Z-Risen: Outbreak

The Base

9:15 hours approximate

Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA — Roz’s Place

After losing Fortress last night, we crashed with our new friend Roz. She’s about five-foot-five and Latino. She’s got dark brown hair and she’d probably clean up pretty nice. Roz is cute, I won’t lie, and she’s got some killer bod, at least the little I noticed while I had my arm draped over her shoulder last night. She also looks like she will kill me if I look at her that way again.

My leg is a mess. I hurt my ankle last night and now it’s swollen, but I don’t think it’s a full sprain. I can walk on it, even though it’s more of a hobble than an actual steady stride. Joel Kelly just looked at me like I was a puss. Fuck you, Marine-boy. I did it protecting you and Roz.

Roz tossed me an ace bandage so I could wrap it tight. I wish I had ice. I also wish a Burger King drive-through worked by hot strippers would suddenly appear where the front window is boarded up. I wish I had a way to go back in time a few years and tell Jenny Collins that I liked her. Not love, just liked. We did some shit over her clothes, but I know I could have gotten her with a little more skill. Might as well wish for a tropical get-away while I’m at it.

Joel was nothing but unhappy smiles and pissy Marine attitude. He stormed around all morning. Stripped his gun, put it back together, counted rounds, swore a lot, and snapped at either one of us if we asked him what the plan was.

I asked about eight times.

We had water and food, but mostly some kind of emergency rations Roz’s father had collected over the last couple of years. They’d started the end of the world out with a three-month supply of food and clean drinking water for four, but after inviting in a few family members and a kid from the neighborhood, they’d used up a decent chunk. We drank sparingly, but it was hard not to guzzle. The last time I had clean water was about a week ago.

Joel finally got cabin fever and said he was going to check on Fortress.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Rest your foot. We may need to get mobile soon. I’ll be right back.”

“Dude. I’ll go. You can’t make it without me.”

“Believe it or not, I’m a Marine and I don’t need a gimp squid tagging along, asking me to wipe his nose.”

“Whatever. If you run into trouble what are you going to do?”

“At the first sign of a real threat I’ll come back. Get some sleep and don’t give Roz any shit.”

Like I wanted a knife in my chest.

“Your idea of trouble and my idea are different. You think a pack of Z’s is a challenge. I think they’re a death squad.”

“Whatever. Just chill. I’ll be back. Here — write about Reynolds, because he deserves it.” Joel dropped the log book in my lap.

He’d already strapped on his combat gear and filled his pouches with magazines and a couple of energy bars from Roz’s stash. He downed a bottle of water in three gulps and slid the blinds aside to take a look.

Shit. That was one day I wanted to erase from my memory. But he had a point. If we were to honor Reynolds’ sacrifice, it needed to start with his story. I can’t say that his story will ever be more important than those of the millions that have already died, but to us, he was a hero. The kind you hear about on the nightly news.

Jesus. The media, TV, newspapers, and cell towers. None of that shit works anymore. None of it. And that is just the start of the hell we now live in.

Joel shot me the finger and then closed the front door quietly behind him.

08:15 hours approximate

Location: A little yellow life raft, near San Diego CA

Weapons:

Near distance — a massive fire. Gunships. Jets rocketing overhead. Explosions. Fire. Smoke and chaos.

Ahead was the biggest disaster—the USS McClusky. My home for the last year. She crashed into the pier at close to full speed and that was all she wrote. But that wasn’t the only thing burning. The rest of the base was a crazy mess of flames, smoke, and gunfire. Even from this distance, we heard the guns, and they were not being kind to whoever they were aimed at.

A haze settled in as the morning sun rose, further obscuring our view of the naval base. The view snapped quickly back, however, thanks to a plane that roared close to the surface of the water.

“The fuck was that?” I yelled over the noise.

“That was an A-10 warthog. They fly low and blow up tanks and stuff.”

“Do you think the same shit that went down on the ship is happening there?” Reynolds pointed.

“It’s some shit. That’s for sure,” Kelly said.

The Marines went over their gear as we closed in. We had to angle around the piers because there didn’t appear to be a way to climb up. A ship rides up about twenty feet in the air, so that means the piers are a long way up and I wasn’t sure we’d be able to Bruce Willis our asses up some rope.

Luckily, a smaller pier cut to the south of us, so we followed land until we could angle in. Planes continued to rocket over head. To my horror, the fuckers were shooting at people on the ground. Machine guns rattled and spent munitions fell.

“Fucking hell!” Reynolds said exactly what I was thinking.

Another jet started firing from directly overhead. A building bloomed into flame in the distance and then an explosion from another section of the base roared into the air.

“Jesus! Are we at war?” Reynolds was once again thinking my thoughts.

“I don’t know. Should we even try to make it to land? Maybe we can paddle toward the city,” I said.

“It’s the base. We gotta help.” Kelly made a lot of sense — unfortunately.

A couple of helicopters shook the raft as they flew by. They settled over the eastern part of the base and opened fire on something. More flames rose into the air. The shots weren’t confined to just the aircraft. From the distance we picked up on plenty of small arms fire.

“It’s the same stuff from the boat. The same goddamn stuff but its spread all over the base,” Reynolds said.

“What if it’s more widespread than just the base? What then?” I felt like I was whining but Kelly got a faraway look in his eye.

We came alongside a small tender and I used the railing to pull us along until we were flush with a pier. Reynolds crawled over first with his MP-5 pointing ahead. Kelly covered him and then I was next. I didn’t have a weapon but I spotted a large toolbox near a small ship and lifted the lid. Inside were a number of screw drivers, nuts, bolts, and assorted tools, but the prize was a pipe wrench nearly two feet long. I lifted it and found the heft to my liking.

Kelly shot me a questioning look so I mimed bashing in a head.

“Too heavy.”

“Maybe for you, ya scrawny Marine,” I said.

He smirked and nodded toward Reynolds, who was taking up position next to a building with corrugated metal siding. I was surprised they hadn’t left my sorry ass yet. I didn’t have a fancy gun and hadn’t fired one in years with the exception of video games. In virtual life I’d probably killed an entire nation of people; in real life I had no desire to shoot at another person for as long as I lived.

I followed because I didn’t know what else to do. I knew the base, which meant I knew where the commissary and bars were. I knew how to get off the base for the same reason. Food, beer, and occasionally to find a date, even if it had to be paid for in Tijuana.

I could always desert these guys and just find the barracks I’d stayed in a few times, but what if that was also under attack? What a clusterfuck my day was turning into.

Gunfire to the west drew my attention. I snapped my wrench up like I was going to bat bullets out to the air. Reynolds had extended the stock of the little machine gun and moved ahead of us in a quick, steady manner. He slipped to the side of a building, slid along it to a corner and then peeked around. He motioned and Kelly followed while I brought up the rear.

Something roared nearby, causing me to spin in fear. I hit the side of the metal building with the wrench and immediately regretted it. The sound was like a Chinese game-show gong in the morning air.

A column of smoke rose from the direction of the noise that has startled me, and then an unholy explosion shook the ground. A building went up in flames, the roof disintegrating as it exploded.

A HUMVEE overflowing with people zipped past us. A guy hung onto the roof while someone else batted at the figure from the hatch. Then it was gone, careening behind another building. It grew silent for a few seconds before the vehicle crashed.

“Let’s check it out,” Joel said.

“Let’s not and say we did,” I muttered. “Fuck this, dude. We need to find someone in charge and report in. We have to tell them about the McClusky.”

“I hear ya, but something is going on. Something bad. Caution is what we need right now,” Reynolds said.

“And that caution means investigating crashed HUMVEES? That’s what just passed, right?” I asked.

“It was, and it had Marine insignia, so it’s our duty.”

“Oh Christ. At least give me a gun.”

“As soon as I have a spare,” Joel Kelly said and clapped me on the shoulder.

Joel nodded and moved toward the sound of the crash with his handgun ready. Reynolds moved behind me and covered us as I followed the Marine.

Then someone staggered around the side of the building, but stopped when he saw us. The guy was dressed in BDU’s. His head, face, and mustache were all covered in blood. It dribbled from a wound on his forehead that wasn’t going to stop bleeding anytime soon, unless he put a bandage on it.

“Damn, man,” I said. “You okay?”

“I don’t think he’s okay,” Reynolds said.

Joel grabbed my shirtsleeve and shook his head.

“But he looks hurt and he’s a squid—so there. You guys and your ‘always going back for your own’.”

“Dude ain’t normal. Look at him,” Reynolds said.

He was right.

The sailor advanced on us with an unsteady walk, like he was drunk off his ass. He snarled and moaned as he stumbled over his own two feet. One arm came up and that’s when I noticed that his other arm was hanging at a weird angle. Not only that, but some of his fingers were completely gone.

“Is he like one of the guys on the ship?”

“Looks like it,” Reynolds said.

“Sir. Sir!” Joel yelled and advanced.

Goddamn Marine. I moved ahead to block his aim because I wasn’t going to watch him gun down another squid. If this guy was in shock from the accident, I didn’t want these trigger-happy gun jocks shooting him just because he couldn’t walk right.

Then the sailor attacked me.

I batted his arms aside and wished to hell I’d never gotten in Joel’s way. The blood-splattered guy was crazy and he reeked of shit! He grabbed for me, but his hands didn’t have enough fingers to get a hold on my shirt. He swung his other arm like a club and caught me across the temple. I briefly saw stars, but I’d been hit harder by one of my brothers and brushed it off.

I pushed him back but he swung his arms up again and opened his trap. Oh, fuck me, but that was some horror. His mouth was filled with broken teeth and blood. His tongue dangled out on a strip of muscle and flopped against his chin. He snarled and groaned but couldn’t get his tongue back in. It would have been funny as shit if he hadn’t been attempting to eat me.

I staggered backward and almost fell, but Joel really did have my back.

Joel used his body to keep me from falling and then pushed me off. That was all I needed.

I swung because I was scared. Of course, at that point I’d only seen the things on the ship and they’d frightened me, but I was also in denial, like the whole event wasn’t really happening. Yet here was another of the crazy things and he wanted to kill me, not talk.

He drooled red saliva. When he tried to snarl again, blood bubbled out and something pink fell out of his mouth. It smacked the ground and I was left to stare at a piece of partially chewed human skin.

That’s when I lost it. I swung the wrench with a cry and hit the bastard across the side of his head. The tool weighed about eight pounds, so it was practically a battering ram.

He dropped and didn’t move again.

“Nice work,” Joel said.

I wanted to puke. I’ll never forget that sound, man. I’ll never forget what it felt like to hit a human like that. I was horrified and I was disgusted.

More gunfire all around us and then another series of jets roared overhead. I ducked but looked up as they departed. A few seconds later, the sounds of explosions reverberated in the direction of the city.

Joel looked troubled, gestured for me to follow, and moved out.

They were hitting the city? Good Christ, how far had this spread?

We came across the crash a few minutes later. The Humvee had struck the side of a building filled with ship parts. Whoever had been on top of the military truck was smashed against the wall in a smear of blood and gore that would haunt my nightmares for days to come. Shit! This whole damn day was going to necessitate a hell of a lot of therapy.

A soldier rolled out of a rear door and fell onto the ground. He didn’t move for a few seconds. We stared at each other and then back at him. From the angle he lay in, it seemed obvious that his hips had to be broken. Legs just couldn’t be in that position. He twitched and I was afraid he was one of them, but he got one hand under his body and lifted himself up a few inches so he could look at us. Joel moved in, gun trained on the guy.

“Help,” the man said. He was dressed in camo and had a host of magazines and bulging pockets on his upper body.

“Damn. What happened, brother?” Joel moved in and helped the guy roll over.

“Everything. I’m hurt bad. Can you get someone to help? Please? Take me to medical or get a chopper.”

“Hold on. We’ll do our best. I promise,” Reynolds said. He dropped beside Joel Kelly and me and took the hurt man’s hand in his.

Blood spread across the fallen Marine’s tactical vest. Reynolds leaned over and opened it to reveal that something had penetrated his chest. He took a gurgling breath and then sighed.

“This is not good,” Reynolds said.

“It’s bad, man. I can’t even feel my legs.”

“Help’s on the way,” Joel said.

Was it? I didn’t hear the sound of sirens or see the flash of red lights.

“It’s worse than that. Ah, shit. Just gimme a gun and one shot, then go. Get the fuck out of here and don’t look back.”

That’s when I saw it. The sleeve of his other arm was ripped open and blood, fresh and crimson, coated the fabric. He’d removed his belt and cinched it just below his elbow. The man had been bitten, and assuming that what had happened on the ship was “the new normal,” this guy was so screwed.

“What happened?”

“It’s all messed up. So royally messed up. Were you here when it started?”

“No brother. We were on a ship. Just got here.”

“Shit. Lucky you. It’s a virus of some kind. Whole city’s gone crazy. We heard the same stuff hit other bases.”

“What’s your name?”

“Norvell, Mike Norvell. Guys used to call me Big Papa.” Mike choked on a glob of blood and spat it out.

“Tell me about the base, Norvell.”

“You guys need to go,” Norvell gasped and then frowned. His body stiffened and he looked about as miserable as anyone I’d ever seen in my life.

“You’re going to be alright.”

“The tourniquet slows it down but I can feel it. It’s like my blood’s filled with sand.”

“Sorry we can’t do better by you, man. But please. What happened?”

“It happened so fast. Something docked that wasn’t supposed to, some ship from overseas. They quarantined it, but something happened. A few days later the first cases showed up. Then rumors. Rumors of the virus at other seaports and military bases.”

“What? Like an attack?”

I unholstered the gun at Norvell’s side, held it up and ejected the magazine. I took out all but one bullet, pocketed what I was pretty sure were 9 mm rounds, put the magazine back in and racked a shell into the chamber. I held the gun out to Reynolds. He took it, stared at it for a few seconds and then put it in the guy’s hand.

Norvell coughed up another blast of blood and that seemed to be enough for Reynolds. The Marine got to his feet and moved back. Mike “Big Papa” Norvell thrashed on the ground. His eyes bulged so much I thought they were going to explode. He shook as he lifted his hand and just barely managed to put the barrel of the gun under his chin.

We all looked away when the shot snapped across the area.

Joel got up and went to the vehicle. He rummaged around and then came out with a rifle and a small backpack. He put the items on the ground and hunted around again. He came out with a pair of handguns, then placed four magazines on the ground.

Joel had a crap load of gear laid out. The guys, still soaking wet from the dip in the ocean, strapped on as much as they could, to a soundtrack of squishing noises. Reynolds slung his little machine gun behind his back, picked up one of the rifles and checked it. They tossed me a handgun. I did as I’d done with Norvell’s gun because I wasn’t a complete idiot when it came to weapons. I did a quick inspection, counted how many rounds I had in the Smith and Wesson, then added a pair of magazines to my pockets.

We moved out toward the center of base. Why? I had no idea; I was just along for the walk in hell. Before we departed, Joel looked over the HUMVEE just to make sure it was toast. Didn’t take a fucking mechanic to see the damage was beyond any of us or a shop, a week, and a hell of a repair bill. The front end was completely destroyed from hitting the corner of the building, but the seats were also covered in blood, and that was reason enough for me to stay out.

Two buildings later, we ran into a shit storm.

Someone had set up a barricade of cars, trucks, and fences to block at least one cross-street. Joel jogged the perimeter and then dashed back a minute later. He shook his head, so we looked back the way we’d come.

Joel was in the process of hauling ass around the corner of a barracks when he ran smack into one of the creatures. It was missing part of a foot and toppled over when Joel struck him. The Marine didn’t hesitate; he splattered its brains all over the road with two quick shots.

“Oh, fuck me running!” Reynolds said.

I echoed his sentiment in my head.

There had to be fifty of them massed around the remains of the barricade. Bodies were pressing against the corners and they weren’t interested in the fence, because they were eating — Fucking eating — the soldiers.

“Oh no you don’t!” Reynolds yelled.

He started shooting. The booming of his assault rifle was ridiculously loud. Joel Kelly took a wide stance and also started popping guys in the head, neck, and body. He practically ripped a guy’s arm off with a couple of shots, then a beauty of a blast took the guy right through the temple as he tried to turn on us.

I raised my own gun to take aim, and then I couldn’t pull the trigger. The uniformed person that fell under my aim was a woman about my age. She was slight and had a head of blonde hair. I would have given her a second and third look if we passed each other on the street.

Now she was covered in her own blood—or someone else’s. Her shirt was ripped away, revealing lots of pale flesh, but I was not interested in the slightest. One of her breasts was practically torn away. Talk about the opposite of a little blue pill.

I turned to gag. Kelly, seeing me in distress, shot her twice. The first shot was off to her shoulder but he snapped the gun up and put one through her nose. She collapsed without a sound.

“Fuck this!” That was it for me. I shuddered in revulsion and considered jumping back into the ocean.

“Get it together, man!” Joel Kelly said, and I thought he was going to hit me.

Reynolds stayed in the fight and fired as quickly as he could focus in on targets. Joel moved to assist, so I decided it was time to man the fuck up.

I put an advancing soldier that slobbered and drooled blood between my cross hairs and shot him three times. The first two went to his chest; those just backed him up. I knew how this shit worked, so I shot him in the head as my brain caught up with the rest of my body.

Then a tide of them came at us. It was like the flood gates had opened. Holy shit, there were a lot of the undead bastards. They poured out of buildings, side roads, out of stopped vehicles, and God knew where else. I said a prayer, but Joel had a better idea.

“Fall back. Let’s head for the barracks.”

Reynolds followed him but I took a few seconds to shoot the lead Z a couple of times, and then my gun ran empty. I pulled the trigger on the Smith and Wesson but it just clicked. Kelly was the one to break me out of my daze by smacking me upside the head.

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed.

“Get your head in the game, man. Let’s go!”

He was right. There were ten or fifteen of them for each one of us and more coming. The only thing stopping them from overrunning our position were the remains of the barricade. We could make a valiant stand and take a shit load of them with us.

Or we could do something else. We could haul ass.

We did the latter.

12:25 hours approximate

Location: Undead Central, San Diego CA — Roz’s Place

It’s been a week since that day, and I still think about it maybe more than everything else that’s happened since. But I’ll have to get to that later.

Joel’s back from his little trip to Fortress and he isn’t alone. He brought a couple of teenagers with him. Were these the little shits that broke into our house?

Joel had knocked on the door three times and then once. He’d paused and done it again, so Roz opened the door. She took one look at him and at the two dirty faced behind him, and she didn’t seem annoyed or put out at all. She just motioned for them to come inside.

Roz took one look at them and motioned for them to join us.

“Fortress?” I asked.

“Gone, but we got bigger problems.”

“Bigger? What’s bigger than losing our home?”

“Losing everything. That’s a hell of a lot bigger.”

“What do you mean?”

Joel turned to the kids — a boy and girl — and nodded. The girl was fifteen at the most. She tried to look brave but she was a mess. Her hair was a pale bird’s nest that pointed in every direction. The boy was older by a few years and he was well armed. He had a small bat slung over his back. The strap was a piece of rope but I noticed right away it would be easy to swing it under his arm and have it at the ready.

He had a pair of knives tucked into his belt and a snub nose revolver in a holster at his waist. Call this kid Dirty Harry.

“I’m Christie and this is Craig.”

“Hey.” Craig nodded.

He had a deep voice for such a skinny kid. If he weighed a buck ten I’d be surprised. But he was gangly and I bet he could swing that little baseball bat with devastating force. They were both dressed in clothes that had seen better days a week ago. Now they were practically rags and covered in dirt. Neither one smelled all that great, but who was I to judge? Joel and I had lived in our own sweat for ten or eleven days now.

“So you took over our home?”

“Wasn’t us. Someone came before and searched it. We just moved in after they left. Thought you guys were gone.”

“Was that you I heard rummaging around the night before?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. We were so hungry but we waited until you were gone. We were just going to eat some food and leave, but the other guys got there first. Not us. We went in later. Got a few scraps.”

Roz went to the kitchen and cracked open some packages. She brought them both bottled water and a “meal ready to eat” apiece. They tore into it like it was a number 3 at McDonalds.

“So who took our shit?”

“Some dudes that looked like they were ready for war. Looked tougher than you guys.”

Joel burst into laughter.

“We do alright,” I protested.

Craig looked us over but clearly wasn’t impressed.

I stared at the kid for a minute while that processed. A helicopter overhead rattled the windows, giving me a scare and a half.

Joel moved to the window and cracked open the blinds to look up. He craned his neck around but shook his head after a few seconds.

“We’re saved?” I asked Joel.

“Can’t tell, man, but it can’t be worse than a city full of fucking zombies.”

Roz ‘hmphed’ and looked toward the kids.

“Sorry. Gosh darned zombies.”

Both of the young ones snickered.

“What else could it be?” I asked.

The answer to that question would come soon because Joel was gearing up, and that meant we were going to reconnoiter. I thought about my swollen ankle and decided that if he was going out, I was going along as well. Enough of this sitting around.

I’d have to wrap it tight and take my chances, because I was not letting the Marine go out there without me. I’ll finish up the story of how we got off the base and founded Fortress later.

This is Machinist Mate First Class Jackson Creed and I am still alive.