After the Pandemic: Genocide (2): The Armory (708 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesLabels: After_the_Pandemic
Rating: 2 on 15 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Axolotl (View user info) at 2005-11-30 10:27:05 EST
Jack McCallum's Introduction - http://www.ubersite.com/m/61238
After the Pandemic: Genocide (1): The Variants - http://www.ubersite.com/m/79933
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PART TWO- The Armory
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"The citizens of the city of New York have been ordered to evacuate immediately. The President has declared a lockdown of Manhattan Island, and troops have been stationed on the Queens-Nassau County border, with General Riley having the 42nd Division based in Levittown, prepared to combat—"
Jennifer Grant changed the channel to ESPN; the same exact program was showing.
"National emergency—"
"Not since Katrina—"
"Brought in from Iraq, the division has been—"
There was nothing but bad news on ever since eight months ago when the virus had begun to spread from Africa onto Europe and Asia. The EU had virtually shut down their continent, and few signals had been coming out from England and Ireland.
Millions had died in the British Isles, and London was no more than a ghost town. The infection had spread from trade ships and had contaminated the dense cities before the Prime Minister could lock down the country, and those who weren't all dead in England were zombies filled with the three Variants.
Jennifer was a young forensic student, still in NYU, but though the school year had started less than two weeks ago, the lockdown of New York City had prevented her from ever setting foot inside the city since. She lived in a small house in Teaneck, New Jersey, within sight of the top of the George Washington Bridge three miles away over the crest of the Palisades Hills. Her abode was humble due to her age and lack of money, but she was lucky even to have the small one-story rented room.
She leaned across her couch and grabbed her cell phone from the table, overcome with an urge to call her mother in Connecticut. As she began to open up her contacts, there was a harsh knock upon her door.
She dropped the phone instantly, her heart gripped in terror. She quickly turned off the light, but had the zombies seen it already.
"Don't jump to conclusions, don't jump," she whispered to herself as she edged into the kitchen. The visitors knocked again.
Jennifer Grant lunged at the kitchen counter, sliding out a knife from the drawer. There was a hard bang on the door, like a heavy object pounding against the knob.
"Hit it again," came a near-silent voice, muffled by the creaking hinges. From outside, a rifle butt smashed into the lock, breaking the door free. It squeaked as it swung inwards, and Jennifer stood against the wall, knife in hand, wishing she had a gun.
"Anybody home?" a low and shaking male voice called. "US Army, National Guard."
"Here," Jennifer answered softly, putting the steak knife back down on the table and stepping out of the kitchen. She turned on the light once more, and she looked at the two soldiers darkening her doorstep.
They were young and doing their best to put on a brave face. Dressed in fatigues and the insignia of the 42nd Division on their shoulders, they carried M-16s pointed downwards and stepped hesitantly into Jennifer's domain. Their faces were obscured by heavy helmets and straps; they were dressed more for combat in Iraq, not for civilian missions in the suburbs.
"You're miss...Grant?" one of the soldiers said, looking down at a thick clipboard.
"Yes..." Jennifer replied. "Am I needed for something?"
The soldier on the left—a corporal, by his markings—looked up from his clipboard. He had a small shaven face and thin-framed glasses. There was a small scar above his eyebrow, and his nametag read GORDON.
"We are evacuating all citizens of Bergen County to safe zones at the armories and military bases around the region," he said stiffly. Warming up, he continued, saying, "There are fears about the Variant B infected strains of victims...we think the Variant Cs still retain human emotions, and are less dangerous, but the Variant Bs are extremely lethal."
"I thought that Manhattan has been locked down," Jennifer asked, refusing to budge from her house.
"That's right," said the other soldier, whose nametag labeled him as PRESTON. "There's nothing to worry about, ma'am. Everything will be fine; the Guard has it all under control. Just come with us, we're moving all citizens of this sector to the Teaneck Armory."
"If there's no threat, I'm not coming," Jennifer answered abruptly.
"Miss," Corporal Gordon started.
"I got this, Corporal," Preston said with a smile. To Jennifer, he said, "Everything is all right, ma'am, just calm down. We can protect you all better at the Armory, you see? Everything will be fine, right?"
He finished with a beaming smile. Jennifer frowned and looked at him, saying, "Why don't you drop the official army-guy lines and tell me what threat exactly are we facing? I'm not an idiot, and I'm not coming unless I get a good reason from one of you two."
The smile immediately disappeared off of Preston's face, and Gordon glumly and embarrassedly readjusted the rifle on his back.
"Ma'am, I don't blame you, and I'll tell you the truth," Gordon said quietly. "The truth is, we have no idea what the hell is going on. These Variants...the President wants us to believe that they're just like us, but diseased, but they're murderous, I tell you. They need human blood to live, and people like me—guardsmen—are the only defense against them, since we have all of those divisions in Iraq."
"But is there a threat to us? To me?" Jennifer queried, dreading the answer she knew would come.
"We can talk about it at the Armory, Miss Grant," Gordon said. "Just know that it's my job to get everyone to safety, and resisters sure don't make it easier. We have about a hundred other people in our group, and the Armory has room for two thousand. Groups will be coming in quick...I suggest you cadge your spot quick, before there's nowhere for you to go."
Jennifer thought for a moment before replying, "All right...I'll come..."
"Take two minutes to gather essentials," Preston said in a very official manner. "Cell phone, toothbrush...that kind of stuff. We'll be waiting outside in front of your house."
Jennifer nodded as the soldiers left, and she herself went upstairs to her room.
She had two minutes to gather all her worldly possessions that mattered, and then she might never see her house again. It was lucky now that she had never gotten the dog she had wanted, as she couldn't bear to think of abandoning an animal to the zombies.
Cell phone, hygienic items, three hundred dollars in cash from her drawer, and some of her notebooks and papers she had saved from her childhood. Nearly forgetting, she reached back in again and searched for her charger for her phone. On a whim, she took her iPod as well. If they were locked down inside the Armory for long, it could get boring.
And that was it...from all her possessions, she gathered what was necessary, and ran downstairs to join the soldiers. As she closed the door and stepped out into the night, she didn't bother to lock it. If there were any looters, they would be dead should the Variants overtake them.
Out in the street was a group of about a hundred and twenty men, women and children, of all races and ages, standing in a column in the streets. Around the perimeter of the group was a squad of National Guardsmen of the 50th New Jersey Brigade, Teaneck Battalion. Other small groups of people were joining onto the main body, emerging from the houses on either side of the street.
Jennifer with her small rucksack of necessities walked across the lawn and out onto the peaceful suburban street, more crowded now than it had ever been. The people were scared-looking and depressed. Here a skinny black man clutched a laptop to his stomach, breathing in deeply. A young husband and wife couple held each others' hands for comfort. A small child's cry of devastation at the apparent abandonment of his dog was the only sound to be heard in the party.
"Right..." said the commanding officer of the troop. "Let's move out. To the Armory."
The group made their way down the Teaneck streets, the soldiers marching a little outside the civilians, rifles pointed downwards. They were trying their best to put on a hard face, but it was apparent that they were just as clueless as the people they were defending.
Jennifer settled into the line, following the company's dreary footsteps down the tree-lined avenues to the commercial center of town, many small businesses either boarded up or defended by the shotgun-wielding proprietors.
"We're here," said a weary Corporal Gordon.
The Teaneck Armory was a high building constructed in the middle of a wide field. Surrounded by the streets and houses of suburbia, for about a hundred yards between the sidewalk and the armory itself was a trimmed lawn on which remains of tanks used in WWII rusted gloriously.
The Armory was a dormitory for the soldiers in the Teaneck Battalion, as well as containing a gigantic auditorium that could easily hold several hundred people in sleeping bags. In the back was a parking lot and a training field where the diverse and loyal platoons mustered and marched, and where prospective recruits would train to become a National Guardsman.
"We'll be out on the bridge by tonight," said Gordon to Jennifer as the soldiers marched the civilians in toward the main entrance. "The zombies have been spotted in Harlem and the Upper East Side, and there needs to be a unit defending the bridge."
"Good luck," said Jennifer awkwardly.
"I've guarded the bridge before..." Gordon said softly. "It's part of my duty as a Guardsman, but I've never thought that I might actually be guarding against something...I mean, like a physical threat."
"You'll make it through fine," Jennifer smiled. "Thanks for convincing me to come here,"
"Thanks," Gordon said, laughing gently. "Jennifer, right? I'll try to—"
"Unit!" came the harsh call of an officer. "This platoon will be joining the detachments at Fort Dix at the George Washington Bridge on the double! Follow the orders given to you there, but for now, 1st platoon is to report to the transport jeeps in the parking lot."
"I'll see you again!" Gordon smiled, his face beading in sweat in the cool September night air. As the rest of the soldiers left the column of civilians, Jennifer and the rest of the rescued citizens of Teaneck piled into the Armory.
As they passed the doors, they saw the two WWII tanks, fighters against Hitler that had helped win the war. Maybe things weren't so bad after all, some of them thought. They were safe in there, they hoped.
* * *
"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me," whispered Tobias Collins in a half-moan as he traveled in and out of consciousness. The crackle of gunfire and screams echoed on the streets below.
"I once was lost, but now am found," Tobias murmured, looking for the strength to crack open one eyelid. "Was blind, but now...but now..."
"I see," he growled, forcing his eyes open.
The sensory input overloaded the synapses of his brain, and the agonizing headache returned, more painful than anything before in his life. Tobias screamed and jerked puppet-like on the ground, twisting onto his stomach and letting out a low, soft grunt as he struck his nose on the hardwood.
"'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, 'twas grace my soul relived..."
Tobias retched onto the floor, his head pounding. He felt weakened, exhausted, mindless...but alive.
"How precious now that moment seems, the hour I first believed..."
Tobias grabbed onto his armchair and stood up, not daring to open his eyes. Sitting down in his familiar place, he found all desire evaporated for the heroin in his still half-full needle. He essayed to open his eyes just a crack; slowly and deliberately, he spread his eyelids, taking in the world.
"When we have been ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun..."
Tobias stood up, feeling far better. His chest and neck was torn brutally, and violent bite wounds had been done to his left hand. It could altogether be worse, though, he thought. He was alive, and he sensed his strength returning.
He had survived. Though his mind was dulled and his senses failing, he had not perished to the virus, but absorbed it. He was now a Variant C, the luckiest option that could have befallen him. He could still think, he was not a mindless vegetable confined to a bed, or a bloodthirsty maniac prowling the streets like a predator. He retained humanity, but there was an intrinsic lust for flesh now within him.
He decided to leave his apartment and venture out onto the streets below. He was now beginning to feel some of the positive effects of the infection. He felt high, indestructible, and ecstatic...far better than the drug that had almost taken his life.
"We've no less days to sing God's praise, than when we'd first begun."
* * *
"What company are you?" said General Riley, speaking to the captain of the newly-arrived troops.
"Sir, Company B, Teaneck Battalion, sir!" replied Captain Farrell.
Riley was an old soldier, veteran of Vietnam and both Iraq wars. This mission however, was different. He was forcibly locking down the city of New York, the hub of the world, and locking the innocent pure people in with the infected bloodthirsty monsters called the Variants and zombies.
To say that the world economy had collapsed was an understatement. With entire countries like England, France, and Italy entirely put out of commission by the disease, reduced to local governments by the infected and for the infected, the dollar was worthless. The New York Stock Exchange had fallen, both metaphorically and literally as the zombies of the East Village overran the Financial District and the Battery.
"All right, B Company," Riley said. "You got a special mission. I've been waiting for the 3rd New York Armored Brigade to get down here from Buffalo, but those bastards higher up moved my tanks to seal off the Harlem River in the Bronx. All I got to go on is New Jersey and the Patchogue and Pearl River Brigade, and you guys."
"What will we be doing?" asked Farrell warily.
"You're going to be going over the George Washington Bridge," Riley spelled out. "Make your way down the west side of Central Park, and get to Times Square. You're going to be our forward force, and if the 1st Brigade, 10th Light Infantry can get down from Fort Drum in time, they'll be helping you to secure uptown."
"Thank you, sir. It's an honor to be entrusted with such a command."
"All right, all right, you heard me, you have your orders," Riley said. "Go with your company."
* * *
The George Washington Bridge was a high span between the Palisades on one side and Washington Heights on the other, tall and grand in the autumn night. The clear moon shone brilliant on the Hudson River as Company B marched over, M-16s locked and loaded. Looking southwards, they could see that midtown was burning, and the distant cracks of gunfire of looters and zombie-fighters alike sounded in the air.
"Corporal Gordon," Captain Farrell called. Gordon quickstepped up the column and sidled up to Farrell.
"We'll be going down Broadway all the way down the Upper East Side to Seventh Avenue," Farrell said. "Assume that all civilians are infected."
"There's millions of New Yorkers here," Gordon replied. "They can't all be infected."
"You hear that in the air? You smell that?" Farrell said. Gunshots and screams mingled in the air, and the sky was stained red with smoke and fire, as though heaven itself was bleeding. The smell of burning flesh and plastic hung in the air, and the streets seemed to be nearly deserted.
"Eight hundred thousand infected at least," Farrell clarified. "With maybe three hundred thousand dead. We don't know for sure, but we can't take any chances. This problem will end here in Manhattan, even if we have to nuke the whole damn city. Is that clear, Gordon?"
"Yes, sir."
The company passed over the bridge, staring down the long Broadway, where civilians, scattered, hesitant, many not infected, tried to escape the holocaust of the island. The barriers would prevent them from entering the Bronx or New Jersey, and for all purposes they were stuck in the city.
"What are we up against, sir?" Gordon asked. "Just enforcing the lockdown, or..."
"I don't know, Corporal," Farrell said dismally. "I just don't know."
User Reviews
Submitted by awesome_face (user info) at 2006-03-28 15:41:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Jimmo (user info) at 2005-12-06 10:31:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Professional_Peon (user info) at 2005-12-05 11:04:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Better late then never
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2005-12-05 09:52:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No problem, Nelly
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2005-12-05 09:24:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Thanks for presenting me with another opportunity to waste many man hours reading about zombies. No wonder the economy's in trouble.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-12-01 19:04:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
y'know what's interesting - in your piece of the ATP universe, you have large numbers of American forces stationed in Iraq.
Assuming they couldn't be evacuated home in time to defend the homeland, that would mean a large, heavily armored force of Variants in Iraq.
THAT would make for some interesting writing.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-11-30 19:31:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice. A few things:
"and those who weren't all dead in England were zombies filled with the three Variants."
I didn't like this line -- the implication is that people are 'filled with variants' which doesn't sound right in my head.
"She quickly turned off the light, but had the zombies seen it already."
Needs a question mark at the end of that sentence.
"As she closed the door and stepped out into the night, she didn't bother to lock it. "
Her door was busted open by the military, wasn't it?
Just some minor things.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2005-11-30 17:58:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-11-30 14:24:33 (#)
Ranking: 2
No. No. Let me clarify. Not the unit structure, the details. For example, they haven't used Jeeps in 20 years.
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ah, that would be Bradleys instead then?
Too much Band of Brothers for me.
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-11-30 14:43:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
fuckin sweet! keep it up. and sooner rather than later.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-11-30 14:24:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No. No. Let me clarify. Not the unit structure, the details. For example, they haven't used Jeeps in 20 years.
Submitted by mbstateside (user info) at 2005-11-30 12:09:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff!
I look forward to seeing this develop.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2005-11-30 11:15:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Do you mean about the makeup of the Division securing New York?
42nd US Infantry (NG Unit)
50th NJ Infantry Brigade
42nd NY Infantry Brigade
3rd NY Armored Brigade
87th VT Infantry Brigade
69th NY Infantry Brigade
That's according to November 2004 statistics.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-11-30 10:57:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
The writing is outstanding. The story and plot are interesting. Definately +2 material. One constructive criticism that I can give is that it seems that your military research came from a WW2 era not modren day.
Submitted by HadToBeDone (user info) at 2005-11-30 10:42:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This is good, since thecaes has decided to start slacking on the Pandemic. There is so much more he could write, but he just refuses and won't listen to reason.
Thanks!
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-11-30 10:37:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ha ha, awesome. Two Pandemic posts in a row. High five, buddy.
I'll be back to read this later...