After the Pandemic: Genocide (9): Justice Under God (690 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesLabels: After_the_Pandemic
Rating: 1.57 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Axolotl (View user info) at 2006-02-01 08:34:44 EST
Jack McCallum's Introduction - http://www.ubersite.com/m/61238
After the Pandemic: Genocide (1): The Variants - http://www.ubersite.com/m/79933
After the Pandemic: Genocide (2): The Armory - http://www.ubersite.com/m/80119
After the Pandemic: Genocide (3): Times Square - http://www.ubersite.com/m/80429
After the Pandemic: Genocide (4): The Highbridge - http://www.ubersite.com/m/80522
After the Pandemic: Genocide (5): Stars and Stripes Forever - http://www.ubersite.com/m/80836
After the Pandemic: Genocide (6): Against the Grain - http://www.ubersite.com/m/80897
After the Pandemic: Genocide (7): Infiltration - http://www.ubersite.com/m/81839
After the Pandemic: Genocide (8): The Crucible - http://www.ubersite.com/m/82506
-----------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------
PART Nine - Justice Under God
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Governor Damian Richards was a well-liked official of the State of New Jersey. After the scandals of the McGreevy and Forrester administrations, he took on the burden of fixing up the corruption, loopholes and misdeeds in the legislature and brought the state budget back from red. A portly, bespectacled man with thinning auburn hair and a bulbous nose, he had been in frequent conflict with Governor Marcano of New York, mainly over extradition rights.
Now he hadn't a clue where Marcano, or anyone else for that matter could be.
The governors of Connecticut and Delaware had resigned, as well as much of the county executives of New Jersey. The assembly was on the verge of quitting, and Jersey's two senators had all but given up on their homeland.
"There's a brigade in the Bronx, with a brigade each in Teaneck, Newark, and Englewood," General Thompson of the XVIII Airborne Corps was saying. "And the entire 28th Division is stretched out from Oradell to Bergenfield. I can get you the 82nd Airborne if you need it, but it'll take a few days."
The base of command was in Hackensack Court House, under the wide dome ceiling that served as the main city of Bergen County. Governor Richards, Secretaries of the State, and the various generals were all gathered to deal with the zombie threat.
"Of course I need another division," Richards snapped in uncharacteristic annoyance. "Do you even realize that less than six miles away are zombies, who would stop at nothing to wipe humanity off the face of the earth?"
"I'll send it down."
"Governor Richards?" asked an aide, stepping into the conference room. "There is a call on the line for you—"
"Answer it, and tell them that I'm busy," replied Richards, staring at the red phone in the middle of the circular conference table. There was a red light on, indicating a caller on the line.
"It's the President of the United States."
Richards immediately lunged for the phone, pushing away the hands of Thompson and two other generals, and forced the receiver to his ear.
"Governor Richards on the line, Mr. President."
"Good," said a haggard-sounding President John Derringer. "What's going on up there?"
General Thompson forced his lips into the mouthpiece, pushing Richards away, saying, "We're under attack by zombies, and—"
"I know the situation. Tell me what's changed," replied the President impatiently.
"The zombies have broken through on many fronts, most importantly the Overpeck—" began Richards. "Dammit, Thompson, get out of it! Sorry, Mr. President...they're infiltrating the Overpeck River and are preparing to lay siege to the Teaneck Armory."
"Lay a siege?" replied Derringer. "What year is this, 1200? A siege? We're not in the Middle Ages, Richards,"
"The zombies seem to be," Richards said sardonically. "Aside from their sharpened teeth and fingernails, they are armed with swords, bows, and armor, as well as the occasional mortar, rocket launcher, or M1."
Derringer paused a moment.
"I'll be in New Jersey soon," said Derringer. "I'll board a flight as soon as possible. To raise morale, you know."
"We don't need morale, we need the 82nd Airborne!" shouted Thompson into the phone.
"Will you shut up—not you, Mr. President!" Richards said angrily.
"Listen, both of you," Derringer said sadly. "I don't know what you need. I don't know what this country needs. Frankly, I don't know anything, especially not about zombies. Is it too much to ask that I get a little help? My public relations report shows that my approval rating is in the toilet, VP Effinger is the main one taking control of military affairs...could you help me out?"
Richards sighed and said, "All right...come to NJ as quick as you can. Thank you...Mr. President."
"You too, Governor," said Derringer. "I'll be there soon. Goodbye."
With a curt farewell, the President hung up.
* * *
The people in the Armory, about three thousand in total, had all been crammed into the gym of the armory, all standing up. The sound was deafening, and every crying baby, complaining child and frightened man stood in less-than-rapt attention to the gaggle of officers conversing nervously by the stage of the gym.
"What's going to happen?" asked Brandon, feeling his arm as though in pain. He, Jennifer, Michael, Preston and Gordon were congregated in a massive press of humans.
"There was an attack. There's a zombie in here," Gordon answered, his face pale.
"No...how can they...what are they going to do?" asked Jennifer. She felt sorry for all the children there who were being crushed by the sea of people, or held by their parents.
In the armory, there were no individuals. The people were like a bacteria or fungus, a single vast mass held together by fear and loathing for the vampiric zombies that preyed on them. Everyone was part of a whole.
An officer was standing up at the podium on the stage; Gordon recognized him as Major Luke Hammond.
"Attention, attention," Hammond said, tapping the microphone. The armory fell quiet.
Major Luke Hammond was a bulky man with a thin red mustache. His hair was flaming orange, and he wore beige fatigues, relics of Iraq. On his shoulder were his officer's chevrons, and a patch reading: CO 2-113. The commander of the 2nd (and only) battalion of the 113th Infantry Regiment. The 113th Regiment had a long lineage, tracing back beyond the Revolutionary War.
The 113th had fought at Manassas in the Civil War, and had recently come back from Guantanamo Bay. It was at Guantanamo Bay that Hammond had served first, straight from West Point.
Outside the Armory the 114th Infantry Regiment and the 102nd Armored guarded the trenches outside, and platoons of the 250th Forward Support Battalion and the 5th Squadron, 117th Cavalry Regiment patrolled the suburban streets. They were all National Guard units, mainly from Newark, Monmouth, and Ocean and Bergen Counties.
But within the armory, the 50th Main Support and the 113th Regiment guarded the three thousand civilians, barring their exit. The Teaneck Armory was essentially in a state of lockdown.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and children," Hammond began. "As most of you know, there has been a murder in this very armory—and I won't lie to you, it looks like a zombie did it."
General Uriah Pickett walked across the stage and whispered something in Hammond's ear that made the Major go pale.
"There's been two attacks," Hammond said quietly. "A woman was found dead just now." He bowed his head, and the armory followed his lead.
When he looked up, his demeanor had changed from regretful to angry and vengeful. He roared, "Get into ranks now! All of you! I want a platoon of the 50th Battalion at every exit to the auditorium! B Company, 1st Platoon, get up on this stage with me! I need some enforcers in this godforsaken mess. One-one-three, you guys get outside the armory to free up a bit of space."
As the 113th Regiment filed slowly out of the auditorium, Gordon clutched his crucifix.
"What?" asked Jennifer.
"I'm...1st Platoon, B Company," Gordon replied.
"Let's go, then! Kill some zombies!" said Preston, pulling on Gordon's arm.
With heavily armed machine-gunners at all the exits, Hammond stood with his arms folded like an angry parent as the twenty-eight members of 1st Platoon, B Company walked up onto stage. There had originally been forty, but the zombie attacks had killed many, and others had deserted.
"All right, let's get this show on the road," Hammond said. Jennifer warily eyed Gordon as he stood in a firm rank, all twenty-eight soldiers in a line formation, M16s held upright, their butt ends on the ground. Some of the soldiers' fatigues were splashed in blood and filth.
Hammond angrily paced up and down the stage, microphone in hand. He didn't need it; everyone was hanging on his word like chastised schoolchildren. Finally, he spoke, fuming:
"Are you telling me that no one was near the killings?" he barked.
Dead silence. Hammond hissed and continued. "Nobody? Nobody here has the stones to stand up and say a word? Come on now, surely someone had to see the killings? We're all packed very tight in here."
There was total silence.
"You have got to be fucking joking me!" Hammond roared. Even the other officers and soldiers trembled at his voice. "This is horseshit! Not a single one of you worthless mongoloids has the ability to use your own eyes? You brain-dead wastes of life? I wouldn't be sorry if the zombies killed each and every one of you!"
"Sir," a small man said, standing up. "Sir? Major...?"
"Speak up, as though you got a pair!" Hammond shouted.
The man looked sick, but people around him were egging him on, encouraging him. "At the first killing...I saw a black man nearby who wasn't usually near by."
"You saw a black man? Isn't that very original, blame it on the blacks! Do you think that they have a disposition toward crime?" Hammond yelled.
"That's—that's not what I mean—" said the man.
"What did he look like?"
"Well, black..."
"And?"
"He was a soldier," the accuser said.
"Michael," Jennifer whispered. "Brandon isn't...he's not..."
Michael Benkosky looked pained, and didn't answer. Jennifer glanced at Michael, who was biting his lips silently. He was black; he was wearing fatigues.
"Anything else?" Hammond asked, a little calmer.
"No, I didn't see very well," replied the man, looking a little relieved.
"All right...what about this second killing?" Hammond asked.
"Sir! I saw something!" shouted a woman, raising her hand. Hammond looked down at her, and she stood up. "I saw someone I knew! I saw Michelle Warren attack that woman!"
"No!" said a woman. "That's a lie!"
"What are your names?" Hammond asked.
"Mary Proctor, and that's Michelle Warren!" the woman said, growing hysterical. She pointed at the bewildered Michelle, who was denying the accusation. "I saw her...I saw her...she killed her..."
"I didn't! I never did! She's lying!"
"Both of you! Get up on stage!" Hammond roared. "Arrest that woman!"
"They got her!" someone yelled. The armory went into an uproar, people cheering and calling out curses and taunts to Michelle.
Michelle Warren screamed, but the guardsmen fell upon her and dragged her up onto the stage. Mary Proctor followed in some hesitation. Michelle Warren was a young, blond woman, who almost resembled Jennifer in a way. Mary was a plain, cold, middle-aged woman, pointing the finger of accusation at Michelle.
The armory began to cheer as the woman was set down on the stage, guarded by three soldiers. "We've got her! We've got her! The zombie is caught!"
"Now, Mrs. Proctor...what did you see take place?" Hammond asked.
"I was in the bathroom, in a stall, when Michelle Warren came in," said Mary, looking flustered. "And I thought I might be in danger, so I lifted my legs up so she couldn't tell if there was someone in...and she opened another stall, and all I heard was a sound like meat being cut. A woman cried out for a second, but then her throat was cut. I could tell because of the blood that poured from her stall into mine."
"No...no...I never..." Michelle begged. Two guardsmen were holding her, and Gordon had been tasked with holding a rifle to her forehead.
"And she ate part of the woman too!" accused Mary, almost weeping in passion. "She ate her before she was even dead! And she left, and it was all blood and gore everywhere!"
"It's true...the victim was found in the lavatory with her throat cut, partially consumed," said General Pickett.
"No, why would I lie? She has every reason to lie!" Michelle sobbed.
"What? How do you defend yourself?" asked Hammond.
"I'm...with her husband, I'm..." Michelle said softly. She was reluctant to say what she had to say. "I have been...having an affair with Mary's husband, Greg."
The crowd hushed, and Mary turned purple in rage.
"How dare you say that simply because..." she began, but stopped herself. Composing herself, she continued, rage dripping on every syllable, "I saw you there. I saw you kill that woman."
"Well, is your husband here? We can't kill an innocent person." Hammond said. "Will Greg Proctor stand up and get on stage?"
A resigned-looking man rose from the midst of the crowd and made his way toward the stage. His face was drooped, and he muttered to himself as he mounted the stage.
"Now, Mr. Proctor, did you or did you not have extramarital sexual relations with this Michelle Warren?" asked Hammond.
Greg Proctor looked from his wife to Michelle. His wife's face was set in cold fury, and Michelle's was tear-streaked, begging for her life in every particle of her soul. Greg opened his mouth, but the words just wouldn't come out.
"I said—"
"No!" said Greg, breaking down in tears. "I...I didn't do it...I never..."
"There!" Mary said, sneering. "You heard him. Now..."
"I can't believe you! Greg!" moaned Michelle. "How could you? Greg, us...Greg! We were together! Don't leave me to die, Greg!"
"Michelle," Greg sighed, sitting on one of the many folding chairs onstage and burying his face in his hands.
"Are you sure, Greg?" asked Hammond. He was looking a little troubled now. "You don't look very sure..."
"And she has a scar on her arm! From her infection by a zombie!" cried Mary, pointing at Michelle's forearm.
The soldiers inspected it, and one said, "It might be zombie. The jagged edges look like teeth, maybe."
"It's a broken bottle," Michelle said quickly. "It's not teeth. I'm not...how can you believe this?"
"Kill her! Kill the zombie!" came some chants from sections of the crowd.
"What can they do to her?" Jennifer gasped, as Hammond began to dig deeper in his questioning.
"They could...they couldn't kill her, could they?" Michael said. "I suppose they need to rid the armory of any infection as quickly as possible."
"Michelle Warren, in the interest of the safety of this compound, I pronounce you guilty, and infected," Hammond said, some lines of foreboding and uncertainty on his face. The crowd, however, cheered and rejoiced at the verdict. Mary looked solemnly avenged, while Greg wept openly. "Private Gordon, carry out the execution of sentence."
"No!" screamed Michelle.
Gordon stood forward and asked, "Sir, what is that, sir?"
"Kill her immediately, and in the most humane way possible. Restrain her, for zombies are uncommonly strong. And gag her mouth, to not let her talk."
As the crowd went wild with jubilation and bloodlust, the two guards held her down in a kneeling position, her mouth stuffed with fabric. Her head was bowed, and her body was shaking, and Gordon looked sickened as he stood behind her, arming his M16.
"Just do it, Gordon," Hammond ordered quietly. "I don't like it either, but just do it."
Gordon looked down at the back of Michelle Warren's head. Somewhere, people were taking pictures. A chant had started up in the crowd urging him to kill her. Mary was smiling and laughing at Michelle's doom.
He had to do it. It needed to be done. He aimed the rifle at the back of her head, the barrel about a foot from her skull.
"I'm sorry," Gordon said, choking up. He closed his eyes and steadied his arm.
He pulled the trigger, and she fell immediately forward, her head striking the ground. The throng of people screamed in jubilation and vengeance. Gordon felt like those few short moments lasted a lifetime. He opened his eyes, and looked down at the bloody, ruined head of Michelle Warren. The two guards were holding back tears. Though they were all hardened from the combat with the zombies, there were still some things that they couldn't take.
"Is it over?" Jennifer asked, her face buried in Michael's shoulder.
"It's over," Michael sighed, his face pale. "It's all over."
User Reviews
Submitted by awesome_face (user info) at 2006-03-31 11:25:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Im starting to think this zombie thing isn't a pandemic anymore.
The size of my boner is a pandemic!!!
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-02-05 18:22:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
http://loom.corante.com/archives/2006/02/02/the_wisdom_of_parasites.php
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-02-02 09:48:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I see what you're saying, Caes...the next one shall be better!
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-02-01 17:37:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
"Lay a siege?" replied Derringer. "What year is this, 1200? A siege? We're not in the Middle Ages, Richards,"
Some unconvincing dialogue, there. I hardly think that the President, after all his troubles, would nit-pick on archaic language...especially since I don't think the word 'siege' is that archaic a term, especially in the military.
And also, the execution of Michelle was just bullshit. Total and utter bullshit. I don't believe for a second that a trained military man would execute a woman based on one biased eyewitness report, especially when the husband was obviously lying. If anything, I could see him putting her in the clink for show, but straight out execution, based on nothing? No way. If you're going to do something that drastic, I think you need to paint Hammond as being unstable.
That kind of ruined this installment for me. Otherwise though, the story's pretty good.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:47:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Do you know how to cook, Axolotl?
http://www.ubersite.com/m/83279
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-02-01 12:20:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Axolotl, please check out the UberTines matchup posts, I made some mistakes so I want to make sure all is clear for everyone. please don't hesitate to email me or comment in the post if something's unclear.
Submitted by mbstateside (user info) at 2006-02-01 11:31:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Shit! I obviously missed part 8.
Hold on to your potatoes I'll be back in a minute.
Can't give a +2 without reading but here's a 1 in anticipation.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-02-01 09:45:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Elizabeth and John Proctor were in the crucible, as was Mary Warren. Just tried to tie in something with that.
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-02-01 08:56:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
wasn't mary proctor one of the names of the broads from the book The Cruicible, salem witch trials and all? i like how you tied that in...
Submitted by MavisMing (user info) at 2006-02-01 08:49:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-02-01 08:35:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Had to submit this twice...the first time I hit enter, and it submitted itself before I added title and picture.