Headed Home: Dancing with Darwin.
The worst part is
that the military, called in to stabilize the situation in the major
cities of the nation, have themselves become part of the problem.
Yes, Bob, that
seems to be the case. The situation has evolved so fast that no
response seems adequate to gain or maintain control. Initially, you
will remember, the first outbreaks were in small communities and the
results were indeed devastating but the worst was swiftly over and
the police and other services were able to regain control fairly
swiftly. But a major city proved to be an entirely different
proposition, and it soon became clear that the local law enforcement
agencies were themselves succumbing to what we are now calling AMDS
or Acquired Mental Disorder Syndrome.
As I understand
it, Monica, the National Guard were swiftly mobilized when it became
clear to the various Governors that the situation was out of control.
That's right, Bob,
and as this proved insufficient the military were given the green
light to deploy on American soil, a move that was itself sensational
news just days ago.
Sensational,
Monica, just sensational!
Yes, Bob. It
transpires that the army contracted AMDS and lost cohesion rapidly
and it was only as this became apparent that Biohazard suits were
issued to fresh units moving into the major cities.
Though for places
like New York and Los Angeles it was far too late; some units found
themselves in conflict with factions of earlier units and there have
been sporadic reports of running firefights even as the cities burned
out of control. New York, Los Angeles, Chicago and many other large
cities are effectively... what are we saying here, Monica?
Well, Bob, we have
reports coming in all the time and I don't know that there is a
single word to sum up the unprecedented level of devastation in such
a short period of time, though the word Apocalyptic has been used.
The death toll is unknown but the displaced must number in the
millions.
Millions.
Millions, Monica. The displaced must number in the millions.
Yes, Bob. Though
we should stress that the President and other senior figures are
appealing for calm in this time of national disaster, stressing that
all efforts possible at disaster relief are being made, that
cooperation with the representatives of government will most swiftly
bring this crisis under control.
This just in from
the office of the President, voluntary submission for mental
evaluation is mandatory at this time. Also, this. If you are a mental
health worker and you feel you yourself can function, report to any
designated FEMA station or Military Base.
# Year 1
Heading into Los
Angeles, the Ontario Freeway was clear of traffic ahead of the
massive army convoy that she was a part of. No one was travelling
into LA but traffic in the other direction was dense and chaotic.
They passed crashed vehicles and were under orders to ignore any
conflict they saw, but that didn't stop Sheena from looking.
“This is crazy,”
Sheena took one hand off the wheel of the cargo truck she was driving
and gestured briefly to her left. She glanced to see what Hall
thought.
“Whole world’s
going crazy,” Hall looked along the road all the way into LA and
pointed at the smoke-filled horizon. “How crazy do you think it is
in there?”
Sheena shuddered and
mentally winced away from what she imagined. It had been five days
since the madness had come to Los Angeles; the National Guard had
been called on day three as the emergency services were overwhelmed
by the sheer volume of criminal or disruptive activity. Fort Irwin
had been in preparation since then and sure enough, the legalities
satisfied, the army had been deployed to restore order. “If it were
just here,” Sheena said, “it wouldn't be so bad.”
“Don't sweat it,
Wilson,” Hall turned lazy dark brown eyes her way, “unless you
think we aren't up to the job?”
Her gaze drifted by
him and ran up the line of traffic, picked out the burning vehicles
and the fights and the random acts of madness that flitted across her
consciousness. She knew that behind her the cars were being stopped,
the people rounded up and just moved to the side of the road; they
would be surrounded by barbed wire and each and every one of them
would evaluated for sanity. Those were the orders and they were
impossible. “Depends what the job is.”
Hall didn't answer
that one, but turned to idly gaze out the window at what was coming
up. They both knew exactly how much they were carrying in the way of
ammunition. They also knew that their unit was heading for the Tesoro
refinery, and that it was too late to save Exxon Mobil; what was left
of that was within six kilometers of LA International. It had been
burning for days, taking the surrounding area with it.
“This is crazy,”
Sheena repeated, knowing it meant nothing to say it, knowing she was
going into the heart of it.
“Whole world's
crazy,” Hall said again. “Whole damn world.”
Sheena shuddered
again. She'd caught enough news to know it was true.
# Year 4
Sheena had watched
the small town for seven hours and other than lush foliage and the
odd wild thing, she seen no sign of life. If there was anyone alive
in Grovenburg, then they were lying in bed with a broken leg or a
terminal illness. Any other sounds of life would have carried to her
even above the buzz of the nearby distribution transformer that spoke
of the electricity she craved. Although she was sure that the
fifty odd houses were uninhabited she still waited a while more. She
wondered about dogs. Often, in a small town like this, there were
dogs. They packed up and became a threat. If there were no dogs then
it might be that there was something else, something that considered
the dogs prey.
With infinite care,
Sheena reached for water and took a mouthful. She moved slowly, just
in case. She knew she was invisible as long as she didn't move; the
ghillie suit was in good condition and she wore it habitually. No one
saw her. No one ever saw her. And if she had her way, and she mostly
did, then she saw no one.
She put away her
water and cradled the M16. Bringing the scope up to her eye, she
began another scan. The long slow dusk was drawing in and she no
longer expected to see any hint of human life here; that eased her
tension some. She'd already picked out her house; wood, one story,
open garage with nothing alive in it. Windows unbroken. Certainly a
bathroom. She wanted the bathroom. If there was electricity then
there was a good chance that water still flowed and could be heated.
The last sweep showed
nothing that made her nervous, so she stood up and headed for the
house and the first bath she'd had in ten days.
# Year 1
She watched the guy
pull a woman out of his truck and drag the body to the recycling bay.
It was the first time she'd had to pause before she responded. Her
gaze followed the trail of blood back to the truck, skipped over a
shoe, then up to the bed of the Dodge Ram and tangled pile of bodies
that filled it. She didn't count but estimated there were maybe as
many as thirty.
“It is your duty to
recycle,” the man sounded like he was trying to convince himself as
he turned from tossing the woman into the bay.
Sheena turned to
glance behind her as soon as she was sure the man was unarmed, but
there was no help there. Her squad was in the road and they were all
busy. They had shut off the West Pacific Highway and South
Alameda Street where they joined. Everyone inside the sprawling
refinery was already controlled; every vehicle inside had already
been put to the side of the road, none too gently in some cases. As
soon as the barbed wire and gun emplacements had been set up to
secure the area that was their responsibility, squads had been sent
out to start the pacification procedure.
“Anyone on the
streets is crazy for sure,” the Command Sergeant Major had bellowed
out a refinement on the orders already received, “and clearing the
streets is stage one, so we start there.”
Sheena turned back to
the blood-covered guy and his truck full of bodies. “Anyone acting
crazy,” she muttered to herself. “Well, fuckwit, you qualify.”
She raised her weapon and stepped forward, angling so that he was
never in cover and no part of his body was hidden by the Dodge. “On
the ground!” She repeated the words hard and fast as she
closed. He hesitated at the side of the truck, gave her a puzzled
look as one hand rested on the shirt of a teenage boy who had had his
head caved in by some kind of massive impact trauma. She watched him
shrug, reach up with the other hand and grab a hold of the boy's belt
before heaving him off the side of the truck. He let go the belt and
shirt, grabbed an arm and began to turn away as she closed on him.
She was two paces away and he was facing her as he turned, ready to
drag the body away. Still bellowing, still ignored, she stepped in
and punched the butt of the M16 into his throat, putting her weight
into it. She followed him down and put her knee into his chest, then
grabbed a wrist and got control of him. In a few moments he was on
his front and his wrists and ankles were zip-cuffed.
In under a minute she
had assured herself that the recycling center was otherwise empty.
Hall came up to her as she dragged the guy into plain sight.
“You sure he was
crazy?”
Two hours in and it
was already a joke. Still, she played her part and kept a straight
face as she pointed out the bodies in the truck and the one in the
recycling bay. “Apparently he was recycling them.”
Hall nodded. “Best
of day so far,” he conceded. “But the day is young and the stakes
are high.”
# Year 4
Take your time.
Think it through. One thing at a time.
Sheena let the words
flow through her mind in slow, relaxing cycles as she checked through
the house and prepared to stay the night. The doors were good. All
the electrical circuits worked. There was no sign of animal
occupation. The water flowed. The heater kicked in. As the dusk
deepened, Sheena went to each window in turn and covered it with the
thickest material she could find. There were two working light
bulbs in the house and she planned to have light in the night; but
not to let anyone outside the house see it. When she was confident of
the blackout she flipped on the lights, kitchen and bathroom, dropped
the MOLLE and then slowly de-armed, checking each weapon in turn. The
M16, the Glock 17, the Sig Sauer P226 and the Herstal FNP9. Getting
out of the Ghillie and the rest of her kit took time but she didn't
hurry it. Each piece was checked, down to the last buckle. The closer
she got to skin the more she could smell herself and the more she
wanted the bath. Down to thong and t-shirt, she stretched and eased
her muscles. She'd not felt so light in over a week and she enjoyed
the sensation for a few moments, then looked over her equipment as
she longed for the bath and made herself wait for it. Before she
moved to run the water Sheena unloaded each weapon and tucked
everything out of immediate sight, apart from the Glock, which she
kept loaded and carried with her as she set the bath to run.
You are being
paranoid, she told herself as she watched the water.
“Better paranoid
than dead,” she replied. Somewhere not so far away power was being
generated and from there the lines were maintained. That they worked
here, where no one lived, was probably not intentional but that was
just a guess. Likely there was no reason for anyone to come here and
the lines were maintained just to keep the juice flowing to where it
was needed, but that was no excuse for complacency. Whatever
community might still exist near here, she had no intention of it
becoming aware of her. This wasn't home. She would just pass through,
invisible as ever, and move on north, unless something stepped in her
way to slow her down. The very thought of seeing someone made her
tremble.
As the steam rose to
fill the room and leak into the passage, Sheena cast an appraising
eye around the bathroom. She was glad that a woman had lived here.
The number and variety of products was gratifying but most were
opened and had deteriorated over time. Some were more obviously
useless than others. Sheena opened the door opposite and tossed
anything that had curdled, or smelled bad or had something living in
it, either bacteria or mold. Of the remaining products, she discarded
some that had yellowed, and others that had separated. At the end she
was left with a full bottle of shampoo – she could wash her hair! -
and a fresh bar of soap. In one cupboard she found a scentless
deodorant stick and smiled for the first time since she entered the
house. When she was clean she would have a month or two of stink-free
living, though no one but her would care about that. She cared.
“Towels,” Sheena
had discarded those that had rotted but had some hope that there
might be some stored in a cupboard somewhere. “Bound to be,” she
reassured herself. After all, a woman had lived here.
# Year 1
“I tell you, she
was naked and wandering down the street asking everyone if they
wanted some.”
A tent city had
sprung up inside the refinery, and Sheena was paying more attention
to that than the conversation around her. Breakfast had been achieved
in the normal military fashion; get in, get fed, get out of the way.
Now they stood by the road and waited for transport; them and their
whole platoon, waiting on the last of their company. The noise seemed
to go on forever. The refinery covered a mega-block and was full of
her own, a purposeful and organized ruckus that comforted her and
masked the more distant roar of a city in distress. She turned her
mind from that, she would be amongst it soon enough. She took note of
the soldiers who escorted civilians, intent on learning from the more
rational crazies as they took over the running of the refinery. There
was the sound of non-com's endlessly reiterating the naked light
policy and extra precautions against fire; part of the noise that
also washed over her, the same as the erratic and distant gun fire,
the endless sound of sirens that never seemed close enough to be
useful. They fell under the category of things that she was aware of
but that didn't need her immediate attention. It was the layout of
the camp that held her interest. Engineers were setting up RLB’s,
there was a mail room, there was a designated MWR, and other
indications of permanence that disturbed her. How bad were things if
they were planning to be here that long?
“We need a witness
to the crazy nympho,” Orvill chimed out and a chorus of 'yo's' rang
around the platoon before they dissolved into fits of laughter.
“Okay, I got that
beat; this one guy was sitting in his car looking intently at his
naked body and as I came up he pushed the car lighter on himself,
burning neat holes in his skin; looked like he'd done it a hundred
times already and when I asked him why, he said he had to burn the
worms as they burrowed out of his skin or he'd not get them at all.
Didn't even look up until I zip-cuffed him, then he kicked up
a hell of a fuss.”
Sheena shuddered.
She'd seen that one, and heard how calm and intent the guy was; then
how hysterical he became when he couldn't burn out the worms
burrowing in his skin.
Their trucks rumbled
round the corner of the next building down and the sergeant spoke
with the lieutenant. Any second now they would be
called to shut up and mount up.
“We need a witness
to the worm-burning guy,” Chuck called it this time.
“Yo,” Sheena gave
the corroboration happily enough. She was confident she'd seen the
craziest thing of the previous day but knew she wouldn't get to tell
it yet.
A truck passed her,
the next truck pulled up. The sight and smells familiar but no longer
comforting. One kilometer to the edge of the refinery, then two to
their outermost perimeter, and then they would be back in the
streets, back among the crazies for another long day of madness.
# Year 4
She wasn't surprised
to find that there were no cans but had already planned two days
ahead. Her skills, knowledge and experience ensured she didn't go
hungry. She ate the last of the dog with some tawny daylily roots,
wild spinach & violets along with the small can of button
mushrooms she'd found a few days ago. She boiled a lot of water and
let it cool before filling her canteens. Knowing you can probably
trust the water isn't the same as being sure, she reminded herself.
She was alone. She couldn't afford to get sick, not even a little bit
sick.
After she'd eaten she
found a radio and played with the tuning until she found something
local. She worked at cleaning and maintaining her kit while she
listened.
We are looking for
skills in Silverton and you could certainly wind up in worse places.
We know you're probably crazy but if we can live with it we will. In
particular we're looking for someone who worked in procurement in the
nuclear industry; we need to know what you know and we're offering
some serious benefits if you want to head our way. Head to Titania if
you're coming in from the south, east or west, but head for Blue
Creek if you're coming in from the north. These are our two screening
and assessment centers; and don't fret, if you're too crazy for us
we'll just cut you loose and wish you good luck.
Sheena put
down her work and reached for her maps. It didn't take her long to
figure where Titania was and that it lay on her intended line of
march.
Now for the
locals, heads up news. We have reports of a werewolf in the Ginbridge
area so you better watch out for that sucker for sure; several deaths
have been reported and attributed to the werewolf. As usual, we
remind you that the Larisburg is full of damn zombies and you better
believe staying clear of that shit is a good idea. Foragers, watch
your asses and be prepared to kiss them goodbye.
Sheena picked out the
town of Larisburg and saw it would take her away from Silverton and
the rest. A town that hadn't been scavenged might yield gains, and
she had kit that negated the main threat from zombies.
On a lighter note,
Tim Bassen and his crew came in earlier today with three truck-loads
of parts and machinery considered essential to the Silverton nuclear
power station, projected functionality is now well into the next
decade. All you scavengers out there stay tuned for an updated list
of bounty parts and prices.
Sheena turned the
radio off. She had no interest in other people’s needs. She chewed
her lip and considered the risks and potential benefits. After a
while she re-worked her route to take in Larisburg, but steered a
long route round Ginbridge.
“Not playing with
no damn werewolf,” she muttered to herself, “and that's for damn
sure.”
