Pulse: Retaliation (Anisakis Nova Book 2) (7 page)

BOOK: Pulse: Retaliation (Anisakis Nova Book 2)
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14 – Pvt. David Stewart

 

Stewart and his squad had just finished a sweep and clear of the last level of a four story MAC distribution center in Green Lake when Corporal Gonzalez said they were taking an hour. No orders had come in on where to move next, so they were resting.

They needed it. Everyone was running on zero shuteye. Problem was, when Stewart was eating and taking care of his weapons, he was thinking. He couldn't turn his brain off and the more he thought, the worse he felt.

Everyone thought they were safe. The whole world was finally letting go of that breath it'd been holding and it seemed like life was going to be normal again. Stewart had been one of them, and every time he was in formation with his brothers going in to sweep and clear a hospital, he was reminded of it. No one was ever safe, not forever. Death was around the corner, always waiting for him.

Then again, that was the family trade. When he joined the army the day after he turned eighteen, he knew what kind of life he was in for. His Pop was in the army, his granddad, and his great granddaddy. Most of his cousins were jarheads. Military was what you did and he was proud of it.

Even when he woke up in tangled sheets, covered with sweat and a scream carrying into real life from the night terror he just had, he had no regrets. If he could go back, he'd make the same decisions all over again.

But not even the toughest sumbitch was untouched by what the annies had done, what they were doing now. Their attacks against hospitals and MAC distribution centers hurt on all fronts. Beyond the obvious, like lack of medical facilities and the cure, it was rallying all the annies and sending the uninfected into chaos. They were civil before, everyone playing nice, but now they were animals at each other's throats.

Just yesterday he saw a man beat a woman outside a food distribution center for one MRE. One fucking MRE and her face was pummeled into the ground for it.

Stewart wasn't just fighting the annies. He was fighting his own countrymen and it made him sick. While guarding a food distribution building, half his company of four platoons was destroyed by a bunch of lunatic fucks who wanted everything for themselves. They weren't infected, just off their rockers. Wild. Desperate. The fight drew the attention of some annies, too, creating a battle between the three groups. The company rallied, but they lost almost everyone. It was reduced to just one platoon now, with just their two squads not even at full capacity. Corporal Gonzalez was their squad leader, with Staff Sergeant Pratt their platoon sergeant and Lt. Otto, their resident butter bar.

Chaos. Pure fucking chaos. For the past three days they'd been clearing hospitals of infected, but for every one they killed it seemed like two popped up. Stewart heard an entire squad went AWOL after seeing a maternity ward with pregnant ladies torn apart in their beds.

And they weren’t even poppers. God only knows what fate befell them.

Now he was laying on an exam table, the kind with the crinkly sanitary paper, staring at a piece of painted plastic that looked like clouds over the lights, listening to Hallock snoring on the ground beside him. His stomach gurgled as it fought to digest chili mac MRE. He wondered if he'd go AWOL if things got bad and he was all alone.

The thought vanished quickly. He'd never abandoned his post. Ever. He wasn't going to be that person. Someone had to keep things straight.

"Hey, Stewart." Pvt. O’Keefe stood in the doorway of the exam room, geared up and ready to go. "Pratt said we're moving out. Ten minutes outside."

"Wilco." Stewart was up in a second, grabbing his pack and rifle. He nudged Hallock with the tip of his boot. "Rise and shine, Barbie, we're moving out."

Hallock was cursed with girlie features; blond hair and blue eyes. Everyone in his squad started calling him Barbie the day he showed up. He hated it at first, but you don't get a say in your nickname. Stewart never did anything to draw attention, and had stayed Stewart his entire time in the army.

A few people that worked the clinic survived the annies’ attack, and showered them with thank yous again as they left. Other members of his platoon filtered out of their resting spots and converged outside. There were 20 of them in total under Lt. Otto. He was the kind of guy who loved power and kissing ass too much to do his job right. Stewart couldn’t count how many times he started a sentence with ‘based on my experience.’

"Listen up!" he shouted. "We've got groups of annies abducting people and taking them to an unknown location. Last report was in South Seattle so that's where we're going. You see any of these groups on the way, light 'em up. Got it?"

Sir, yes, Sirs
all around. His squad piled into the M998 troop carrier, Barbie on the wheel and Gonzalez shotgun. Stewart climbed into the back with Norris and the others. The rest of the platoon had 1114 up-armored Humvees. Stewart would’ve preferred to ride in one of those, but they made do with what they had. Besides, he’d heard rumors that poppers liked getting into the 1114s. Wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but at least on the troop carrier it was more open.

The roar of the engine muffled everything else around them as they made their way through town. The platoon passed fights and looting. Any place that might have food or valuable supplies sported broken windows and trails of litter from it. Sometimes bodies lay trampled and scavenged outside of them.

Crowds of people watched them go. Whether they watched from the corner of their eyes or stopped whatever they were doing, the civvies’ gaze was on them. There were always a handful that tried to flag them down for help, thinking they could stop at the drop of a hat.

Stewart felt sorry for them. He would've helped if he had the time or orders. No doubt about it.

They'd only been driving twenty minutes towards South Seattle, navigating through an old neighborhood full of Victorian homes, when they saw a handful of annies dragging a family from a brick house. The humvees lurched to a stop.

The infected were on them in a second, ten of them total, abandoning the family the second they saw military. Some of them had weapons and fired wildly on them while the rest dashed to the vehicles.

They fired from the humvee, mowing down the infected. Stewart honed in on a large man twenty feet from the vehicle. It was a popper. He was about to pull the trigger when the infected beat him to it. He used a kitchen knife and slashed open his stomach, launching a mass of parasites into the world. Nearby another did the same.

"Shit, poppers, 12 o'clock!" someone shouted.

"Get a firebird in here, dammit!"

Beside him, Norris, their squad firebird, pulled the wand from his flamethrower pack. The men deployed from the back and created a semi-circle perimeter. Norris took the point of the arc as they covered him from all sides.

A wave of ambient heat washed over everyone as Norris pulled the trigger, bathing the oncoming parasites in bursts of flames. Their bodies crackled and exploded from the heat.

"Get some, you crispy motherfuckers!"

It smelled meaty. The smoke made Stewart’s eyes sting. Worms torched, Norris stepped back and they closed the circle. Stewart brought down another annie, a rabid man with patches of skin missing from his scalp.

The last shot rang out. In minutes the whole thing was over. The family the infected were trying to take was nowhere to be seen and the bodies of dead annies littered the front yard.

"Firebirds, mop up!" Pratt ordered. "Squads, cover!"

Norris and the other firebird in the platoon moved forward with two men to cover them as they used the remaining fuel to burn the bodies, which still carried the parasite.

The flamethrowers were barely a step up from the M2A1-7 model used in Vietnam. A few were supplied to every platoon for parasite control. They were heavy and cumbersome, but ended up being the most effective way to take out oncoming parasites. Stewart covered Norris as he burned the last straggling parasites and lit the bodies on fire. They wouldn't burn completely, but every bit helped.

With the oily scent of burnt flesh lingering in his nose, his squad got back in the humvee and kept moving forward.

"Anyone feel like barbeque for lunch?" Norris lifted his fuel pack, testing its weight.

It looked light. Even Stewart, who'd never used the thing, knew it looked light. The worse off they were, the more jokes they made.

"Could use some brisket. No sauce."

"Hmm, slaw. Could use a huge pile of slaw with pulled pork."

Stewart's vest felt light. He didn't have enough ammo. They had twenty blocks to clear before they'd call it good. He doubted he'd have enough to get through ten.

"What about you Stewart?"

He looked up and forced a grin. "Nah, none for me. I'm having your momma tonight."

 

15 – Ben Moreno

 

Ben loved spending time in the Den. It made him feel peaceful and very happy. His thoughts were languid, ranging from those of murder to communicating with the parasite. He was learning the language very quickly. The parasite told him things about itself that he doubted anyone knew, like where it came from and what it was doing around the world.

The four car garage in his mansion had converted nicely into the Den, a safe place where people waiting to let the parasite consume them waited. They laid down pillows and blankets to make it comfortable. Ben and his people would lay down newly infected in rows, maximizing the space. While they slept, they sweat, and the sweat smelled good. The more there was, the better.

Many other of his people lingered around the Den. It smelled sweet and earthy. It was entrancing, and he spotted more than a few people with their eyes closed just swaying around it. They tacked sheets over the windows so it was dimly lit. In his other life, Ben had a few friends who were into drugs. The place reminded him of a drug den.

Yesterday a family friend came by, perhaps to check on the Morenos, but she never got past the Den. It was then Ben learned there was something about the Den that made infected protective and even more violent than usual. They descended on the woman with a ferocity he'd never seen before. When they were done, there wasn't anything left of her but a few bones and a lot of blood on the driveway.

Ben wanted more Dens. He wanted them everywhere. They were a wonderful communal place. Safe place. After the woman was killed, Ben went into the bathroom and stared at his reflection as he often did so he could communicate with the Parasite more clearly.

Parasite. With a capital P. Ben came to understand he was a vessel through which the Parasite would do its will. He imagined all the worms, big and small, and the infected, were interconnected mentally. A hive mind. Only other people couldn't access the ability as well as Ben could.

The Parasite wanted more Dens, too. It told him and Mr. Ruchipip so and described how they could make them even better.

Few things concerned Ben. Life was simple now. They got in their vans and abducted people, working their way outward from his home. Some he kept so he could release his urges on them. Most were brought back to the Den and infected. The other infected trusted him. Had faith in him. For good reason, as Ben was truly devoted.

He watched TV sometimes to keep up on what the rest of the world was doing. What he knew, the Parasite knew, so it was important to keep up on things. There was a nuclear threat against the country. Many people wanted Americans dead. It was understandable. It seemed a bomb would be dropped any day. He wasn't worried. Wilson wasn't the kind of place they would nuke. The fallout might reach them, but they would deal with that if it happened.

What was important now was waiting. Building. Studying. The more chaos the uninfected experienced, the faster the infection spread. Ben wondered how hard it would be to convert people already infected to his cause. He'd encountered a handful of people already who'd been infected for a while. They were uninterested in what he had to say.

There was no room for them. Ben had them carted away to the Mass. He grinned at the thought of the Mass. It was unusual and he didn't know what the ultimate goal was, but had faith in the Parasite. It was a living, growing mound of parasite that consumed any being he sacrificed to it.

Ben peeled himself out of his favorite chair in the Den and went upstairs to the bathroom. He needed new orders, to see what he would be doing next.

He looked at the mirror, staring into his reddened eyes. "What now? We have many."

A tiny worm flickered across his eye. The Parasite told him.

 

16 – Dom

 

It was happening faster than it did the first time. The government on both a state and countrywide level kept acting like it was a flare-up. The vice president said, in each address, “We expected flare-ups like this and have contingency plans. There is no need to be alarmed.”

The reality of the destruction of the country was on everyone's mind, whether they were told it was okay or not. Dom and Chelsea had the radio on constantly to keep up with infection rates. Only two days after the attack, most of downtown Seattle was overrun and it was spiraling quickly. Ration centers, hospitals, and MAC distribution locations were being attacked by the infected and raided by desperate people.

A popular radio host had been debating for six solid hours on the subject with various experts and guests. One bit stuck with Dom. He'd said, "If the annies don't kill us, the Russians will! The Chinese will, North Korea. Let's face it people, there are nukes aimed at the US of A, and ending us is on a lot of people's bucket lists."

There was a website the CDC kept that showed areas of infection. When Dom stopped by the library he always checked. It was a morale boost until this started happening; most areas were green with only occasional spots of yellow and rarely red. Now Washington State was showing massive red and yellow blobs across the Puget Sound.

Then, two days after the attack, yellow was showing up across the entire country. Articles on CNN rightly speculated that the Washington retaliation was inspiring infected to come out of the woodwork around the country. It further acknowledged many infected were capable of keeping tabs on the country's condition, that they were smart.

Dom wished they could've been mindless zombies like in the movies. At least then you knew what you were getting into. You knew they couldn't be saved, that they couldn't form attacks.

They were on day three since they formed their plan. Everyone had a name for it, too. Chelsea called it Operation Phoenix. Wayne liked Project Rebirth, but Dom and Chels thought it was weird. Jim referred to it simply as The Lake.

Dom liked Jim's the best. It wasn't cheesy or dramatic like the others. He'd say, "When we go to The Lake, we'll need to get water worked out right away." Or, "The Lake should be run like a true democracy and everyone will do their share of work."

So, in Dom's mind, it was The Lake.

Preparing for The Lake so far had its ups and downs. By day three Wayne got a decent amount of medical supplies that were already packed away in Jim's moving truck. Most hospitals were lost to hostile takeover. His was on the brink of abandonment and he used that to his advantage. He reasoned since no one would be there soon, no one would need the supplies. Yet after he came back with two duffel bags and a backpack, he stated he wasn't going back and not to ask why.

They were short on ready to eat foods, but between the five of them they were gathering more every day. Thousands of houses in neighboring cities were abandoned or marked as condemned by the state because they hadn't been properly sterilized. The big, spray painted orange X's were
a signal of potential for the group. They drove Jim's truck around and raided as quickly as they could.

No matter how many times they did it, Dom felt uneasy. Every house was a mausoleum, each family photo and knickknack a ghost. What if these people were still alive and going to come back? They'd notice things missing and it would make them feel more miserable than they likely already did. Plus, no matter what way he looked at it, Dom was stealing. He was a looter, the same as all the other thousands of looters.

It wasn't like that at first. Dom reassured himself that what they were doing wasn't personal or immoral, it was survival. Anything was up for grabs, and since they weren't hurting anyone there wasn't a problem. Every house they gathered supplies from was the same; a wealth of resources that would help them restart their lives.
Them
. The living. The healthy.

Then it happened. At one point Chelsea and Laurie were trying on clothes in the master bedroom of a nice home. Everyone was searching for winter clothes in earnest since winters would be difficult at higher elevations. The three were joking around, pretending they were valley girls at the mall. It felt good to laugh.

But when Dom found the withered body of a baby in a nursery one room over, he felt sick. The women saw it, too, and the three stood in forlorn silence. After that he tiptoed around every house, holding his breath before he entered a room. Preparing himself for a new horror.

Chelsea and Dom were on their way back to Jim's, taking a long route home through the neighborhoods of Kent back to Renton. Standard curfew had a new level of danger; the military now had permission to shoot on sight. They were focusing on metropolitan areas, which made neighborhoods easier to navigate.

For both the infected and healthy alike. As Dom drove, he imagined masses of parasites and annies spewing from their hiding spots.

"We're going over everyone's lists today." Dom had been imagining a horde of parasites turning over the truck. Chelsea's voice snapped him out of it.

"Oh, right. I only have Tony from down the hall and his wife Beth." He hadn't had much time to consider anyone else, but he was confident with them. "Tony was a contractor before everything, and obviously Beth has to come."

Chelsea made a soft noise of agreement. "She's nice. Very motherly. I remember her saying she was a Sunday school teacher."

"Who's on your list?"

"The Shelby family next door," she started.

"Matt and Allie? What do they have to offer?" Dom was suddenly aware of how terrible that sounded.

Chelsea noticed. He glanced over and saw her furrow her brow. She said nothing about his comment, but answered calmly. "I think it's important to try and bring some kids. Allie is an amazing girl. She's well-tempered and tough. Matt was a programmer, but he and his wife used to take long backpacking trips so he's outdoorsy."

Dom only spoke to Matt once or twice when they first moved in. All he remembered was that his wife never came back from work the day the bus of infected crashed into a grocery store. He wouldn't be Dom's first choice, or third or fifth for that matter.

Not everyone would have a direct skill to contribute to The Lake. Hard workers with a good attitude and the right personality would be valuable to have, too.

"Anyone else?"

Chelsea drummed her fingers against her thighs. "Yeah, Cat and her—Dom, what is that?"

The sun was setting directly in front of them, sending piercing orange light through the dirty windshield nearly blinding Dom. It made the road shadowy and difficult to see. He squinted, pressing on the breaks and raising his hand to shield the sun.

A block away a dozen figures walked down the road. It was a collection of normal looking men and women in regular clothes. Some of them carried signs. They blocked the road completely with their slow march.

"Is your door locked?"

Chelsea nodded. She leaned to her side and withdrew her handgun. Dom did the same, keeping one hand on the wheel and letting the transmission keep them moving forward. There was an arterial road up ahead. He'd reach it before they came too close to the group. Based on the slow deliberateness of their walking and signs, Dom assumed they weren't infected.

As the distance closed between them, Dom saw their signs.

We cannot escape our fate.

Join and be Free.

Hide No More.

The group suddenly parted for the truck. They definitely weren't infected, or even armed. Dom had seen religious groups before claiming this was somehow Rapture or Judgment Day, but this group had no mention of God. It was something else entirely.

Whether they were letting them through or not, Dom had no intention of driving through them. He turned left. Their heads turned and followed the truck. By the time Dom navigated back to the main road, the people were already on their way.

"What was that?"

Dom let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I don't know. I don't
want
to know."

 

***

 

Jim. Librarian, jack of all trades.

Tony & Beth. Carpenter, teacher.

Matt & Allie. Programmer/backpacker, daughter.

Cat, Dog + nephews. Nutritionist, yoga teacher, midwife. Man's best friend.

Anthony. Competitive marksman, Army veteran.

Linda. Office secretary, green thumb.

Magnus, Jessica, Brittney and Peter (kids). Sportsmen, Navy veteran. Youth leader, chef. Kids.

Wayne. Medical experience, roommate.

Jamie. ? Roommate.

Laurie. Experience with children, roommate. 

Chelsea. Awesome chick, girlfriend.

Felix, Marita, Desi. EMT, gardener, family.

Jeremy, Katrina. Couple.

 

What surprised Dom the most was that many of the people he and his roommates had on their lists didn't want to come. To Dom, what they were trying to do was a no-brainer. Yet the answers trended towards the same general consensus; they were crazy. The chances of surviving in the wilderness was less than the city.

A large portion of people honestly believed the government would step in again and handle it. One guy even claimed he heard a rumor about MAC being dispersed into the water and air, curing everyone.

The latter sounded absurd. To the former, Dom reasoned that they did try that and it was unsuccessful, but didn't push the subject. If someone believed they could be saved by an unseen force, they weren't the right kind of people for the group.

Others thought the idea of a safe haven off grid was insane. How would they build shelters? How would they get food, medical attention, supplies, and every other convenience they wanted?

Dom scoffed at that. They weren't getting most of those things now. Those were petty excuses to mask their fear.

What didn't surprise Dom was the type of person who
did
want to come. Many of them had self-reliant hobbies or traits. They were already survivalists.

He was excited and grateful to have every one of them on the team.

There were a handful of people unaccounted for that they weren't able to ask. Wayne took the job of checking their apartments every few hours in case they returned.

While Dom was still scared and intimidated, after they talked to the new people he was feeling more confident. Cat had an SUV that seated 7 people and Magnus had a minivan that seated 7.

With the recent additions to the group, Dom realized they needed more time to prepare. Everyone attended a meeting where they discussed what they should bring and were tasked out accordingly. Instead of leaving in a few days, they extended it to whenever they were adequately prepared, but no longer than an extra week and a half. There was an understanding that if the danger level in their area became too risky, they would leave, whether they were ready for their new lives or not.

 

 

BOOK: Pulse: Retaliation (Anisakis Nova Book 2)
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