Outbreak: A Zombie Transference Short Story Prequel Page 2

  The chairman sat up again and leaned forward. “Colonel, leave the paperwork here for us to review. You will go top-side and immediately begin that process here. Ensure that we have enough food and supplies for two years of isolation. Have orders drawn up to go out to every military base that we have. Walls are to be put up and arable land must be protected as well. Let the most excellent member of the public service group know that radio announcements must be done up so that the people stay peaceful and know we are working on this. Small arms such as pistols and ammunition will be dropped off in city centres after we have pulled out. The people will have the ability to defend themselves. Additionally, all naval and air force troops are to come back to the Motherland. Even if they do not touch land and are not infected now, they may be infected later. Plans must be in place for those ships and planes to be there when we come back. In fact, our northern island has nuclear reactors. Have supplies shipped there as that may be more defensible. All bases and commanders will report on how they are progressing; those reports will be submitted every twelve hours. That is all for now, colonel. Begin immediately.”

  The colonel snapped to attention, saluted, and marched to the door, which was opened for him by one of the guards.

  The chairman looked at the captain standing to the side and nodded at him. The captain snapped his fingers and the guards and everyone else quickly filed out of the room. As the last man walked out of the secure room, pushing the thick door closed behind him, one of the generals sitting at the end of the conference table stood up and strolled over, throwing a locking bar into place.

  True privacy was almost impossible to find in the European communist bloc. But the committee that ruled would have it.

  The chairman and all the other members of the committee leaned forward and brought their arms onto the table. As the general came back from securing the door, he went to a small cabinet and pulled out a bottle of vodka and a tray of glasses. Another committee member was pulling out a large jug of water from a hidden fridge and brought that to the table as well. Both types of drinks were poured and passed around the table. When everyone had a drink and the two members were sitting again, the chairman began talking.

  “We have a problem. This abomination that the good doctor was working on is now out. The fool is incredibly lucky to have died as he did. He would have gone to the slaughterhouse for ‘treatment’ if he had been taken alive, or any of his personnel. This may lead to the end of all life on our planet if we do not react quickly enough.”

  The general sitting next to the chairman cleared his throat and leaned his bulk to one side while reaching for the shot glass of vodka. The chair groaned ominously under him. “Perhaps, chairman, we have a more negative view of the possible outcome? It is not uncommon for some subordinates to exaggerate for their own betterment.” He drank the glass of vodka as if it was water and then beckoned to the man across the table from him for the bottle.

  The chairman sat back and steepled his hands in front of his face as he watched the large man pour himself another drink. He shook his head. “No, Grigori, I am afraid that our minions have foolishly understated the dangers that we face. We have lost several battalions of troops in the originally infected area. Outbreaks are happening all over now, and this is spreading quickly.”

  The chairman straightened up and looked around the table. “Now we must make decisions and set policy, comrades.” He pulled out a small notebook and carefully uncapped a pen. “The first thing is the breeding program. We must have healthy young people, and after the agent has run its course, those who are alive must breed. The Motherland will need strong boys and girls to become adults and lead us into the future. With that, we will need material and teachers. Future generations must be well taught. We must not come out of the darkness in a few years and have to live as simple farmers. Our culture must be saved. Comrade Selre, you will be in charge of putting together a plan within the next twelve hours. We must save what we can.”

  The next man that the chairman turned his attention to was a thin, dapper man in a suit. “Comrade Gels, you must immediately begin working through rumour and the news that this outbreak was in fact started by the West as an attack on the Motherland. Do not name the Americans. Do name terrorists and secessionists as those who delivered this agent into our midst. We must make sure that those who are truly responsible are named so that the people may know and focus their righteous rage on those while living today in the Motherland.”

  Around the table everyone nodded agreement.

  The chairman made another note in his notebook, then looked up at the committee. “Our strategic material exists in bunkers and hidden locations all across the continent. We will be able to draw on these supplies when it is time to come out of our forts and retake the world. The one positive side to this is those rebels and troublemakers on our borders will be wiped out.” The chairman closed the little notebook that contained his scrawl and carefully placed it inside a jacket pocket. He turned and looked down the table to another thin man that seemed to barely be there. “Comrade Ears, is there any chance you have heard any rumours from the Americans about what is going on? Should we leak word to them of what is coming?”

  The man didn’t smile at the nickname; he simply looked back at the chairman with dark eyes and quietly spoke. “Yes, Comrade Chairman, the Americans have labelled the stories of a flu going around as being our fault, caused by supposed failures in the pure socialist life. The first outbreaks have happened in both North and South America. The flu will spread and infection will likely take longer. There is no indication that they know what is going on here or are aware of the side effects of the infection. They will blame us when they do understand, but that will only matter to their own people. As for letting them know what is coming, they would only use that against us, and there is a chance that they could better prepare for what is to follow. I recommend that we say nothing so that the people are protected.”

  The chairman nodded and then stood up. “Comrades, this meeting is over. We must now go and implement the changes that we have discussed. For now, all further meetings will be short and occur as we can manage them.” Everyone else stood up as well and the general opened the door that he had closed earlier so everyone could file out. Throughout the bunker was the sound of running feet and shouted orders as the commands of the ruling committee were carried out.

  NEW YORK, A FEW DAYS LATER

  Billy was standing on the dock shivering in the cold wind coming off of the water. The latest ship had come in from its “African” port of origin and was unloading those items from Europe that there was a high demand for here in the U.S. Billy had been working the docks for his entire adult life and just couldn’t understand why people just wouldn’t come out and admit it.

  The whole boycott of goods from Communist Europe was a sham. What was worse was that this boat was going to get loaded up with American goods to be shipped back over. Twenty years ago there would have been maybe a boat a month coming into port. Now? There were one or two a week.

  No matter what else, money made the world go around.

  He shrugged and turned as the door to the small shack opened and Gabe came out. They had worked together for years and Gabe had been managing this site for most of that time. He was a good guy. He always made sure that there was a pot of coffee on for the boys when they were going on break from unloading. It was a good spot to work for and there were no labour problems here. Heck, they had even gotten Christmas bonuses the last couple of years.

  Gabe stopped next to Billy and looked at the boat as it slowly nestled up to the pier. “Your crew ready, Billy?”

  Billy nodded and sniffled. “Are we ever not ready, Gabe?”

  Both men laughed at that.

  The ship bumped up against the pier and stopped moving. There was some sort of commotion as the gangplank was dropped down and secured. One of the cranes started moving over to begin unloading the storage containers and crewmembers started scrambling down t
he walkway.

  Gabe nudged Billy. “Come on, then, let’s go see what they have for us this go around, and if they brought any of those ‘gift’ bottles of hard-kicking liquor.”

  Billy laughed as they started walking down the pier toward the walkway.

  Billy noticed that Gabe was sniffling as much as he was. This damn flu bug going around was a tough one. It seemed like half the people he knew were down with it and not coming in for work.

  There were even stories going around of an epidemic. That didn’t really matter to Billy, though. He had to go to work. He had to pay rent and put food on the table. A little flu couldn’t stop him.

  As they walked down the pier, he noticed that the men on the walkway seemed to be injured. Not only that, they were staggering down the gangplank like drunken sots. Some of these Europeans that were trusted by their ‘party’ were some of the worst people out there. In fact….

  The door on the bridge higher up on the ship slammed open and a man stepped out. He was big and burly and was yelling and waving his arms. He was too far away and his accent was probably so thick that no one could have made out what he was saying anyway. But he sure seemed frantic….

  Gabe had stopped walking and had grabbed Billy’s shoulder. Billy was much bigger and almost kept walking, dragging Gabe after him, but he stopped and looked back. “What’s wrong, Gabe?”

  Gabe was white-faced. “Billy, have you really looked at the crew?”

  The crew was at the bottom of the gangplank and half started lurching toward Gabe and Billy while the other half turned and staggered toward the longshoremen gathered by the crane.

  Billy was looking closer while shaking his head no. “Gabe, they’re drunk….” He stopped. The men were not walking toward them; they were lurching and their arms were flailing around. One of the men looked like he was missing his arm and most looked like they were wearing red paint. They were getting closer fast and it became obvious that the paint was blood. It looked like they had been bitten or torn at by something, and the noises that they were making… they weren’t really yelling as much as growling and snarling like animals.

  Billy started waving his arms and yelling at the other longshoremen on the far side. They heard and looked his way. He could hear confused shouting but he couldn’t focus on that. He turned and took off at a run. Gabe was already ahead of him; he hadn’t waited.

  Billy couldn’t blame him for that. Sometimes they got floaters in the water, and the crew that was chasing him reminded him of these, only fresh. Eyes clouded over and skin torn at by the feeders in the water.

  He could hear the crew shuffling after him and moaning. Damn it, they were fast! But he had a bit of a lead and wasn’t going to be stopping.

  He came to the end of the pier and took the turn, sliding on the slippery concrete. He didn’t lose his balance, though, and kept running. The gate was just ahead and there was a lock on it. He could see Gabe struggling with and opening the door. It swung inward. He was yelling something at Billy but there was no way Billy was going to be wasting breath yelling back or doing anything other than focusing on running.

  Billy slid through the doorway and Gabe clanged the small door shut. Billy had just stopped and turned. There was maybe thirty feet for the crew to cover, but the gate was closed and Gabe was snapping the lock shut. There was no going cheap on these fences. The companies didn’t like losing money to theft.

  There were already three security guards gathered and they were armed with shotguns and sidearms. The lead guard spoke. “Hey there, Gabe, having problems with some of these European scum?”

  His tone was light and bantering, but all three guards had tight grips on their shotguns and Billy could see that they had ammo vests on with additional carry bags of ammunition. Clearly they were expecting problems, and they were armed for it.

  Gabe was doubled over gasping now that he had secured the gate. He took a second to catch his breath while still keeping an eye on the group that was pressed up against the fence.

  “Well, you know, Smitty, I have to say that these visitors do not appear to be appreciating our warm New York-style greetings.”

  At the fence, the crew were lunging against it and growling or hissing. As the fence rattled, Gabe and Billy quickly moved back.

  Smitty the security guard nodded. “Don’t you worry, boys, we have some more guards arriving any minute and we’ll be giving these visitors a nice hot New York welcome that I’m sure they will appreciate. After we blow them to pieces. You boys may want to get going as I don't think the docks will be open until the mess is cleared up. I understand the company is even paying you boys out for a full shift with no fuss.” The three men brought their shotguns up and advanced on the fence.

  Gabe and Billy backed away. In the distance they could hear shouting and then some shots. Some of that was coming from the far side of the warehouses, which would have been by the other gated entry. But there was yelling and what sounded like screaming coming from behind the men, in the direction of the city.

  Sirens started to sound in the distance and Smitty called back over his shoulder as he and the other two guards stopped before the gate, which was straining with maybe twenty people pressing against it now. “Gabe, you’re a good guy. A buddy of mine with the military planning command passed me a rumour that the city is getting shut down under martial law because of this commie flu. You may want to get out of town before that happens, ‘cause you remember what happened last time the government started flexing its muscles….”

  Gabe didn’t say a thing but turned and started walking quickly away. Billy turned and followed him. Billy slowed when he heard the first shotgun blast behind them, but then started running to catch up to Gabe, who had never even looked back.

  They turned the corner of the building and stumbled into some of the other dockworkers that had gone the other way. Not everyone was there.

  Before Billy could open his mouth and ask the others what had happened, Gabe raised his voice up and everyone stopped milling around. “Listen up, you idiots! I’m leaving the city tonight and heading south and west as fast as I can. The military is coming in to declare martial law, and that means rioting and prison camps. You’re all young, single guys that work too hard for too little. I’m going to say this once: Don’t get involved with those socialist sympathisers. Get out of the city and run far and fast. The last set of riots was a long time ago and I saw how it caused thousands of deaths. I won’t be one of them. Don’t stand around gawping, either, or the first of the press gangs will grab you.”

  With that, Gabe turned and crossed the street, heading for one of the smaller side lanes that led out of the warehouse district. He stopped at the entrance to the lane and picked up a rusty pipe lying to the side, giving it a few practice swings before walking on.

  Billy looked around at the rest of the dockworkers staring after the shorter man. More sirens started wailing in the distance and there was the sound of what could have been gunshots and screaming. He decided. “Boys, Gabe has never steered me wrong yet. I’m off with him. Stay or come as you want.”

  He turned and started running after Gabe. After a few seconds of milling about, everyone else ran after Billy. They all started looking around, grabbing whatever they could as makeshift weapons while they ran through the chilly night.

  IRON GUARD BASE ‘RIGHTEOUS HAMMER’, ONE MONTH LATER

  It was the same conference room that the last fateful meeting had been held in. Today was like a twisted mirror image. Almost half of the members who had been in the last meeting were not there today. Nor would they ever be again. The shots to the back of the head when it became obvious that they were infected and turning guaranteed that.

  The chairman leaned back and looked around, noting the empty seats. He smiled as his eyes finally settled on the large, well-padded general in the seat next to him. “Grigori, it must have happened that a bear like you would not catch this sickness, and if you did, you would sniffle and then be done with it.
Everyone else may fall by the side, but you, my old friend, will continue.”

  The general nodded. “Comrade Chairman, if more of our countrymen simply drank enough vodka, then no simple sickness would have any effect on them. It is the weakness of their thirst and other appetites that leaves them open to these things. I have no problems with that, and so even though I became sick, I am better almost immediately and back to work for the people.”

  There were appreciative chuckles from around the table. The far secured door opened and the security around the room had not only their eyes but their weapons trained on the door and the figure that walked through. It was a major of the Iron Guard. He stopped within the door and saluted crisply, then moved to a spot by a lectern where he put a folio down. He nodded at the opening on the back wall where the projection room was. The background hum of the projector being turned on was audible.

  The major looked at the chairman. “Comrade Chairman, whenever you are ready I can begin my briefing?”

  The chairman looked around the room and gestured for the major to begin.

  The major stood rigid at the front in front of the committee and began talking. He spoke in a monotone, and behind him, slides with numbers and pictures started regularly passing across the screen.

  The information was all the same. Cities overrun with the infected. Military bases hunkering down and fighting off waves of attackers. Some bases even with hastily erected walls had fallen when the infection broke out inside. Every base with a sizeable Iron Guard detachment had quickly executed the infected and stopped the spread of the infection. The regular army was not having as much luck, but they were starting to turn toward what hopefully would be victory.

  In the cities the military had left small arms in bulk, and local militias were trying to hold off the infected.