reanimated and would attack the harmful bugs.

No mention was ever made to us of any animals eating the insects, dying, and reanimating like the documents Maslow gave me had confirmed. We only saw possibility. Needless to say, we were intrigued. This could take freezing out of the equation altogether! What if we created a virus that could duplicate the genetic code of cells and then the cells were killed instead of frozen? The virus would duplicate the cell itself and imitate it; replace it. Stem cells would then be injected in with the dead cells and the virus would aid the stem cells in recreating the dead cells based on the virally stored genetic code. Then the body would regenerate, kill the virus, continue replenishing its own cells and REANIMATE. This was only a first draft, of course, and it was very imaginative and would be a stretch to model. But it was a first step.

We eventually succeeded in engineering a virus that would take the form of any cell it contacted, duplicate the genetic code, and replace the cell. We called it Doppelganger. We infected a mouse with the virus and it slowly took over the entire body. Then the mouse became terribly ill and died. We expected flu-like reactions but not necessarily death. We tried many different methods to try and make it non-lethal. The one idea that worked was to bond the DNA of a starfish, an animal who’s cells regenerate, into to virus itself. This should make the virus duplicate itself independent of the subject. Therefore, it shouldn’t kill said subject.

After various experiments with this, one day we watched the mouse die and, frustrated, took a break. When we returned, the mouse--the same mouse, was moving. It worked! Or so we thought. The mouse became extremely violent. We put another mouse in with it and it killed and ate it. It stopped sleeping. It took no water. It had vital signs but didn’t seem to breathe regularly. We put it in a complete vacuum and it survived 2 hours before we took it out. The mouse was dead, but it wasn’t dead. We did several experiments with many mice, and each time the same thing. We were bitten on one occasion when we mishandled the mice. But didn’t get sick so we assumed the virus either couldn’t be passed or couldn’t be passed to a different species. We thought we’d proven the latter was true when mice were biting mice and infecting them. We had an In Progress Review with our DOD client, and the next day the military came in and took everything. That was almost a year ago and I hadn’t worked on it since.

“I, we, didn’t mean for this to happen!” I shout. Mr. Maslow and the Doctor nod, but looked disgusted.

“Maybe you didn’t but your colleague, Robert Abbott certainly did. He spirited some of your data and some of the Doppelganger virus back to your offices in Manassas. He worked behind your back hand in hand with the DOD taking money and aiding in their research on a project to use Doppelganger to keep dying soldiers alive until they made it to a medic or hospital. Mr. Abbot believed this was his goal at first and completely cut you out. He got it to work, in a way. The soldiers would not remain alive. They would die, and come back Mr. Madden. Only they were ‘different’, just like your experimental mice. When the DOD asked, and by asked--I mean paid a large sum of money, Mr. Abbott to turn Doppelganger into a virus to be used as a weapon he readily agreed, and Wrath was born. Imagine reanimating dead infantry and sending them back out. Abbott even had your friend Miss Michelle Gibbs helping him by, uh, entertaining NATO officials to get more funding. She also helped in the research. How did you not know what was going on, Mr. Madden? It doesn’t seem possible that you knew nothing. You now have to help us find a cure. Surely you had started work on the cure.”

I have no idea if I had. And now I didn’t feel I was really able to. But I sense that if I say “no” they may no longer have any use for me, so I lie.

“Of course we did.” I answer confidently. “We had extensive files on that on our computers and in our lab back in Manassas, but they are probably all gone by now.”

“Mr. Madden, everything from your lab is the room behind you”. I freeze as they point to the door. I open it and it is all there, my computer, journals, everything. Bob must have kept all my work.

“Adrenaline seems to help our kind think. We gave you some before we hypnotized you, and we have plenty.” The good doctor gives me another shot and says “Please get to work. We will bring you dinner shortly.” He leaves and I hear the door lock behind him. It looks like I am no longer free, but I am at least safe for the time being.

How was I going to find a cure when the Government couldn’t? I still don’t think well and I am certainly not as smart as I used to be. I am a God Damned zombie and I am trying to save the world from... me... Worse case, I don’t find a cure and they kill me.... Best case, I find a cure and save my people. Here’s to hoping for the best case.

Days turn to weeks as I try to work. The adrenalin shots do make me more alert but I still have difficulty concentrating for long periods of time. I can’t write well to take notes. The Doctor soon realizes that locking me in is of no use. He knows I want to succeed and soon begins helping me.

Mr. Maslow brings me fresh Healthies to feed on, and I have a quite comfortable life, save the way I push myself. My work basically consists of me injecting infected mice with mixtures I create in the lab. I create nothing new; I just reverse formulas I find in my journals, I am mentally unable to work at my former peak.

After many experiments on lab mice I stumble upon something I had previously created when I was alive. It was used to clean an area of a viral infection before we infected it with a new one. An antiviral that caused the virus to attack itself until it was eradicated and there was nothing left. I had called it Eraser.

I begin testing.

When tested on healthy mice, there is no lasting damage. When tested on mildly infected mice, they get sick but recover. But when Eraser is tested on completely infected mice it drives them into a Frenzy like I have never witnessed. They kill and eat each other and then after a few days or weeks begin to eat themselves. But they will not attack healthy mice. I theorize that Eraser causes the entire infected organism to act like an Eraser infected virus, and only kill itself.

More time goes by and the adrenalin I am being given is allowing me to regain a large portion of intelligence, but concentration still remains a little difficult. I realize killing the virus is only a first step. Right now, killing the virus in one of us could mean killing all of us. It could cause us to not only kill each other, and ourselves, but to STOP killing Healthies. The good doctor has been working along side me and seems fascinated. We keep working to find a way to kill the virus and not the infected. It seems impossible though. The more we study, the more I realize that Wrath actually makes our “lives” possible. It makes us “live”. It takes control of everything inside and our original cells are long gone and never coming back. I learn there is no cure and we will be like this forever. The only thing Eraser will ever be good for is....

Oh my God...

“Your work is done, Mr. Madden.” Maslow says as he smiles and walks into the lab. I look at the doctor and know he has told Maslow.

“No it isn’t, this will only kill us all. I need time to figure out how to remove the virus and give us back our lives!” I scream.

“Mr. Madden, look at the computer screen.” What looks to be the second part of the video file I had watched on the boat appears.

“No time at all. My name is Dimitri Maslow and something needs to be done to save American lives. These are citizens and we can’t let them die”. The General fires his pistol in the air and screams “No nonsense we have to organize now and head north to reestablish Government!” But the file goes on.

Mr. Maslow says “General please, I think I may have an answer to your problem. Infiltration. Someone has to get inside the ranks of the infected to find out how they try to think, how they, pardon the language, live. And how they die. They are lifeless, stupid corpses and they can be defeated. We... I, just have to live like them to find out.”

“Ridiculous!” One scientist shouts. “How will you do this? It’s not possible”.

Another man says “It is possible. It can be done and I can prove it!” It was Dr. Stout. Then pandemonium broke out in the room. In the background in the video I could see Maslow talking to Dr. Stout.

“You, You!” I can’t continue.

“Yes, Mr. Madden. I lied. You have given me exactly what I wanted. A cure. A way to eliminate the disgusting menace that has taken over this country, this planet. A way to bring them down from the inside. A way to bring death back to life.”

“But you’re infected. You’re one of us!” I gasp.

“Not even close, Mr. Madden. Not even close.” We have to leave now. I thank you for the final solution to the question of the infected. Eraser, is it? How prophetic. Your kind needs to be erased from this earth and this will make that happen. I appreciate your help. You have made me a hero. You have made me God!”

And with that they are gone.

And so am I...

After a few days of not receiving adrenalin I feel it wearing off, but I remember everything that happens. Kind of an adrenalin hangover I guess. I walk the streets of New York City with all the other infected for days. Attacks are plentiful among our own kind as there are no Healthies except, according to Maslow, on Manhattan Island. Every day, I go to the dock and stare out at it hungrily across the water. But today is different. Today I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Buffet.” a voice groans into my ear. I can hear the dryness in Bob’s voice. He hasn’t fed in a while. I turn around and see what must amount to a few thousand of armed infected, many wearing war paint made from the blood of Healthies.

“Help us attack” Bob says. I smile and nod. I am just hungry enough to take him up on that.

“Lead us.” He moans. Music to my ears. I don’t trust him, but the enemy of my enemy... You know the rest.

9

Attack on Manhattan

Virus is defined as “The causative agent of an infectious disease”. It is also defined as “an infectious agent that is unable to grow or reproduce outside a host cell”. I have been thinking about this as of late. Wrath, as a virus, kills and takes over the individual animal, a human, this is true. But it then mutates the entire animal into a multi-celled representation of the virus itself. In a sense I, we, are the ”causative agents of an infectious disease” aren’t we? We are Wrath embodied. Wrath found a way to transmit itself using the host, or former host, and destroy anything that might be able to eradicate it. Civilization, organized scientific communities, think-tanks; all gone by Wrath’s hand. It’s a whole new generation of virus, an evolutionary progression... No, an EXPRESSION, of the outbreak itself. Am I nothing more than a virus? Isn’t that what the Healthies think of us? Just walking corpses that eat them and spread disease. No wonder they loathe us. Is there no way to convince them otherwise? Maybe they deserve our pity. They are scared animals, after all. But they are people and they should have compassion for the sick and dying. Many of them probably care more for a dog or cat than for us. To Hell with them, and to Hell with “society”...

It is a long way across the water to Manhattan. The bridges we can see, have been destroyed. There are boats, but none large enough to transport thousands of us. Then after a while, it hits me. We don’t need to breathe. I find a long pole and put it in the water to check the depth at the pier. It is a drop. We are too clumsy as a whole to swim, and walking underwater seems nearly impossible. I managed in the tunnel to Norfolk, but that was different. There were cars and trucks to hold onto, and I was trapped and had no choice. We wouldn’t be able to see in this muck, or smell. Currents would push us around unless we weighed ourselves down at the feet. While navigating this would be possible for the smartest of us, it is too much of a task for so many of the “followers”.

We have to find another way.

I think for a while and wonder if Bob and I drove a boat with as many on board as possible and the rest of us hung off the edge, or on to each other, wouldn’t that work? I could pull us all through the water with a powerful enough boat. We could be under water while being pulled for as long as necessary.

I share the idea with Bob and we get to work.

I search the docks for hours and finally I find a tugboat that we can use. Tugboats are powerful enough to pull heavy ships so this one should have no trouble pulling us. Then I remember I don’t know much about boats. In the mean time, Bob has been showing the group how to hold on to each other and form a mass chain, and the majority understand. We will not get them all, probably much less than half, but we will have the smartest of the group. Natural selection perhaps? Back inside the tug’s cabin, as I stare uselessly at the controls I feel someone behind me. It is an infected man with strangely perfect jet black hair, but missing his whole lower jaw, his tongue just hanging there. In his eyes I see deep regret but no fear. He pushes me aside and starts the boat. In a short while Bob leads the others to the boat and they slowly board holding their ends of three “chains” of infected, and we head out toward Manhattan; the three chains slowly dropping off the pier into the water. Many let loose immediately. We circle around and retrieve as many as we can.

There are many floating, empty boats and even a few ships in the water. There is also debris everywhere, and more bodies than I can count. Many more of our people drop off to grab at the floating bodies. A few times, we circle back and try to pick folks up, but his is useless. It is a long trip made longer. Then we push up against a smaller boat and begin to move it out of the way. As we move it, a large explosion rings out. Did the boat blow up? What happened? We look for attackers as we duck down. Then I look in the water and see them. Mines. The channel has been mined and we are right smack in the middle of them.

The only thing we can do is head toward smaller boats and debris and push them ahead of us to sweep the mines. This works several times, better than expected in fact, as they hit the mines we would have hit, and explode. As we approach shore, our luck eventually runs out and we hit a mine. The boat rises up out of the water and we are dumped in. As luck would have it there is so much debris most of us can crawl through it to shore. We hear many explosions as many of us aren’t lucky enough to avoid mines. I can’t really tell but our numbers seem to be only a few hundred now. It is very dark on the dock, so we regroup inside a warehouse.

Everyone is scared and I sense a Frenzy is about to take hold. Also, I expected a fight to get onshore--and by the look on Bob’s face, he did as well. Then we hear them. We look outside and see Hummers and large trucks. Healthies have come to strike. But when they get out we notice that they are obviously infected. Has there been a takeover? Are we organized? Then the dogs are let loose and tear into us like they always do. I hate dogs now.

Those of us that survive this attack are thrown into the trucks. Strangely, every single one of our captors is infected and they all seem smart, not just some, all of them. The trip is a little too long and Frenzy hits our truck. I am immersed in screams and attack. I fight off my own people and just as I am about to begin to feed on them, the truck stops and the doors are opened. Lights shine into our eyes as we are led out. We are in a large empty space and I turn to see a large picture painted on a tall building. I know that face. It’s a 7 story portrait of my old friend, the zombie killer himself, Dimitri Maslow. Then I hear his voice.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you Madden. You know our secret now. This is the true Xanadu of the infected. Most of us are on a steady intake of our milk of paradise, adrenalin. Doesn’t take much once you’re juiced to stay up and smart. We only gave you enough to do what we wanted you to.

He then leans in and whispers, “And as you know I am not infected... But don’t tell anyone.” He smiles and winks as I feel the butt of a rifle hit me in the jaw. That’s the last thing I remember for a while.

I wake up in an office. Maslow is sitting behind a desk.

“Good morning Mr. Madden, did you have a nice nap?” He says cheerily.

I ask what is going on, and he begins to explain.

“Mr. Madden, Het, I don’t like the living, the Healthies as you call them. They saw disaster in all of this and I saw opportunity. I am the king of New York because I followed a plan. I did infiltrate the world of the undead, your world, and began to understand and live among you. I ate what they ate, killed what they killed, and soon blended in nicely. First through hypnosis by the good Doctor, then it came naturally. I followed the herd, journaling every aspect of the way you people lived. There is an alpha in every group, did you know that? Frenzy is caused by close proximity of approximately 50 or more of you for greater than 20 minutes. Every one of you is sentient. Just at different levels. I have not discovered why some are left more incapacitated than others. Age plays a factor, and I suspect genetics does as well. You don’t have to sleep, but when you do you all dream. Many daydream and live in several realities. One thing is for sure, you all go mad eventually. This can’t be stopped. The virus doesn’t ruin your mind, it makes you mad. Then the madness ruins the mind. A slight difference, but an important one.

After traveling all over the East Coast, I came upon your friend Bob, and before long he had told me so much about you. I took his wallet and saw his GenCap id. He unfortunately seemed too far gone to get any information out of through hypnosis. But he was still very useful. I got a rough idea of where you were headed and stalked you. I wanted the cure and I knew you had it in you. I wanted your kind gone! But not all gone... There has to be balance for a while so I can live comfortably here on the island. I will release your antiviral on the mainland and kill your kind off. The doctor and I just need to do more tests and find the best method, and we already have some ideas. I will keep my group safe here and they will continue to serve me.

I know what you are thinking... You are wondering about food. We keep humans in the many jails here as well. We gathered up quite a few and have enough to last a very long time. Plus, they reproduce, believe it or not. Ahh, a delicacy, but I digress. When they are gone, my servants will eventually die. But I, too, will long gone by then. As the dead die, I will regain contact with government in the north, take credit for the downfall of the dead, and be a hero. I will rule the world as I give my cure to all lands. Statues will be erected of me by all the souls of this world!

I have to interrupt and ask “Wait, if you aren’t infected then why do you eat Healthies?”

“Excellent question, excellent. Why? Because I am a sick son of a bitch, Mr. Madden. As sick as they come. I have killed and eaten people my whole life. Long before any of you were born, in fact. Unfortunately Mr. Madden you are too smart for my own good. I can’t have you around ruining things, but I do admire you. That is why I have to break you and create an ally. I have done this hundreds of times to your kind.”

He points to the back of the room. Two of his men are standing next to a coffin. Oh my God... I try and make it to the door but two more of them grab me. Kicking and fighting they put me inside it. The lid is sealed and I feel I am being moved. I am so scared I can’t move or speak. My worst fear, our worst fear, I realize. The unknown and not being able to move and being interred like a dead body.

After a long while movement stops. I am dropped down and I hear dirt hitting the top of the coffin. I am being buried alive. I listen to each shovel full of dirt hit the lid above me. I am losing my mind to the cadence of my burial. I can’t stand it anymore, not being able to move. I can’t breathe it seems, even though I no longer need to. It is so tight I can’t even turn over. I start to kick and scream and try to get out but I am powerless. I lay there and, tired, I begin to dream.

So real, these dreams. I remember my life. I remember my family. My son is young and smiling at me and laughing. We are sitting down watching TV and I can feel him next to me. He smells like the chlorine from the pool. He gets up to get a drink and I grab him from behind and bite into his neck. I throw him down and eat him alive. I have many dreams like this as my captivity goes on for what seems like weeks. I stare into the dark until I dream again. An endless cycle of fear and pain and unbearable confinement. But now I awake to scratching sounds.

I can’t tell whether I am still dreaming or not. The scratching gets louder, so loud it is deafening. Then I see the first one. Its head pokes through a hole scratched in the coffin. It is a rat, I think. It squeezes into my crypt and several more follow. They smell me and seem to be looking for food. I don’t appear to be on the menu until I realize they are gnawing on me. The lid is thin from their scratching so I now claw my way out of my coffin and climb out of the hole.

It was barely two feet underground, no wonder they smelled me. I try to escape, but there are too many. Then as quickly as they came, they are gone and everything goes completely silent. Before I can think, I feel the concussion of a large explosion and hear the sound of jet planes. The Healthies are attacking the island. I slowly make my way back inside the building and see Maslow standing there. The floor is on fire all around him and a large piece of meat is missing from his side, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His hands, feet, and head are cut deeply. I shout his name. He looks at me, smiling. Then he notices the gaping, and non-bleeding hole in his torso.

Realization floods over his body. He is dead and has been for a long time. But I think he knew that deep down. Many people live in denial. It is a powerful thing. I am on him in an instant. I tear his heart out and then rip his head off. I notice it remains alive, unable to speak with no air passing over his vocal chords, but still mouthing words. He mouths “elevator down.” I don’t know what I want to do with him yet so I put his head in an old backpack I find by the door and hang it from my shoulder. I head to the elevator.

I still hear the planes attack as the elevator door closes. I feel the car move down. The doors open to a hall. A sign says TRAINS RIGHT. Trains? I follow a hallway away from the island. I notice how new it looks and realize this isn’t the public train. This is something different. This is something that was built to survive anything. Infected animals line the hall but do not attack. We finally arrive at a station and a train is there. The doors open and I get on. The doors shut and the acceleration is unbelievable, but I am underground, so I can’t tell how fast I am going. An hour, maybe less passes and the train stops. I read WASHINGTON D.C. through the window.

Are you kidding me? An underground train between D.C. and NYC? It seems impossible but soon isn’t hard to believe, I mean, I am a walking dead man after all, and that reality sunk in.

And I am now home.

I get to street level and hail a cab. What is going on? The infected driver asks where I am headed. I give him my address and he explains that the virus was only temporary and everyone that survived is turning back to normal.

“Even your family, Het.” he says. I realize I never told him my name. When I ask him, he says “You’re famous, Het. You saved the world, don’t you remember? You perfected the cure and saved your son. He loves you Het. That is forever.”

I am very confused as we pull up to my home and my son, young again, runs out to see me. I hug him tightly. He pulls back, looks into my eyes and says “We choose our own destiny from the very beginning and nothing is as it seems. This is the real world, don’t be blinded by rage. Please don’t leave me, Daddy, please don’t hurt me. I am always here, you just have to find me.” I start to cry and then suddenly I hear the coffin lid open and see Bob reach down to pull me out. I wasn’t even underground.

I don’t know what is real any more so I just shake my head and climb up to the surface. He puts a hand on each of my shoulders, looks me in the eye, and groans “Broken”. I realize that I am more confused than broken, but can’t really tell what the difference between them is. I also know that Bob is working with Maslow, and so am I until I can figure out what is going on. Bob mumbles “Eat”. Sounds good...

10

Hand That Feeds Me

Life without a friend is like death without a witness.

-Spanish proverb

Companionship is something even we, the Damned, crave. It is easy for me to hate. And I can quench the hatred I have for the Healthies by eating and killing them. But love is a different story. I haven’t had anyone I can call a friend since Michelle died... I miss her, but I miss my family more. I miss my son. I miss my friends from before all this. Now I only have enemies and worse enemies. This is a problem because it draws me into wanting to be part of Maslow’s sick cult. I know his mission is to kill us all, but I need a friend. Maybe I have been broken, but I can’t help myself.

When Bob and I get back Maslow has a fat Healthy, a man, tied up waiting for us at a table. There is a woman, an infected woman, sitting at the table. She looks familiar, but I can’t place her. Bob walks off and leaves us alone. She isn’t very alert, but there is a sweetness, a tenderness, about her. She slowly speaks “Hello. Het. I’m. Gena”. I know she works for Maslow, but I am so lonely and tired that it doesn’t matter. I walk over to her and kiss her cheek and sit down. It is nice to have company, nice not to feel rage.

I take my time and really enjoy this meal. For some reason I don’t go into a Frenzy. I calmly devour and kill this man and relaxingly enjoy his screams, like music feeding my soul, as I eat. We both do. I stroke her hair and talk to her. I don’t know if she understands but I tell her about my family, my son, anything I can remember. It seems like we talk for hours as she sits and smiles and touches my hand. I think she understands. Out of the corner of my eye I see Maslow walking up to us. She squeezes my hand and I can see fear in her eye. She is terrified of him.

“How do you like my gift to you, Mr. Madden?” I keep calm.

“Not bad at all Mr. Maslow, not bad at all.” I say.

“You will notice that she still has her figure, and very limited deterioration.” He adds proudly. “Of course she has been disciplined into submission. I want you to have her.”

“Thank you”. I say as he leaves, looking at Gena. She looks me in the eyes and begins to speak slowly. I ask her several times what’s wrong.

“Maslow hurts us.” Us?

“Who else besides you? Do you understand me?” I ask.

“I understand.” She says, slowly and determined. “My son Matt and I are hurt by Maslow, all the time”

“You will be alright now; I won’t let anyone hurt you.” I say.

She gets up and takes my hand.

“Home.” she says as she pulls me to my feet.

Home... I actually think I feel a shiver of comfort.

We walk through the streets of Manhattan. Infected mill about the stores and sidewalks, seeming to imitate the way they used to be, but I know different. They are looking at things in the stores and just walking around, but I see how Healthies would think we are brain dead zombies. Most of us look like we are, and people are prejudiced. A scared, ragged dog or cat would be cared for and attempts at attacking a person would be excused.

“He’s just scared and needs help.” Or “She’s a sick scared cat and we need to be patient and understand why she scratches and bites.”

But when an infected person does similar things, we are shot in the head. Thoughts like this would have made me furious in the past, but for some reason I am listless and comfortable and have no desire to lash out or attack anybody. I just walk with Gena to her home. It seems surreal.

We get to a brick building and walk slowly up the stairs to an apartment. We go in, and a small boy is sitting in the corner, facing the wall. I walk over to him and he cowers like he is expecting a beating. I leave him be. Pictures of Maslow are on a small table and there is one on the wall. I think Gena was Maslow’s girlfriend or something. She immediately picks up the pictures and smashes them against the wall. She then walks over to me crying and wraps her arms around me and lays her head in my chest. Her hair smells like a damp basement and her skin feels wet and oozes black to the touch. And I couldn’t love it more. We go into the bedroom and close the door. Just before, it closes I see Matt out of the corner of my eye looking at us and almost smiling.

I wake up holding Gena in my arms. I hadn’t experienced physical or emotional closeness like this in a while and, honest to God, I didn’t want it to end. I get up and let her rest. I go into the living room and Matt is asleep on the couch. I walk out the door and down to the street. I don’t know why, but I can’t stay. I’m uncomfortable with the situation and I can’t explain why. I will be back, but for now I need to head out. I begin to wonder how Maslow will spread the antiviral Eraser over the planet. So I decide to find out. By asking him...

Maslow is not a hard man to find; you just look for the crowds around him. But he is a hard man to talk to, unless he wants to talk to you. I walk to the building where his office is and I go in. After I go upstairs I see Dr. Stout. I decide to ask him my questions and if he doesn’t give me answers, I will kill him.

“How is he going to spread it? Eraser. How will he do it?” I scream.

He turns around smiling. “Dogs, Mr. Madden, dogs trained to attack your kind. They already naturally attack you, so they won’t need much training. The plan is to have the Army in the North infect canines with Eraser and release them, hundreds, thousands, in the lower United States to start. Communications to the Seat of North American Government have already been re-established by Mr. Maslow, and the plan is taking shape. We just need to get them the Eraser Antiviral. After we start the plan here, we will do the same thing all over the world. Initial experiments show that the healthy dogs will not become sick due to the Eraser in them, and further experiments with the mice show that Eraser is passed in the womb. Their litters will be weapons against you as well. It is a perfect biological weapon to eradicate our failed imperfect biological weapon.”

“But that will take years.” I say.

“Maybe, maybe not, but no matter. It will work and gradually allow civilization to reclaim what is ours. We will add to the fight with conventional means. Army Divisions with Eraser coated ammo, and with more Canine Units of infected dogs. Planes dropping shrapnel bombs that release piercing metal coated in Eraser. We will also release infected Alphas, like Bob, onto the mainland to attack and kill his own. You and your kind will be removed from the earth, and Maslow and I will be Gods! It also looks as if Eraser may be a working inoculation for the healthy and their offspring, but experiments on humans haven’t been done. It feels good to know I am going to be very wealthy as a result of this. To have expensive things and real women instead of having to resort in physical liaisons with Maslow’s various dead sluts, like her.”

He points to young infected Asian woman who just came in the room. She is very attractive, long black hair, completely naked, and looks very familiar. More familiar than Gina, I know this woman. She kneels down beside Stout and he pets her head. “I feel like a necrophiliac at times.” He says. “It’s disgusting, but she takes care of any need I could have. And as you see, she is quite beautiful.”

I become enraged and shout “I could kill and eat you right now you son of a bitch, what’s to stop me?”

“Go ahead then, do it.” He was right up in my face now. “Do it Het, do it!” he screamed at me, poking his finger in my chest.

But I couldn’t. I had no desire to.

“We have tricks of our own, Mr. Madden, which we use to control our little island. You will no sooner eat me than you would cut your own arm off. The experiments that I did to find a cure to destroy your kind led me to the discovery of many mind controlling drugs and the fat man you ate was full of them. And yes, Mr. Madden, it lasts a long time. Further doses will be given by hypodermic needle, in your food, and other ways. You have no blood to carry the drugs, but the Wrath passes it from cell to cell. You won’t resist. It’s rather perfect.”

I stagger out of the lab and into the hall. I need some air, and I don’t even breathe anymore. I know I have to stop them. I can’t let this happen. I can’t let the infected be completely eradicated... destroyed. I have to find a way to prevent myself from being controlled by Maslow. I just have to figure out how. I will avoid him and the doctor. But I have to develop a test to determine if any of the mind drugs are in my food or around at all.

I need to set up a lab and experiment, but that will take time. Time I don’t have. As I wander the streets, I notice a woman coming towards me. It’s the woman from Dr. Stout’s lab.

“Madden.” she says softly. “Read this and follow me.” She hands me a folded piece of paper. It says RED HOUSE. I see her heading toward it and I follow her. She moves much better now, as well as I do. We go inside and down a hall. She slides back what looks like a wall and we go into a good size room. It is full of equipment, lab equipment. There are 3 others in the room. 3 men. They are working on something.

“I know you. You are the woman from the CDC.” I notice the hole in her neck from where Michelle had bitten her. “Who are they? What are you doing? I thought you worked for Stout.”

“I am Dr. Christine Wells. These are Dr.s Allen, Brown, and Smith. We are working on an antidote to the control drugs that that pig Stout creates to keep us down. It is in the humans they keep for food. The drugs can even pass through the skin, though not as effectively. This makes it hard to prevent. I play the role of Stout’s brain dead concubine. It was hard work to get inside and maneuver my way into that lab, but now that I am there, I have access to all his secrets. As long as I do what he wants. Every disgusting thing. I would like you to join our group. We want to stop Maslow, too. And we aren’t the only ones. He experiments on our people but they are helpless to fight back. We want this island and we want him dead. You can help, I know you can.”

She is incredibly well spoken and intelligent.

“How did you get infected, you said you all were immunized? And why are you so smart? And why the Hell should I trust you after the way you treated me at the CDC?” Inside though, I want to trust her.

“Obviously our vaccination didn’t work Madden. After your friend bit me, I bled out entirely but did not die. Some of the other doctors who were also turned shot me with adrenalin and I found that whenever I used it I became more intelligent.” She points to several gallon-size containers in the corner. There must be 50. “Methamphetamine has nearly the same effect on our kind as adrenaline, Madden. And we make it here.”

It’s a meth lab.

“Doesn’t Maslow have adrenalin? Can’t we steal it?” I ask.

“He does, but he is running out. We are self sufficient. We make what we need.” She answers.

“Should I be making air quotes when I call you people doctors?” I ask sarcastically.

“I am a Medical Doctor, Madden. The other three got there honorary degrees through time served. But I can assure you, they are the best this island had to offer and work well if kept on task. The meth sharpens our minds every bit as well as adrenalin and reverses the effects of Stout’s drugs, but the addictiveness is more pronounced. That’s the good and the bad in a nutshell. We can’t continually inject every infected person on the island. We can’t make enough meth. That’s why we need your help. We need something of an inoculation, given once, that will counteract anything he creates. Then the people will be equipped to fight back. And about any trust issues you have... I am one of you now. That’s all I can say. Do you want to help us fin..?” I stop her mid-sentence.

“Shoot me up and let’s get to work”.

I have a lab and a team, and I get to work immediately. I still don’t trust them, especially Christine, but I need them. I have her get me more samples from Stout. He creates new and different drugs all the time, knowing that the Wrath virus develops immunities and simply mutates enough to counteract anything that tries to control it. As I search for similarities in his drugs, I realize that the meth is making me more intelligent at an exponential rate. I also feel an addiction beginning to build up.

Continuing to work, I begin to think that maybe it isn’t about searching for the similarities in the drug but about creating a way for Wrath to recognize a drug and mutate faster to fight it. Christine brings me lab mice and I begin to experiment with my original Doppelganger virus. Maybe this would cause Wrath to duplicate and reproduce more quickly. Wrath was created from Doppelganger, and I don’t believe it is that far removed from it.

Then it hits me. Use Doppelganger in someone that is loaded with the meth. It has to be an infected person, a mouse won’t do. It will duplicate the meth laden Wrath cells at the injection site and spread from there. Then a vaccine can be made using that subject that can be used on the infected that aren’t on the meth. I tell Christine and she volunteers.

“No, you are too valuable.” I say. “We need someone else. One of the other three that are...”

“Dispensable?” says Dr. Smith.

“No, that’s not what he meant” Christine sternly says.

“Yes it is, and I understand.” He says. “I want to do this.”

“I will only be guessing on how much to use. I could be wrong.” I explain, but he is still in.

We strap Smith to a chair and give him a piece of wood to bite down on. I raise the hypodermic, flick it twice with my finger, and inject him with the Doppelganger virus. Nothing happens at first. Then Smith begins to shake and a thick ooze runs from his mouth and skin. He bites down hard on the wood, convulsing, and some of his teeth break. This goes on for a while and then stops. He is shaken and disoriented but otherwise seems fine. The question is: Has the Doppelganger united with the meth loaded Wrath cells in his body?

Tests over time prove his level of intelligence does not change when denied the meth. Success, it seems. I draw samples from him and begin to create a vaccine. This will take a while and will require more tests. I think its time I went home...

I go back to Gena and Matt. They see me come in and both smile. Gena has a small woman bound and on the dining room table. I guess I made it home right at dinner time. Matt runs up to me, takes my hand and guides me to the table. We all three sit down to eat the woman. I know it contains Stout’s drugs, everything on the island we can eat does. But I will find a cure, and I have access to the meth.

I notice our meal has been blindfolded. Gena doesn’t look at the woman’s face. I throw a rag over it and she smiles. I tear off some flesh and serve it to them as the woman screams. We three slowly eat, sometimes pulling flesh off, sometimes biting, and the woman eventually stops moving. I eat until gorged. They don’t eat much at all, but seem satisfied. I wonder what Maslow has in store for me next. I love my family. I will protect them no matter what...

11

Ties That Bind

Hell hath no Wrath like a woman scorned...

I wake up with a terrible headache. Must be the meth wearing off. I touch Gena’s face and watch her lying there for a while. I smile and let her rest. I get up and out the door and head to the lab. Food was waiting for me on the table before I left the house and I eat it as I walk. When I get there I take a hit of meth. I still feel horrible.

Christine walks in and out of nowhere says. “Madden, what’s your living situation?”

I tell her about Gena and she just looks at me.

“You live with one of Maslow’s whores that he gave you?!” She says incredulously.

The other 3 turn to look.

“It’s not like that.” I reason. “She wanted out and I saved her.”

“You SAVED her? She wanted out? Come on Madden are you that gullible?” She responds in disbelief. “Maslow is setting you up. Who knows what she will do?”

“Well you’re Stout’s current whore, what makes you any different?” I counter. “You do what you do to survive, don’t you? She has a small child that she needed to take care of, so she did what she did for him and now I’m there and I am going to protect them.”

She stares at me, then turns and walks away. I went too far. I walk after her and she turns around.

“You’re absolutely right. I am no one to talk. Can I meet her at least? I can’t risk this operation on the outside chance that she is still working for Maslow. Can I meet her, so I will feel better?” She says calmly, but firmly.

“Of course you can.” I say. “Soon. I’m sorry, I was out of line. Let’s get to work.”

With several different types of Stout’s drug supplied by Christine, Smith’s blood to create a vaccine, and infected and healthy mice for subjects, I feel I can hone a vaccine that will eliminate the power the drugs have on the infected. It will take some time, but I will make it happen. Unfortunately these aren’t lab mice, they are wild, but they will work. I just wonder if they aren’t already infected.

I notice that the steady stream of methamphetamines is improving my mental and physical capabilities incredibly. I have normal conversations and think intelligently. But only right after I take the drug. And it does nothing to take away the pain. I guess I just need to get used to them.

After a long day I head home. Again, food is on the table as I walk in.

“You read my mind.” I say happily. I sit down to the kill. Gena, looking right at me, approaches the table with a large butcher knife and trips into me.

“Watch it!” I shout as I try and dodge the knife. I don’t make it totally out of the way and the knife cuts into my neck. One more inch and my head would have been nearly cut off! I look and she is horrified.

“I’m sorry.” She says.

I tell her not to worry and we start to eat. I gorge myself, but again the two don’t eat much. I guess they ate earlier; I am very late getting home. I start to feel dizzy and need to sit down. Any good effects from the meth must be wearing off quicker now. I try and stay alert but I black out.

I wake up and almost can’t stand the pain. It is unbearable. I head into the lab with some meat Gena gave me. I just seem to feel worse as I walk in.

“I don’t think the meth is working for me.” I call to them.

“It takes a while sometimes. Take an extra hit for today.” Smith says.

“What happened to your neck?!” Chris shouts. “I cut myself shaving.” I joke.

She is not amused.

I am now doing experiments with uninfected mice, infected mice, and infected mice on a steady stream of meth. It takes awhile but studies over time show that infected mice on the meth that are given the vaccine become quite immune to anything Stout has created and keep the increased intelligence and agility meth provides without having to take any more of it. The vaccine does contain Doppelganger duplicated Wrath cells that were full of meth so this is not unexpected. It obviously duplicates the subject’s cells and locks in the meth’s effects so the Wrath cells are imprinted genetically with the meth. The mice have also developed the desire to kill healthy mice. We got what we wanted and more.

I decide to waste no time.

“It’s time to test what we’ve got.” I say. I grab a needle and jam it in my arm. That’s the last thing I remember.

I wake up on table... I can’t see very well and am dizzy. Christine and the three doctors are over me.

“That was stupid Madden! We hadn’t completed our tests! What were you thinking?” Christine shouted. Black ooze, like what came out of Smith, was all over me.

“That seemed to hemorrhage from every orifice, every pore.” She says. “The drugs, the by-products.” I mumbled. “They were purged from my body.” I feel good enough to stand in a short while.

“We will wait to see how you do for a few days and continue our work. Madden I, we could have lost you. We need you, that’s all.” Christine chastises. “Wait, your neck...”

“What about it?” I reply.

“That huge gash looks like it is healed.” She says amazed.

“Maybe it’s a by product of the vaccine.” I say. I work a bit more and then decide to head home. On the way I really start feeling better. Strong again. And I definitely have the urge to feed, even to attack. But time will tell if this is real. Time will tell if I did it.

I walk in the apartment, and again food is waiting on the table ready to eat. It is odd that food is always there when I get home. I guess I am just not used to a family. Matt runs up and hugs my leg. Gena kisses me and looks at my neck sheepishly.

“All better!” I exclaim.

She looks curiously uncomfortable, but smiles. It is understandable since we usually don’t heal. We sit down at the table. The man we are about to kill looks at me defiantly. Almost daring me. I take out the gag in his mouth. This is not a good night to piss me off.

“Fuck you, you miserable dead piece of shit. Your kind has killed every member of my family. I hope you choke on me.”

Then he does something stranger still. He looks at Gena and says “Do you have anything else you want to shoot into me? I feel like a God Damn pin-”. Just then Gena digs her mouth into his throat and bites deep. One hand on his head and one flat to his chest. Matt looks on worriedly. The man didn’t die right away, but could no longer speak.

“Hungry.” The words gurgled out of Gena’s smiling mouth with blood and flesh. The man struggles and tries to break free of his bonds but of course can’t. The meat market, that’s what we call the prisons where they keep them, ties them well. They also cut tendons in the arms and legs to weaken them for an easy kill.

I begin to eat, Matt does, too. I didn’t notice this the last time we ate, but thinking back, the two of them don’t really seem to eat that much at all. A lot is spread around, but I am the only one that seems to eat.

“I thought you were hungry?” I say.

“We ate before.” She answers, smiling.

Made sense I guess. I sit down in the living room and begin to feel a bit dizzy. I hope that the vaccine hasn’t rendered the Wrath cells unable to metabolize the food. That’s the last thing I remember before I wake up in bed the next morning. I wake up feeling great. And this seems to surprise Gena. She asks if I have a headache and when I say I feel fine, she looks puzzled. She brings me a piece of the man we had for dinner but I am not really hungry. I tell her I will eat it on my way out. I kiss her and leave.

I get to the lab and put the meat Gena gave me onto a table.

“What’s that?” Christine asks.

“Gena gave me it this morning for breakfast.”

Christine grabs it and shouts “This, I am testing. I don’t trust her Het, not at all!”

“Why do you suspect her, I don’t understand?” I say.

She turns away and begins testing it. I should have no problem with this. Either it will prove Chris’ suspicions or exonerate Gena. Deep down I know Chris is right, Gena was Maslow’s whore. But I love her and Matt. I love having a home.

I am thinking clearer now and realize the need to protect ourselves from any possible means of Maslow infiltrating our operation. I didn’t even need a hit of meth this morning. I have Chris and the “doctors” do some tests on me. I need to know if the vaccine is working.

“Het, you have a new and different drug in your system today. It doesn’t seem to be affecting you but it is there.” Smith says.

“And it matches whatever is in this meat she gave you.” Chris says. “See for yourself.”

I look at the test results, and she is correct.

“She tried to poison you, and probably has been the entire time you have been with her. I knew she was no good.” Chris smugly says. ‘The only thing that saved you was the vaccine.”

“That doesn’t prove anything. Maslow could’ve had that man drugged before she brought him home.” I say.

What the man says about being “shot up” echoes in my head. “...anything else you want to shoot into me” is what he said. It could have meant the Maslow and the infected in general, or it could mean Gena. There is no way Gena would do this to me. I saved her, I rescued her and Matt.

“Christine I want you to come over tonight and see for yourself, and meet Gena and the boy” I say.

“I’ll be there. But I won’t be eating anything.” She says.

“Alright, see you then... I have to get out of here.” I walk out. I head home early and Gena is waiting for me with food. How did she even know I was coming?

“Not hungry.” I mumble and go into the bedroom to lie down and think. It seems that with more intelligence comes a more to worry about. I look almost fondly back at the days I was on the road, simply killing and eating Healthies. Enjoying memories of the bliss that came with that simpler time. After a while I turn to get up and see Gena next to the bed, completely naked, with a needle. Matt is next to her.

“Vitamins.” She says smiling.

Matt holds a gun to my head.

“You love me, Het. Lie still and let me do this.” She says hypnotically.

I can’t believe this is happening. Am I dreaming? Is my family turning on me, trying to kill me? Just then Chris and Smith crash through the front door. They run toward the bedroom and Gena slams it shut. They kick through it. Matt aims his gun and Smith shoots him between the eyes. Gena runs to the window screaming for Maslow and Chris leaps and tackles her. They wrestle on the floor, biting and clawing at each other. Chris bites into Gena’s neck continually until the head is separated and she throws it on the floor. The flesh of my family covers the room.

“Further tests on the meat show the drug was only in the meat of your dinner last night for a few minutes before death. We were worried about you.” Chris tells me. “Gena did it Het, and the gun in the kid’s hand should pro...”

I jump to my feet, enraged. I tear the lifeless corpses of Gena and Matt to shreds.

“How could I be so stupid?” I scream as I tear into the flesh. Chris grabs me to calm me down. “We have to get rid of these bodies. It’s obvious Maslow was in constant contact with them. He will wonder what happened. Wait here.”

She returns later with an infected man. He is about the same size and weight as I am. She tears him apart immediately and throws him in with the remains of my family.

“Now Maslow will think all three of you were killed, at least for a while. By who, doesn’t matter. Maybe the drugs she gave you wore off and you found out and you all killed each other.” She puts a shirt over my head and we go back to the lab after dark.

“You will have to stay here with us now.” She says. “We need to try and find a way to use the fact that Maslow thinks you are dead against him.”

I feel better. Who knows if the vaccine worked but now that I am no longer going to be drugged we can really see. Tomorrow will come soon enough and a battle is near. I can smell it...

12

Viva la Revolucion!

Anyone who has ever been high on coke or meth can tell you, it is the best feeling on earth. You feel strong, happy, fearless, and elated. You feel there is nothing you can’t do. The only downside is the addiction. The constant need to take a drug, the way you feel enslaved by it. How you will do anything to get it. Now imagine if every cell in your body could be infused with the fantastic feelings all the time, but not need to use any drug to get it. That is how I have felt the last few days. I am immune to any drugs that Chris experimentally tries on me. I am thinking as well as I ever have. I am still quite undead, however, and infected. I need to feed and enjoy it again. The hate inside is back and I missed it. It keeps my bones warm and my senses peaked. I feel more alive than I ever did when I was alive.

I feel extremely intelligent and strong all the time now. Like I am constantly on adrenalin but I haven’t had any in days. I have finished the vaccine and Chris, Allen, and Brown have been injected like me. We also inject Smith even though he got the Doppelganger injection, just to be sure. The Vaccine is arguably more reliable than Doppelganger alone. We don’t have a name for it, so for now it’s The Vaccine. It is the only one that matters now.

It is cool outside and it is almost nightfall. We are about to begin immunizing all of the infected on Manhattan island when I get an idea.

“The Meat Market.” I tell them. “If we could get in there, we could shoot up the Healthies, and get it in our people through food. They are all in one place and restrained, it could be done slowly and methodically in addition to immunizing infected on the street!”

“Brilliant Het.” Chris says and smiles. “I have an ID card I got from Stout that can get me in there. I go there all the time with him. I could even replace the drugs he uses to infect the food with our vaccine. I will take care of things there, you, Allen, Brown, and Smith start giving shots to people you know, the smartest of the group.”

“Lets hit it and come back at dawn to report in.” I say. I walk up to Chris, turn her around, and hold her shoulders.

“I never thanked you for watching out for me.” I said.

“I owed you for your friend back in Virginia.” Chris shot back. “I will always watch out for you.” We kissed goodbye and she was out the door.

The 3 doctors and I hit the streets. We have fashioned injectors that are in the palms of our hands. A tube runs up our sleeve and into IV bags strapped to our backs under our shirts full of The Vaccine. With The Vaccine transferring from cell to cell, and no dependence on blood flow, we don’t need to go very deep or use very much vaccine. All that we have to do is get a little in every person we pass in the street, just by putting our palm to any part of their body. They won’t even feel it. We split up and get to work.

I walk through the streets and am surprised at how bad off people have become. Many are literally falling apart. They look like walking corpses, with little or no facial expression, that move about aimlessly as if they have forgotten who they are and are trying to find out by searching the city. They walk around with a look of loss on their faces, like they have nothing left... Like life was a waste.

Then there are some that show signs of intelligence. They are very capable and often help the less able. These are the ones I vaccinate first. We will contact them soon after handing out many RED HOUSE type cards like Chris gave me, only these will have a different larger location on them. A place to congregate. We will then begin to organize. Immunizing through the food, as Chris is doing, will take longer but hit a broader spectrum of folks. We will try to hit as many as possible, taking time with the most intelligent. They will be the first wave, our Lieutenants. As they become re-aware, we will explain things so they can organize areas assigned to them. The plan is good, very good. I work through the night and head back to the lab.

I am the first one back as the sun rises. I take off my equipment and sit down on a couch to relax.

Soon Chris comes in the back. “I injected all the Healthies in the Meat Market that had been bound and gagged. I also contaminated Stout’s drug containers there with a little of our vaccine. That’s all it will take to work. How’d you do? And where are the doctors?”

“Vaccinated and worked with about 50 good Lieutenant candidates.” I say. “Ones that showed potential for the first wave.” Then in walks Smith. He looks ragged, scared, and exhausted.

“Allen and Brown are dead, gone.” He says. “This morning we saw each other and decided to head to the docks to see if we could immunize a few more before it got light. We saw a group of Healthies being unloaded off of a boat. Allen and Brown looked crazed and attacked them. I almost did too but restrained myself. Three of Maslow’s guys who were guarding the shipment turned when they saw them. They killed them both, head shots, and then threw them in the water. I hid behind a building, but after a while Maslow’s thugs saw me. Shot me quite a few times but I managed to get away.”

“Lie down over there on that table and relax. You will be fine, but you will be weak from the gunshots.” Chris told him. “Madden, we need to talk.”

I followed her to the back of the lab.

“We are down two men with one injured. What if Maslow finds the needles and equipment Allen and Brown were using. They will be out looking. What are we going to do?”

“I think we have to finish what we started.” I say confidently. “Let’s wait until tonight and head out. Maslow won’t know yet and may not even find out. His guys probably just left them by the river. We will go down and see if we can find the stuff and get rid of it. Then we will contact the ones we vaccinated and start organizing. We have to do this, we have come too far. You need to head into Stout’s office. Keep your ears open and see if you can find out anything. I will cover my head so Maslow can’t see me and head out to see what I can find out. We can meet back here before dusk and get some rest before we go out tonight.”

She kisses me and begins to change clothes for Stout’s office. Her skin is pliable and full of slices, deep holes and cuts, but her body is perfect. I can see why Healthies would be attracted to her. Some of her skin is gone, exposing rotted hard muscle, dark black pus, nerves, and bone underneath as she undresses.

“You are beautiful” I tell her. She falls into my arms and we lay on the couch.

It feels good to hold her close...

We finish, get dressed, and Chris heads to Stout’s. I follow her, but don’t let her know. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but that is a fear I want to put to rest. I want to watch out for her, but I don’t want her to act any different and arouse suspicion because she knows I am there.

I get to Stout’s building and pry open an air vent near his office. The building is very active with guards. But they are easy to slip by while they are letting Chris in. There are so many infected here, I blend in nicely. I enter the air duct system near Stout’s office and crawl to where I can see him through a vent. Chris walks in.

“There you are you rotting corpse. I smelled you before you arrived. Clothes off, stool. I will be with you in a moment.” Chris undresses and shuffles slowly, like one of the unfortunate, to the stool. She is very convincing.

“I don’t know how much of this you will understand but it’s probably more than I used to think. There is a bit of something afoot it seems.” Stout says angrily. I notice the bags of vaccine and needles that belonged to Allen and Brown on the floor near his feet.

Naked on the wooden stool, Chris stares blankly. “Love now Doctor?”

“No.” He says plainly. “There is something in those bags over there that I am just beginning to analyze but it looks as if it may be a vaccine of some sort. The first few tests indicate it may be a vaccine to counteract the drugs I make in this very lab to keep you and your kind docile and controllable. Do you know anything about it?”

“Love now Doctor?” Chris says.

Stout continues “If you did then you would be able to understand everything I am saying, because you would be smart enough to be a part of it. Who better to play a part in devising a vaccine to my drugs than my assistant? The troublemaker Madden is dead so we don’t know who is organizing this.”

He hands her a scalpel.

“Cut out your eye. You disgusting rotting filthy stench. Let’s see if you will really obey me, if you are loyal. Cut out your eye!!!” He shouts ravenously.

He sits down as if to enjoy it and four armed men walk in to watch. I feel like screaming out but they would kill us both. Besides, we both know what is going to happen. Before I can react she turns her head and begins to slowly cut out her eye. The same eye I gouged out of Michelle. I can hear the dull scalpel slice her flesh and hear her screams. She finishes, her face covered in pus. Stout comes over and says “Now the other.”

She doesn’t hesitate. But as she moves the scalpel toward her eye he stops her.

“A blind assistant is useless to me, especially now that I can trust you.” She cut her eye out for our cause. Any doubt in her I had is gone. I feel horrible but not because I let it happen, but because I enjoyed it. Not as much as Stout, but I enjoyed it. It makes me feel a little revenge for Michelle’s death. The guards leave and Chris puts her eye back in the socket and bandages it in place.

“Love now! You are even more disgusting to me then before.” Stout rapes her as she lies motionless. They then get back to work. I know she will sabotage everything he does as best she can so our plan is not discovered. I leave the duct, replace the vent, and walk the street, head covered.

There are many out on the street that were obviously injected by us last night. They are moving quite well, especially the Lieutenants, and some are speaking to each other. I realize it is getting dark and I can’t wait any longer. I hand out cards that read STOUT GREEN BUILDING all day. Stout’s building is green. The plan all along was to meet there. Many will know who Stout is. He will know them. And the revolution will begin there. I speak with many and they are ready. They are capable. And they are mad and hungry. We go now!

I run back to Stout’s lab and burst through the door with many of my new army in tow. We kill anything in sight. Stout’s guards are our own kind, but they have to be silenced. We get to his lab and I go in first. Chris sees me and her smile asks a question.

“Chris, go ahead.” I say. She leaps on a surprised Dr. Stout. She eats his eyes first, then his face. He screams and falls to the floor. She stops and moves to the wall. “Let them in, Het.” I join her and we watch as they tear into his guts and eat him alive. I look at her bandaged eye.

Chris begins, “Stout made me cut it out to prove I wasn’t involved in what we were doing. He had Allen and Brown’s equipment. I don’t know if he told anyone. I put the eye back in.”

“Leave it in and it should fuse in place now that you have The Vaccine in you. How does it feel?” I ask.

She looks at me. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.”

I will never tell her I saw everything. No need. We have a fight to win and I still blame her for Michelle’s death. I wish I could let go. I know I will someday.

When I was developing The Vaccine I saw infected mice regenerate quite a few nerve connections, including the spine. Doppelganger itself is amazing, and The Vaccine more so. It isn’t likely to grow back body parts, at least I don’t think it will, but it could conceivably reconnect the eye. The virus must be able to see to reproduce, and going with the theory that we are the virus, it should repair what it needs in order to infect more Healthies, but only time will tell. Our friends had finished Stout and we knew our revolution had begun.

This building is our new headquarters. We instruct our new, strong, and hungry army on our plan to take this island. We will attack Maslow when it is completely dark with everything we have. Stout’s building, while old looking is loaded with fairly advanced weapons and ammo so we arm everyone we can. We continue to kill guards and other doctors and scientists that are here, while we vaccinate and recruit all others. We have well over 100 soldiers and 100 more that are less sentient but will follow along. Everyone has probably eaten the immunized food supply by now, so we will find more along the way. They may not be smart, but the docility will be wearing off.

It is pitch dark now and we head out through the streets toward Maslow’s building. Silently we prowl through the night, gaining followers along the way. Three words are spoken to each newcomer.

“Maslow, kill, now.”

They get it.

There are easily a thousand of us when we get about 3 blocks from Maslow’s building. Lights shine on us from the roof. We are noticed! I crow a war cry, and we rush toward the building. Those of us with guns fire as we run. We are fired upon and we lose some. This is a war for our lives and control of this island.

We get to the building across the street from Maslow and we take cover to regroup. It is difficult to organize this mass, and many do not stop. They continue on and draw fire. The more intelligent of the group listen to me.

“We must take this building!” I howl. “We must kill Maslow!” A roar among my troops erupts and we charge toward the building. Maslow’s men are slow and fairly dimwitted. He must have run out of adrenalin for this group. There are so many of them and barbed wire surrounds the entranceways. I should have expected this. Those of us that didn’t stop to regroup are taking on Maslow’s men hand to hand, reaching over the wire. They want in, and Maslow’s men want to keep us out. That is the only way to tell who is on which side.

Machine gun fire rains down on us from the roof and molotov cocktails bombard us. But we press on, laying dead bodies on the barbed wire so we can cross and not get hung up. We continue to move ahead through the firestorm and are finally rewarded. We break through the line of defense and knock down the doors.

We are entering the building now, spilling into the lobby. We begin to make our way up to the next floor. Another wave of defense comes in the form of fresh Maslow troops, slow and deliberate, and smarter than the first group. A veritable wall of flesh.

We meet on the large staircase up to the second floor. Flesh is torn from bodies, the staircase is almost a stage if looked upon from the front door. We are on a mission, and they are in the way. It is that simple.

We level them and continue to the second floor. There are a few to stop us but not many. Instead of rushing to the top, we go up floor by floor, systematically searching and securing each one as we go. This way no one gets out unless they jump. Of the 50 stories, 40 are ours by daybreak and we continue clearing about 1 floor an hour, slowly pushing them back as we go.

The last 10 floors are laden with bear traps, mines, guards in hiding. We have lost many more than half of our people. Chris and I have remained together throughout the battle and have a few minor injuries but nothing stops us. She is an admirable fighter. We are in a constant Frenzy, and it’s been a while for me. I am ravenous and have eaten many of my infected enemies. Attacks by our own ranks on our own ranks are minimal, but they do occur. I had forgotten the uncontrolled feeling of a Frenzy and know when we win this, that will be my biggest problem going forward. I guess it was Maslow’s as well, that’s why he drugged everyone.

By midday the battle rages on and we only have the top floor to go. We get ready to climb the steps and then feel a powerful thud. There is vacuum-like silence and then a loud blast that shakes the building and everything in it, exploding the glass out of all the windows. We go upstairs and the whole floor is gone. I see sky, nothing left here. Did Maslow blow everything up including himself? No other explanation seems logical at this time. We have won! We have taken the island and Maslow is dead! Our screams echo throughout the city! There are thousands of us that are now free. Free of Maslow’s rule. Free to do what we want. Undrugged and beyond control of him or anyone else. Angry, hungry hoards of intelligent infected with no one leading them yet, and who remain in a frenzied state.

Now what?

13

Fort Manhattan

Be careful what you ask for, you just might get it...

A few weeks have passed since we defeated Maslow’s forces and watched as he killed himself and his few remaining men on the top floor of his building. We never found his body, and this concerns me. But we are free of his grip on this island. Organizing all of the infected here in Manhattan, however, proves to be nearly impossible. We do have a larger lab now, and we’ve found a few new scientists on the island. The vaccinations have brought a lot of us to a higher degree of intelligence, but for many it is only temporary--for some it proved fatal. The Vaccine’s effects aren’t always permanent. It sometimes wears off and leaves the subject a staggering zombie like they were before and they usually go into Frenzy, sometimes only eating themselves. The site of a poor soul eating his own flesh until his mouth can no longer reach any more meat is a terrible sight, and nothing can stop this once it takes hold. Others die soon after they are vaccinated. It seems The Vaccine’s meth base just doesn’t work for everyone. Adrenalin might. Maybe the meth is a substitute that isn’t universal. We don’t know why yet, and we hope this isn’t a sign of what’s to come for us all.

Those of us who thrive ban together to try and come up with ways to control the island and the Frenzy that takes over at times. We also realize that trouble could come across by ship or plane at any time, so we must remain vigilant. There is a core group of 50 of us that are completely functional. I am the man at the top again, and for a while Bob was at my side. Yeah, that Bob.

He came walking up to me a few days after the victory, obviously vaccinated. Said he had left Maslow and wanted to join me. I didn’t trust him, but I wanted to see if he knew anything. He didn’t, so I ran my finger through his eye sockets into his brain and then reached into his chest and pulled his heart out, and ate it.

That simple.

Chris and I are very close and she leads the science team. Smith has since healed and is always by her side. She has come up with variants on Doppelganger and we try to duplicate and grow uninfected human flesh. And for a while, continued to artificially inseminate healthy females and breed them, hundreds, for food.

Breeding Healthies came with much trial and error it turned out. Maslow had perfected it and did it for sport and necessity. It turns out that many Healthies would kill themselves and their young once they found out what we were doing. Then Maslow got smart. He simply kept the female Healthies in an unconscious state most of the time. He also boxed them; removed the arms and legs. This allowed him to easily inseminate them and in nine months get babies.

He of course didn’t care about the baby’s health or what the drugs would do, he was after the meat. He considered it a delicacy. I often wondered why I got so much pleasure out of hearing these stories. It was a necessity to survive, something that had to be done. At first I liked the thought of the pain in the mother’s eye during childbirth, and especially when the child was taken away after it had been born. Yes, Maslow woke each and every mother up for the birth. They had to be conscious and it was like a drug to see the horror in their faces when they realized their babies would be food. He would let them stay awake a few hours after they gave birth, restrained of course so they couldn’t hurt themselves. Then he would knock them out and re-inseminate.

In practice it was just too cruel though. Maslow was a sick bastard. I tried to rationalize it, but it just didn’t seem right; even thought they were the same Healthies that let us suffer. And to be sure, a couple hundred drugged females making babies doesn’t keep my people very well fed at all. It is a waste of time and effort for the return it offers. We did have some success with attempts at growing flesh in the lab, but again it was not enough for the effort.

We had come to an agreement of sorts on food distribution a while back. We make raids on the mainland regularly to find Healthies and feed. The city, it seems, still has quite a few. I wish we didn’t have to, because I worry the raiders may be followed back here. By who, I don’t know. But a world in disarray like ours can only breed unknown numbers of enemies--enemies I care to avoid.

“Morning Het.” Chris wakes up and looks me in the eye.

“Morning.” I say, wishing I could lay here forever.

We stay in bed a while but need to get going. We have a meeting today with leaders from the several clans that have formed here on the island. There will be five of them, one from each of the five major controlling clans.

This clan system was put in place by me. My people, the most intelligent, remained with me. We had to find a way to organize the rest of the infected on the island. I felt the best way was to institute leaders for the 5 major areas that we had on the island. Having just led the assault on Maslow, I had quite a bit of clout so I picked who I thought would be best as leaders, split up the real estate, and carved out the clan system. Civility didn’t last long, I knew it wouldn’t, but how do you effectively control the land of the dead? You don’t. You find a way to let it control itself. And that’s what I did.

We eventually get up and leave. As we walk toward the building, the cold of winter definitely slows us down. The ones who are slow to begin with have it worse. We arrive at our building and walk in. We notice that there is no one on the first floor. The place is empty. We head up to our office and are greeted with blank stares. The Vaccine has worn off many of the people we work with, and they went into Frenzy before we got here. There is flesh and pieces of body everywhere.

“Why is this happening, Het, why is it wearing off?” Chris says. “Why doesn’t the meth in The Vaccine work for everyone? Is this going to happen to us?”

I tell her “We have to keep working on an answer, and if it was going to happen to us, I think it would have happened by now.”

We do need to keep working, but just then our guests arrive.

“Maddennn!” I hear Donny Minutes call out.

Donny has the biggest clan on the island. He got his name because his clan does the most raiding of the mainland and Donny prides himself on raids that take less than an hour; specifically minutes. If he finds out what happened here this morning he will realize he is in a position to take over. Most of my people are scientists, not warriors, and we are even fewer now. The clans let me run the show out of respect and fear. We have all the guns and explosives and they aren’t sure of what we are capable of. I am, and I know it would be tricky but we could probably defeat them, at least individually at the clan level.

“Donny, my friend.” I call out. “We’re coming down.”

Chris and I descend the steps to the lobby and I shake hands with Donny. He takes Chris’ hand and kisses it. He loves to play the gentleman, but looks bad. The Vaccine is obviously wearing off but he still speaks intelligently, albeit a little slurred and very twitchy. The twitching is almost rhythmic, entrancing. Boisterous, like a stage actor playing to the back of the room.

“Where’s everybody else?” I ask.

“Het, there’sss been a change in the clansss.” Donny hisses and rocks. “Not all by me. On our lassst run into the city we saw Rucker’sss clannn and Harrisss’. They were in a huge fight with Healthiessss. The Army I think, and you could tell they were new to the cccity. They took out both clanssss quick, they had gunssss and carsss and motorcyclesss. They didn’t sssee us and we got away. Most of the crewssss are ssslowing down lately. You guysss find out what is making this happen all of the sssssudden?”

We don’t spread the word that our vaccine is failing or that we even gave one. Everyone but our science group thinks its just natural aging/rotting that is doing it.

“Still working on it, Donny. We are making progress. Where are Weinstein and O’Brien?” I ask, referencing the other two leaders of the weaker clans.

“That’s the sssecond part of the ssstory.” He becomes cocky. “When we got back I realizzzed that there was noone to ssstop me from killing thossse two and absssorbing whatever wassss left of hisss people into my clan. One big crew, you know? Ssso I did and here we are. From what I can remember about your people, we outnumber you at leassst 5 to 1 now. Keep that in the back of your head, Het. I gotta go. But I’ll be back.”

Chris and I stand there and watch him leave. After this morning, we only have about 30 people left. And he definitely could have over 500 with the combination of the three clans, even if there were some losses in the skirmish they had. We silently think about this as we head up to the lab.

When we get there I address Smith and the rest of the scientists. “There was a Frenzy in the offices below. I know it is hard to hear with the noise from the lab. Most of our people down there are gone.”

“They were useless flesh sacks.” One of the men calls out. “No loss as I see it.”

“It’s more of a problem than you think.” I continue. “Donny Minutes’ Clan is the only clan now. He attacked Weinstein and O’Brien’s clans and made them his after Rucker and Harris’ clans were killed by Healthies on the mainland.”

This has their attention and they start talking all at once.

“Listen, before--the infighting was bad, but it kept everyone in check. Clan against clan, ignoring us and letting us do our thing for the common good.” I say.

“We have to drug them! That’s the only way to control them!” Dr. Clark screams. “They are animals an..!”

I interrupt. “I am apprehensive about controlling the problem with drugs like Maslow did, but the thought had crossed my mind before. They make raids anyway, so applying the drugs would not have been difficult on the ones left behind and unprotected. However now we are most likely at war and there is no time. We will have to fight.”

I worry to myself that we are starting to sound like the Healthies did when we first got sick. Animals? They are people. But they are now enemies and must be treated as such.

“Donny will be back. And I think he is going to attack us and attempt to take the building. Once that happens, all progress stops and we will no longer be able to work to make sure we all don’t become shufflers again.” I say to a excited group.

“The only thing we can do is get this building ready to defend.” Chris says. She is right. “Lets get guns out. Grenades. Set some traps near the building. We can defend this place and make sure they don’t get in without a fight!”

We could have some boats ready to take us to the mainland, but that could be just as bad with the Healthies organizing there. We stand our ground here; its them, or us.

We get to work setting up defense. Guns are out the windows and we set up barrels of explosives on the street toward the building. Shooters on the roof can set them off. We could effectively take them all out. They won’t be too organized; they are losing mobility and intelligence daily. But they also will not surrender. They will keep coming until we kill them. And then what? We are down to about 30 of us? Ripe for attack from the mainland. It is all falling apart.

We work through the following day and darkness falls. And we wait. Then we see it. Unbelievable. All the clans have organized against us and it looks to be all five of them. I see Rucker and Harris in front with the other 3 leaders. Donny lied, there was no mainland battle that killed those crews. The five were in the front of well over 1000 soldiers. Our counts were low. They planned this! Donny just came to check things out. Then all at once, they let out a scream and head towards the building. They are coming in a large wave. We fire at the bombs on the road and take out quite a few, but it isn’t enough. We fire on them, continuously, and kill many.

Then Chris unloads several hundred gallons of gasoline onto the street. A little surprise for our guests. It flows like a river and when we hit it with Molotov cocktails a large part of the crowd is engulfed in flame. They stagger around and eventually burn to death, but there are so many. 500 would be one thing, but this many, no way can we hold them back.

And then it happens. It starts as a whining sound. Then we see large explosions in the distance. Then we see the planes. The Healthies armies have come. Firing on the angry clans that were attacking us. What is going on? I hear laughter behind me. I turn and see Smith laughing at me.

“He’s back. Ha ha ha ha ha!” He is by the door to the stairs.

“Who?” I say, but as the words leave my mouth I know.

“Maslow you fool! Allen and Brown weren’t killed by Maslow’s men. I killed them. Maslow approached me the night we were out vaccinating. Calmly told me he would like to make me a hero. He asked me about you, Het. Said he found your dead body. But we know that wasn’t you, and when he told me what he was going to give me I told him you were alive. I told him everything. Then I lured Brown and Allen to the docks so he could kill them. Unfortunately I took some bullets too, so I passed out in the lab when I got back. That cost Stout his life. And also alerted Maslow to the need to get out of Manhattan. He called for pick up and escaped away with the Eraser antiviral. It was as good a time as any. Said he would be back in the winter with the Army and he didn’t lie. I am off to the docks for pickup. I will be a hero he said.”

And with that Smith hit the steps. We watch outside as every moving thing is shot up. The ones that survive are hit with Eraser and begin attacking each other. It isn’t long before silence hit the streets. Then I smell them. Dogs. They’re on the streets, attacking anyone that moves. And in no time they’re in the building biting all of my people, infecting them with Eraser.

Then Frenzy.

We all tear into each other along with the dogs. In an instant I swear I see Bob out of the corner of my eye when, completely out of control, Chris stabs a screwdriver into my back and bites deep into my neck. She is blind and enraged with Frenzy and she obviously doesn’t know it is me. I instinctively throw her off and she hits the corner of the wall; I hear her back snap. Two others and a dog are on me in an instant. I fight for what seems like hours until everyone is gone, the dogs too.

I am alone, again, that quickly. Everyone is dead. I don’t know what to do, so I head for the docks. I want to kill Smith before he gets picked up. I run as fast as I can, dogs chasing me and stragglers trying to attack. I see Smith at the dock. A helicopter is landing to pick him up. It’s Maslow! I make it to the helicopter. Two of his men aim to shoot.

“No! Leave this one alone!” Maslow tells them.

“He lives, well sort of. Looks as if we both faked our individual demises. Your idea was good, what can I tell you? Madden, I wouldn’t be where I am now without you. And I will not be responsible for your death. I still need you. We all do. Goodbye Mr. Madden.” And then he flew off with Smith in the helicopter.

Everything is gone. I have no one and nothing. I wander the streets looking for infected survivors. There are none. I gorge myself on the Healthies that remain in and around the destroyed Meat Market. But I can’t stay here on Manhattan. I have a job to do. I find a rowboat and head to the mainland.

It is an incredibly clear night, full moon lighting up the water. This helps me see and maneuver around any mines I come upon. This small boat would only hit those that are near the surface. It is silent except for a screeching sound in the distance. I can’t tell if it is getting closer or not. It almost sounds like the brakes on my old Plymouth Duster. I think back to a time when keeping that car running was my biggest concern. Driving on a cool fall day with the windows down and the stereo playing as loud as I could turn it. I am in the moment. I look over and see my college girl. Wind blowing thru her hair while Don Henley sings “The Boys of Summer”; made me realize, even then, that those were days to soak up and enjoy because the sky was already getting dark, and tomorrow, and all that comes with it, was only a heartbeat away.

I keep paddling and the noise is getting louder. Then it suddenly gets darker. I look up and can’t see the moon. A large cloud is covering it, a fast moving white cloud. As the sound gets closer I see that it isn’t a normal cloud.

It’s birds! Seagulls! Hundreds, thousands of them! They cover both sides of the water and I hear gunshots from the city side and screams. Then they are on me. And they are obviously infected. Their feathers are bloodied and unclean and they are not graceful at all in flight. They tear at me as I hunker down in the boat. They are picking me apart and the shrieks are deafening. The only thing I can do is jump in the water. I sink to the bottom and find that I was right about walking down here. It isn’t too difficult for me, but the others wouldn’t have had a chance. I can’t see like in the Norfolk Tunnel and locomotion is tiring in this water, but not impossible.

I can still hear the birds above me as I walk in the direction I think the city is. I am able to get to the surface at certain intervals to check where I am. On about the fifth time I surface, the birds are gone. At least the mobile ones are. Something killed a lot of them. Many are burned, some shot, others have become victims of their own kind. I make it to the dock and pull myself up a rope with ease.

I feel no reversing of The Vaccine yet. As a matter of fact, I feel stronger and smarter than ever. But I am completely alone and my future is unsure. My back is to the ocean and the only thing I can think of is to head north. I think back on all I have been through up to now and feel nothing. Nothing but anger and hate. I realize that I have to find Maslow, and kill him. He has taken away everything I had, everyone I had, and I have to make him pay. He has done horrible things to my people, over and over again, and I can only imagine what he is doing to them in the North. Does he have another Stout? How many are being tortured? What experiments is he doing on us? As long as he lives I will never be at peace, I will never truly rest.

I hear engines and voices in the distance. And I smell Healthies. I’d better get going...

14

Behind Enemy Lines

...because truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast.

Nothing exists in itself.

-Herman Melville, Moby Dick

The city is dark, cold, and rainy. Gunfire and explosions are everywhere. I have to keep moving, keep warm, or my joints start to stiffen. I hate the cold, we all do. I don’t feel it so much as cold, I feel it as stiffness and difficulty moving if I stay still too long. I also have to get some more clothing. The Wrath virus generates heat inside me. Not as much as a Healthy, but enough to make extra clothes worthwhile to hold in the warmth.

As I walk the streets I try to think about the task at hand, but for some reason all thoughts go back to my son Michael and I wonder.... It seems so long since I lost him. He would be nearly 19 now. I can barely remember the times we laughed and played ball, and even what he looked like. We would ride bikes all day and then sit and talk about our dreams, both of us. I think he is the only person that ever really understood me.

My dream is interrupted by the sound of an engine. It is dark but I make out the form of a soldier being dropped off from the Hummer on the street ahead. I move toward him. His back is to me and I creep up slowly behind him. The rain drowns out any sound I might make. I hear him talking into his radio.

“No Deads left in sector 5. We got them all and what we didn’t get, they got themselves. The bug coated ammo seems to be working. If it gets anywhere on them they just tear into each other. The ones who didn’t, we just burned.”

At that moment I feel a rage that is so comfortable I feel like I am in a warm cocoon. They are using the Eraser antiviral, my Eraser antiviral, to kill us. I grab the young soldier from behind by the throat, tilt his head, and take a bite out of his neck. He struggles to pull away, but all he can do is scream. As he reaches for his gun, I am on him. Seems like old times. I’m back, and it feels good. I tear out his liver and heart and eat them, and then take his clothes and put them on. I now have a pistol, rifle, knife, and most important--radio. I listen as I walk. The clothes are warm and I suspect, from a distance, I will be discerned as a soldier for the Northern Alliance.

Perfect.

From the chatter on the radio it seems as if New York City is the farthese south the Alliance has gotten, and as far north as I can go, for now. It is odd, however, that the Healthies speak so freely on the radio. I guess they don’t expect the infected to be listening or understanding. But if Maslow had gotten to them, he would have told them of the existence of intelligent infected. He must have gotten to them... they have the Eraser antiviral. But why don’t they know of infected like me?

I start to put things together.

Maslow’s Eraser plot to exterminate us could not have worked to plan. The dogs seem to have partly done their job, but maybe there weren’t nearly enough and they didn’t seek out and attack as diligently as Maslow had planned. Or the Eraser did more to the dogs than anyone wants to say. In addition, apathy in the Healthies world is rampant. The soldiers complain constantly over the airwaves that survivors are of no help, some even distrusting soldiers and firing on them. Word is that the Army isn’t trusted because of some of the locals talk about Army deserters who continually came over from Manhattan and kidnapped people. I bet they are talking about Donny Minutes and the others.

Suddenly I hear footsteps. Lots of them. About 20 soldiers are walking down the street to my left.

“Let’s go!” One shouts, and I join in.

They don’t notice I am infected. I have a lot of energy now, and that combined with the fact that so many of them are injured and kind of slow makes it easy for me to keep up. This is good because I could in no way keep up with an uninjured Healthy in full sprint. I am not that fast. Radio says we are heading in to attack a stronghold of Deads. That’s what the soldier I killed called us. Deads. I kinda like it. I decide to follow along and assess the situation.

We walk for a very long time. I feel my joints weakening. I need to feed again soon, or at least stop running, so Wrath can build some of the tissue back up. We finally get to a building, a large apartment. This is supposed to be where hundreds of infected are. I can tell by looking at it that there are at least a hundred here. I can feel it.

We enter the building and these are very slow infected; and they are not in a Frenzy, but there is evidence they had been. Must have been here a while. The soldiers just shoot them in the head as we walk by. That’s when I start to hang back. I grab the last in line, bite his throat, and leave him to bleed out. I don’t eat him, even though I need food. I want him to turn and become one of us. Simple, really. Assimilate the enemy. I continue this until there are only 10 of them left.

We are deep inside the building now and with 10 less men, the soldiers haven’t been killing as many as they think. There are many infected that weren’t killed following me now, including a few of the turned soldiers. We come to the end of a long hall.

“About face!” The lead man shouts. “We’re out of here. Hit as many as you can with bugged ammo on the way out.”

I am standing in their way to leave, with about 50 infected behind me. They can tell I am one of them. They are interested in the Healthies. I take off my helmet, throw it down, and scream so loud they cover their ears. We are on them in a second. Their cries make some of us laugh nervously as we eat. None of these Deads are intelligent enough to do anything but follow and imitate. It takes a while, but I manage to get them into some of the eaten soldiers’ uniforms, 20 of them anyway, and I continue to listen to the radio. From what I gather, makeshift Centers of Operations seem to be just outside the city. Easy to set up and defend I guess... Probably mobile. We will wait here and see if any more troops come. At dark we will move. We must get to the Healthies base of Operations, gathering more help along the way.

In a few minutes a front-line battle comes to our building. Soldiers are chasing down retreating infected. While a shot to the head is needed to kill us, bullets and shrapnel to connective tissue and loss of limbs can turn us into living, but useless, fighters. The sight of a live head lying on the ground snapping at soldiers as they run by is not at all uncommon.

Some of the others can use weapons, but nothing like me or my comrades from Manhattan could. Even though we outnumber the soldiers 10 to 1, this will be a massacre unless I can find a way to turn the tide. I am less interested in taking over the Army and saving everyone, and more interested in finding Maslow. I am obsessed with finding him. It’s all I think about. He must pay with his life. He could be close because that was not a very large helicopter he got into.

Even still, I get on the roof of the building and start picking off soldiers. There is so much noise and fighting that they don’t notice a sniper on a roof. I hit them, one by one. Most aren’t kills, but they are injured enough to allow infected to take them. I try and put one bullet into every soldier I see. I have the ammo, the building is full of it. Must have been stockpiled by someone. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. When they weaken and start to limp, one of us is on them in a few seconds. Instinct drives us towards the weakest of the group so my boys attack the injured first. Initially I thought all the soldiers would be vaccinated with Eraser and be immune to infection. They are turning when bitten and not killed. No Eraser induced Frenzy is occurring. I guess Eraser was not the preventative vaccine Stout hoped it would be. Maybe the dogs became infected and that’s why his plan failed. Most of my men are full from before, so they’re attacking more than eating. We are building an army, we can eat more later.

After a while I see that the plan is working. Soldiers are starting to turn and move against their own troops. A bite from one of us changes them faster now. They don’t seem to do much contemplating on their new favorite food, they simply attack and eat, not having eaten like the rest. But this is good, too. We do want some of them dead.

Night falls and we rest. I really have trouble getting through to this group. They don’t understand what I am saying most of the time. I will try and slow down and keep it simple. Maybe I am going too fast. I need to remember what it was like to teach others back when this started.

I begin to communicate more in simple words, grunts and motions. Almost like training a dog. I try to think like they do. I start to get a little further. They respond to me as an alpha so I have no trouble getting them to follow me.

We head out of the city into the outlying suburbs. I look for lights and have no trouble finding them. It must be the base, but it is lit up like a Christmas tree. This means one of two things. Either they don’t think infected will come out this far and don’t care about giving up their position, or they want us to be attracted to the light and have traps or mines set.

Like moths, we head toward the light, the dumbest of our swarm up front to clear mine fields and trip traps that indeed are there. The lights looked a lot closer than they were. After about two hours of walking behind exploding mines we get to within 100 yards of the place. I have no trouble sending in the dumbest of our bunch to be cannon fodder. I have a mission. Kill Maslow. At any cost.

The whole time we walk, mines are not only exploded by us, but are going off all around the complex. The soldiers in the complex are probably used to infected tripping the mines because I see no visible defensive posturing. We slowly approach and I realize the whole thing is a facade. Is it a lure to get us to trip mines, or desperate Healthies barely getting by? Empty buildings and rusted vehicles are everywhere. The only things running are the lights. But how are they being powered? At the back of a structure I notice a single thick electric cord trails off into the night. Could it be that easy? We start following the cord.

We see nothing far in front of us, it is too dark and smoky. We then get to a locked hatch in the ground. The cord goes in. I know they are down there. I cut through the line and hope they send someone up to fix it. The lights in this fake complex go out and the only light left for the infected to follow are the ones we use. We shine them up and around the smoke-filled air and some start to walk towards us. The hatch is thick and metal, but I can’t help but think that they light up that distraction out there to keep us busy. When we are out there, we don’t look for or stumble upon locked hatches.

I hear the handle on the hatch turn and duck behind some bushes. Two men get out of the hatch and inspect the electrical cable I cut. Some of my men take them and I head down the hatch. It’s a long ladder I go down, and it takes some time.

When I get to the bottom I see a fairly large room with 5 people in it. One woman I know immediately. It’s Linda Ann Blake, the woman who tried to drill through my head back in Leesburg. The one who stripped the skin off the red haired woman. The rest are military types. They see me but don’t move. They just look and return to there business while Linda Ann motions me over to them.

“Hello Mr. Madden we’ve been expecting you. What took you so long?” She smiles at me.

As I move closer I see. She and the others are obviously infected and have been for some time.

15

Enemy Of My Enemy...

Maneuvering with an army is advantageous; with an undisciplined multitude, most dangerous.

-Sun Tsu

I look into Linda Ann Blake’s eyes and can’t control myself.

“I know you, you tortured my people!” I shout. “I remember! You were going to torture me as well!”

“Mr. Madden, you were the enemy.” She answered firmly. “You have no idea how the world reacted when the dead began to rise! You were evidently infected fairly early. The population of the world that was not, was terrified, we were hysterical! Everyone began to believe the 2012 prophets. It was rampant”

“But you did this!” I am screaming now.

“Me?! Don’t you mean we? You were a large part of this whole fiasco Mr. Madden. You can’t tell me you never thought this would be used as a weapon. Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? These men tell me you were a very willing participant until the very end. In fact, it was probably you and your cohort Abbott’s idea to try and launch Wrath to coincide with 2012!” The video file! The other two were on the tape Maslow showed me on the boat. The big one is the General on the video!

“Never asking questions, only working for that almighty dollar.” She lectures. “Bonuses for continued contracts and performance. You never questioned anything did you? And you didn’t quit the project, you were removed. You would have done whatever we said to keep that big house and those cars and all of your possessions. You were a huge part of all of this. You created Wrath whether you want to admit it or not! You!!! And when you were brought into my hospital, I knew I had to get rid of you because you were trouble, Mr. Madden, and I wanted to live. I wanted my family to live! Because of you and others like you all of us in this room and all of our loved ones are infected.”

It was all true. I had tried to deny much of it, but she was right. I had sold my soul for my career and my stuff. I remember joking in meetings that if this was used as a weapon it would be that much more effective if it happened in 2012. I never thought about consequences, only about money and things. I would comfort myself by thinking I was doing this for the defense of my country, for freedom itself. That did help me sleep. But none of that matters. This whole thing can be traced back to me. I did this. I am guilty.

“I win, Mr. Madden.” Blake says coldly. “It’s just what I do. Now we are on the same team, so to speak. And we have a common foe. A Dimitri Maslow I believe. We want him as bad as you do. He created an antiviral for the Northern Alliance that turned the infected against each other and protected the uninfected from getting sick. Eraser he called it.”

I held my tongue. I can’t let them know I created that as well. They all have guns and would kill me where I stand.

“We used it on dogs and sent them out to attack the infected and pass on the Eraser.” She continues. “It worked for a while and the dogs, as well as some of our test animals, did not become infected even after weeks. We didn’t really trust Maslow, but it looked like he had made good. But then the animals started to die. And turn... we didn’t find out until many of us in the inner circle had been vaccinated. It seems that Maslow, or his spies, contaminated the Eraser stores with Wrath. We know all about Wrath, Mr. Madden. Don’t these men look familiar? You used to work for them, but maybe you never met.”

They did, and we had met. I knew two of them and the other two looked very familiar. But where did Maslow get Wrath?

“They tried to stop you and end the program. But they were unsuccessful. In any event, we all became contaminated, and turned. We are V-RAFs and live the part well.” She is smiling now.

“How did you know I was coming? How could you know?” I ask.

“Mr. Madden you still have the tracker in your arm they put in at the Leesburg ICC.”

I had forgotten about it.

“It contains your name, driver’s license number, Social Security Number, whatever else you had on you when captured. You were marked unique at the camp.” She continues methodically. “It doesn’t track over long distances, but when we got in this area we picked you up. And we waited. The lights outside worked, and you came.” She couldn’t have been more smug.

I felt a little stupid, but was more curious than anything.

“I want to kill him. Maslow. Where is he?” I say.

“We want to kill him, as well. So does the Northern Alliance, for that matter. They are done with him. He is a traitor, and he is out of control. We created him to infiltrate the undead and initiate a way to defeat them. We set him up in New York and gave him whatever he said he needed. We were desperate. There were many Maslows that had ideas, from dirty bombs to antiviral mosquitoes, and we supported them as well. Even small-timers like Charles Darius, remember him? Your coworker? He tried to trap you but his men were overrun. Only Maslow showed results... He and that bastard Stout. They proved they could control V-RAFs, make them docile. He showed results, but was one sick son of a bitch. He had no trouble eating people, he...”

“That’s because he is DEAD!!!” I scream.

“Calm down, Mr. Madden we know that.” She says. “He ate people before we infected him, and believed he could act the part. We let him fall asleep one night and injected him with insulin to induce a coma. We then infected him with Wrath and bonded adrenaline to his DNA to keep him intelligent, as you evidently did to yourself as well. He woke up dead but either didn’t notice or preferred denial. He went about his mission and that was that. But yes, he is quite dead. It turns out he likes to play both sides, and as you probably know, is quite insane. He is in Bermuda; we are 90% sure of this. We have a tracker on him as well and that is where he was heading when we last had contact.”

I had heard chatter on the Alliance radios that there were islands in the Caribbean that had not been infected. One was Bermuda. They were full of Healthies. What the Hell could he be doing there? Another Manhattan?

“But make no mistake, Madden, we are not your friends. We see ourselves as trying to rid the world of the V-RAF plague and protect the many innocent people that have not been infected. We have adrenalinized DNA and are ready to kill Maslow, but not for the same reason as you. We will promise that, until we have killed Dimitri Maslow, we will not harm you or your people. And after we are finished, we will go our separate ways. But then it is back to normalcy. We will be trying to kill you again, and save our planet. My question to you, Mr. Madden, is--are you with us?”

“Yes.” I said without hesitation. I want Maslow dead no matter what.

We needed a plan. Everyone in the room knew that Maslow was dangerous and would be defending his area.

“What is your situation?” I ask. “How many troops do you have?”

Cautiously she says. “We have about 500 troops. All infected, none anywhere near as intelligent as the 6 of us in this room. We can also call in strikes by certain wings of the Northern Alliance. Many don’t know General Spicer is infected. You have, how many, about a hundred?”

“There are about a hundred up there now that will follow me, yes. And we can pick up more on the way to the docks. We are going by ship, correct?” I ask.

“Yes Mr. Madden. We have transport and I bet you have ideas of your own.” She says sternly.

“Yes I do, there is a medium-size cruise ship heading out of New York taking wealthy survivors and supplies to the uninfected islands in the Caribbean. I heard it on my radio. We will sneak aboard the ship and take control of it once it is at sea. There will be plenty of food, rich Healthies, for our trip. We can even infect some, building an army as we sail. Before you know it a ship full of Deads will be docking in Bermuda ready to take over. Ready to eat. Ready to fight. I think we need to take separate ships because our styles differ. I hope you don’t intend on stopping my plan.”

She thinks about it. “No Mr. Madden, I know the ship. The lives of a few elite people who use the military as a safety net don’t concern me. I will even have the soldiers stand down and not board the ship to help you out. The lives we will save by killing Maslow will be 200 times those on your floatable feast. Just keep in contact and take Mr. Bogle here with you. He is a Navy man and can run the ship for you. We will keep in contact by radio. Once near Bermuda we can check for radar and listen to chatter to access what defenses they may have. Then we will plan to hit the beach and begin the assault. Together we have a chance. Maslow has surely organized splinters of the Northern Alliance and is using the island as a fort. It will be a challenge, but we will win. Because I win, Mr. Madden, as you will find out. After we defeat Maslow, you take your ship and we will take ours. We will not look for you for a month, you have my word. Then all bets are off. How does that sound?”

She said that with the precision of someone who had planned it before today. I don’t trust her at all. I don’t trust the General or the others. They are infected but not one of us. They truly see themselves as infected human beings and feel the need to save the world, or what’s left of it. I think for a while and decide to go ahead and do it. I want Maslow dead at any cost. It is all I think about. It rules my life. I hate him to the bones beneath his dead flesh...

“Deal.” I growl. “Let’s get going...”

16

Rat Hunt...

Anyone can be a fisherman in May.

-Ernest Hemmingway

Mr. Bogle was distant. He stared the “thousand mile stare” constantly. I asked Ms. Blake and she assured me he was a competent Ship’s Captain having sailed to Japan many times with the Military Sealift Command. We loaded up with ammunition and supplies and headed back into the city as a group.

“We fire on anyone that gets in our way, Mr. Madden. Alive or dead, there is no use trying to spare anyone.” She likes to seem tough.

“I wasn’t going to try and spare anyone.” I reply.

We walk a long time and make it into the city. Not much resistance, a lot of infected though. A lot of soldiers are dead or have been infected. The most intelligent of us not in uniform take the clothes off dead soldiers and put them on. The infected ones fall in line as we walk by. I think the dead have a need to belong, just like Healthies only out of confusion more than fear. They don’t know what to do, where to go, who they are... they just drift along with a group as it goes by. They need an alpha and again, to the untrained eye, it would seem that they are just aimlessly walking.

We reach the docks with about 400 more folks making our total somewhere near 1000. Half will go with Blake. Half will go with me.

“This is where we split up, Madden. Remember, if you try and take the ship and run, I will sink you. Without hesitation.” Blake smiles and says. She is serious.

“I want him dead, Blake. I assure you.” With that she takes her team to the right, while I go left toward the big white ship with all the lights.

No doubt it will be heavily guarded, so we watch and wait. I don’t trust Blake to have them stand down. We wait for about an hour as the ship fills up with Healthies. They are very confident and don’t look scared at all. The Northern Alliance guards the entire ship, shooting the few infected that wander to close. Not just with rifles, either. They are using high caliber machine guns to blow them apart, no doubt as a show of strength to the rich Healthies boarding the ship.

There are guards on the dock, and on the ship itself. I have already picked out the most intelligent of the group, about 20 of us. The rest pick up the scent of Healthies and head toward the docked ship. All 500 or so. Shots ring out, and people scream. The remaining 20 of us dressed like Northern Alliance soldiers come up behind the pack firing and in the chaos, are taken for Healthies. We run up one of the gangways and get on board.

We follow Mr. Bogle to the helm, shooting anyone that gets in our way. Most all the soldiers have stood down like Blake said. We don’t see any at all. Amazing. We arrive and there are no guards at the door. So I knock. One of the helmsmen opens the door and we are on him and the rest in seconds. They don’t even have time to scream.

We eat most of them but turn some, including the Captain. Mr. Bogle gets to work. He begins to move the ship, full of Healthies, away from the dock. He hands me the PA microphone and says “Talk calmly and confidently. Make them feel safe”.

I get it.

“This is Captain...” I pause and look at the Captains name pin. “Beasly. Ladies and gentlemen the hoard of Deads has been struck back and our Northern Alliance was successful. Some of our boys were pretty badly injured, so don’t stare, it could have been any one of us. Just relax now and enjoy this cruise to the safety of the uninfected Caribbean. Look at that sunrise!”

I was pretty good. Mr. Bogle is smiling.

Since we are dressed like soldiers maybe the passengers will think we are just injured. Maybe not, but here’s hoping.

Five of us remain at the helm and the rest are sent out to hunt discreetly until nightfall when we will attack full force and make ourselves some allies. Radio contact with Ms. Blake is made and we see her ship in the distance. We move in to follow.

Looking out on the open water, I take some time to reflect. The real answers may actually come when I find Maslow. But what will they be? Is there anything that I don’t know now? I have been putting together answers and have been told almost all there seems to be. Am I still looking for answers, or am I just out to kill Maslow? And when I do, then what? Killing that bastard had been my reason for living for so long. What will I do after that, with no purpose, no raison d’être? Will I walk the earth for no real reason and eventually turn into a mindless staggering Dead?

There has to be more to the story.

Was this all to cleanse the world perhaps, and make the wealthy and powerful even more so? This ship is pretty full of wealthy people that look to have been protected almost as if they were paying for it.

There has to be more to the story.

Did the architects of this terrible aggression, me included, ensure this coincided with 2012? Or is this in fact what many were saying all along-- an inevitable turn of events because it was 2012. Were we bound to these happenings as sure as the Mayans, Druids, Nostradamus and whoever the fuck else predicted? The Wrath in the flu shots came to life as if on schedule! How could that be? I have to know. I will know. There are answers out there and this is bigger than what I know now.

There has to be more to the story.

Bogle knows how to steer a ship and Beasly has fully turned and is a help as well, although not much of one. The passengers are uneasy but they are letting their guard down. I see several that have been turned, and I also see some of our group that I was sure had been eliminated. Bogle has it under control. I go out and begin to attack.

As I move about the ship I concentrate on trying to turn people. I just bite them and hold them until they die. I cover their mouths, they go limp, I walk away, and they later turn. Really simple. After a long day, it starts to get dark. Mr. Bogle will blow the ship’s horns at sundown. Then the rest will join the attack and that will excite the newly turned. Like I said, mission one is to infect the armed men, but we will also be eating.

Then I hear the horn.

And the screams a while after that.

It is on, and we will win this easily. There are just so many Healthies; hundreds of them. And they are, for the most part, unarmed. It’s perfect. One by one we take them down. I haven’t been this satisfied in a long while. I love to eat Healthies, but it is also quite gratifying to infect and turn them.

Sometimes I like to watch them bleed out and stop moving. They lie there awhile, never really looking dead. It looks like they are moving, but they aren’t. You can’t be sure, then their eyes open, glassy, and they sit up and look around confused. They get up and stagger about a bit frightened of other infected. But then it sets in and the confusion is replaced by rage and hunger, and they attack. Usually a loved one that doesn’t believe what has happened. The horror in a mother’s eye when what used to be her daughter, what I created, begins to bite and eat her. This has to be what an artist feels when he finishes a piece. This is art, make no mistake. And I am an artist! The creation of a different form of life with the flair and panache I give the process is art in its finest form!

When we are through with this we will have hundreds of Deads, lots of weapons, and more ammo than we can use. The only thing left to do now is follow Ms. Blake to Bermuda, rendezvous, and kill her and her entourage. All those infected on her ship with no food is not a good mix. Anyone left will follow me to kill Maslow, and I will celebrate in the warm sands of Bermuda.

The killing continued throughout the night and into the next day. There are hundreds of infected on the ship now as we ferret out the last of the Healthies. We are in pretty regular radio contact with Ms. Blake but something doesn’t sound right. Bermuda is close and we will rendezvous soon. No radar has been detected but radio chatter is constant. They have been trying to contact our ship for a few hours. We will have to answer soon or we may cause suspicion.

Our ships anchor and we arrange to meet on board Blake’s ship. We take a dinghy over with 5 of us aboard, Bogle remains at our ship. As we get closer we don’t see any signs of life of any sort. Climbing aboard we find nothing but carnage. I guess the math is simple when it comes to a ship full of Deads.

No Food + Long Trip = Frenzy.

Blake and Company must be hiding in the helm/radio room. We head that way and find body parts everywhere. Some moving, some not. We head up the rungs and knock on the door. No answer so we kick it in. There they are, the five of them. Blake and the General are moving, the other 3 are not. Blake looks up and knows what’s coming.

“You knew this would happen.” She says.

“Yes, I did”. And with that, I pull her head completely off. Still conscious, I throw it to the General. He is in better shape than her.

“We need you, come on.” I say.

“I always hated this bitch, almost as much as Maslow” he scowls as he crushes it with his hands.

I believe him.

“Your friend Maslow is going to be ready for anything.” Spicer says. “He has Alliance, live and dead, ready to protect the island. He also has weapons, but I have an idea.”

We really do need this guy. I listen as he continues.

“We will move some Deads to this ship. How many you got over there? I imagine hundreds. We will have one of your men run the cruise ship aground spilling Deads all over the island tonight. You, me, and whoever else you got that can follow orders, will circle around to the other side in our ship. We will fire some big rounds into the island first and then do the same with this ship. You and I, however, will be in a dinghy headed in to shore a little west of the point where the ship will hit. Then it’s a rat hunt for Maslow. Guarantee he will be internal somewhere, held up. Probably in a hotel. We can find him. It might take a while, but we will find him.”

“Sounds good. What do you see as our chances of killing him and taking the island?” I ask.

“Zero to none.” He answers coldly. “We will kill him, but we have little chance of taking over that island. Too fortified. We will be lucky to get off the rock ourselves. We will need to find a ship there to get us out.”

“I am not leaving.” I say. “I am there to take over.”

The General looks at me and smiles. “Point taken.”

Night falls as we shuttle about a hundred infected to the General’s ship. We make sure it is full of Healthy remains to attract and keep our comrades busy. Bogle and the others stay on the cruise ship to run it aground at the dock, as far onto the beach as they can. They will try and get internal on the island to find Maslow as well. We will have more than enough men and women on board both ships to handle anything the island has in the way of protection. Spicer calls in an Alliance air strike for the same time. I guess they do still think he is alive.

We circle around in our ship and wait for 1030, our agreed upon time. We need to make sure that the ships hit the shore as close to the same time as possible. We want to hit near large docks to allow our people something to climb out on.

At full speed these large ships should both travel well inland and have ample exit ways, especially if the ship tips over.

It’s time.

We fire some rounds to the center of Hamilton and jump into the dinghy, leaving the ship aimed toward a large dock. We radio Bogle, and both ships are on their way. We head West and watch as the ship runs aground, smashing through wood and steal docks and screeching to a halt. I imagine the Deads leaving the ship and roaming the streets.

We then hear gunfire. Each has met resistance now. It goes on for a while until we hear Spicer’s air strike heading in. Communication is lost with Bogle as the planes light up our people. It must be a strike by Maslow! I turn to the General and he is smiling. He hands me the radio.

“Hello Mr. Madden, Dimitri Maslow here. Things didn’t go to plan did they? The General is an old friend of mine. If you look, you will notice he has a gun to your head.”

He does, and the others don’t even notice.

“Come and join me for a drink, won’t you?” Maslow says gentlemanly.

I should have known.

As we near the shore I have to ask. “You made them Frenzy and wanted Blake dead, didn’t you?”

“Roger that.” Spicer said. “She was crazy; I just used her for her supplies and contacts. As we got closer to Bermuda, I radioed Maslow and told him I had you. We struck a deal, one that neither of us will honor. I bring you to him and he gives me a position. I, of course, intend to kill him. That air strike got as many of Maslow’s men as ours, probably more. Most of our boys were still on the ship. They should be getting off about now. Maslow wasn’t expecting very many. I kinda dumbed down the total number. They will keep the rest of his men busy while we arrive at his door, invited guests. He is insane and easily manipulated. I assume you know I have nothing against you.” He puts the gun in his holster. “I also assume you are on board. The gun was so you would sound believable to that nut job.”

“Yeah, I’m on board.” I say, trying not to smile too much.

So, having a few minutes to think, I do just that. Things seem to have gotten easier. Spicer has set it up so we are invited to see Maslow. Our armies are on the island. Maslow’s forces are depleted. And Maslow is quite mad.

We get to shore and get out of the dinghy, 7 of us. The other 5 are slower witted than I would like. We head in, and they follow. We hear fighting to the East. Screams, and gunshots. Our boys must be doing well. Spicer’s radio comes alive with the familiar voice of Dimitri Maslow.

“General, we are at the Hilton, downtown. Penthouse. Please join us. Keep Madden alive. I want to talk to him before he dies.”

“No promises.” Spicer answers and smiles at me.

We start walking.

On the island we see mostly Healthies and a few infected. They are both heading to the interior of the island followed by our men. We walk down the street, hotels in the distance. We see the Hilton. We find a golf cart by the side of the road and use it for the rest of the trip. It is difficult negotiating the roads.

This is not as neat and well kept as Manhattan was under Maslow’s shepherding. It is filthy and deserted.

“I don’t think he had a lot going here General.” I say.

“Nope, looks as dead as he is.” He answers.

We head into the driveway of the hotel and 3 guards await us.

“Don’t worry, I got this. It’ll just take some diplomacy...” The General says.

He draws his gun and shoots all three in the head in less than a second.

A regular diplomat.

Then he looks at me and says “Lets head to the top.”

We don’t trust the elevator or the steps but those are our only choices.

“Even if he doesn’t want you alive, he won’t kill us both in the elevator.” Spicer says. We get in and head up. When we get to the top, the door opens. He pushes me out of the elevator, gives me a gun, and heads down the hall.

“I’ll head around the rear while you go in the front.” He says.

I go the other way, not really knowing where I am heading. Where is the front? I look down a hall and see a set of large double doors with two guards in front of them.

Of course this couldn’t be easy.

I ease back and lie down behind the corner and peer around with my semi-automatic rifle aimed at one of the guards. I will shoot the first one in the head, and then the second. Two quick shots like Spicer did to avoid making too much noise and it has to be fast, and it has to kill them. I clear my head, aim, and squeeze off one round and then aim at the other and squeeze off another. The first guard I hit in the neck, the second in the forehead. Number two goes down and so does number one. They were Healthies. Fair enough.

I run down the hall and throw open the penthouse door. I enter and see Maslow and Smith sitting at a table. They are arguing and Maslow shoots Smith. A guard grabs me but I swing around and bite deep into his Healthy neck. Maslow sees me and asks “Where is the General?!” while shooting three times. Two bullets go in my chest and one misses.

“The Healthies have betrayed me and are attacking. They want me dead!” he shouts nervously.

I return fire with all the rounds in my gun and hit him several times. He does not bleed. And he notices this.

“Where’s your blood, dead man?!” It’s the General’s voice. Smith, not dead, aims for Maslow but hits the General in the head. He drops instantly. Maslow shoots and kills Smith this time and his revolver is empty. He tries to reload but is having trouble. I, too, need to reload my gun to finish him off so I reach into my pocket to get some ammo.

The jacket is still stained with the blood of the dead soldier from New York. I am right in front of Maslow now, in pain from the shots to my chest.

“So you feel the need to finish me Mr. Madden?” Maslow says, his throat gaping from my gunshot. He has dropped his gun. I still feel the need to shoot him instead of attacking. I want to execute him. I root around and find a half empty clip. I load it up, and look for more. I feel something else at the very bottom of the pocket.

“...Even though I allowed you to live.” He continues. Feels like paper but I can’t tell what it is.

“You can’t DO THIS Madden. I can’t die!” He screams.

“You are dead, and always have been!” I shout back.

Then he looks at my chest and calmly says, pointing and smiling, “By the way, isn’t your first name Hetfield?”

I can barely get my fingers to grab whatever it is but I finally pull what turns out to be a picture of two people from my pocket. A man in his late 40’s and a teenage boy are at a lake. It’s a beautiful day in the photo.

“What did you do Madden?” The man who knows everything about me smiles and says. Then he laughs.

In the photo the sun is out and they are both smiling, the man’s arm around him. I feel the first chill in my spine I have felt in a long, long, while. I remember days like this with my son.

“WHAT DID YOU DO MADDEN?! DO YOU THINK IT WAS COINCIDENCE HE WAS THERE?!”

I remember endless fun, warmth, love, and happiness. I remember how the grass smelled; I’m so dizzy now.

“CAN YOU APPRECIATE THE DIFFICULTY FOR ME TO GET HIM THERE AT THE PRECISE TIME NECESSARY?! TO ALLOW WHAT HAD TO BE DONE?!”

I remember being happy. Loved. I remember holding the camera out in front of us and taking this picture. I just stare at the photo, unable to take my eyes off it. Maslow continues to laugh.

“Who really won, Mr. Madden? Who really won, indeed?” Maslow picks up his gun again, aims, and pulls the trigger but it’s empty.

I drop the photo and I look down at the name on the front of the jacket I am wearing, the one I took from the young soldier I ate and killed. The name reads M. MADDEN.

My God... My Michael... I feel sick... All I can do is fire all my bullets into Maslow’s forehead.

I stare down at the lifeless body of Maslow. I became consumed by my desire to kill him and now I had. I also killed my son. My Michael. I feel a loss like I have never felt before. I can’t see, I can’t hear, I can’t think. Even more dizzy now, I stagger back and fall against a wall. Sitting there, I can’t move. And then I lose consciousness....

17

Magnetic North

My dreams are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost (Well, sort of.)

I wake up in the dark and feel confined, wrapped up in something. I feel like I am inside a sack. I must have passed out from exhaustion from all the gunshots. It takes a head shot to kill us, but trauma can knock us out for a bit. I feel around and find a zipper and realize I am in a body bag. I work a finger through the top of the zipper and pull down to unzip it from the inside. I slowly peer out and see that no one is around. I seem to be in the cargo area of what looks like a plane. I can definitely feel that I am in the air. Two bodies are next to me. I assume they are Spicer and Maslow, but I have to check.

I get out and unzip the first bag; it’s Spicer, a bullet hole in his head. Maslow in the other bag, a mess from the ears up. I really unloaded on him. Both are dead. I zip up both bags. I have the worst migraine headache I can remember. I reach up to my forehead and feel a hole in my head right between my eyes where my hazmat brand is, or was.

What the?

I push further in, working my fingers in the hole until I feel a bullet. I am three inches into my skull, into my brain. I pull out the bullet and realize why someone might think I am dead. Someone shot me in the head. But it didn’t kill me. I still walk.

I still have my radio, so I get back in my bag, zip it up, and listen. I start to piece it together.

Maybe the air strike that General Spicer called in brought a rescue as well. They thought, as I was told, that he was alive when he called. They must have traced his phone and come to rescue him in the hotel. They came in, shot me, and that’s why I passed out. But why would they take my dead body with them? None of it makes sense. I feel around the hole in my forehead with my fingers and keep listening.

The radio says there are 3 planes and we are heading North to the Alliance’s Eastern Base of Operations in Newfoundland. I can’t imagine too many of us up there in that cold. What did Maslow mean when he said he got Michael there for me to kill “to allow what had to be done”? Sorrow is slowly being replaced by rage over Michael’s death and I want answers, and I want to bring down the Alliance if it’s the last thing I do.

I continue to listen and one of the voices on the radio sounds familiar. I recognize the woman. That’s Chris...

“Are you listening, Mr. Madden?” she says.

I tear open the bag and sit up. I turn around and in the doorway of the cockpit I see her. She is wearing a rather tight leather flight suit and smiles at me. I had forgotten how beautiful she was, or is. She must have heard my radio. I get up and walk toward her.

“Did you miss me?” She says coyly. “I heard you moving in here and new you were OK. We heard Spicer call in the air strike and flew down to find him and Maslow, hoping you might be there. Found you all dead, sort of. I just knew we’d find you, Het!” she says as she runs over and hugs me. “Like the outfit? The leather keeps our bodies strong and together. We have one for you.”

I can barely get words out; “You’re alive... How?” I can see into the cockpit over her shoulder. Bob is flying the plane. Yes, that Bob.

He looks at me and groans “A lot to talk about.”

“We are better than we ever were before, Het. It’s The Vaccine. It is more than we ever could have imagined. That’s how I knew you weren’t really dead.” Chris explains. “I woke up after the battle we had in Manhattan in a lot of pain. I didn’t remember much. I could not move and my back was snapped in half. The pain was unbearable, especially my head. I lay awake for hours and fell in an out of consciousness. I dreamt of you, Het, and of finding you. I “came to” once and found I could move my arms and I reached up and felt a hole in my head, like yours I see.”

I nod, still in disbelief.

“I reached in and pulled out a bullet!” She continues. “I had been shot in the head, but was not dead. I then noticed that my back was fairly straight. It wasn’t perfect yet and I couldn’t walk. I pulled my self around the building looking for food, and answers. I eventually passed out again, and when I woke up my back was straight enough so I could stand. And I could see out of the eye you pushed back in my head. I healed, Het. See, my eye works!”

She points to the eye she had cut out to prove her dedication to Stout; as I watched back on Manhattan. I felt bad about it, but could never tell her. It was working, and moving in the socket. Amazing.

“We heal, the virus I mean, it heals us and regenerates nerves. Unless we are the virus, then we do it, I don’t know.”

“I believe you!” I say as I reach up to touch the hole in my head. “There was a bullet in my brain, too, and I pulled it out! But how did he?” I say pointing to Bob.

“Het after I came back, I walked down the stairs to the street and Bob was wandering around. His eyes were no longer pushed into his head and the wound where you tore his heart out wasn’t gaping any longer. His heart probably didn’t grow back or anything, but the wounds healed.” I notice his eyes look fine now. It would make sense that he had no heart. Wrath, his body, doesn’t need the heart, so why regenerate a new one.

“I see again.” Bob groans from the cockpit. “No heartbeat”.

“I saw many others that had been vaccinated that had come back.” Chris says. “Some in good shape, ready to fight. From what I can figure, the ones that were vaccinated are like us, the ones who got The Vaccine from food by eating the Healthies we filled with The Vaccine, they had it wear off.”

Of course, that’s why so many reverted back. The Vaccine, the one Chris and I gave ourselves in the lab has made us sort of, immortal, it seems, but only by vaccination. Taken orally it didn’t work for long. Immortal, right... I mean if we get blown up or something we would surely die, I think, but a simple head shot won’t do it. But Bob? I can’t explain it. Maybe his experiments went farther than mine when we worked together? Perhaps he was injected by someone other than me that night Allen, Brown, Smith, and I went out. That would explain it.

“But how did you get a plane?” I say.

“We took it.” She smiles. “Bob was in the Air Force when he was alive and remembered how to fly. The other two planes are loaded with Deads like us, ready to fight. There are at least 50 of us. We even had 4 more pilots in the ranks, Het! We are headed for the North, to hit the Northern Alliance hard. They are weak right now, as far as we can tell, and this is the time to strike. It’s warm up there now, it’s warm everywhere now. You need to go much farther north to keep a freeze all year. The climate is really changing, almost to accommodate us. We have a window where Deads could be “waking up” from the cold and we can inject them with The Vaccine and make quite an army. We are also going to need information, and I have plenty of vaccine.” She said, holding up a briefcase. “And this isn’t the only briefcase.”

The two people who could help us most were on the floor in body bags. “I get it Chris, we can inject General Spicer and Maslow and get info!” I shout.

“Yes, exactly” She says, “But I don’t know if it will work.

They are in bad shape, especially Maslow. And if it does work we have to control Maslow; we could tie him up first. Then, make him think The Vaccine needs to be retaken for immortality so he will do what we want... But it is possible he will want to cooperate in bringing down the Northern Alliance. They abandoned him and he knows it... I’m fairly sure he will be a willing participant and the General will be here to help, too.”

We get to work. First we unzip the General’s bag. He is ice cold. The head shot isn’t too bad, bullet went in and out fairly cleanly. We decided to tie him up for his own safety. Don’t know how this will work, if it even does, but we don’t want him to hurt anyone, especially us. We then unzip Maslow’s bag. He, too, is cold, but his shot is much messier. I got him from close range several times.

“I’m gonna have to put his head back together, like your eye. Hopefully The Vaccine will heal it up. It won’t be pretty.” I tell Chris. “Is there any duct tape on the plane.”

I was serious.

She finds some and helps me set his skull and tape it back together. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing. We tie him up as well. Chris injects them both with The Vaccine. Now all we can do is wait.

Chris and I sit up against the plane wall together. It is a cargo plane, no seats. She unzips her flight suit. Still beautiful, but The Vaccine hasn’t healed all of her wounds. Not the ones she had received before The Vaccine. But they do seal up. This concerns me, and she can tell.

“I think we got The Vaccine into them in time. I know it doesn’t heal wounds from before the actual time of vaccine, but logically if given this quickly afterward it could. I have never tried to reanimate a Dead with a headshot, but remember your neck after you took The Vaccine?” She asks.

The neck wound where Gena had cut me did heal after I injected myself with The Vaccine.

“The General had adrenalin bonded to his DNA and Maslow did, too, so that may help.” I say.

“Now on another note...” she says as she squirms completely out of her suit. “Do you still like what you see?” Completely naked, she kisses me. She is still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and I tell her. Every sore, open wound, and bone deep cut is perfect. After we get re-acquainted a bit we fall asleep to the sound of the engines. Chris is back and it feels wonderful.

I wake up to Bob’s voice. “We have to stop for fuel on the way.” He shouts from the cockpit.

“No getting around it.” Chris said. “Bob, we can go up the coast flying low over airports. If they aren’t on fire they probably have fuel. Let’s start in Raleigh, N.C. and go from there.”

“Good.” He says.

Chris puts her clothes on, and I try on my new flight suit. It is tight but it does hold everything together and will be good in a fight. I take one last look as Chris squeezes her chest into her suit. She sees me watching and smiles.

We move over to the two bodies. No movement. I remember that the virus does generate heat so I feel the General. He is no longer cold to the touch. I feel Maslow and he still feels cold.

“Let’s hit them again, right near the head wounds.” I suggest.

Chris nods and shoots them both up again. Just then I notice General Spicer’s eyes moving under his eyelids, like REMs when you dream. They are moving very rapidly now. I open his mouth and put a piece of wood between his teeth for him to bite down on. Not fast enough getting back, however. He bites off the pinky on my left hand. It hurts a little but not enough to concern me.

“I hope it doesn’t get infected.” I joke.

Chris smiles as we hold him still. All at once his eyes open and he screams out for a good solid minute. His pores leak black pus and he bites through the wood in his mouth.

He calms down and looks at me and groans “Am I alive? What the fuck, over?”

I think he is referring more to the ropes he is tied with than his reincarnation.

We make sure he is not dangerous and untie him. We explain it all and he is fascinated by the hole in his head as we were with ours, touching it as he looks around the cargo bay. His facial features are over exaggerated and twitchy. He moves constantly, rhythmically, a lot like Donny Minutes did back on Manhattan. Maybe the extra dose it took to kick start him did some damage? Hard to tell but he seems cognizant and aware.

He notices Maslow. “Oh what the Hell is this? You brought me back now you’re bringing this piece of shit back? No way!”

He lunges but we hold him fast. It takes little effort, he is very clumsy and slow.

“We need him for information, to bring down the Alliance!” I scream.

“Now why would I want to do that?” Spicer asks and then screams. “Those are my people, they are my men!”

“Not any more!” I counter. “Do you think they will do anything but shoot you if they see you like this? A Dead!”

Just then a voice comes over the speaker.

“This is Captain Fenn of the Northern Alliance. Identify yourself immediately. You are flying over the N.A.S. Harbinger.”

“One of our ships!” Spicer says. “Gimme that microphone.” He demands as he drags himself over and takes it off the hook of the cargo bay radio. “This is General John Spicer, Northern Alliance Armed Forces. Security Code Alpha Watchdog 778. We are headed North on a return mission.”

A voice comes back “General they told us you were dead, or a Dead. That you had come back like your family. We had to destroy them, Dalia and the kids. They were infected. Glad you are alive and well sir.”

Spicer looks dumfounded.

Knowing that his family was more than likely sentient like he was, if not as aware. Their lives were taken without warning. Like animals.

“Thank you, Spicer out.” He says, then looks away. “Don’t even look at me, I need to think.”

With that he shuffles slowly off to sit in a corner. His motor skills are not coming back too well. Not willing to take a chance, Bob hands the controls to his copilot and sits far enough away to let Spicer think, but near enough to make sure that’s all he does.

Chris and I move to Maslow. He is starting to feel warm, especially his head under the tape. I feel it and it seems solid. I remove the tape from his mouth and jaws and see the muscles in his face twitch. He is reanimating.

“I’ll be right back”, Chris says as she heads into the cockpit.

Just then Maslow begins to speak.

“Where am I? Who is this?” He asks.

“It’s me, Madden.”

“Madden, what have you done?! Why can’t I see?” He faintly moans.

I don’t think he remembers.

“It’s a, uh, bandage over your head, we rescued you from the Northern Alliance. They attacked you and tried to kill you.” I say.

I continue to take off the tape and when I am done it reveals a very incomplete reanimation. The pieces of the head have fused together, but everything above the middle of the nose and ears is a mass of semi-healed flesh. Nothing is distinguishable, no features just scar-like tissue. He can obviously hear and speak, but he is blind and looks to remain so.

The head pulsates as he moans. “They blinded me. The pain is unbearable.”

“They attacked us, as well. And we are headed to Newfoundland to get revenge.” I explain.

Maslow speaks as his head tilts back. “Newfoundland was only a small concentration of the Alliance. Their main location is Nuuk, Greenland. Always cold, so cold. Too many Deads in Newfoundland, after the Corner Brook Revolt against the Alliance. It got warm and they rose. The Alliance retreated to Nuuk; and the ones who couldn’t hid in the Mountains. There is a flourishing Dead population there. And ships, I would imagine. We can land there and get an army together. We can kill them all for what they did to me!”

Still thinks its all about him.

Chris comes back in and asks who I am talking to. I look at Maslow and he is motionless, but alive. We leave him tied up and he eventually falls unconscious, or asleep, however you want to look at it.

We look over at Spicer and Bob is eating one of his legs.

“He doesn’t need to walk. Too dangerous.” He says.

Spicer doesn’t seem to miss it and it’s too late to do anything now.

Chris screams “Your finger! Look!” I look down at the pinky finger Spicer bit off and notice it is still gone but the tip of what looks like a stump is rounded and healed. It looks like it is growing back.

“Lets see what happens with Spicer’s leg.” I say almost matter-of factly. I am also interested to see what happens with the finger. It feels very warm to the touch.

We continue on and we are over land now, heading to the Raleigh airport. We flew over the Fayetteville Army Base and it is ablaze. Charlotte is a bigger city, but big cities don’t last long. Raleigh-Durham airport is about the right size to have survived.

Also, Maslow keeps repeating “RDU, fuel there” to me, the IATA airport code for Raleigh-Durham International. He has been saying a lot of things, strange things, but only to me. And with his head tilting back, it’s like he is in a trance. I didn’t pay much attention until he started saying things to me only I would know. My grandmother died when I was 10. Maslow said “Grandma watches her boy of 10 from the grave, never blinks.” Ok, so it’s an even chance my grandmother was dead, all of our mothers were probably dead by now.

Then he grabbed me and said “Madden, your vaccinating bite killed Michael but also helped give him eternal life and more.”

I stared at him, not believing what he was saying.

“He is alive, Madden!” I thought for a moment. Of course! I could probably pass The Vaccine off with a bite! I didn’t do enough to kill Michael, so he must have regenerated like me, like Chris.

I grabbed Maslow, pleading with him. “Where is he, where is Michael?”

“The Cabox” he said.

“Chris, Bob, what is The Cabox?!” I shout.

“The what?” Chris says.

“The Cabox, where or what is it? Michael is there!” I shout.

“Who is Michael?” She asks me. I never told her.

“The Cabox are the mountains on Newfoundland Island.” A gruff voice mumbles. It was Spicer. “Where you bastards killed my men! And ate them alive!” Bob had removed his other leg by now and neither was growing back.

Michael is in Newfoundland. I want to believe.

“Are you sure?!” I demanded from Maslow.

Nothing. He was out. I took Chris aside and told her everything about Michael. She agreed that the bite could indeed pass The Vaccine, but doubted Maslow’s ranting. Why did no one else hear him speak? I had to believe. I wanted to believe. He may be setting me up, but I hold the hope that my son is alive in my heart, and it adds to the fire that keeps me going.

We fly over RDU and there are no fires. We land and there are Deads. They initially come toward us but when they realize we are dead, too, they don’t bother us--so we don’t bother them. There is plenty of fuel, just like Maslow said. All three planes refuel and we head to Newfoundland. It is hard for me not to view Maslow as a clairvoyant. I know he has fooled me before, but when you want to believe, the person telling you what you want to hear has great power. Chris sees this and has told me she will watch out for me. If I get out of hand following Maslow too much she will keep me in check. Spicer has been completely de-limbed by Bob and just sits in the corner threatening to kill us all and help the Alliance defeat us. Maslow is tied up. We all get some much needed sleep.

I awake to Maslow. “Finger.” he repeats over and over. I get it. I look down and my pinky has grown nearly all the way back. It is translucent and clear in color and is entirely vestigial. But it is back. Still no legs or arms on Spicer though. Looks like Bob has started in on his organs. Chris and I are hungry so we eat a bit too.

He can no longer talk, his diaphragm contracts uselessly within his abdomen. He silently “screams” at us but is a mass of facial ticks and shaking. We believe this is more The Vaccine not “taking” on him than Bob’s butcher work.

I decide to ask Maslow some more questions. Personal stuff only I would know. “Maslow, what was my first dog’s name?” I ask. “Jenna.” he says. Jenna was my first girlfriend.

Funny.

Maslow was talking in riddles. Probably on purpose, the bastard. So that’s kind of right, but not spot on. I tell Chris so she tries.

“What is my Mother’s middle name?” Maslow said nothing for a few minutes. Why won’t he talk to anyone but me?

Then he says “I had nothing to say to them, Mr. Madden. As to your question, my lady, I cannot answer.”

I look perplexingly at Chris, while glad she finally hears him speak.

“My Mother didn’t have a middle name.” She whispers to me. Again, not the real answer but not wrong.

Bob speaks up. "Why do I feel nothing?”

Maslow comes right back “Your heart is but a memory, it can no longer sing.” Ok he somehow knew Bob’s heart was gone, but the riddles were getting old I thought. But at least he is talking so everyone can hear. He closes his eyes and falls unconscious again. Chris gets up and heads to the cockpit; I stay seated next to Maslow.

As soon as she is in the seat he whispers. “Hate a man for prose, Mr. Madden? It is a long trip and I thought a little flair would keep us busy.”

I knew he was doing this Nostradamus thing on purpose.

“So how do you know all this?” I ask.

“I don’t know. This gift is perhaps a result of the vaccination you gave me, or the blindness forcing me to use other senses. I truly don’t know. The year is strange, 2012, and I studied alchemy a great deal. I feel enlightened by my limitations! But know this. I do remember you shooting me, Mr. Madden. I did shoot first, so I suppose I deserved it. What I said about your son I do believe, even though I enjoyed the pain you felt about killing him. I can see these things, and I want the Alliance to crumble. They turned on me before you arrived in Bermuda. Sent spies to kill me! I know that you are a necessary evil in my life, and I in yours. I will not lie to you. I have nothing to gain from it. You wanted to kill me and you did. I suppose if you want to do it again you will, but I think not. Especially if I can lead you to your son. And I can, Mr. Madden, I certainly can... and I will. I must. It is destiny. I feel different, larger.”

Chris is beside me. “What are you doing? Is he awake yet?”

I turn back and Maslow is passed out. Did I dream that?

“No,” I stammer, “He’s still out.

Chris looks away and a little smile crosses Maslow’s lips.

This is going to be a long flight....

18

Terra Nova

A wise son maketh a glad father.

-Proverbs 10:1

I sit against the plane wall with Chris’ head on my shoulder and I listen to the hum of the engines; A rare moment of peace that I truly enjoy. I can feel the vibration in my chest and I hum along with it like I did to the fan in my room as a boy. I drift in and out of dreams and wish for a day when I can see Michael again.

“Madden.” Maslow loudly whispers. “Madden come here now, I need to speak to you.”

I slip away from Chris. “What do you want?”

“Madden, I can feel things I never could.” He actually sounds sincere. “In my soul... I can hear the voices of all the dead, I can feel their pain. There are many more of us than we would imagine. And we all hurt the same. You have to lead us, you have to rescue us from our own anger and fear and deliver us into the future. We can have a world of our own, where we thrive... and it all starts with Michael. This is a strange time, an epiphany. Man lived the wrong way, used the earth and each other for his own gain. And lost all spirituality and faith... and fear. Don’t you see? We all had to die for our sins. But heaven didn’t want us. God turned his back on us and left us to live out eternity Godless. He is gone, and he is not coming back. They are all gone, all the gods. Humankind is finally alone, soulless. I think he took our souls with him and that’s why we cannot pass. That’s why we are here for good. And that’s why we need you to lead us to Michael. You must reach out to him. He has already started to lead his people in Newfoundland. He is not a peaceful savior, he is a Lion. Maybe he is who you are thinking he may be right now, but you doubt he is. He is a man, a dead man who has returned like we have. But he is also much more. As am I. You have to deliver us, Het Madden, to where we can thrive.”

And with that he was gone. Not dead, but lifeless.

“He’s right Het...” Chris had heard the whole thing. “You have to lead us; lead us all. I believe in you.”

It had been an entire day and we were nearing Newfoundland. We were going to land in Corner Brook, the old Capital. Very near The Cabox where Maslow said Michael was.

“See Newfoundland.” Bob mumbles. “Descent soon”.

I look out the window and see a burst, an explosion.

“Northern Alliance Anti-Aircraft fire!” Bob shouts.

More black smoke bursts on all sides. Bob and the other pilots frantically climb higher and turn sharply left toward Labrador. Chris is on the radio listening.

“This is not Northern Alliance gun fire, there is no chatter. I don’t know who it is, I.” when she is interrupted by an awake Maslow.

“Its MIIIIIIIIICCCCCHHHHHAAAAAAAAEEEELLLLLLL!!!” he shrieks.

I grab the radio.

“Michael Madden, is Michael Madden out there. This is Hetfield Madden, your father.”

Just then one of the other planes in our group radios that their engine is hit. We run to the cockpit and can see them. Their wing falls off and they’re gone. There are two planes left.

“Michael, if you are there. Remember the Carousel at Ocean City. We would go there every year for your Spring Break when you were young. One year we saw the St. Patrick’s Day parade and you got so many beads from the floats you couldn’t see your chin. Remember?”

I continue talking to no one it seems. We are hit with gunfire, as is the second plane. We have to land now.

“Michael, it’s me your father. I’m sorry I wasn’t there more, I’m sorry for a lot more than that. You have to answer me; you have to be down there. I need you to be down there. I need you to be...”

We hear a crackle and then “Dad? Is that really you?”

“Yes it’s me!” I shout

The gunfire stops.

“Land your planes at the Corner Brook Airport. We will come to you. Out.” Chris says

“He is trying to maintain radio silence. Still when we land, I don’t know what to expect.” I say.

“Hold on.” Bob warns as we dive toward the airstrip.

The plane shudders and moans as we lose altitude. We have been hit many times, like our sister plane, and we hope we can land. Bob pulls out of the dive and hits the ground. It’s rough but we ease down the runway. The other plane comes close and cartwheels down the tarmac and bursts into flames. Everyone is gone but us.

Bob, Chris, Maslow, the copilot, and I deplane. We leave what’s left of Spicer. The remains are still alive, but far gone. It is cold, very cold. Not cold enough to stop us though. We wander around the airport for a while looking for food. There is no life, alive or dead.

“What is that noise?” Chris asks.

“I hear nothing, need to keep moving. Don’t trust Michael, don’t trust YOU!” Bob says as he pokes his finger into my chest.

Bob is entirely intelligent enough to speak correctly but chooses not to. I cock my arm to punch, and then I hear it, too. Is it wind, or no, it’s flapping. Like wings.

“Ruuuuun!” Chris yells. I look up and see what look like a sky full of birds heading toward us. Then I realize they are bats. We run toward the terminal, I am pulling Maslow with me. They are on us in no time. They circle all around us, taking tiny bites from us all and then they leave.

“They don’t eat carrion. They take souls.” A voice calls from inside the terminal.

I look up. It is my son. He is older. When he sees me, he knows... We walk toward each other and hug. It has been too long. We look at each other a while. Michael is tall and athletic, his hair is long and blond.

I think about this.

I bit him when he was a soldier with short hair. It could only have grown after he discorporated, after he died. None of our hair grows at all. He also does not seem to have decomposed at all, and I had eaten a good part of his flesh and organs and see very little, if any, evidence of this. He looks like a Healthy, but isn’t. I can tell by the smell, he is dead like us.

Interesting side effects of being injected with vaccine, by my bite, at the time of death perhaps... Very interesting. He is backed by 50 or so men and women. They are Deads and are not very advanced.

In my head, on the plane when I had time to think, I broke Deads into classes:

Chris and I are Class A. Sentient, as advanced as we were in our lives before we died.

Class B is Bob... Make that B+. Advanced, but not elegant.

Class C are made up of those who can take direction and free think, like Mike and Steve were.

Class D are shufflers but are aware, they live.

And Class F are just what you think. Reactors, flesh sacks, zombies. The folks with Michael are mostly Class C and below. I don’t know how to classify Michael yet. He is different.

“Sorry we shot you down, those were Alliance planes you were flying.” Michael says. “They come back down here and attack us sometimes. The island is ours, they hide north in Greenland where it’s too cold for anyone but me. I don’t know why, but I am different. Like you... Dad.”

“Michael this is Christine. Bob, my boss you probably remember. This is...”

I didn’t know the copilot and don’t remember actually seeing him until we deplaned.

“Gerasene Legoni.” he said. He looked to be Class A like us. As intelligent as us, but hiding something.

I continued “And this is Dimitri Maslow.”

“We know each other, Hetfield.” Maslow smiles and says.

“Yes, Dimitri continually sent me weapons and supplies to ensure I forced back the Alliance and took Newfoundland for us. He shipped humans to us for food and supplied our army up here. But what happened to you Dimitri?”

“Your father blew my head off, literally. Then he put it back together, poorly.” Maslow happily told Michael. “If you are wondering why you are so far ahead of your followers, ask your father. In fact, you two should go sit down. When he gets to the part about how he was the Dead that killed you, you’ll probably want to be sitting down.”

Michael looks confused and frustrated. I take him into the terminal and let Chris and Bob get acquainted with Michael’s people. I tell Michael everything. About how I attacked him. About The Vaccine that courses through his body. About the virus. About everything. It takes a while, but he understands. I then give him the picture I found in his jacket, the one of us. He takes it and smiles. He looks at me, and for a minute he is 13 again. I’m sorry for all the things I missed. If I could only go back. But first things first.

“Dad, I am different and I think you can tell. I don’t look like any of these people at all, I don’t even look like you. I look like one of the living, but I am dead. And I have strange new memories in addition to my own. Hold on, look at this.” He rolls up a sleeve and points to a scar that runs around his left arm. “My arm was blown off by mortar fire by the Alliance. In a weeks time it was completely back. It grew back. Does your vaccine cause this?”

I look down at my finger. It has grown back, but is still a bit translucent. I can, however, move it.

“Michael, I don’t know.” I say. “Maybe when I bit you getting the virus and vaccine from me at the same time did something to you. I know you noticed your skin and flesh doesn’t rot. Mine and Chris’ have stopped since The Vaccine and I have had this finger grow back. Chris had healed a broken back and a removed eye, but they are not as seamless a regrowth as yours. I would like to take some of your blood and do some experiments with it and The Vaccine.”

“Another thing...” He explains. “I don’t have to eat the living. I can, but I also like to fry up cod and eat them. The others get sick when they eat anything but living flesh. I don’t.”

I thought a while and I had to know. I went over to a snack machine in the terminal. It had been broken into so I picked up and unwrapped a bagel. I ate it and immediately vomited.

“I still can’t eat this trash, but you can. Strange...” I say.

“That candy is pretty old.” Michael says smiling.

“Even Still...” I grin. “I think I am looking at the answer to this virus. I think you hold the key to a vaccination to allow the dead to remain dead... to not reanimate. If the Alliance knew this they would capture you and use you to make vaccinations. Not that it would do much at this late date.”

“Oh it would do much, Gentlemen, it would do a much indeed...” Legoni had heard everything. “It would allow the dead to once again pass to the other side. There is an imbalance, can’t you feel it? This year, 2012, is a time of disaster or enlightenment, or both. The dead are walking the earth! Remember this is an abomination! This is a spiritual anomaly! Some say Deads should be allowed to thrive, to enjoy life. Look at them, soulless walking corpses! And you Hetfield, vaccinated and somehow convincing yourself you are alive. You are nothing more than a walking viral plague, like the rest. You are dead, you have no soul, He took it before he left. He left all of us. Michael Madden you hold the key to rebalance everything. To set things back the way they were, and I cannot let that happen. Your blood injected into Healthies would allow them to die, and allow their offspring to die. Now they reanimate, virus or not. Yes it is true everywhere, you knew Hetfield. Simply die and you come back. This isn’t just a virus, it is enlightenment! And it cannot be stopped, it must play out. It is my duty to see that it does. You must be eliminated!”

And with that Legoni draws a sword from under his coat and swings at Michael’s head. He buries the sword deep into the neck, nearly cutting his head off. Michael falls to the ground and Legoni runs off laughing madly. I look down at Michael as he pulls his head back into place. He looks at me and smiles. He was already regenerating everything needed to reattach the nearly severed head. In a few minutes he was up.

“Won’t be back to full strength for a couple hours.” He continues. “Do you know what he was talking about? Legoni? He sounded crazed.”

“Son, I think he may be another Maslow type. I know Maslow helped you, but he is a crazy bastard. I was told by a National Guard leader that there were many like Maslow, thinking they could save the world. He probably had an assignment by the Northern Alliance and it stuck in his head. Either way, look, he is still running.”

Out the window we could see him.

“Toward The Cabox. Could he be Northern Alliance?” I ask.

“Dad, the fight up here is hard and the Alliance have sent spies before, but I think he is just crazy.” Michael says, almost trying to change the subject. “I can only assume your folks are vaccinating my folks and we are going to build an army. I have to warn you though; we have 10 times this many back at The Cabox.”

I assure him “We have enough, it doesn’t take much. The virus spreads it once it is introduced into the body.”

“We are all acquainted and vaccinated.” Chris smiles as she opens the door to lean in the terminal. “What the Hell is up with Legoni? He ran into the hills.”

“Dunno.” I say. “He tried to kill Michael. And I bet we haven’t seen the last of him. Almost cut his head off, but look how it is healing. I know you have noticed Michael’s condition. I have to add his blood to The Vaccine, I hav..”

Chris cuts me off. “We can do experiments later, now we need to organize.” She leaves and walks out toward the rest.

Michael smiles at me and says “Nice pull, Dad.” I smile back. That’s my boy.

We head outside and to the other side of the tarmac where there are five open back trucks, big ones. We get in with Michael.

He shouts “Back home!” and we head back to his base. He explains “They do whatever I say, they need a leader. Sometimes, if they are injured I cut my arm and bleed into their wounds. They heal and become more like me, like you. They notice this and think I am something that I am not. I have been very successful against the Alliance, however.”

Maslow speaks “Michael you have done so much here.”

Michael says “Yes I take care of my people. We need a catalyst to get us going with our attack on Nuuk. We never had the proper transport or organization. The Vaccine will give us the organization to not only attack, but to come up with a method. It is a far journey, over 800 miles. Passage by ship is no good. However we have planes, but until now no pilots. It looks like we have one now, in Bob. He could fly a couple hundred of us near Nuuk. We could land on the ice... but then what.

“Wait, take us back to the plane!” I shout.

“Back to the plane!” Michael orders.

We turn around and head back. Once there, I go inside and search Spicer’s pockets. He has to have a “football” of some sort... A list of codes to identify himself to his armies. Inside jacket pocket is where I find it. A complete list of codes to launch an attack, order supplies, and most importantly, to identify himself. Jackpot.

“We can use these codes to manipulate the Northern Alliance into thinking General John Gordon Spicer is alive.” It worked with that ship we flew over. It will work now.

We need to come up with a plan, and a good one.

“OK here’s what we do.” Michael begins. “We split the Alliance up. Slowly at first. We order an attack on Corner Brook. A Sea and Ground attack. We can order it in the General’s name. Have them send 200 or so men. We will surround them, newly intelligent from the vaccination you gave my people, eating some, turning some.

Then we have guns.

Next we simply call back and say the attack was successful. We have the codes. We can tell them to send more of their folks in planes, to assess.

Then we have planes.

We will keep going as long as we can. Eventually we will make a dent, a big one. But before any of this can happen, we need a reconnaissance mission to see what they have in Nuuk. How many, how well defended. We need information. We need spies.”

“The obvious choices are Bob, Chris, and I.” I say. “We can take a small plane to Nuuk and land on the ice near there. We have the codes so if anyone questions over the radio, we should be able to talk our way out. But a plane that small? They aren’t going to notice, I’m quite sure.

We are taking Maslow with us. The crazy bastard does have an actual clairvoyance, and in an informal casting call, would definitely do the best Spicer impersonation. We will wait until early afternoon tomorrow to leave. That will get us near Nuuk near dark.

We eventually get back to The Cabox. There are probably 500 Deads here, including Legoni.

“Head is back, I see. Forgive me, I had to see it for myself. The 2012 prophecy lives in you. You are the Anomaly, the Abomination.”

I don’t know why, but we let him stay.

“No more of that shit, Legoni, or we will tear you apart.” I say.

“If only.” Legoni answers in a very strange way.

Milling about, Class Cs and below. There are buildings they use as shelter. I still haven’t figured out the food situation so I ask Michael.

“The small towns around here still have people and we hunt a few times a week. They are trapped here and can’t leave so that is good for us. We keep some in the buildings over there at the edge of the tarmac. They live on fish, we live on them.” Michael explains. “We don’t need to eat a whole lot. Probably due to the cold. Like I said, I can eat cod, but the rest need the living flesh, as you know.”

I ask, “Any problem with Frenzy up here. You know, the sudden community urge to kill all around you? Michael looked at me perplexed.

“Why would we just want to kill each other?” I explain Frenzy and he assures me that doesn’t happen here.

Chris and I each have a needle and we mingle through the masses giving vaccines. We only need to dip the needle in vaccine and prick each of them. It doesn’t take much with an injection when the subject is alive. We have Michael and Bob help. After a few hours we are confident we got most everyone. It shouldn’t be long now, maybe by morning, we start seeing some Class B soldiers waking up.

I have to ask Chris “Where did you get this Gerasene Legoni guy?”

She says “I don’t know, Het, and neither does Bob. We talked about it. He was just on the plane. That’s all we remember. He was on the plane. I must have forgot. Memory goes sometimes and you know Bob.”

Yeah I guess. Gerasene Legoni... The name sounds familiar. But I have forgotten a lot, too. I will look into it and watch him. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Deads just don’t appear, we all have a story. We all have a reason. With that we decide to get some rest. It’s cold, so we all lie in a group to stay warm.

Except Legoni.

He sits awake by the fire. Staring into it like he’s thinking about something. Or someone...

19

The Devil You Know

And he asked him, "What is thy name?”

And he answered, saying, "My name is Legion:

for we are many.”

-Gospel of Mark, 5:9

I wake up to the sounds of Legoni examining the nearly completely healed wound on Michael’s neck. I put Legoni in a choke hold while Michael wakes up.

“I was only looking at the healing!” Legoni screams. “Release me!” I let him go. “I am coming with you on the mission to the Alliance.” He says. “I know them and I loathe them. And I can take you to their front door.”

“Absolutely not, you crazy son of a bitch. I want you no where near this mission. You nearly cut off my son’s head to watch it grow back. To Hell with you!” I say as I let him go.

“Not going back there, Hetfield, not again...” Legoni mumbles.

Another strange thing to say.

I walk over to Maslow and ask “Dimitri who is this fuck anyway?”

He turns toward me and says “He could be a Northern Alliance spy, he could just be crazy, or he could be the Devil himself. I myself am leaning toward the latter in the form of the Gerasene Demon.”

“The what?” I say.

“The Gerasene Demon.” He says.

“In the New Testament of the Bible, a man possessed by numerous demons encounters Jesus Christ and calls himself Legion. Legoni, I mean Legion, obviously afraid of Christ, begs to be spared from being sent back to Hell. Jesus casts the demons out of the man, granting their request, and allows them to dwell in a herd of pigs. The pigs then drown themselves in the Sea, and I feel, return to Hell anyway. Perhaps God did turn his back on earth, leaving us all to rot, here. A virus to blame. Even God has to operate within the physical laws of this world. Remember the flood? With God gone, Heaven and Hell went with him, and so did any divine order. Angels and Demons would have been left without a heaven or Hell, without this divine order. Would war erupt resulting in the death of demons and angels alike? Would they come back, lost perhaps? Their souls entering available dead humans about to reanimate. They are forced to share the bodies, and personalities, with the former owner. The realization of this would be slow in the mind of an infected soul. Maybe they walk the earth in the form of crazy evil co-pilots and long lost sons? All we need to have happen to confirm your wildest dreams is for Michael to throw Legoni to pigs. But, alas, there aren’t any in Newfoundland. So sorry Mr. Madden...”

With that he turns away and ignores me.

Demons? Well the dead are walking, wasn’t it only a matter of time until the Devil showed up? I think Legoni may think he is the Devil, or demons, or a demon, but I doubt it. No one else heard Maslow ranting, and I prefer to keep that story to myself.

Save for one part.

I see Legoni sitting under a tree. I walk to him and say “Are there any pigs in Newfoundland?” He looks at me. I walk away. Then he growls. “I am not one to toy with, Mr. Madden.” He says. I just keep walking.

Bob and Chris are loading up a small plane with Michael. “Michael,” I say. “Chris and I will do this run without Bob or Maslow. Bob, stay here and keep that nut job Legoni away from my son.”

“I agree.” Bob groans.

“Who will fly the plane?” asks Chris.

“I will.” I say. “I can’t fly cargo jets, but I did get a license to fly a Cessna like this. Used to fly advertisements up and down the beach when I was in college. I have hundreds of hours, just never pursued it much after school.” I explained.

It is time to leave. We get in the plane. I start the engine and have no trouble remembering how to fly. I was kind of worried that the memories wouldn’t come.

Chris looks at me. “I knew you would remember. Now let’s go take a look at our competition.”

The plane is a single engine top wing with skis under the wheels. Empty mailbags are in the back of the plane so I know what the plane was used for. I am relieved knowing the plane was maintained for mail delivery and not for flying to the mainland once a year. We take off and the hum of the engine is again relaxing, and the view of the ice and snow below is quite spectacular.

“Chris, If I said I thought Legoni may be the Devil, or a Demon, what would you think?”

She answers “Het, with all the shit we’ve been through, demons in our midst are not beyond the boundaries of my belief system anymore. Not much is. Did Maslow put this idea in your head?”

“Yeah.” I say. “Legoni anagrams to Legion, the demons in the bible that Jesus cast out.”

“So say he is a demon, Het.” She says. “Then what? What does he want? Or maybe he is an angel. I have read the Old Testament and angels are tough, and even murderers in some Jewish text. They also bring news of bad things to come. I wouldn’t worry about it. Bob admires Michael and will not let anything happen to him at the hands of Legoni, demon or not.”

As the sky darkens up we can see land. We are very low to avoid radar, and we can see the lights of Nuuk. We turn sharply East and look for a place on the ice to land far enough away to avoid being identified, and close enough to trek there.

It will be below 0 degrees Celsius, freezing. We are well dressed, layered several times over, and we heavily oiled our skin before leaving Newfoundland to seal in warmth. We have radios and pistols we got from Michael. We should be fine.

I look over at Chris and she is reading the map. “Het, we should be coming up on a perfect spot to set her down. Then we’ll have about a 5 mile walk to Nuuk. We can land the plane, get some rest, and wake up fresh. It would be nice to move at night, but the day may bring above freezing temperature this time of year. And that will make it possible to walk. Healthies moved up here to be freed from Deads by the cold. But they didn’t count on us!”

We both laugh.

I come up on the landing area just as Chris said and I set the plane down. We get in the back seat and settle in for the night. We rest in each other’s arms.

Morning comes with a polar bear sniffing at our plane. Before I can say anything, Chris puts a bullet in its head.

“Those things are killers. We don’t need the attention it will draw to us. Plus we can cut it up and use the fur to keep warm tonight on the outskirts of Nuuk.” She says.

We get out of the plane and slice the fur off the bear and each take half. The bloody fur feels warm around me.

She points and says “Nuuk is that way, looks like we’re walking.” But before we can head towards the city, I look in the plane window and in the front seat... It’s Legoni. I look at Chris but she already sees. He gets out.

“Good morning lovely and brisk, isn’t it? Shall we walk to Nuuk?”

I ask “How did you get here, what did you...”

“I got on the plane with you both in Newfoundland. Didn’t say much. And here we are. Please, follow me...”

Chris and I look at each other and decide to follow. He continues to talk.

“Mr. Madden, while we walk I have some knowledge that may be of interest to you. Your son Michael was taken from you by Maslow and your employer, GenCap. It seems your devotion to him interfered with your work. They paid your wife off, and threatened the life of Michael, so she left you and took your son. Of course, you were depressed for a bit, but that ended, and GenCap has a way of getting you to throw yourself into your work. Especially a man who’s weakness is green and made of paper. Money, Mr. Madden, made you do what they told you to do. Nice cars, vacations, ladies, or should I say women. You were well paid and well laid, Mr. Madden... and in regards to your son you thought “That bitch can have him, he loved her more anyway.”

He was right about it all. I don’t know how he knows, but he does. He knows more than I cared to remember.

He continued. “And you Ms. Wells. The things you did to get through medical school were creative and carnal. You slept with every professor, attending physician, and even a few of your friends fathers, and mothers, for grades, money, and drugs. You were a whore, Christine, nothing else describes it. A dirty little whore who wanted nothing more than to succeed and stay high. Your first meth lab was in your apartment in college. Your last was on Manhattan. You even slept your way to your position in the CDC.”

“You are lying, you son of a bitch. Het that is not true!” Chris shouts.

“I know, he is trying to get in our heads. Don’t let him.” I say.

I can tell he was spot on about Chris, but don’t care. Was I really that different? And who is this... man? I now want to follow him more than ever, and Chris isn’t stopping either.

“Who are you, Legoni?” I ask, wanting to hear it from him.

“Let’s just say, I no longer dwell with pigs.”

Chris looks at me. We know who he is. I think Maslow was right. I think the figure I am following to Nuuk, Greenland, with the woman I love is the Devil himself. The Apocalyptic turn my life has taken is at the same time shocking, yet not unexpected. God left, but Satan didn’t. Why would he? This is what he has been waiting for. A world where heaven is gone, and Hell is on earth.

“Go ahead, either of you, ask me anything. We have a good walk ahead.” Legoni says invitingly.

Instead I tell Chris what I think.

“Chris, the man we follow today is exactly who you think. He is the Devil himself.”

Legoni shakes his head.

“He appears where he wants, he knows thinks about us no one could, and is probably going to kill us.” I say calmly.

“Mr. Madden,” Legoni begins. “You watched too many movies in your previous life. I am a former AIA agent who still has network access to Northern Alliance files.”

He holds up a Blackberry.

“I simply entered your names. Nuuk has an operational grid. And if I wanted you dead you would be dead already. I am taking you to Nuuk to show you the condition of the Mighty Alliance, or should I say Paper Tiger. Weapons are quite useless without fuel and ammunition, and the Alliance has little of both. They do things sparingly and limit attacks to offensive posturing and defensive hiding.” He whips the dogs pulling our sled and they speed up. I look at Chris and she looks back. When did we get on this sled?

“We all got on the sled by the plane.” Legoni adds. “The cold does strange things to the mind of the Dead. Short Term Memory Loss is the biggest problem; as you are experiencing.”

We race on through the desolate Greenland landscape.

“There in the distance, Nuuk and the Northern Alliance.” Legoni proudly announces.

We approach Nuuk a few miles away but in an instant, we are off the sled and walking the street. It is quiet at first but soon a wild throng of Alliance citizens rush out to greet Legoni and the way they stare at Chris and me can only be described as ravenous.

“Mr. Legoni, you have brought the infidels you prophesized?” A large woman asks. “The leader of the thinking dead that threatens our existence. You brought him to slaughter, to burn?”

“No!” Legoni shouts. “Everyone be calm!”

My God they are his people, and there are hundreds including soldiers.

“This is the Father of the demon Michael that would eat your children as soon as speak their names! We can use this man, and his whore, to barter for what we want. I implore you not to harm our leverage to bring down the residents of Deadland, to defeat them, and to live lives with no fear.” He finishes, looks at us, and says “Trust me, I will keep you alive. Follow me to my home.”

Armed guards come and escort us to a house built into a hill. The crowd dissipates and there is not a sound. We enter the home and are invited to sit down. Legoni closes the door.

“Het, Chris, if I were Satan would I only lead this small area of the earth? You once believed I didn’t exist, so you must still believe I don’t. Just think of me as an agent for the Allied Intelligence Agency. Forgive me, I am remiss in my manners, welcome to my home...”

20

Sheol Alone

When a madman speaks, it is usually a good idea to listen. This is something I have learned over the years, and I have found it to be true more often than not. You see, most of the people I meet are mad, or soon getting there. Ego is an amazing thing. The more you listen, the more he wants to talk. This can not only buy you some time, but also create opportunity. And opportunity can save your life.

“Het, Chris... I hope the informality is acceptable. When I am in my home I like to be casual.” Legoni begins.

He is standing in front of us; we are sitting on a sofa.

“The Northern Alliance and the people we protect are smaller in numbers than you may think. In fact we have about 500 civilians and 200 troops here in Greenland, and about 5000 scattered through out Canada, Alaska, and Northern Europe. However, we are not the only humans left. Hawaii is a large base of operations for the Pacific Rim Alliance. Australia is largely free of Deads as well. Hawaii was easy to fortify and control, except for Oahu, it is dead. Australia is a mystery. The infection never really took a strong hold there. When they heard about it--and some say they were told in advance, they stopped all incoming flights. If you wanted to leave, you were welcome to go, but you couldn’t come back. This worked well for rationing supplies as a lot of folks there didn’t trust their leaders and wanted out. The Government there quickly went almost Fascist, Marshall law, no trials, women and children as property, and interestingly enough--a lot of American and British Government Officials made their way there from here in the North once they found the “coast was clear”. Anyway, civilization for this Northern Alliance is practically third world. We have food and water, there are always fish to catch and snow to melt. However, the population here is heavily into the 2012 prophecies that focus on the end of the world, or if you believe the way I do, a spiritual enlightening. The day came and went and now we find ourselves past the end of the world--and it is not truly gone. On one hand the world survives, laughing in the face of those who thought it would end. But on the other, it did end. Not in fire, or even in ice. But in the grandest of biblical proportions. The dead walk. You both walk among the living. This blasphemy can only mean that God himself has left us, forever. At the end of 2012 He left, took heaven with him. And as I am sure Mr. Maslow told you, that meant Hell went with it. That is where he is wrong. Hell didn’t go very far at all, it just came here. Most of mankind worries their whole life that they may end up in Hell if they weren’t good enough in life. Well guess what, Hell came to them.”

“So are you saying this is the rapture spoken of in the Christian Bible?” Chris asks.

“No it is not my dear. You see, the rapture told a story of God taking those who were good and clean. But in our reality, He took no one but a thousand angels with him to start over somewhere else. A broad representation of the best from all three Spheres. He left the rest here, because he didn’t want them, for one reason or another. I don’t know of your religious beliefs, but he does this often. He is the master of time and space, gone to create a new kingdom while turning his back on another. And Satan? He is the Lord of this world. The folks here in Nuuk have a good idea who I am, and I know you do too. But that doesn’t stop them from following me. And it didn’t stop you. For the same basic reason. You didn’t know where you were going, and I did. You, they, need me; someone, to lead them. They are scared of the dead that walk, and even more terrified still, of those that don’t simply plod about senselessly. No, when I told them of intelligent Deads they were immediately scared shitless. But that was back when we were in Labrador and Newfoundland. Until your, uh, son took control and forced us to run here to Greenland. He is quite powerful. The Viceroy and I have fought quite a bit through history. The weather here is too cold for the dead to walk. Dead people do rise, but they can’t move freely from place to place or house to house, so they are quickly contained and used for fish bait. The virus doesn’t pass through the digestive system when the fish are eaten, but they sure do bite at that dead flesh. Bodies are used mostly for chum, but the irony is not lost on the folks here. They use the dead for food, not the other way around. It is a kind of empowerment if you will. But I go on. What I really want to tell you is that I am going to inform the military here of your plan. When they find out they will chum the waters with you both. I actually like you, but I can’t help it, I thrive on discontent. It’s my nature.”

“Mr. Legoni, thank you for the eloquent speech. Did you get all that, Michael?” I say as I raise my satellite phone up to Legoni’s field of vision. “Michael has been on the line the whole time we have been in the house. Legoni, you won’t be finding any military here in Nuuk. They have been ordered to ship out to Newfoundland and march to Corner Brook on a ground assault on 50 Deads. There will be 500 Deads waiting there for them, from The Cabox. Hungry Deads. Am I right, Michael?”

“Madden this is General Spicer and that order was put through and chatter indicates approximately 200 men, the entire Nuuk Army, is on the way here to take care of the last 50 Deads. My boys eradicated 1000 in an attack and we need Nuuk for cleanup. Pretty easy, so no real firepower is needed. I told them it would almost be a boondoggle. You know there is a code for that Dad? Unbelievable.”

Michael does a great General Spicer impersonation. Chris, meanwhile, has a gun to Legoni’s head in case he tries to disappear. He is good at that. I want to make sure, so I think about cutting his head off. But then I think, IF he were the Devil, or a demon, or whatever--could he then jump to another dying body, possibly one on the boats the Alliance is taking to Newfoundland. No, we need to keep him alive and trapped. I decide to box him like Bob did Spicer. I see a sword on the wall, two in fact. He is talking to Chris and I come behind him and cut clean through his legs. He screams and spits at me. Arms are next and then we tie the torso to a chair. He is now speaking Latin, I think.

We are in constant contact with Michael and listen to chatter on the Nuuk Alliance force heading to Newfoundland. Hours have gone by and Legoni hasn’t’ stopped speaking for a second. It is disturbingly rhythmic. Then it comes over the radio.

“This is Michael, we have contact with the Alliance. They are inadequately armed.” We hear gunshots and screaming for about an hour. Legoni has stopped to listen as well.

“We have defeated them and are now feeding on them. Survivors are being moved to holding areas. We will have food for a while. Legoni! Ego sum iens neco vos quod transporto vos tergum ut abyssus.” Michael says.

“Was that Latin?” I ask. “We are fine and we have Legoni here and under...” I trail off as I look over at him. He is sitting in a chair, limbs reattached. Chris is on the floor, headless.

Legoni smiles at me. “I am not a man to be trifled with, Madden.” Then nothing. Chris is next to me and fine, and Legoni is gone, limbs and all.

“Legoni is gone, we don’t know where! If what he says is true, you just defeated all of the military Nuuk had to offer. Now we have to get by the regular folks here in Nuuk as well as our resident demon/nutcase Gerasene Legoni.”

Michael shoots back “I wouldn’t worry. Something tells me you will be alright. Godspeed.”.

I say “What did you tell him, Michael, the Latin?” Michael says “I told him I was going to kill him and send him to Hell. See you soon!”

Chris and I head out into the streets but see no one. We decide to take that as a sign and we head out. We go to the shore and see if any military boats were left empty. Then we see it. A long line of people walking toward the sea... chanting. There must be hundreds of them. We can’t help but go closer to look. At second glance, we see they are walking into the sea. Walking in until they are under, until they are drowned. A few see us and look at us like they can’t stop themselves and it hits me. It hits me hard.

The Gerasene Demon... Legion... are these the only pigs he could find? Was Legoni really...?

Chris grabs me “I found a boat we have to go now!” I grab a woman from the line, I am getting hungry. We get into an Assault Boat. It is fueled up and we decide to get out on the water rather then trying to get fuel back to the plane.

We are at sea listening to this woman babble nonsense for hours.

Chris says “That’s Glossolalia. It’s called speaking in tongues. People in our church when I was a little girl would go into trances and do it.”

I take a huge bite out of the woman’s face and neck but she doesn’t scream or flinch.

“You’re really eating that!” Chris says astonished. “Weren’t you awake for the last few hours? Were you not watching? Legoni, Legion, whoever he is may have just reenacted a scene from the Bible and you don’t think the flesh of that woman might be, I don’t know, tainted, possessed? Where the Hell is he anyway? I didn’t see him there, and isn’t it about time he shows up here in the boat?”

I stop eating for a second to answer and the woman rolls into the water.

“I guess we’ll never know if she was possessed...” I say.

“I hope not...” she counters. “We have seen some pretty strange things up here in the North, and now I think we are both wondering if your son is in fact half angel... and you eat a devil pig woman. Think, Het, think!”

With that statement I look forward at the sea ahead. In a few hours we will be back to Newfoundland celebrating with Michael. After a bit the radio clears.

“Dad this is Michael. Where are you exactly?”

I answer “We are on our way in a Northern Alliance Assault Boat. We are about an hour out of Nuuk. ID Numbers are 53J44, repeat, 53J44.”

“Got it.” He says. “Try and hurry, we need all the help we can get. Legoni is here. He slowly walked out of the ocean followed, single file, by a whole lot of recently dead. Very dramatic and shocking. And Dad... They want a fight and it’s going to happen. I need you to get here and help. The army Legoni brought is very powerful. Walked right out of the water behind him, singing or chanting something. A lot of my folks joined in, like they couldn’t help it. Don’t know if it was the chanting or not. But it was hypnotizing and rhythmically resonant. The whole thing is disturbing to say the least. It is going to be him or me, I know it. Dad, I love you...”

I look at Chris and we both know the implications of what may be happening. Then again, it may just be within the realm of possibilities for the undead like us.

“Our boy needs help.” She pushes the throttle to full speed then says in half disbelief. “We have an apocalypse to get to...”

21

Coda

The beginning and the end reach out their hands to each other.

-Chinese Proverb

It has been hours and we are moving west along the south side of Newfoundland and will head up the west side to Corner Brook. Speaking to Michael over the radio regularly, we know the fight hasn’t started yet. Legoni and company simply disappeared. Not into thin air, but Michael doesn’t know where they are.

“Dad, you there?” Michael calls out.

“Yes what is it?” I answer.

“We see fires up in The Cabox Mountains. Lighting up the night and they are spreading. I think Legoni is up there organizing and trying to get in our heads. You are about an hour or so out I estimate, so I will see you soon.”

I call back “Roger that, Michael”.

I look over at Chris with the moonlight coming off her. She has been driving the boat the whole time, never flinching. I would do anything for this woman, and I know she would do anything for me. And deep inside I know we will defeat Legoni. He can’t win. I have a trick up my sleeve.

“Chris, these folks up here have never seen a Frenzy, and I think we need to show them one...”

She answers excitedly “Frenzy, yes! But how do we start one and not have all of us get taken by it?”

I say “I remember Maslow telling me that Frenzy is caused by close proximity of approximately 50 or more of us for greater than 20 minutes. They have at least 300, probably more with the defectors from Michael’s group. Up here in Newfoundland there is so much open space close proximity doesn’t happen a lot. Now if we could take the battle inside, the airplane hangar, or a cave or valley. We can ask Michael about the terrain when we get there.”

As we motor into shore, Corner Brook dawn is breaking. Michael is at the dock to meet us and I look to The Cabox and the fires Michael spoke of.

“So, still up there?” I ask.

“Yes but I can feel him, inside.” He says. “He’s coming soon. It’s like we have some sort of a link, we know what the other is thinking.”

I immediately look and Christine is looking at me. We only lock eyes for a millisecond but we also have a link. We cannot involve Michael in any planning. If they have a mental commonality, Legoni would know about our Frenzy plans. We keep quiet for now.

“Come on, let me show you what we have to work with. Legoni’s group looked sharp when they came to shore. It was right over there. I would have expected them to come ashore on the east side of the island, maybe Bona Vista, but they must have come up here to spook us. And it worked. Most of my folks just stared. And about half have headed into The Cabox to join them. That, combined with the losses we had to the Allianced, and we number about 100. We cannot take them with 100. No way.”

I then say “Michael, Chris and I have a plan, but we are hesitant to tell you because Legoni and you are linked. Trust us that we have a plan and be ready to execute. It will work, but you have to be on.”

“Got it.” He says.

I look over at Bob, and he nods. He is ready.

“Maslow, what say you?” I ask.

“I think your plan is brilliant and I will not divulge. Why do you think I originally gave you that necessary piece of information?” Maslow begins.

I knew he would get in my head.

“I was thinking the same thing to be honest and have some ideas. Legoni thinks he has a divine right to win this battle. In his twisted head he already rules what is left of the world and will for a thousand years. Sound familiar? Anyway his bravado is his weakness. His desire to believe that he is something he isn’t will be the key to his defeat. Those that follow him now aren’t the same as they were when they lived, we all know that. He, however, believes they are more in tune with him, and they may well be, but they are not intelligent soldiers. They are fodder waiting to be beaten--not by might, but by intellect. All the people we have left were too smart to be drawn in my chanting and uniform movement. We have Class B’s at the least. And yes, I find your classification system intriguing. You have a capable mind Mr. Madden. That’s why I always admired you, even when I was trying to kill you. Now why don’t we go over by that large hangar and join the rest.”

“Uh, the hangar, sounds good, Dimitri.” I answer.

We all huddle near the hangar and prepare to do some planning. I have a few of the others retrieve all the Healthies from the holding area and put them in the hangar.

“Alright, we will keep our food here so we can protect it.” We don’t want them to get to it. Understand Michael?” I say, hoping he will “get it” and clear his mind, save for the fact that there is food in this hangar. He smiles and I know he does. I look at Chris and she is ready.

Then we hear it. It starts as a murmur, an auditory cadence. It is seductive and I could see how someone would find it attractive. Coming down the mountain, and amassing on the tarmac, are what look like 500+ Deads led by Legoni. They are all completely naked and branded with a strange symbol. A lot like the ones so many of us that were forced into the containment centers have on our foreheads, arms, wherever. These are different, a combination of the BioHazard symbol and a religious epitaph which I am not familiar with. Each individual has this burned into their torso, front and back. This is what they were doing in the fire. Almost a communion.

“Michael!” Legoni screams. “Michael it is time! I have come with my army to destroy you, your family, and mine. Father, have you told them who you are, who we are?!?! I know they have an idea, but has it come from you? I am more powerful now and will kill you Father. I will kill you last and Michael first. I will show you!!! I am the Lord of this world and now I will take my rightful place!!!”

We all look at Maslow.

“I assure you, I don’t know what he is talking about. He must be insane. The Devil having a father is ludicrous.” He says.

We don’t have time to weigh in on the implications, or whether this is indeed Armageddon, but it is twisted to say the least.

“Michael.” I say. “On my mark, we move everyone inside this hangar.”

I am not out to save anyone but Chris and Michael. The others are expendable, even Bob. I don’t trust him.

Not one of Michael’s people has a containment camp brand so for all I know, they sat up here hiding while I and others rotted. They were only turned after they ignored the lives of the initial wave of the dead.

“I don’t know why you want to do this but EVERYONE INTO THE HANGAR!” Michael shouts.

Inside the Healthies start to scream as we come in. With the screams, the chanting has stopped. These are hungry Deads, maybe they never felt the hunger for a Healthy before. They rush into the hangar, and I hear Legoni screaming at them to attack us and not the Healthies. This does not work.

I grab Chris, Michael, and yes, Maslow, and we exit the rear door. The last of Michael’s people feed and then I hear the sound I haven’t heard in a long time. The screams of Frenzy! None of them want out of the hangar, they are too busy tearing into the Healthies and each other.

Michael looks at me and says “Those are my people. You used them? Like they meant nothing... Brilliant tactics, but soulless in the end, no?”

He was right, but all I could do was stand there as he looked away from me in disgust. He knows I saved him, and his people would have perished up against the shear numbers of Legoni’s forces, but it doesn’t sit well. We listen as the sound gradually comes to an end.

Michael kicks open the door and views the carnage of Frenzy. Alone, in the middle of twisting, writhing bodies is Gerasene Legoni holding a large sword.

“Madden, my piggies are dead! Haaaa ha ha ha! You killed them. You are inside my head! You fooled me! I told you I am not a man to trifle with and you ignored this. Now I will have to kill your son, then your woman, and then you. And I haven’t forgotten about you father, wherever you are. I can’t see you, but then again you can’t see me either. Even blind, you disappoint me.”

At that moment I see Bob, who obviously survived the Frenzy, behind him ready to strike. He creeps slowly as Legoni rants about his rightful place in the new order. Bob then leaps at Legoni. Before he can touch him, Legoni spins around and swings the sword near Bob’s head. Bob lands, gets up wobbly, and his head slides off to the ground.

Legoni steps on it like a melon, crushing it.

At that moment I see Maslow move behind Legoni. Before I can say a word Maslow’s fist comes out the front of Legoni’s chest, heart in hand. He takes Legoni’s sword and takes his head off at the neck. He throws the sword to Michael and picks up the head, still alive.

Michael catches the sword by the handle.

It is not lost on us that these are amazing feats for a man with no eyes.

With the head in his left hand and the heart in the right, Maslow “looks” Legoni in the face and screams “False Idol! I am true! I orchestrated this and you watched and came late to lay claim!”

He bites into the heart and spits it in Legoni’s face. He is still alive, gasping to speak with no breath.

“You are no son of mine, yet you dare to claim you are!” Maslow wails.

With that he throws the heart down and crushes the head between his hands. Then a long, loud scream, and he walks off. Michael, now with the sword, throws it back at Maslow. It turns in the air and just before it hits him he spins and catches the blade between his hands.

“Belial, I know where you are going.” Michael says. “And you will need this more than me. I assume you will remain on your side, and I on mine, at least for now?”

“At least for now, indeed, Michael. A prophetic name to give your son, Mr. Madden...” Maslow says as he walks off toward the mountains.

Chris and I stand in awe.

Michael turns to us. “There seems to be order once again. He and I met and fought in the skies before the world turned. We will meet again. He will remain under The Cabox Mountains with the rest, and there are many. I will stay here in the mountains to make sure. If he tries to leave, I will be waiting with a sword of my own.”

Chris and I feed on the remains of Healthies. It has been too long without a meal.

“Michael, I am not sure what went on here and don’t expect an explanation.” I say.

He answers back “Pretty much exactly what you think went on here, did. I am fully aware now.”

“Even so,” I say, “I’m just glad you are alive and well. We are going to head south where it’s warm, then to Hawaii where there are Healthies. Oahu is loaded with Deads and I bet all it needs is a leader, and we need an army.”

I look at Chris and she nods in agreement.

“I have to ask you a question. The religious implications here are staggering, I know. With all that is going on, the dead rising to be more specific... I don’t find this hard to believe. Having said that, who was right?”

“What do you mean?” he answers.

“Which religion?” I say. “The dead walk and God has left us. Who gets into heaven? Is heaven really gone? Who is going to make it? Which religion was right?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Then he says “There is and always will be good and evil. You pick a side the day your soul leaves the Guf to enter your infant body. It’s just that simple.”

“So no one right? Or we all are, sort of?” I ask.

He smiles and walks toward The Cabox. “I’ll see you soon, Dad. Belial won’t stay down for long. He never does.”

I sit and watch him walk into the mountains until I can no longer see him. I miss him already.

Chris and I continue to feed on the remains, being careful not to eat any of Legoni’s force. We sit and talk, and the only plans we can come up with are to get back in the Assault boat. We can head to the mainland and then cross Canada somehow and get to the west coast, then find a way to Oahu.

Or we could take the Northwest Passage to the Pacific. It’s open now, but we would soon need a bigger boat. Chris jokes about organizing a fleet of ships once we get to Oahu and sailing the seas like Pirates. We could attack Healthies on various islands and make our way to Australia.

Any way you slice it, battles have been won but the war is not over. Our war, and Michael’s. I’m sure we will have more brushes with religion come true. I know we will not have it easy. But neither Chris nor I will feel satisfied until we know we have done everything to kill every Healthy there is on this earth. Does that make us evil? I don’t know. If we are to believe Michael, I chose sides before I was born. I am now only following through on that decision. The freedom that belief affords me is almost like a drug. I am who I chose to be, and that cannot be changed. I could truly be damned. Let’s hope I made the right choice, because if I wasn’t religious before, I sort of am now. Right now though, we are both exhausted. Time to get some rest; we have a long journey and life ahead of us...

End