The Dead Don't Bleed: Part 2, The Aftermath (24 page)

Garrett and Miranda left the
building and walked out to the trail while remaining alert for any possible surprises along the way. Halfway to the Range Rover Miranda tripped over a loose shoelace and nearly fell head over heels. She had been concentrating so intensely on the woods around them that she had not noticed it come untied. As she bent down to tie her laces the back of her shirt lifted a few inches and exposed the area of back just above the lace top of her panties. Garrett spotted a flash of color directly in-line with the center of her buttocks and couldn't help but turn his attention to the small tattoo adorning her skin. Garrett's eyes lingered for a moment at the point where he could see the tattoo and the exposed portion of Miranda's rear end that was visible as she bent over. He caught himself staring, the combination of the surprising tattoo, and the allure of her exposed underwear and rear end. Normally Garrett would never allow himself to stare at a woman in such a manner, he considered it demeaning. In this case he just couldn't help but allow himself a brief moment of lust.

"I never took you for the tattoo type." Garrett said, surprising even himself that he just admitted that he had been staring at her backside.

"Oh, just something from my college days. It was a crazy weekend splurge and I regretted it afterward. Not the tattoo, but the money I spent to get it." She replied with her back still turned towards him.

Garrett couldn't help but notice that as soon as he mentioned the tattoo Miranda untied her shoe as if she had done it wrong and was now slowly retying it again. He thought that it was possible she was doing so just to allow him an extended view of the area in question. "It's Winnie the Pooh by the way, in case you were wondering. He is searching for his honey pot which is on the other side, just above something else."

Garrett detected a little purr in her voice when she mentioned 'something else'. He was now sure that she was teasing him a little and waiting for him to take the bait she had just offered. He had a feeling that they were on the verge of a moment that could be a significant turning point between the two of them. There was also something about being out there in the open woods in a potentially dangerous environment that added a spice to the whole scene that he found alluring. He knew that it would be dangerous and reckless if he allowed himself to give into temptation just then. The thought that they could all be dead at any time made him push that to the side and realize that life was short and sometimes you just needed to take a chance when it came.

"Now you have me curious. Something else?" Garrett decided that playing dumb was the best approach at the moment, he knew what she meant, her description left little to the imagination, but it was a dance and his part was to play ignorant and see where it took them.

Miranda finished tying her laces and stood up facing him. She stepped towards him until they were only inches apart. Staring deep into his eyes she reached down to her pants, unbuttoned her snap and pulled her pants out in front of her several inches. "Yes. Something else." She cooed as she leaned forward a little to give him a view inside her pants.

Garrett was taken aback by her boldness. Tilting his head a little he gazed down into the opening of her pants and spotted the small yellow tattoo in the shape of a honey pot dipped slightly to one side with a single drip of honey spilling from its spout. The tattoo was positioned just on the fringes of a tuft of soft brown curly hair above her most intimate of spots.

He felt the warmth spreading across his face as a blush came over him. He also felt a stirring in his own pants as the sight of that soft patch of hair and its proximity to 'something else' took its toll on his manhood. He allowed himself to linger on the view for several seconds and then turned his attention back to Miranda's face. She had not taken her eyes off his and the twinkle he saw in those beautiful orbs let him know that he had the green light at that point. Garrett closed the gap between them and took her hungrily in his arms. Their lips found each other and she accepted his tongue in her mouth hungrily. Garrett pushed her back until she stopped against the face of a thick tree just to the side of the path. With her back firmly against the tree she pulled him tightly into her and extended her groin out until it met his and felt the hardness in his pants pressing up against the growing moistness in her own. Their hands were everywhere all at once, feeling, groping, exploring and the heat between them was reaching a boiling point. Miranda's pants were still undone and slid down her hips exposing her panties and bare legs. When Garrett's hand found the moistness between her legs she moaned loudly in approval and spread her legs slightly to allow him access. Miranda was struggling to release Garrett's belt when the crack of a breaking branch deeper into the woods snapped them both back to reality.

Garrett pushed himself away from Miranda and scrambled to scoop up his rifle from the dirt trail where he had let it fall to the ground at the onset of their embrace. Miranda was struggling to hike
up her pants and button them while at the same time searching the ground at the base of the tree to find her own pistol.

Both of them froze as a white-tailed deer hoped onto the trail
directly in front of them. The deer saw them at the same time they saw it and for several seconds they all shared in a staring contest until the deer finally decided they were not an immediate threat and simply walked off and continued on its way down the trail and out of sight.

After the deer had moved on
, Garrett turned in all directions and regained his situational awareness. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard that he was sure it could be heard far into the woods around them. He knew that part of the reason for heavily beating heart was his body responding to the sexual energy still coursing through his veins. But he also knew that another part of it was the realization at just how lucky the two of them had been. If that deer had been a zombie slinking through the woods after them, they would have literally been caught with their pants down and easily taken by surprise. He had allowed them to give into a moment of weakness and he while he didn't regret the passion that they had shared, he did recognize that it was not something he could allow to happen again.

Miranda had fully recovered and was sweeping her pistol in an arc around the tree she had been leaning against just moments earlier. The look on her face told Garrett that she was thinking the same thing. For the time being they were going to push any future urges aside and concentrate on ensuring they continued to simply survive. They both turned back to the trail and continued on without a word.

Garrett had just spotted the end of the trail and a glint of sunshine reflecting off the windshield of the Range Rover when a distant sound caught his attention. He held up a hand signaling Miranda to stop while he strained to concentrate on the noise. It was not a natural sound and it was familiar, but Garrett couldn’t quite place it. It was Miranda who spotted it first.

"Garrett, look." She softly called as she pointed skyward toward the east.

Following her gaze he saw a silvery flash high in the sky behind a long stream of contrails just barely visible in the waning light of the approaching twilight.

"Jets, two of them." He exclaimed as he pointed out the second fighter as it slipped out from besides its wingman for a moment. "Flying a tight formation. They look like F-16's or F-18's. Hard to tell from here."

The planes disappeared behind the tops of nearby trees and Garrett jogged the rest of the way to the road trying to find them again. He could still hear the low hum of the fighter’s as they soared by several thousand feet overhead but with the daylight rapidly fading and the tall tress all around them he was unable to pick them out of the sky again. A minute later the sound faded completely as they moved on past them. Even with them no longer visible Garrett felt a rush of hope at seeing jet fighters overflying the area. This meant that some form of military authority was still intact. The jets were most likely a reconnaissance flight using their sensors and camera equipment to check the conditions of this area. Since they were not very far from the nation’s capital he had to assume that had been their ultimate target and they were seeing them on the outer leg of their overflight. Those fighters had to come from somewhere that possibly offered a safe haven for at least military units. There was also a possibility that same location could offer them salvation. For the first time since things started going to shit all around them Garrett felt a measure of hope. They would have to make it a priority to locate some type of radio gear capable of transmitting a distress call that could be picked up by any future flights.

"What does it mean?" Miranda asked.

"Hope. It means hope." Garrett replied as he turned back to the Range Rover and began unloading the rest of their supplies. "We need to have a meeting later, this changes everything and we need to adjust our priorities."

The overflight of Washington, DC and the surrounding areas went without incident. Crusher had monitored the pilots and their transmissions on what ended up being a very routine if not somewhat nerve racking flight. The planes both stayed at a moderate cruising altitude over their patrol area gathering samples and collecting imagery. The final leg of their flight was conducted just below six hundred feet where they only remained for two minutes to allow their equipment to detect and store air samples at lower altitudes. This part of the mission was the one that Crusher was most concerned about. If there were any residual pockets of infection still lingering in the atmosphere it was likely this was where the flight would come in contact with them. Even with both planes and pilots fitted out with the most advance protective gear possible, there was still a concern it wouldn't be enough. They still knew very little about the underlying virus and how it worked that a remote possibility existed that it could circumvent their protective measures and reach the pilots. Crusher had his eyes glued to a small screen that was providing atmospheric readouts in both cockpits and monitoring outputs from the pilot’s flight suits. If even a microbe of foreign material was detected in the cockpit or inside one of the pilot’s suits a warning message would pop up on his screen. Contingency plans for just that possibility had been plugged into the mission planning. If there was any indication of infection inside the cockpit of either plane the pilots were under orders to divert to an airfield in the Washington, DC area and land there. They would remain on the mainland with their survival gear until a rescue effort could be mounted. Even though they had been reassured that every effort would be made to recover the pilots if that eventuality came to pass. None of them were under any allusion that a rescue would actually take place. Detection of the virus still lingering in an airborne state would negate any efforts to actually put boots on the ground. Both planes had also been fitted with a remote fuel release system. If an airborne virus violated the cockpits and one or both pilots refused to follow orders to set down at an airfield on the mainland their fuel supplies could be released remotely from the carrier, forcing them to either make an emergency landing or ditch at sea. Crusher had confidence in his pilots to do the right thing but he also understood the necessity of having such a backup plan. They were gambling with the lives of more than just a few pilots.

Crusher watched the pair of jets come in on their final approach, both of them catching the
wires stretched along the deck of the aircraft carrier in textbook landings. As soon as the planes were on the deck and stable, a pair of small fire trucks raced to the side of each. Crews laden in biological suits immediately began hosing off the planes with a mixture of cleaning solution and decontamination foam while even more crew members began scrubbing the planes with long handled brushes. Once the outside of the cockpit had been thoroughly scrubbed, the pilots were given the all clear to raise the glass bubbles and step free from the planes. The pilots were handed small portable oxygen containers that they plugged their flight helmets directly into so they would continue a steady flow of air until they were able to crack the seals of their helmets. From their planes both men were picked up by a deck hand driving a golf cart who drove them directly to the decontamination site at the opposite side of the super structure and as far away from any other deck activities as possible. Once they were inside the decon site Crusher packed up his gear and headed down to the pilot ready room to prepare for the coming mission debriefing. The imagery from the flights would be made available on the computer system in the room so he could go over all details of the mission with the pilots. While they were conducting their briefing the samples collected by the two planes would be carefully retrieved and prepared for immediate analysis. The preliminary results of those samples should be available to them by the time they were wrapping up their own briefing. They would then have to wait several hours for a more detailed analysis to come from Guantanamo after the cellular structures of all samples were computerized and beamed to the lab complexes there for further study. The results of the tests at the lab in Cuba would dictate their next move. If the samples came back negative for contaminants they would schedule additional overflights of Washington and Northern Virginia at different times of the day and night. No excursion by any ground units would be authorized until they had several passes all with negative readings for airborne virus. If all went well and they were able to get personnel on the ground, those teams would have the unpleasant task of locating and securing live specimens for transportation and study. While Crusher and his pilots had a rough enough time flying off into the unknown, he did not envy the job that those soldiers on the ground would be facing.

#

Doug had spent several hours during the night tending to the various injuries within their group. He had deemed Cameron's arm to be severally bruised but with no permanent damage. The Percocet that Miranda had provided him, staved off the worst of the pain and he had also added an anti-inflammatory to his regime of medication courtesy of their stock of salvaged supplies. The narcotic was putting Cameron to sleep and Doug advised him to get rest and avoid using the injured arm as much as possible. At Kyle's insistence Doug examined Shellie's shoulder where she had been scrapped by a zombies teeth, before he would allow his own wounds to be looked at. Carefully removing the bandages from her shoulder he looked over the spot where the teeth had grazed her skin and declared her to be in the clear. He explained how the skin served as an effective barrier to help stave off bacteria and other contaminants, in Shellie's case all she needed was that thin transparent layer of skin between her bloodstream and any infected cells the zombie may have left behind. If the virus had been able to penetrate even that thin layer of protective skin then all of them would have fallen victim to the infection long ago. He advised her to continue applying antibacterial cream to the scratches and the area around them and to keep it covered in a thick layer of bandaging for the time being.

Kyle's assessment came next and the news was not good. The thick dark blood that continued leaking from his wounds along with his pale skin color and growing fever was a sign that not only was there internal bleeding as they had suspected but he also had contracted an infection inside his wounds. Doug though
t that antibiotics would help with the infection but the type of antibiotics needed were not those they had access to. He gave him what they had available and thought it would help to curve his fever a little and allow him to function a little better but it was not going to help for long. The second piece of bad news concerning his wounds was that it did indeed appear that his kidney had been punctured. The fluids released from the break in the kidney were adding to the infection and would continue to do so. In a normal situation with access to a trauma center the injury would not necessarily be life threatening if medical help was reached in time. The kidney was capable of healing itself over time and a surgeon would be able to repair the damage enough to allow it to do just that on its own. Without that level of medical attention Doug was afraid that Kyle would die within another day or two.

"There has got to be something you can do for him." Garrett said as Doug gave him his opinions on the extent of Kyle's injuries.

"Garrett, you know that I am not a trauma surgeon. While I do have extensive medical training I have never dealt with these types of injuries before." Doug replied softly, keeping his voice low so Kyle wouldn’t overhear.

"So we are just supposed to sit here and watch him die?" Garrett was growing angry at this point. Not necessarily at Doug and his inability to do more than state the obvious but at the totality of the situation. So many people had died recently that the loss of anyone else was more than he was ready to stomach.

Sensing Garrett's dismay at the hopelessness of the news, Doug added what he thought would be a small token of hope, "If I had access to an operating room with the proper equipment, I could open him up and remove the kidney. I don't believe I would take the chance of trying to repair it, but I am confident I could get it out. That would give him a fighting chance. But, out here in the woods with only kitchen utensils, no anesthesia and not to mention the lack of a sterile environment. He wouldn't survive the first cut." Speaking the words out loud Doug realized that he could pull it off if they could get Kyle to a properly equipped hospital in time. His contributions to the group so far had fallen flat. He knew that everyone was going above and beyond their norms in order to help each other survive. Plastic surgeon or not, he was still a doctor and he did have the medical knowledge to perform surgeries. It was time that he finally demonstrated his worth and pulled his own weight.

Garrett knew where Doug was going with this. If they c
ould transport Kyle to a local hospital there was a chance that Doug could save him. Garrett knew the risks involved in that. At a minimum it would take himself, one other shooter and Doug to get Kyle to a hospital with the equipment needed for Doug to perform the operation. That would mean that three other lives would be on the line in the slim hope of saving only one person. Even with that in mind he knew that was a risk worth taking. Everyone of them deserved the best chance possible to make it through this alive. If they were not willing to risk everything fighting for each individual life, then he wasn't sure what it was they were fighting for in the first place.

"Ok Doug. We will get you your operating room. First thing in the morning be ready to move out."

Doug nodded his understanding. He knew where Garrett was coming from and recognized the same risks they were going to have to take. Doug also understood that for him to continue taking ownership of his life again that it was risks just like that which would allow him to stand on his own two feet.

The next order of business that Doug needed to tend to was Kimberly. He spent over an hour examining her and then had a long series of questions for Shellie and Kyle about their interactions with her and the episode with the zombies that had found their way into the
station culminating in Kyle ending up shot. Doug deflected questions as he went about his examination but it was evident from his mannerisms that he may be on to something. Adding to the mystery, Doug left the bunkroom for several minutes and spent some time examining the dead zombies inside the lobby. Garrett and Miranda sat next to each other on the floor near the front door having a bite to eat while curiously watching Doug's odd medical examination as he completed checking out the zombies and returned to Kimberly. Doug finally completed with Kimberly and walked out into the outer room to share his findings with everyone else.

"Physically I believe she will recover. She has all the signs and symptoms of the early stages of the infection as I understand it. That includes general flu like symptoms along with high fever and delirium. I would like to start her on a series of strong antibiotics and if we could get her on an IV drip it would help." He paused at that point as he gathered his thoughts. No one said a word as the anticipated other shoe was about to drop. "I also think I understand why she was not attacked when the zombies found her in bed and
how they found this place in the first place."

He let that hang in the air for a moment as everyone intently waited his next words. He was finally able to contribute in a meaningful way and was putting forth a strong effort to demonstrate his usefulness to everyone else, especially Garrett and Miranda.

"Kimberly is a mutation. She is the result of a failed conversion from human to zombie. The zombies can not only detect this about her, resulting in their lack of interest in feeding from her but they are also attracted to it."

This revelation was far from what any of them expected and following a moment of awkward silence and shared looks of befuddlement Doug found himself buried under and avalanche of questions and demands for an explanation.

Doug explained that while Kimberly's condition was more reminiscent of a strong case of the flu, her body was showing telltale signs that at some point since the outbreak she had reached a critical point in her infection. In most cases that would have been the point where the body began to collapse on itself and lost its fight against the virus. In Kimberly's case Doug felt that she had reached that point but had somehow managed to overcome it and survive. He could not offer an explanation as to how she had been able to do that but offered that everyone's body chemistry was different. A preexisting condition that she may not have been aware of, her diet, a chemical anomaly in her system or any number of factors working alone or in tandem could be the reason for her survival. He couldn't explain it any better without running a multitude of tests on her. What he could do was offer an explanation for his assumption. He pointed out several oddities he noted during her physical examination. The skin under her fingernails and toenails as well as her gums had been the first things he noticed pointing him in this direction. In both areas the skin color had taken on a pasty appearance with a complete loss of elasticity and texture. These were conditions only found on the human body after death, never with a living person. After he had discovered those abnormalities he had concentrated his examination for search of any additional symptoms along those same lines. When he had examined her eyes he found that even though they still retained their clarity and sensitivity to light there had been a degree of frosting underneath the upper and lower eyelids that was evidence of the beginning stages of postmortem deterioration. That would have eventually led to her eyes taking on the same flat milky appearance shared by all other zombies and resembling those of a corpse several days following death. He had also taken her core body temperature and found that despite her obvious high fever her body was actually measuring several degrees below what was considered normal for a healthy human being. When he compared some of these findings to the bodies of the zombies in the lobby, he had found they all shared characteristics that were indistinguishable from each other. This led him to conclude that when the zombies had discovered her in the bunkroom they had simply mistaken her for one of their own and lacked any interest in her. He wasn't sure what it was that allowed them to make such a distinction between living and dead but the next part of his explanation might be related to it. Doug gave them all a quick lesson on how the sense of smell in many animals is many times more sensitive to that of a human being. When it came to chemical changes in a human body, animals were capable of detecting the smells emitted from someone experiencing those changes. He used dogs as a prime example. A dog was able to detect when a person was scared by the smells their bodies released. It was that smell that sometimes caused an otherwise easygoing dog to lash out at someone who had a natural fear of animals. Certain breed of dogs could also be trained to assist their human owners in medical situations. These dogs could sense even the tiniest drop in blood sugar levels and alert their master that they were in need of insulin before it was too late. Doug felt that zombies were similar to dogs in this way. Their sense of smell was much more sensitive than that of a living human. He believed that in Kimberly's case zombies were able to detect the imbalance of her body chemistry at the point where she had reached the fine line between living and dead. The scents she was emitting were serving both as an attractor to zombies from far away and also as a detractor when they were up close to her. They were considering her as a meal at one point but then mistaking her for one of their own when they were closer to her.