Outbreak Read online

  “Much agreed,” MicDerman stated. “Do police ever do that?”

  She noticed another barricade approaching, this one guarded with close to twenty soldiers each armed with the 416 carbine—all of which had sights trained on the truck. Coming to an abrupt stop in front of them, forty yards before their destination, Julie replied: “No. But I always wanted to pull a James Kramer.” Shutting the truck off, she grabbed her stuff and got out.

  “A cop wanting to crush cars,” Sean noted as he and two other survivors, Mitch and Tina, got out. “Different.”

  Ignoring him, Julie brought out one of her Glock 19s and helped the mercenaries with guiding their survivors towards the evacuation site. The guards lowered their carbines and let them through after MicDerman relayed the necessary information.

  She stuck by Clodoveo who was helping Jones; she took the Ranger’s left arm while Clodoveo took his right. It may have just been a sprain or something, but this got them all to the helicopter much faster.

  “Are the other teams still out there?” MicDerman yelled to the tail gunner, the helicopter’s rotors making it difficult. “We lost all communications just minutes after separating!”

  “Don’t know, sir!” he shouted back in-order for the superior to hear him over the rotors as well. “This is the last evacuation from the six predetermined rendezvous points we set up! If there are any still in the city, they have until twenty-hundred to reach Site B a block West of Johnson-Scott Rock Radio Station! Wheels up at twenty-o-two—no exceptions!”

  Nodding, MicDerman punched the door gunner’s left shoulder. “Alright! Just make sure you get as many of them out of here—it’s a hell-hole out there; no one deserves to die like that!”

  The door gunner didn’t reply, but nodded his head in agreement.

  As the pilot gave the Chinook’s engines more power, the fifteen men and women began to relax as their helicopter began to rise off the ground.

  Julie sat in-between Clodoveo and MicDerman as they flew away from the extraction point.

  “Look at that!” Tina, the woman survivor who had been in the truck cab, pointed out the back.

  Everyone did.

  Large flumes of smoke drifted into the air as the city begun to burn to the ground.

  “Didn’t know it was that bad,” Jones said in a loud voice. “There were a few fires when we first touched down but damn. Sad to say it but the place is gone.”

  All of a sudden, the helicopter was struck by something, causing it to start spiraling out of control towards the ground.

  “Everyone brace yourselves!” MicDerman shouted. He witnessed the door gunner fly out of the rear into the sky when his safety harness broke free. “Shit!” They may not have been higher than five-hundred feet but the gunner was going to be dead upon impact.

  When the Chinook crashed, Julie was thrown to its floor, along with everyone else and all went black.

  *

  After coming to, Clodoveo sat up slow, his head throbbing. Taking a quick glance at his watch, it read: 17:29; the crash had happened eight minutes ago.

  “Ortiz!” called England. “You ’live?”

  Groaning, he replied, “Don’t feel like it.” Looking around, he thought aloud, “What made us crash?”

  “Gravity,” stated one of the civilians who was being sarcastic.

  Smart-ass, he grumbled to himself before Wells answered: “Something slammed into one of the rotors and sent us down; maybe a dud rocket—who’d be shooting at us though?”

  No one replied.

  MicDerman’s voice then sounded: “Who’s not dead? Report!”

  After those who had called out, the total dead was nine: Pax, Jones, Sean, Kelly, Mitch, Jack, Shane and the two pilots.

  Grabbing the carbine and sidearm off Pax, MicDerman handed them to two of the survivors.

  “I’m against guns,” Larry stated to him. “I go on marches against them!”

  “Tell that to the things out there which might eat you alive for some odd reason.” MicDerman shoved the carbine, which he set to fire in semi-automatic, into his grasp. “Just don’t shoot me or the others,” he growled.

  Julie chuckled in her head as she grabbed Jone’s 416 and magazines. It’s the wrong time to support gun control. She picked up both her Model 19s, which were unharmed, off the floor and holstered them. Retrieving the HK for him, Julie asked, “Your head alright, Clodoveo?”

  Winching a bit as he rubbed the left side, he answered, “Solid as a rock.” He took the carbine from her grasp.

  “Let’s move,” MicDerman announced, moving towards the rear.

  Each of them climbing out from the destroyed Chinook, the group of eight checked their surroundings. The crash had wiped out a majority of infected; Julie, Clodoveo, England, and Schwartz eliminated the remaining ones that were still wandering around.

  “Do you know where we are?” England asked Sarah, handing his sidearm and the magazines to her. “You do know the four rules of firearms, right?”

  She shook her head, “I’m here from Alberta visiting Larry.” And then nodded, “Yeah I know some things about guns—rifles more since I grew up shooting a thirty-thirty lever-action.”

  “Mm-kay.” He let go of the HK with a slight shove, acknowledging Sarah to watch herself. Turning his attention to Julie, England asked the same first question.

  “Well if you’re wondering how far away we’re from 104.9 FM—Johnson-Scott Rock Radio,” she began, “it’s about four miles East of here.”

  Doing the beer math, Schwartz reported, “Without a vehicle and all of the infected, we won’t make it. Roadblocks will make a direct route with transport difficult anyway, but I’d take those chances.” Looking around, all the ones nearby were totaled, on their sides or roofs. “We could run until finding another truck but not all of us are in physical shape.” He then looked at Larry’s dress shoes, along with the rest of his clothes: slacks and a dress shirt—must have left the jacket on purpose. “Or attire suitable for anything like that.”

  Realizing the mercenary was pointing him out, Larry shot back, “I had to drop by the office real quick, as well as attend a dinner later.”

  “Both of you, cut it out,” MicDerman snapped. “We have less than two and a half hours to get there; split up and look for transport! Double-time it!”

  *

  Back on her own once again, Julie scouted around for a means of transport. It had been pure luck with the truck and Magnum—now nothing was turning up.

  Her shoulders and back hurt a decent amount from the crash; no broken bones, otherwise Julie wouldn’t have been able to move. It all made the backpack feel heavier than it had before but she knew pain was temporary.

  I’m not dying here because of some sore muscles or an infected person biting me.

  Getting off the streets and into an alleyway of shopping arcades, she went into Claire’s Feminine Boutique. Rolling her eyes after entering, she thought, It’s an apocalypse out there and I’m in a lingerie store. Julie wasn’t looking for sexy panties but for perfume bottles she could use to make some Molotov cocktails. She’d been here before and had walked away with some sultry underwear but those days were now just pleasant memories.

  The phrase had gone through her head but she and another officer dated for a while. He and some other officers they were friends with had left a couple days ago in search of family members they hoped were still alive.

  Grabbing a few bottles off the shelf, she unscrewed their caps and dumped the expensive liquid out onto the floor, its strong, seductive odor of cherry and vanilla filling the air. She had thought about buying one of these but it was just too expensive: $129.95 for a fourteen-ounce bottle.

  She looked around. Snagging four other bottles and wrapping them up secure in a bag, Julie placed them into her backpack.

  With seven empty bottles, she went into the section with EMPLOYEE’S ONLY on the door to find the vodka Claire kept back there. “Bingo,” she breathed, snagging the alcohol bottle. Filling t
hem about a quarter full, Julie shoved a rag into each and pulled out the lighter her brother gave her before he left home.

  Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, he had told her. We’re given one life and it takes one move to screw it all up. Take care. Be smart.

  And Julie took his advice to heart: She joined the police academy and graduated at the top of her class. It was mostly due to the instructor, a much older and tougher officer who was also a twelve-year Marine Recon veteran. She did very well on the range with the 92FS, M-15A2 carbine and 590 shotgun—Another one of the skills you taught me, thought Julie as she placed the lighter back into her pocket. Thanks bro.

  Exiting the boutique, she came in contact with a few infected; raising the 416’s ACOG to eye level, Julie fired a 5.56x45 NATO round into each thing’s skull. Ears ringing a bit, she groaned while rubbing her earlobes, “Should’ve put plugs in.”

  Continuing on with the current plan, she went to a nearby car park to find a vehicle that could fit all of them. When possible, Julie dodged those infected, allowing her to conserve ammunition; just because she had a fair amount, it didn’t mean she was going to mow down every thing in front of her.

  Even with the pain and loaded backpack she had, maneuverability wasn’t too bad, allowing Julie to make good time. It took her just ten minutes to reach the car park.

  “Clodo—!” she began, after seeing him knelt down by a red Escalade EXT. Men talking in the distance soon became noticeable.

  He motioned with his right arm and whispered, “Get down and stay quiet!”

  She did as he commanded and took cover by a blue Mid-2000 Mustang. While being careful though, she looked up over the muscle car’s left fender; Julie saw men in orange jumpsuits armed with various firearms looking for a car.

  “Who would’ve thought the world goes to shit the day I’m about to head inside,” one bragged. “I can’t wait to get my hands on some scared broad looking for protection.”

  Another retorted, “In that orange attire the only thing wanting protection is a boy who was stupid and ended up over his head.” He began to laugh.

  Thinking fast, as she knew how this would end, Julie brought out a Molotov and her lighter. Igniting the rag, she rose up and threw it at the convicts; the glass bottle shattered on the back of one man, engulfing the others. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as they burned alive, their screams of pain echoing off the concrete.

  Once they were dead and their bodies continued to burn, she met up with Clodoveo.

  “Smart move,” he replied. “Bullets to the head would’ve been too nice.”

  Huffing, Julie shot back with, “Yeah. Had they killed you and been able to disarm me, I know for sure the last thing I’d experience is them raping the hell out of me.” She looked closer at the bodies still burning on the ground. “Don’t know what’s worse: Them or the infected.” Waving it off, she said, “Screw it; we need to get a vehicle, grab the others and head to your Site B.” Julie looked at the Escalade. “You wanna drive?”

  *

  MicDerman had had no luck in finding a suitable mode of transport for all of them. Regrouping at the helicopter crash site with the three survivors, England, Schwartz, and Wells, he hoped Ortiz and Velterra weren’t dead.

  The sudden revving sound of an engine, tires screeching and automatic fire broke out, disrupting the still air. A red Escalade came barreling around the corner, Velterra sticking out of the sunroof with a 416 in hand and Ortiz behind the wheel. As he slammed on the brakes, the cop shouted, “They’re right behind us! Get in!”

  Without hesitation, the others got in and broke out their windows to allow shooting at whatever was pursuing.

  “You could have just rolled them down,” noted Ortiz, sarcasm in his voice. “It is a Caddy after all.”

  “Oh fuck it!” shouted Wells as he broke out the rear window. “Cadillac! Chevy! Same damn body, different emblems!” Aiming his carbine, a pickup with men in orange jumpsuits came roaring around the corner. “We have to deal with thugs, too?”

  Glancing in the driver’s side mirror, Ortiz replied, “Whole city’s infected. We think their bus—” he began.

  “Doesn’t matter now! Just go!” Wells interrupted, beginning to shoot at the dozens of infected who shuffled or ran towards them as well. “Drive!”

  The sound of tires screeching was drowned out by all the automatic fire.

  Ortiz drove as fast as possible while he swerved around obstacles, which allowed the convicts to keep up. However, with the consistent shooting and their accuracy, the convicts’ truck sputtered to a stop from all the bullets shot into the engine compartment. Hordes of infected were drawn out from the noise and attacked the convicts, justice being served for their crimes.

  “Finally,” sighed Ortiz as Velterra dipped in from the sunroof, “a break.” Turning his attention to her, Clodoveo asked, “So which direction to Johnson-Scott?”

  *

  Skidding to a stop a block from Site B, the remaining survivors and mercenaries evacuated the Cadillac and ran towards the helicopter—which had begun to lift off!

  “No!” shouted MicDerman as he waved his arms back and forth, trying to attract the pilot’s attention. “Down here, we’re here!” he continued to shout.

  The last Chinook continued on its route out of the city.

  “Fuck!” yelled England as he kicked over a newspaper dispenser. “Now what the hell are we going to do? Huh? That was our only way out of the city; MicDerman—sir?”

  Turning back to what remained of his unit, MicDerman stated: “We are getting back into the SUV and driving to the edge of town. Don’t forget that I can get us out.” He moved past all of them and climbed behind the wheel; the others followed and took up defensive positions the best they could in the vehicle.

  Ortiz took over in the sunroof for Julie; she instead was in the bed with England, Wells and Tina, covering their six.

  Just as she hunkered down, MicDerman slammed onto the gas and smashed through a barricade, which blocked the infected from overrunning Site B. Even with his radical driving, Julie placed rounds on her targets with the 416. She fired the carbine in semi-automatic to better her accuracy, preserve ammunition and not to overheat the barrel.

  Too bad I can’t keep it after all this. About to reload the HK, Julie pulled out her nine-millimeter and squeezed off two rounds at some infected, which clung to the EXT’s tailgate to try and to climb in. Amazing how they still have strength like that. She had one extra magazine after reloading the carbine—at least there was the 686 and both her Glock 19s in reserve.

  The four of them continued shooting at those infected, killing the ones who got close enough to grab on.

  “ ’Least they don’t run faster than our bullets, eh?” Clodoveo huffed as he switched to the VP9. The 416 now empty, he had to rely on his sidearm for the rest of their journey.

  “Got that right, Ortiz!” yelled England as he shot another infected. “Never thought shit like this would ever happen! Ya’ know?”

  Switching from target to target after each shot, Julie added, “Talk about ‘Dawn of the Dead’! Where’s Romero now?”

  One sidearm empty, Julie dropped her aim and holstered the nine-millimeter after running its slide. Pulling out the .357 Magnum, she aimed and fired a couple rounds before Wells tapped her shoulder.

  “Look!” he pointed at a sign in the direction they were headed.

  Labeled on the green piece of steel, it read:

  WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR STAY

  AND PLEASE COME BACK SOON!

  Funny how it’s covered in blood. Julie let herself fall back against the bed as MicDerman continued their drive out. The number of infected wandering around had dropped when they reached the roadblock.

  All of them got out of the Cadillac and had to go through a screening before being allowed across. None of them were infected, as they figured.

  “Clodoveo!” called Julie, hurrying over to him and the other mercenaries who were ha
nding in their firearms—she got to keep her Glock 19s and the 686. “Didn’t get an opportunity earlier to say thank you for when we were in the parking structure.”

  With nervous laughter, he said, “You would’ve done the same for me.” Turning in his 416 to the armorer, he asked, “You and the other civilians on your way out?”

  “Yeah. What about you, MicDerman and the others? Flying out with us, right?” She crossed her arms.

  Shaking his head, he replied, “No. We have to be debriefed first. But we’ll more than likely leave in a while; all of us ’ill catch up later—headed to the same safe zone as you.”

  “Family there?” she asked, handing the empty carbine over as well.

  Clodoveo nodded. “MicDerman’s is; I got a sister waiting for me; the rest of us are going to break the news to the families of guys we lost.” Handing over the VP9, he asked, “What about you, got someone waiting?”

  Julie shook her head. “No. Just pictures now, but that’s alright; none of them saw Earth go to hell.” She gave Clodoveo’s right shoulder a light backhanded smack. “See ya’ later.”

  Giving her a lazy salute, he watched as Julie walked away to join the others.

  Once she was on board a helicopter out, Julie looked in her backpack, making sure the perfume bottles hadn’t broken amongst the carnage and saturated what boxes of ammunition remained.

  Everything was sound.

  Leaning her head back, Julie Velterra closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep as the helicopter lifted from the ground into the air, headed for solitude.

  Wherever that was.

  ###

  About the Author

  Residing in the Pacific Northwest, A. P. Schofield continues to write in genres ranging from thriller and horror to science fiction and erotica. At present time he is working on an erotic-thriller novel, which entails a young government truck driver, his growing BDSM relationship with a sheltered runaway, the Chicago Mob, and trucks with experimental diesel engines which are capable of more than great fuel economy

  Other Works by A. P. Schofield