Apocalypsis Immortuos | Book 1 | Syndrome Read online

  Several figures could be seen staggering here and there, all of them would turn to the sound of the school bus and start moving towards it. Thankfully, none of the figures were very close. Everything else was eerily quiet.

  “Fuck!” That was Collins. It was the first word he had spoken so far on this ride. Three days ago, he was still all full of bluster. Getting a word in edgewise was a challenge with this guy. But the deteriorating conditions over the last couple of days sure shut him up. Emily could see him grimace.

  He was right though. ‘Fuck’ pretty much described what all of them were thinking.

  “No response. Calling the next one.” Garcia called out.

  The team rode in silence as Garcia attempted to make contact, a ridiculously small phone held up to his ear.

  Or maybe his hand is just really big. That took Emily’s mind off tangent once again. It took her a moment to shake out of it.

  Apparently, somebody answered this time.

  “Ok, we are on route to pick up: Family of four, two males, two females. Name Collins. ... Huh!” He looked up at Collins with a raised eyebrow.

  Before Collins could respond, Garcia turned back to Emily. “Two more blocks then take a right, followed by the first right onto Meadow Lane. The house is the second one in on the right-hand side.”

  Ninety seconds later the bus pulled up in front of the Collins’ house.

  “Nice shack.” One of the guys commented. This was definitely one of the more affluent parts of town.

  “Ok, we are in front now. ... Yes, that’s us. ... Ok, listen up. We need you folks to move to the front door, but do not open the door until we knock on it. We will be at your door in the next couple of minutes.”

  The extraction team had moved to the front of the bus in preparation of the extraction. Heads were on swivels as the area was being scanned for targets. Each team member had their own quadrant to scan.

  Garcia spoke up first. “Three tangoes closing in 11 o’clock, 35 yards.”

  Collins was next “One tango 5 o’clock 20 yards.”

  “All clear 6 o’clock to 9 o’clock” Moyers stated.

  Brown was last. “All clear 12 o’clock to 3 o’clock.”

  Peters motioned as he quickly instructed his men. “Collins and Moyers file out first, stage and engage target at 5 o’clock. Garcia and Durant with me, form staggered line to left and engage targets at 11 o’clock. Hill, I want you at the door, scanning for more tangoes. Brown get up top after the tangoes are down and provide overwatch. Remember, go for head shots.”

  The mixed unit of regular army, national guard and reserve knew how to execute. The only sound was the rustling of the soldiers as they filed out of the bus and took position, with the low and soothing sound of the idling bus providing background. Within seconds the men had formed up into their positions and waiting for the signal from Peters. The relative silence was about to be shattered.

  Emily watched all this as she continued to look around for more zombies. She observed the group of three closing in from straight ahead. Only one of the undead displayed any physical damage. It had lacerations to his torso and legs. Emily imagined that it had fallen or was pushed through a window. A couple of them were wearing pyjamas.

  Which only adds to the mindfuck. The undead looked ... well, kind of normal. Except for those freaky expressions. They also moved somewhat woodenly, and these ones seemed to only be capable of a fast walk. They were unarmed, but Emily knew that they were very dangerous.

  She’d seen first-hand what these things were capable of. They practically ignored any damage to their bodies other than their heads and would keep coming at you. Just yesterday she saw a civilian get seriously hurt. The bus had stopped in front of the pickup house, but the woman had not waited to be extracted and came running. She was tackled to the ground before the bus had come to a complete stop. Peters had acted fast and between him and a couple of the other guys, they had taken down the attackers. But the lady had some severe lacerations to her head and neck. Once they got her on the bus to do an assessment, they also found that she had several busted ribs, a dislocated elbow, two broken fingers, and a nasty bite wound on her thigh.

  She made it though. Or at least she made it back to the safe zone. Emily wondered how she was doing now.

  Just then the first sharp reports of gunshots brought her back to the present. Emily flinched involuntarily at the loud sounds.

  The soldiers had learned to go for headshots. Emily saw a zombie’s head snap violently backwards as a pink spray shot out of the back of its head. About half a dozen shots later, and the all clear was given. Peters sent orders to his team both verbally and with a hand signal, and in short order Collins stacked up with Peters, with Durant following a few yards behind, and the trio made it to the front door. Garcia and Moyers continued to watch the flanks.

  After a knock, the door opened, and the Collins family exited their house. Emily could see the relief on Peters’ face as each family member moved rapidly, carrying only one bag each. He’d had some hairy moments with folks that insisted on taking more than their maximum allotment of personal effects.

  Halfway to the bus the whole family shrieked and crouched down when another shot rang out. It was Brown on the roof, eliminating a new target.

  Peters quickly jostled them back upright and into the right direction, and within moments they were filing past Emily onto the bus. Peters signalled for Brown to come down, Durant and Collins stepped into the bus, followed by Brown and Garcia. Peters stepped aboard last. The team had been doing this for several days and everybody knew their job. Emily couldn’t help but be impressed with the way the team operated. It was disciplined, organized and well practiced by now.

  “Well how about that!?” Durant stated as he watched the family walk towards the back of the bus.

  “Collins. ... Hmmm. These folks any relation to you, Collins? The resemblance is uncanny!” Durant rhetorically asked, to his own great amusement.

  Collins was a sharp featured, pale, skinny blonde kid, while the Collins family were African American. Collins mumbled something in return under his breath. Emily smirked as she clearly heard the term ‘Shitbird’.

  Americans and their sayings. She thought to herself with amusement as she watched the young soldier.

  Emily smirk turned into a frown as she saw his sharp features briefly pinched in pain, his hand shooting to his gut. He caught Emily watching him and shrugged it off quickly.

  Emily shifted the bus into first gear on a signal from Peters. From the corner of her eye she saw another figure woodenly walking towards the bus.

  Too late dickhead. She silently taunted the zombie. Looks like you missed the bus.

  Garcia was on the phone again before the bus got into second gear.

  The next pickup went off without a hitch. Not a single undead in the street as an elderly couple was assisted on board. The old man was terribly pleased and insisted on shaking every soldier’s hand once he got safely onto the bus.

  The next one was uneventful as well, as four adults and one teen were added to the civilian roster.

  The pick-up after that was interesting, though. Garcia had called the guy when the team was about three minutes out. As always, he instructed the civilian to stay inside his house. However, the team was met with a strange sight when the bus pulled around the last corner. there was a man standing in the middle of the street, with several destroyed undead around him. The Asian man was wielding a hammer in each hand.

  “What the fuck...” Garcia trailed off as he spotted the man. The phone in his hand all but forgotten.

  “Pull up here, Hill.” Peters instructed. The bus pulled up about thirty yards away from the man. The street looked petty much clear, with the exception of one more zombie. That zombie approached the man, who stood and waited.

  Emily felt her jaw drop as the guy dispatched the zombie. He leapt with a cat-like reflex to the side just as the undead lunged at him. In one continuous motion he dodged under
the outstretched arms, stepped around the back of the undead and swept the legs of his target. The zombie went down hard, smashing its face on the pavement.

  Emily could see teeth bouncing away.

  The man took a quick step closer to the zombie and delivered two quick hammer blows to the back of its head. Wack-wack. Once with each hammer. Emily saw the second hammer blow penetrate the skull. The zombie spasmed and then lay still. The undead was permanently dead.

  Peters told Emily to open the door and quickly stepped out. He called out a challenge to the man. The guy was incredibly cool, as he wiped the head of the hammer on the corpse’s shirt, grabbed a duffel bag and walked over. He identified himself with a calmness that none of the folks on the bus could even pretend to feel.

  It happened to be the guy on the list.

  As he entered the bus Emily noticed that his t-shirt had a flap in the front where it was torn, and she could see a thin red line indicated a scratch on his chest. He also had a scratch on his forearm but for the rest seemed unscathed. He had holstered his hammers in the carpenter’s belt he wore. Emily looked outside and counted at least five corpses. That meant that he had taken Garcia’s call, walked out, and destroyed all these undead in a matter of a couple of minutes. Armed with nothing more than hammers!

  He is ace with those hammers. Blimey, he hasn’t even broken a sweat!

  Emily watched the man move down the aisle and grab a seat a few rows back. She pulled the bus back into the road and started driving, but her mind was still on the Asian man. She could only imagine the skills this man would have with real weapons. Like those ninja swords.

  What were those things called anyway? Katanas or something...

  THE DAY WORE ON AND the bus slowly filled up with people. They had left the safe zone nearly two hours ago now and the team had picked up nearly twenty civilians. Thankfully, without any serious incident. It got a bit hairy on the last extract, when one of the shambling forms came dangerously close, and nearly knocked the rifle out of Durant’s hands.

  They also had another incident, when a young couple attempted to get onto the bus while the team was executing another extraction. At least one of them was suffering from the HAPS infection, so they were denied access. The couple went from pretending to be symptom free to begging for help. But Peters and the team had strict orders.

  They ended up being turned away at gun point. Emily felt sorry for them. The looks in their eyes was ... hopeless. Emily knew that it truly would be hopeless for those two. They would die like all the others. They would succumb to HAPS. If they were lucky, they would stay dead. If they were not, they would rise again, with that comical yet horrific expression on their faces.

  What would you do, Em? Would you let yourself succumb, or would you end it sooner?

  Emily thought about it as she watched the backs of the retreating couple. The woman turned and looked back at the bus just before they stepped around a corner and out of sight. Emily could almost hear an audible twang as the woman closed her eyes, turned and stepped around the corner. The sound of the lifeline snapping as the lifeboat floated away...

  SHE WAS STILL THINKING of them half an hour later. Emily wondered how the couple was doing. There were dangers all around, but at least the guy looked like he could handle a fight.

  Emily’s reminiscence was interrupted as they approached the next pickup location. She guided the bus on a complicated left turn, around a car that was left in the middle of the intersection, and into a residential area for the next pickup. The weather had held nicely. It was getting slightly overcast but at least it was still pleasant and dry.

  Collins and Brown were passing around water bottles to the civilians in the back of the bus. It was a tried and tested method of keeping people calm. The water bottles were a distraction for people and besides the obvious benefit of quenching some thirst, the bottles themselves were a tangible object to cling on to.

  Emily observed this through the rear-view mirror. Nearly all the civilians were holding on to the bottles. Some were squeezing them like they were stress balls. Others just held them and stared at the water sloshing around inside. A few were continually unscrewing the cap, taking a small sip, and screwing the cap back on, only to unscrew the cap again a few seconds later.

  Some of the folks had the strength to interact with others – providing some conversation and support where needed. It occurred to Emily that this group appeared to be more disciplined, organized and generally ‘with it’ than any of the other groups she had transported in her bus over the last few days.

  Emily guessed that was because they had seen and experienced a lot more. Four days ago, it was rare to see a zombie. Interestingly, seeing a zombie back then caused more hysteria than a few days later, when the undead were roaming everywhere and not an uncommon sight.

  What the fuck am I thinking. Zombies are now a common sight?

  Well, they are. She answered herself.

  “Two minutes out. One female, one male. Claire Moore and her adult son Dale.” Garcia’s voice broke through her contemplations.

  “Turn left at the next lights, then first left. House is on the right side, about half-way down the blo– Wait!” Garcia shot out of his seat and pointed. “Did you see her?” He said to Peters, who nodded in the affirmative. Emily saw it too.

  A girl had run across the street about half a block ahead. She had seen the bus approaching on her right and the distraction caused her to miss the curb. She tripped and went down hard. Emily wasn’t sure but didn’t think that the undead could run like that.

  An image of the girl she had run over came to Emily’s mind. Suddenly, she was filled with a desire to save this child. Without a second thought, Emily sped up the bus to get to where the girl went down. She hit the brakes hard when she got there, Tires screeched slightly even as she hit the handle to open the bus door.

  “Get in!” Emily yelled as the girl.

  Peters swung around the entrance to the bus, and stepped down onto the top step, still inside the bus and blocking entry. He held his rifle at low-ready.

  “Hold on a second.”

  He quickly scanned up and down the sidewalk and saw a couple of shambling forms, but they were still over a block away.

  Peters spoke up to get the girl’s attention.

  “Girl. Can you tell me if you have a tummy ache?”

  The girl was very distraught. Tears were flowing freely, and she had hurt her ankle in the fall as well as skinned her leg. She had pulled herself up to a half-seated position and stared up at the soldier. Long dark hair hung down in front of her face, and as she brushed her hair away from her face her large brown eyes shone with desperation and fear. She was breathing fast from running and at the same time her breath shuddered with emotion. She struggled to calm herself but could not respond right away.

  “Peters. Bloody hell, mate. Let her in.” Emily tried to keep her voice calm, but it was cracking with emotion.

  Peters turned his head to look over his shoulder at her. “Not until we’re sure she isn’t infected.”

  “C’mon sir – just let her in and we’ll check her as we roll!” Garcia called out.

  Peters hesitated for a moment and scanned up and down the road again. He did not move, however.

  At that moment there was a ruckus at the back of the bus, as an undead had approached the bus from across the street and started to hit the siding and windows. Several people screamed in fear.

  The girl heard the noise and started to back away from the bus. Peters took one more look at her, then retreated back into the bus.

  “Ok. Get in girl.” He motioned for her to enter. The girl had gingerly got to her feet.

  The girl contemplated turning and running, but one step told her that she would not be running with her ankle injury. Instead she limped over to the bus and stepped up and in.

  Emily got the bus rolling forward again, and the pounding on the back of the bus stopped. Garcia quickly stepped up to the girl, helped her sit on
the front bench, and started conversing with her in Spanish.

  “Cual es tu nombre, nina?”

  “Maria”

  “Estas herido”

  “Me he lastimado el tobillo”

  “She says her name is Maria and that she has hurt her ankle.” This last was to Peters.

  “Ask her if her stomach hurts.” He replied.

  “My stomach is fine. And I speak English.” Maria replied with a fierce, almost angry look in her eyes.

  “Any cramping, blood in your stool, vom– “

  “No. No, and no. I am not ‘infectado’ if that’s what you’re asking.

  Peters considered for a moment. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’ve seen it. My father and ... and my little ...” Tears started to roll freely “my little brother. They were.”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stared at Peters with defiance.

  “My mother and I never had any symptoms. No stomach-ache!”

  Peters nodded. “Ok – I believe you. You can get properly examined at the safe zone.” He frowned. “You mentioned your mother. Where is she?”

  “She...” She stared out the window in the direction she had come from. “I’m alone now.” This time her eyes did not shine with defiance but with utter loss and sorrow.

  Garcia helped her to her feet and down the aisle towards the back of the bus. She glared at Peters as she walked past him. Peters swallowed and dropped his head slightly.

  “I ... uh, ... S-sorry” he mumbled after her retreating back.

  Emily watched the whole exchange out of the corner of her eye as she navigated the bus down the street. Peters was a professional soldier who knew how to communicate with his men. The sergeant was talented in assessing military situations and organizing his team. Speaking to civilians was not his strength.

  “Templeton Street. This is it. Turn right, here.” Garcia broke the tension. Immediately, the look in Peters’ face changed and he was all business.