The Nameless Survivor (Valkyrie) (37 page)

             
Their grotesque bloated bodies splashed up out of the shallows, making way for dry land, and fresh food. Seaweed clung to their shoulders and heads like piles of spaghetti, and barnacles dotted their clothes like a bad case of necrotic-dandruff. Some even had other organisms calling them home; starfish, snails, and even small crabs would desperately try to escape these Dredger's gaping mouths. And that smell, god-damn that smell! Like low tide on a hot day, that scent of decaying seaweed infused with decaying flesh. It took our breaths away, in fact even Heather had succumb to the stench and hurled up last night’s crow-feast. It was all too much to overcome, and panic quickly began to sink its claws into our hearts.

             
“My GOD!” I cried out as I watched the horde rising to the surface.

             
Heather pulled Marky back onto the dock and quickly headed towards the gates. Firmly I grabbed hold of Mia's arm and dragged her along as I followed suit, leaving our supplies behind. But it was of no use, there was no way out, nowhere to go. As we approached the locked gate we could hear the clanging and scraping of a small contingent of slugs trying to claw their way in. It was as if these evil, cunning bastards had set a trap! How is it possible that the presumed dead can somehow plan and execute a hunt? Why do I still question their inescapable versatility, they are truly the inheritors of this earth.

             
Trying to get a grip on the reality of the situation, we all scattered around, trying to find a way out. To find a place to hide. Without hesitation I hauled Mia into a small maintenance shed and shut the door, leaving Heather and Marky behind to fend for themselves. It was the only option I had, from day one my only concern was for us, Heather was merely a comfortable distraction. Mia however did not see it as such and fought me, trying to get out and help them, but I held her tightly to my chest as I braced the door with my back.

             
Peering out the window next to us only increased my heart rate, there was so many of them, stumbling around, shoulder to shoulder. No longer in the hundreds, but quite possible the thousands. They scoured the fort for us, sniffing the air, and cocking their heads as they listened for our breathing. So many that at first I was unable to spot Heather or Marky, and assumed the worst for them.

             
However Marky had found safety atop a blue caravan parked alongside a warehouse. He sat on the roof tightly curled up, hugging his knees as the dead desperately tried to reach for him. Heather was only a few yards away and had managed to climb halfway up the ladder of a watchtower, hanging by one hand and her pistol tightly gripped in her other. She cried as she looked back down at her only child, unable to do anything to save him. It would only be moments before the Dredgers managed to get a hold of him, and Heather knew it. Over and over, she cried out.

             
“Marky, I love you!” But Marky did not hear her, all he could hear were the snarls, moans, and shrieks that surrounded him.

             
Heather began to fire randomly into the horde. Each shot she took hit its target, yet missed their heads. It seemed to phase her none that her six bullets just wasn't enough, even with head shots. She continued though, pulling back the trigger on her third then fourth round. It was useless. Helpless and in shock she paused her assault hung motionless from the ladder, half of her body just dangling in mid-air as she looked back towards her son. Aside from the onslaught of moans and snarls of the dead, there was silence. Staring at her precious flesh and blood, no longer crying out. But I knew she continued to convey her sentiments for him, just by the look in her eyes. Silently she bellowed “I LOVE YOU!” One last time.

             
Her hand slowly rose again, careful to aim her last two shots, but she did not strike at the horde again, she had come to realize its futility. The fifth round exploded from the barrel and hurled across the fort, before skipping off the hood of the caravan with a shower of sparks. She did not waiver, and all emotion had faded from those big brown eyes. She snapped the trigger back on the final round and my eyes snapped shut just as little Marky's head exploded with a shower of blood. When I reopened them, he was gone, his body had tumbled off the vehicle before quickly being consumed by the carnivorous horde.

             
Heather had dropped her gun, and she continued to hang from the ladder staring back at the vacant van. Everything she had was gone in one devastating instant. Never before had I seen such emptiness fall upon ones face, but it was only for a moment. She turned her somber gaze towards me, and I knew she could see me through the dusty window. And as she did with her son, she spoke to me with her eyes alone.

             
“Damn you.”

             
Without emotion, without self-preservation, she gracefully let go of the ladder and leaped down into a mass of the dead and landed perfectly on her feet. Immediately she stood up straight with her arms stretch out like Christ on the cross. It was her own self-absolving suicide. She retired herself with such grace, with complete and sorrowful content. She was not about to live another minute in eternal anguish. It was something that I wished for as well – but not at the hands of those fiends.

             
Before long she had disappeared, swallowed by the persistent mob of decay. Mia had been watching too, and the sight of their death eased her panic as she slumped back into my arms in both exhaustion and despair. She had no more fight in her, and neither did I. We continued to hold each other tight, cradling our unborn child as I desperately braced the door. The dead could smell us, or hear Mia's pathetic whimpers, and were devising a way in. The door knob turned back and forth slowly as they attempted to figure out its mystic secrets. Mia’s fingernails pierced into my arm as she held on in fear.

             
I had no plan, all my ingenuity was tapped out. We were trapped and surrounded by a persistent enemy that would never give up, never back down. It took everything in me not back away from the door, too let them in and meet out fate. After all this is what God wanted, our inevitable surrender to hell, but I couldn’t do it. I will not succumb to his divine pettiness, damn him!

             
An unmistakable sound overcame the small shack, rain, or possible even sea water draining from the clothing of the infected. However I soon felt the warm trickle down my pant-legs, and I hadn't pissed my pants. No, something more undesirable, Mia's water had broken. It was early, maybe too early, I don't know. The stress and fear must have been too much for her young womb. What were we to do, the dead would most definitely smell it, and would only enrage their appetite even more, I was sure of it. We were trapped, like rats, amongst a starving lion pride.

             
Gently I ushered Mia to the side of the shed as I struggled to drag a large metal shelving unit over from the wall to brace the doorway. Sure enough, the Dredgers increasing rage could be heard as the shrieks became louder and louder. Their fists pounded on the tin walls, they scratched at every crease and rust hole, and pushed heavily upon the walls as they bowed inward.

             
Then, in a moment of confusion and fear, a shower of glass washed over us as the window shattered. The dead's squeals and growls filled our ears with agonizing dread. But, before I could react, a rotted hand reached through and grabbed hold of Mia's arm. The infected yanked it with such force that I could hear her bones crack, then the beasts teeth sank down in her petite wrist as she screamed in horrible anguish.

             
In furious rage I yanked my pistol out from my skin-coat and fired. The shot exploded through the Dredger’s nose and it tumbled back and out of sight. Soon replaced with another sea-demon. Mia fell from her stance and immediately I caught her, collapsing to the floor with her. Holding her tight to my chest as she stared in horror at her unnaturally twisted and mutilated arm.

             
There was so much blood, and there was nothing I could do. We both new that the virus was quick, I could already see the veins in her arm darkening, we had little time to react. Tears ran down her cheek as she shuttered in pain, her other hand reached for mine which still gripped the pistol tightly. Gently she lifted my arm up and rested the barrel of the gun onto the side of her now pale face.

             
“You’re doing good, baby.” I cried. “Real good, you’re going to be fine!” I cried in dishonesty as I pulled the gun away and dropped it to the floor. I knew what was to come, and I welcomed it. She would soon turn and then my left would end with hers. But in our death we would be reborn to continue our journey forever on this fallen planet.

             
To my surprise though, Mia began to settle, her breathing slowed and she stared up at me with that gorgeous smile. I began to cry even more at the sight of just one single tear escaping her eyes. Gently I stroked her cheek, wiping the tear away as I stared back into her dark pupils.

             
“It's okay, I am ready.” She said.

             
“No Mia.” I bawled, “I can't lose you, not now!” I said in emotional confusion.

             
“Whatever we become, we will be together, forever.” She whispered in that beautiful angelic voice of hers. Then he other hand reached up and she ran her delicate fingers through my beard.             

             
“I never got to name it...” She mumbled.

             
“I know, Mia, I know.”              

             
Her muscles tensed up and she moaned painfully, from labor, or the virus, I do not know. My hesitation faded as a faint cloud began to fill her innocent eyes, and I pulled my knife from its sheath. Softly I placed my other hand over her pale face, covering those passing eyes. Tipping my head down, I gently planted one last kiss on her silky lips, slowly taking in her divine scent one last time.

             
“You gave me a heart, my love.” I whispered.

(1) The final passage in this memoir of woe was never written by the nameless man behind the pencil. It is a portrayal of events pieced together by GFS Forensic Scientists and Engineers based on evidence collected at Fort-Rockland. Creativity and observation was all that was needed to complete this man's dreadful story.  Even though this survivor was unable to document those final moments, he did manage to scribble down one last sermon.

              To my beloved Mia, now in death you feel nothing. No happiness, or love, no pain, nor fear. But, I choose to endure all of these for you, and for the gift that you have bared for me.

              “And the sea gave up the dead, both death and hell was delivered upon us, and we were judged, every last man.”  - Revelations 20:13.

Briefing by: President Robert S. Zimmerman

              Operation: Incursion of Site 8-A;

             
Date: 11/03/0006

             
Classification: Not-Classified (Public)

              The Elite Deadite Squad, former U.S. Military turned eradicators, made the initial breach into Fort-Rockland at two-forty pm on the third day of the sixth Hunter's Moon. A sparse swarm, maybe only fifty or so individuals, greeted us just outside of the fort walls. The EDS proficiently dispatched the threat before focusing their efforts on blasting the main-gates wide open.

             
Site 8-A had become radically hostile with and estimated thirty-five hundred Incurables suffocating the narrow stretch of the outer-bay. From their state of decay, and the marine evidence which still clung to their saturated clothes, it was apparent that this was a horde from the deep. Dredgers, as they are now more commonly referred as.

             
Latterly rumors had begun floating about the GFS network of this inconceivable threat, or so called tactic of the damned. The suggestions depicted that Incurables would fall into an almost instinctual state of hibernation after their livestock – us - had become depleted. The GFS had seen this behavior previously, within abandoned buildings, caverns, or even subway tunnels. But doing so beneath the sea was absurd to most, until my team witnessed it firsthand.

             
Not long after we reclaimed Fort Rockland did we determine that it was the oceans elevated salt content and high pressure which act as an all-natural preservative, allowing the infected to sit and wait. Predatory sea-life, for instance sharks, avoid them for unknown reasons. And the bottom feeders, crabs and mollusks, found themselves new homes among the Dredgers. Just as multiple times before, we had drastically underestimated the virus's will to survive, which is as ruthless as our own.

             
The GFS Investigators as well as myself remained outside the walls and waited for the EDS to secure the fort. Twelve grunts, the best of the best, born again killers. Fearlessly led by Lieutenant-Colonel; Tony A Mason, call-sign ASH. Together they funneled into the fort and confronted the army of the dead with lethal precision, unleashing a barrage gunfire and a scattering of Anti-Viral Grenades like a cannonball smashing through a decaying building.

             
AV Grenades were my own concoction that has thus far has proven to be relentlessly successful. Although the complete details of the counter-agent can be researched within the pages of the Valkyrie Official Report, in short, I genetically altered the SPV-1 strain in order to condition the virus to be highly cannibalistic. The weapon itself was more like a smoke-grenade, releasing a thick fog that blanketed the area with an airborne strain of my creation. As with SPV-1, SPV-1C is harmless to those uninfected, yet highly lethal to Incurables.

             
Its effectiveness was apparent as I witnessed the assault unfold from the safety of an armored Humvee. Once again the EDS waged war upon the vilest enemy that they had ever encountered, and as the counter-agent set in, the Incurables precipitately turned on one another. Site 8-A became a feeding frenzy, the shrill of their wails rose above the gunfire as they tore the necrotic flesh from each other with teeth and claws.

             
Yet, even the change in the tide was not enough to overpower the massive horde, and like so many time before, one soldier fell beneath the chaos. The remaining squad ruthlessly showered the necrotic pig-pile with a peppering of bullets, stopping only to reload as they stepped closer. The heavy concentration of fire-power, however, was not to save their fallen comrade. But instead, was to ensure he did not survive. And after a quick salute of gunfire into the air, they nonchalantly continued with the assault.

             
As they continued to hammer through the swarm it was apparent that this horde was much larger than first believed. As bodies piled up, more and more incurables rose from the bay, as if rising from Hell itself. We needed more firepower, so without hesitation I grabbed the GFS Radio and called upon the aircraft carrier Redemption which was currently three hundred miles of the coast, for assistance.

             
Within ten minutes a squadron of A-10 Warthogs screamed over the bay in a V formation like a flock of jet-powered geese. They passed overhead and were out of sight within seconds, the rumble of their engines fading beneath uninterrupted gunfire. There was a moment of concern amongst my team, but then shocking relief as deafening explosions rocked the coastline. Plumes of seawater erupted into the air all about the bay, abandoned boats splintered apart and the silhouettes of unfortunate souls gracefully rained back down into the depths.

             
Two hours and forty three minutes after the initial incursion began my team of GFS investigators and engineer’s safely entered the fort. We wasted no time getting to work obtaining blood samples from numerous corpses to study the long term effects, if any, of the Anti-Virus. The EDS searched buildings and boats for any survivors, as well as eradicating any Incurables who still remained. We had little time to collect as much data as we could, night was approaching and the temperature dangerously dropping.

             
When we began our journey to Fort-Rockland I had given a general order to collect any and all identification from the lifeless bodies of those we put down. We would create a database of the dead so that in time survivors could confirm if their loved ones were truly lost to the Great Outbreak. Not knowing is endlessly worse than knowing. Closure is what we would provide for a world that would never give up.

             
Reviewing some of the licenses and ID's it became apparent that the majority of these corpse were not locals. Some as far north as Quebec, and others as far south as Florida. The infected that rose from those shoals were Migratory. Wandering the depths of the oceans in search of their next feeding ground. Later we would receive reports of Incurables massed together and drifting with the ocean currents. Dead-Barges is what they are referred as. When these barges drifted close enough to promising grazing grounds, they would somehow submerge themselves into the depths and slowly stroll up onto shore.

             
As we collected samples and evidence in order to piece together what had happened at Site 8-A, I had discovered a stained and deteriorated notebook, bound in an unknown animal skin. It was most likely beaver or muskrat, yet too worn and mangy to be completely determined. Within its hundreds of pages were the tragic yet uplifting stories, opinions, and history of an unknown survivor. All of which was scratched down on yellowing and brittle paper with a faded pencil. A dreadful tale of a man, who unlike most, ventured into the wilderness alone to escape this devilish blight. Selfishly he abandoned his fellow man to save himself, yet he is no coward. He is a survivor. And in his selfish preservation, he finds love, and brings hope to an abused and gentle soul.

             
It was the first real documentation found of true survival in this apocalyptic world. It was apparent that these words would become important to the rebirth of our civilization, a perfect example of what being human really means. The unconditional will to live, love, and to sacrifice. One man's heroic defiance against man’s, natures, and even God’s wrath.

             
The militia continued their search of the area as I briskly skimmed through the journal, reading brief passages before skipping over to the next page. I utilized as much of the slowly fading sun as I could. But, I had to put it down, this was not the place to lose track of our task. I reluctantly placed it in my satchel to continue in more detail later at the GFS base-camp.

             
Taking in the area it amazed me how immense the piles of dead had become. In the words of this unknown survivor, it would be magnificent necrotic funeral pyre. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a dog. Laying just before the doorway of and old maintenance shed, unconcerned with the hustle and bustle of everyone around her. Slowly I approached the silent beast, but it soon became apparent that this was no dog. It was clear as day that this was in fact a wolf, its gray fur was matted in blood yet her bright blue eyes shined with such innocence. Kneeling down a few yards away, I waited and watched as she lay pathetically before a lone female body, whimpering and baying mournfully.

             
The girl was maybe eighteen if she was lucky, her face still beautiful and pristine, unlike her arms and legs which were shredded to the bones. Sadly a repulsive mass of chewed and torn tissue was all that remained within her empty, concave stomach. My belly churned in disgust, without question I knew who this was. Although I had not read through the journal in its entirety, I read enough to know this had to be Mia and her wolf-pup.

             
“Nova!” I called out.

             
Immediately the wolf turned her head towards me, gazing at me as if asking for help, begging me to save her friend. Then she promptly focused back at the corpse and the whining commenced again as she continued to mourn. Slowly I inched myself forward and placed my hand on her head in comfort, paying no attention to the sticky mass of fur and blood. We sat together for a while, looking down upon the body with both sympathy and confusion. What really happened here, I thought to myself.

             
The sun slowly dropped below the walls and I scanned around the area, looking for any sign of the author of that book. It seemed pointless however, the pages left no detail of what he looked like. I felt the same emptiness that now lay in Nova’s heart, I too felt abandoned and without closure. Then, in acknowledgment, she turned her bright eyes up at me.

             
“Let's go.” I whispered.

1st day of the 6th Cold Moon;

              I have since taken Nova into my life and she has become a great companion. She has adapted well to communal living, and follows me everywhere, even on excursions to rid an area of Incurables. Always at my heels and rarely leaving my side. She seems content, always looking up at me with a look of understanding. I believe that somehow she is aware of my knowledge of her past life. Although, as content as she is, there are days she will wait by a door, whimpering and whining. As if waiting for her Mia to walk through at any moment.

             
As horrific as it was, I am pleased to have been able to see the remains of Mia that day, it allowed me to put a face to the name. Her beauty, although overly flaunted by her lover, was beyond description. There is no question as to why this man fell so hard for her. Mia is the heart and soul of his tale, and without her, this survivor’s life would have had little meaning.

             
My team had carefully pieced together their last few moments, and the results will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. During Mia’s autopsy we discovered, or more precisely could not find any trace of assimilation from the virus. In fact, the only signs of the contagion were within her stomach cavity as well as the initial bite itself. Yet, no living virus cells were found in either blood nor tissue, and no trace of my anti-virus in her system. It is something that is baffling us and further research on her remains will be needed. We can only hope that this anomaly may lead to a true cure, or even better is a path to immunity.

             
The GFS Medical Examiner with us that day had determined the cause of death was from a swift puncture wound at the base of her skull, and the lacerations around Mia's stomach were not only from the fingernails and teeth of the infected, but also a few clean and precise incisions that could only been made by a razor-sharp blade and a steady hand. After this nameless survivor ended the suffering of his one true love, he used his trusty blade and took it upon himself to ensure that he always carried a piece of her with him. A piece of them both.

             
              One visage of that fateful day at Site 8-A will live with me for the rest of my life. It was unanimously decided that the area was a loss and too dangerous to reopen, and in response the GFS ordered the immediate evacuation and relocation of other coastal forts. Like the nameless survivor, we would learn from our failures and continue to push the ball further down the field.

             
As the EDS and GFS Team abandoned the fort, I looked back towards the calm bay. There, atop the granite slabs of the break-water stood a silhouette in the fading sun. Immediately I lifted my binoculars to get a better look, scrambling to focus them before we traveled out of view. It was a man with long dirty hair and a large bushy beard clad in a swath of animal furs. His shoulders were adorn with belts and an assortment of pouches and satchels. In one arm he held a shotgun which rested upon his burly shoulder and what appeared to be a large canvas pack strapped onto his back.

             
But what lay cradled within his other handle instantly caught my attention. A small bundle of bloody animal fur, the contents however, were hidden deep within. But I knew what he guarded, and as important as it was to that man, it was also important for mankind. What he held may have been the key to ending this war, to save our planet.