The Fall of Society (The Fall of Society Series, Book 1) (33 page)

           
“Probably
from all the fires everywhere.” Alan guessed.

           
“That’s
what I thought, too, but the really big fires burned out a long time ago, and
the sky still looks weird to me.”

           
“That
could be from a nuclear blast,” Bear said.

           
“But
I thought you said we wouldn’t use one on our own soil?” Anthony said.

           
“Not
us,” Ardent clarified.

           
“Then
who?” asked Anthony.

           
“As
communications began to break down, we heard rumors,” Bear said.

           
“Who?”
Joe asked. “The British? The Chinese?”

           
“Not
them,” John said.

           
“The
Russians,” said Ardent.

DAY
66:

THE
RUSSIAN FEDERATION, SAINT PETERSBURG

Current population of the Russian
Federation: 145,000,000.

Current population of Saint Petersburg: 6,000,000.

T
he Russian night was dark and cold
. The Levashovo air base was located in
the outskirts northwest of Saint Petersburg. During the cold war, the base was at
the height of its glory and stood proudly as a symbol of Russian military supremacy,
but it had only become a rundown reminder of the way things once were. The
ten-foot concrete walls around the base were splintered with long cracks and
the concertina wire atop was old and rusted in many segments. The guard shacks on
the wall every 200 feet were dilapidated huts framed with frosted-over windows,
and the lights, along with the light posts on the wall, flickered with a
teasing of impending power failure.

           
Part
of the air base had been converted into a military graveyard, and there were
many old aircraft lined up in rows, like cars at a junkyard, dismantled and
gutted shells of yesteryear. Not far from the forgotten, the runways were
currently in use by the living. Helicopters, both transport and attack
aircraft, were landing and taking off from the base. They were in the process
of emergency airlifting some several hundred evacuees from Saint Petersburg. Civilians
that ran for their lives from the city infested by the undead. Ordinary
citizens that barely got away with the clothes on their backs, some had
suitcases, and others had bags of belongings. Many of them were wounded; many
were bruised from falling or being trampled as they ran. Some had black eyes
and busted lips from fights over vehicles and supplies, the usual kindness from
strangers.

           
And
many of the evacuees had other kinds of wounds—
scratches, bite marks, and torn away pieces of flesh tattooed some
people.

           
Some
were minor and others were plagued with attack evidence.

           
That’s
why the armed base personnel were separating the infected from those who
weren’t. The soldiers were methodical when they spotted an infected person;
they took them out of the group quickly. Some people refused to have their
loved ones taken away.

           
“Step
out of the line!” one soldier shouted to a man that had a bandaged bloody wound
on his hand.

           
The
soldier thrust the barrel of his Kalashnikov assault rifle in the man’s face,
and he did what they asked. “What is the meaning of this?” the man said in fear.

           
The
military was in complete control of all the civilians that wanted to be
evacuated. The soldiers had all of them, hundreds, in six single file lines
that were twenty feet apart. The lines led to an “examination area.” The front
of the lines ended in an area that was illuminated with several large
spotlights that made that patch of tarmac bright as day. Each person that
reached the front of the line was escorted away from everyone else and as armed
soldiers kept a safe distance, two other soldiers made the person strip naked,
regardless of sex or age. The time for decency and respect was gone.

           
Once
the person was completely naked, they looked at every inch of the person’s body
with flashlights for any signs of wounds caused by the dead. If the person was
clean, they allowed them to redress and move to the next section, which was the
staging area to wait for a helicopter pick up, of which there were a couple
hundred people anxiously hold-up. If they found any sign of an attack by the
dead, even the lightest of scratches, then that person was immediately removed
from the line and taken away—they didn’t even allow them to redress—they
forced them at gunpoint to walk naked toward an aircraft hangar. After three
soldiers took a person and they turned the corner behind the hangar—a
gunshot
cracked
the air a moment later.

           
Sometimes
two or three gunshots.

           
Many
were crying as their loved ones were taken away from them. Some of the naked
ones walked quietly toward the hangar while others cried and fought every step
of the way. A few resisted so strongly that they were shot before they even
reached the hangar. Their dead, limp bodies were dragged to join the large pile
behind the structure.

           
“Where
are you taking me?” a woman with a wounded leg demanded in fear, but she
already knew the reason.

           
They
forced her into the spotlights and surrounded her.

           
“Take
off the bandage on your leg!” one soldier barked.

           
“It’s
just a cut from when I fell in the street!” she said.

           
“Take
it off!” the soldier ordered, but she refused so the soldier looked to his four
comrades. “Take it off her!”

           
The
soldiers subdued the woman and tore the bandage off her leg to reveal—

           
A
distinct human bite mark.

           
“Take
her away!” the soldier ordered.

           
“Mother!”
her seven-year-old daughter cried.

           
Four
soldiers forcibly escorted her toward the hangar—they passed by dozens
and dozens of clothing and luggage piles that were never collected by their
owners because they were shot.

           
“Katia!”
the mother reached toward her daughter.

           
Her
daughter wanted to run to her mother, but her father held her tightly, and he
held his lips tightly together; tears ran down both of their faces as they took
her away.

           
The
mother kicked and screamed, but they still got her behind the hangar, out of
sight and then—she was silenced.

           
The
daughter flinched at the single gunshot.

           
Other
citizens that were nowhere near the front of the line tried to sneak away, for
obvious reasons, but the moment they broke from the line—

           
They
were shot.

           
Bursts
of automatic gunfire rang out every few minutes from people that tried to run,
there were just as many soldiers as there were evacuees, more even, they were
surrounded. Others that were too scared to run, just stood in line, even though
they knew what was going to happen when they took their clothes off. Many
people soiled themselves from fright, the only thing that was more pungent than
the smell of urine was the scent of blood from so many that had been shot, and
the smell that was stronger than that, was the stench of the dead outside the
walls.

           
But
the smell of fear overpowered all of that.

           
If
a person was infected, there was no escape; if they weren’t, then the
helicopters that were coming would save them and take them out of there. The
choppers were landing every thirty minutes or so, usually two or three at a
time. When they arrived, groups of people were moved into position for pick up.
The helicopters descended like fiery angels of mercy, saviors of steel and
bright lights. The rotor blades swept their hair as they were given the signal
to board. They didn’t hesitate and climbed in as fast as possible; many cried
as they sat down because they couldn’t believe that they had actually made it.
They went through so much to get there, and now they were going to get out—they
had to get out of there.

           
They
had to get out of there.

           
All
of them had to get out of there.

           
Because more than 60,000 undead corpses were
clawing outside the base’s walls.

           
They
were surrounded, there was no escaping them, the only way out was by air.

           
The
situation was beyond desperate.

           
It
was grave.

           
There
were five or six soldiers in every guard tower on the wall and all of them were
firing into the horde, but the moment when one was shot in the head—it
dropped and disappeared into the rest, which was a so tightly knit group, that
the ground couldn’t be seen. The soldiers were also tossing grenades into the
horde and firing RPGs, rocket propelled grenades, into them, but the explosions
resembled firecrackers bursting in sand. Thousands of hands clawed at the walls
for a way in, any way to get in—

           
And
it was only a matter of time
…

           
Back
at the examination lines, an older man was just twenty feet away from reaching the
front, and what he already knew was visible in his eyes. This man was lean, in
great shape for his age, which was about eighty, his chiseled face and
leathered skin were a clue to his life, and he wasn’t a farmer. A patrolling
soldier was about to pass him, and the old man addressed him. “Comrade, may I
approach?” he said to the soldier.

           
The
young soldier was hardened by all of this and he answered him that way. “What
is it?”

           
The
old man stepped out of line and took three steps toward him and the soldier
prepared to use his weapon. “That’s far enough.”

           
“I
would like to respectfully request a favor?” the old man said in a solid voice.

           
“What,
old man?”

           
“I
would like to borrow your sidearm.”

           
The
soldier immediately raised his rifle to the old man’s face. “Why? Are you crazy?”
he said aggressively.

           
“You
know why.”

           
The
soldier was no more than nineteen and he was aiming his AK-47 at a man that
reminded him of his grandfather. “What are you talking about?” the soldier
demanded.

           
“My
wife,” the old man said. “She was bitten by one of those beasts, and we didn’t
know that the bites kill a person and brings them back.” He held his tears so
strongly that the young soldier couldn’t tell. “She came back to life while we
were trying to bury her, and she killed our son, and then I had to kill her
with a shovel.”

           
“Everyone
has lost people they love,” the soldier said sympathetically.

           
“You
look like my son,” the old man said and then he opened his shirt to reveal the
infected bite wounds on his chest.

           
“Infected!”
the soldier yelled and others came to his aide.

           
“My
wife did this to me when I tried to pull her off my son,” he said calmly.

           
Three
other soldiers surrounded the old man with their weapons ready.

           
“Come
with us, this way!” the soldier demanded and motioned toward the hangar.

           
“No,”
the old man said.

           
“I
will shoot you where you stand!” the soldier shouted.

           
“No,
you won’t, Son,” the old man said and then raised his voice. “I served in the
people’s army when your parents were babies, and I will not be shot like a
common dog!”

           
The
soldiers didn’t shoot him but they didn’t know what to do, either.

           
The
old man calmed down and regained his rock-solid composure. “Your sidearm,
please, if you will?” he said to the blue-eyed kid pointing the assault rifle
at him. “One soldier to another.”

           
The
soldier was confounded then made a decision—he lowered his rifle and then
took his pistol out of its holster; he removed the magazine, and then checked
to see if a round was chambered…

           
One
was.

           
He
held the pistol out to the old man.

           
“Mikhail,
what are you doing?” one of the other soldiers asked him.

           
“Be
quiet,” Mikhail answered.

           
The
old man looked at the pistol before him.

           
“Out
of respect, sir,” Mikhail said.

           
He
calmly took the pistol into his hand and the other soldiers became very
nervous.

           
“Thank
you,” the old man said.