Omega Pathogen: Mayhem (12 page)

Although it isn’t, it seems like an eternity before Chris speaks again. Just as Jim is about to ask, Chris speaks. “Hands up and get on your knees!” Seeing no reaction, Chris repeats his command.

“Not moving, Dad,” Chris says with tension in his voice, while staring down his sights at the silhouette toward the far end of the aisle. The shadowy figure doesn’t move. It stands in a hunched position, Chris assumes staring at him. He can feel its eyes boring into him. Chris feels his heart pounding in his chest like it’s going to explode through his ribcage.

He opens his mouth to ask his dad to have a look, and before he utters a sound, he hears the shadow make a wet-sounding low growl and sprint towards him. Jim is trying his best not to look over to either of his sons, especially towards Chris, where he knows he’s facing someone or something. He covers his section.

Jeremy, with his eyes and AR-15 tracking as one, searches from his left to right, looking for threats. The shadowy, human-shaped figure closes quickly on Chris. He yells, “Stop,” once more, and then he rapidly, but controllably, sends six rounds into its center mass by double-tapping the trigger three times.

Jim and Jeremy both hear Chris’s order to stop, and then involuntarily jump when the first report of the rifle reaches their ears. At almost the same instant, Jeremy sees four obviously infected people sprinting toward him from the rancid frozen food section. “I’ve got four, they’re coming out of the freezers!” he yells out to his dad and Chris.

Jim takes a quick look to his right, in the direction of the freezers. He sees Jeremy take aim with his rifle. Before he hears or sees any rounds sent toward the attackers, he turns back to his area of responsibility and is met by the sight of two infected halfway in the aisle and sprinting in his direction.

Chris watches as his attacker falls face first with no attempt to break its fall and then slide a couple of feet before coming to a stop. Jim opens fire on his two growling attackers, dropping both quickly. He hears the volley of fire from Chris’s weapon, and then the last three shots from Jeremy’s as he looks for more infected in his section. In the lull, he asks Chris and Jeremy “OK?” and he receives a “Yeah,” and a “Good,” from Jeremy and then Chris.

“What the fuck!” Chris exclaims.

“The fuckers were in here the whole damn time,” Jeremy half asks and half makes a statement.

“Check your surroundings,” Jim whispers and holds up his left hand. Chris and Jeremy do a fast look to their dad and then began searching for more infected closing in. From the direction of the entrance, the route they were taking, they hear the rapid pounding of feet growing closer.

Doing a quick 360 visual, Jim orders his sons down the aisle where Chris’s dead attacker lies in a pool of blood. Stepping cautiously around the body, Jim has Jeremy and Chris take a position behind him, facing the end of the aisle.

Jim takes a knee and focuses his attention on the aisle they just entered. “What about the gas?” Chris asks.

“It works, but then it’ll be all over everything we want to take with us in the MRAP. Last resort,” Jim answers.

The sound of feet and shoes hitting the floor getting louder, they now hear the low growling of the infected. They steady themselves, as the sounds seem not only to be growing louder but also multiplying in numbers.

Jim is ready to engage at the first sight of infected entering the aisle, aiming his AR-15 in that direction, safety off and all senses heightened. Suddenly he hears gunshots behind him. Jim then hears both his sons yell out simultaneously “Contact!” And at the same time, the aisle on Jim’s side fills with the sight of at least ten infected.

They begin slipping, sliding, and falling over each other as they try to be the first to get to him and his sons. Jim opens up his AR-15, double-tapping each infected then quickly moving to the next. Click. Jim’s rifle empty, he slides it to his left side with his left hand while at the same time, with his right hand, he draws his Glock 17 from the drop-leg holster.

Quickly taking aim, Jim fires twelve 9mm rounds, two rounds per infected. Two more shots ring out from behind him and then stop. With no more infected entering the aisle, Jim quickly changes the magazine in his Glock; holstering it, he reloads his AR-15.

“Clear,” Jim says.

He’s immediately rewarded by an echoed reply, and sounds of Chris and Jeremy reloading their firearms. Then silence. The only thing any of them hears are the sounds of each other’s heavy breathing and ringing in their ears. The smell of cordite, blood, urine, and released bowels is heavy in the air.

After a few more seconds of listening and looking, Jeremy says, “Cleanup on aisle one-fifteen, please.” Jim looks up to see they are actually in aisle one hundred and fifteen.

“Funny,” Chris replies and gives a little chuckle.

“Keep sharp, guys,” Jim warns as he tries not to laugh at the gallows humor.

Unsuccessful, Jim issues a chuckle as well. They immediately stop when they hear growling among them.

“Some are still alive,” Chris quietly says.

“You two split up. Jeremy, come by me and watch out. Chris, you stay and do the same.”

Jim hears Jeremy quietly approach from behind and then touch his left shoulder. Jim moves to the right while Jeremy takes his place. “Turning on my light,” Jim warns and clicks on the light mounted on his rifle to get a better view of what their actions have wrought. “Eyes out. I’m firing,” Jim warns his sons of the impending sounds of gunfire.

Normally, Jim would not kill an injured person; but this is different. These infected could pass on the disease to anyone else that happens into the store, spreading whatever this is even more. Thinking his actions may be for naught, he presses forward and finishes the lives of three of the remaining infected.

Jim, Chris, and Jeremy cautiously make their way out of the aisle to their overloaded cart, and then out to the MRAP. After filling Arzu in on what happened inside the Costco, and checking for approaching infected or other possible threats, they make three more trips inside and out before leaving to try to gather other supplies. 

Chapter 21

Present

Once their supplies, and they, are loaded into the back of the MRAP, Jim, Chris, and Jeremy try to maneuver around all their recently acquired provisions, making their way toward the driver’s seat.

Arzu, twisted in her seat, looks over each of them from head to toe, for injuries. “What happened in there? I heard a lot of shooting.” She yells the question at Jim with a look of concern.

“We ran into some infected,” Jim answers after a pause and then half sits, half collapses onto the front passenger seat. Chris and Jeremy take seats nearby in much the same exhausted flop as their father.

“Let’s reload and then head to the Tractor Supply store, it’s not far from here,” Jim says as he removes empty AR-15 magazines from his pocket. Chris and Jeremy do the same, Jeremy placing the aluminum ammo box within easy reach of the three of them as they all reload.

Chris asks, “What’s at the tractor place that we need?” Arzu and Jeremy also look to Jim for his answer.

“We need to carry as much fuel as we can to feed this beast,” Jim says while continuing to load 5.56 mm cartridges into his composite magazine. “The store should have some fuel tanks; they use them on farms and ranches to transport fuel for equipment,” Jim finishes his thoughts, places a newly-filled magazine into pouches on his chest rig, and looks to his family.

Arzu twists back to face the windshield, places the automatic transmission into drive,
and begins to pull away from the Costco entrance. “You guys buckle up,” she says as she heads northwest toward their next stop.

Pausing from reloading their magazines, Jim, Jeremy, and Chris buckle in, then resume filling magazines and checking their firearms.

Jeremy grabs a bottle of water and says, “Dad.” Looking toward his son, Jim sees the proffered bottle and positions both his hands, ready to catch. Jeremy tosses a bottle to his dad and then hands one to Chris before grabbing a third for himself. The three of them down half of their bottles on the first gulp.

Jeremy, looking at Berk and Kayra, says, “You guys want a surprise?”

“What is it?” Kayra asks as she and Berk both lean forward toward Jeremy. Reaching under his chest rig, Jeremy pulls out two deformed Kit-Kat candy bars, their plastic wrappers sweat-soaked but still sealed. He offers them to his younger half-brother and half-sister.

Taking the candy from Jeremy with wide eyes and the mouths in the shape of an ‘O’, then wide smiles, Berk and Kayra both tear open their surprise and begin to gobble it down. “Thanks, Jeremy,” Berk says, followed immediately by Kayra, who echoes the sentiment.

Returning their smiles, Jeremy says, “You’re welcome,” sits back and gulps down the rest of his water. Chris says to Jeremy, “Hey, grab the juice boxes, too.” Giving a nod, Jeremy moves some items around and retrieves from their supplies the case of juice boxes that Chris picked up. Ripping open the plastic, he then gives one to Berk and Kayra. Again, thanks are given to Jeremy, and this time Chris, as well, for the juice boxes.

“Thanks, guys,” Jim says, looking at his older sons, to which he receives nods from both.

“Where’s mine?” Arzu says with a grin and quick glance to the back of the MRAP at Jeremy and Chris, and then extends an open right hand.

“No more candy bars, but you can have a juice box,” Jeremy says, handing one to Chris to pass forward to Arzu.

“That’s good enough,” Arzu says as she grabs the box of fruit-flavored drink that Chris taps her with on the shoulder.

Jim unbuckles from the front passenger seat, stands, and then steps up onto the platform for the turret. Unlocking it and pushing up the heavy door, Jim stands up through the opening and takes a 360-degree look around them.

Seeing some numerous human shapes partially concealed in areas shaded from the glare of the mid-afternoon Texas sunlight, Jim doesn’t see any imminent threats, so he plops back down into the front passenger seat.

Arzu sends a questioning glance at him. “Looks OK right now. I see a bunch of them hanging out in the shade,” he says, looking around the interior at their haphazardly stacked supplies. Standing back up, Jim moves to the rear of the MRAP while paying close attention to the floor. Finding what he hoped, Jim enlists Chris and Jeremy’s help. Pointing out the floor anchors, inset to prevent tripping, they begin arranging their supplies into the storage containers.

Once most everything is separated in the containers, they close up the lids and then, using the ratchet straps, they secure the containers to the floor of the MRAP. Better organized and with more room to move about, Jim and his oldest two sons retake their seats and buckle in. “At least
now
you get organized,” Arzu says, with a sideways glance at her husband.

His reply is a quick smile and an almost as quick flip of his middle left finger at his wife. Then, after a pause, and feeling the daggers being stared at him from Arzu, Jim gives a verbal reply of, “Yes, dear.” Giving a smile of her own, Arzu returns her full attention back to the road.

“You got those gas cans; do we really need the extra container for fuel?” Arzu asks.

“Yeah, I think we do, we don’t know how easy it’s going to be to get fuel when we need it,” Jim explains. “I think that we’ll be able to fasten the tank to the side of the MRAP over one of the rear fenders,” he continues.

With a nod and “OK,” as a reply, Arzu continues to expertly wrestle the steering wheel of the roughly 16-ton behemoth.

Although it seems longer, the trip to the Tractor Supply store is quick. Arzu has to maneuver the large vehicle around a few scattered cars on the roads, as well as bodies. Maintaining the same routine, Arzu approaches slowly while Jim scans the area with and without binoculars.

“I can’t think of anything else we need from here other than the fuel storage tank, but if you guys see something we may need, speak up,” Jim instructs while they ready to exit the MRAP and head inside.

Receiving thumbs-up from both, they move toward the back door of the vehicle and give each other a once-over buddy check. “Ready?” Jim asks. With affirmative nods from both, Jim unlocks and then swings open one of the double rear doors.

Hitting the ground at a combat crouch, Jim moves slightly to the left. Jeremy is the next to exit and moves to the right. Chris hits the pavement third and swings the door closed, towards a waiting Arzu, who finishes closing and locking it.

Chris then moves towards the middle of their formation, taking a position between his father and younger brother. “I’ll lead,” Jim says as he rises slightly and moves toward Chris.

Giving Chris a touch on his left shoulder, Jim proudly notices Chris lower his rifle muzzle so not to be aiming at him. Seeing Chris swap positions with him, taking the left flank, Jim quietly asks, “Ready?” of both.

Receiving “Good,” from both, Jim rises from his right knee to a crouch and heads toward the shattered glass of the store’s front entrance. Chris feels Jeremy touch his left shoulder as he moves in behind their dad. He rises after a quick check of their backsides and falls in behind Jeremy.

Chapter 22

Present