Dormant (VI) - Conclusion (515 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 2 on 5 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by r0fl (View user info) at 2006-03-16 22:27:21 EST
Part I: http://www.ubersite.com/m/83818
Part II: http://www.ubersite.com/m/84041
Part III: http://www.ubersite.com/m/84412
Part IV: http://www.ubersite.com/m/84565
Part V: http://www.ubersite.com/m/85274
Charles' Chevy lumbered through the winding chaos that is downtown, wondering who the government official was wishing to speak to Dr. Walker.
He walked away slowly as Walker excused himself, ears pricked for any information that could pose useful. He heard something of an infection of two patients.
He climbed into the Chevy, setting course back toward Boothbay.
He rolled down the driver's-side window and caught the cool morning breeze streaking through his hair, over his pores. The radio crackled with one of its last sputtering attempts at life.
He turned left on ME-126, and stopped for gas, coffee, and a pack of smokes.
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Colonel Newborn traveled over Route 27 Southbound daydreaming.
He dreamt of his earlier days, before his life became so complicated and secretive.
He noticed the city of Augusta's foliage surrounded the road, creeping in on the pavement, resembling nature's attempt to take back control of what was originally hers.
He checked his wrist again: 0632.
Michael pitied those who were unaware of his doings, the army's doings. The government's doings.
He was raised to protect his country. He was raised to be an aggressor, to be pre-emptive as well as defensive. The situation with the Soviets couldn't be any worse.
His unit had been developing biological weapons for years in an underground bunker in Brunswick, with only a select few aware of the actual research and results.
Dozens of viruses were cultivated and created, ranging from bacteriophages to retroviruses. Organisms created to cause acute pulmonary embolisms, "super-flus," etc. They infected a variety of mammals, including household animals as well as humans.
His mind jerked back to attention as his tires grazed the choppy section of road lining the breakdown lane.
His watch read 0638. He checked his rear-view mirror, seeing a man in a dilapidated Chevrolet leaning over to open his passenger-side window.
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Charles couldn't get comfortable; his mind was racing. The Humvee ahead of him looked familiar, like one he saw at the hospital. It wasn't every day you saw one of those.
The license plate read US 12, with a spotless exterior, a few car lengths ahead of him. The cross-breeze in the Chevy whipped around the interior, tossing Little Debbie wrappers in the back seat back and forth.
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In between floors of the Augusta based-hospital, at 6:39 AM, certain mechanisms clicked and activated on the device Colonel Newborn deployed. Electrical currents raced throughout the device, igniting the trigger, and causing a minor explosion.
The Oxygen lines running throughout the ancient building quickly caught fire, bursting outward with such force that the shock wave could be felt for blocks. The sky rained glass, steel, ash.
In the bowels of the autopsy room, Gene Hampton and his wife were vaporized, along with the virus they were carrying, and along with the 187 patients and 321 staff members.
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The fireball seen through Charles' rear-view mirror was also seen through Colonel Newborn's.
It was a tragedy, yes, but a necessary one.
"USE ALL TACTICS. WHATEVER MEANS NECESSARY. KEEP SITUATION QUIET."
Charles abruptly turned around and headed North, to assess the situation and gather any important information for his journalistic escapades.
He arrived to the border of Boothbay at 7:14 AM, and traveled along the winding access roads passing neglected lawns and deteriorating houses.
The helicopters raced towards Baylanding Lane, dropping vinyl cords, followed by black-clothed operatives sliding down effortlessly.
They all carried standard issue rifles, and moved with stealth through the woods, towards the trailers. Some had large containers, large enough for a small child.
Colonel Newborn arrived on the scene, directing the soldiers with hand signals, in silence. Some slowly approached the doors of trailers, rifles parallel with the thresholds, waiting. Others combed the woods, carrying the large storage containers.
Colonel Newborn's raised his fist, and quickly opened it. The soldiers stormed inside.
Private Jenkins entered the trailer marked with a faux-rock structure with "135" inscribed in it.
As he entered, the stench of death and decomposition overwhelmed him. He gazed upon the remains of a human being, devouring his own arm.
The man gazed at Jenkins, whose rifle was aimed between his cold, dead, dilated eyes. His own blood leaked from the corners of his mouth, and he snarled.
The blood vessels in his eyes had coagulated into a collection of twisting anarchy.
Jenkins proceeded to vomit; albeit while unwavering his weapon.
The confrontation lasted what seemed like hours. Mere seconds ticked.
The man charged at Jenkins, with both arms outreached. One arm was missing massive amounts of tissue, which itself was diseased and going through various stages of necrosis. No doubt the most primitive functions of his brain stem remained: hunger, thirst, and survival.
Two correctly placed bullets passed through the man's cerebellum, rendering him dead, officially. He then distributed a combination of Acetone and Ethyl Alcohol throughout various corners of the trailer, leading out towards its neighbor. Upon exiting, Private Jenkins, as well as all other invading soldiers, ignited their respective trailers once 'disposing' of its contents.
The story remained the same all across Baylanding.
More than a hundred yards away, three soldiers cornered a bloodhound, frothing at the mouth, charging at each of them, before finally being subdued and captured in one of the containment structures to be taken back and studied.
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Charles again arrived in Augusta, amidst a chaos he had never seen.
People stumbled about, dazed. Charles began interviewing those who saw the blast, witnesses to the destruction of the local hospital.
Police and firefighters were at the scene, attempting to extinguish the blaze with a futility rivaled by ants attempting to rebuild their hill among a plethora of school children at recess.
Crisis managers in suits also began to arrive, roping areas off, and dismissing journalists with the best of their ability.
"Do you know anything of a military intervention before the blast?" demanded Charles, who was within earshot of a government crisis manager as well as a sea of people shaken by the blast.
The man replied as well as scoffed that the idea was ridiculous, and motioned with his hands for all to move back, as the debris was dangerous.
A woman nudged Charles. "I saw it too. The suit, the Humvee. You too? Something's not right here."
"Did you see anything else? I was sort-of following him on '27, until I saw the blast."
"Come back to my car, wrote down everything I saw," she replied, and ventured off, snaking through the shoulders and arms of those milling about.
Ten paces from her car, a black van pulled up in front of them, two large men stepped out.
"Is this him?" asked one, the reflection of his bald head shining in Charles' retinas.
"Yeah, now pay me," the woman demanded, accepting a handful of bills, and scurrying off.
"Never underestimate the price of someone, Mr. Finn," the other joked, as the grabbed him by the shoulders and through him in the van. It sped off.
"We've been watching you for awhile now, Mr. Finn. You have quite the reputation."
Charles never did get to report on the mysterious man appearing before the hospital bombing. He never did get to report on a slew of fires that affected one of his good friends, George. The coincidence of bullet-holes in all of the victim's skulls was also, never reported upon.
Charles never did get to do anything again.
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Tommy and Jimmy walked toward their house for a quick lunch. The boys noticed their father's car still wasn't back from work.
It didn't trouble them.
They walked into the kitchen, tracking dirt onto the carpets and floors, and reached for the fridge.
They began to make ham and cheese sandwiches, and Jimmy poured some Cherry Kool-Aid.
Jimmy's Easton, balanced at an angle toward the sliding door opening up to the yard, suddenly slid onto its side, with a loud thud.
The boy's glanced over toward the end of the kitchen, and saw something at the window, pawing to get in.
"Shiver's is home!" yelled Tommy, and opened the door.
"The traveler hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls."
-Longfellow
User Reviews
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-03-23 12:46:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
definitely deserved more reviews.
i'm going back to read the rest of the series now.
Submitted by ScotchTape (user info) at 2006-03-18 05:01:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Great ending, though I will admit, I'm sad it is over. Thanks for the good reading material :)
Submitted by HawthorneHeights (user info) at 2006-03-18 01:47:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Holy shit, zombies.
<3
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2006-03-17 01:59:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good series. I always enjoy a tale with zombies.
Submitted by COMountain (user info) at 2006-03-16 22:33:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
what the hell is going on? It's happened quite a bit in the past, but now I can't even review my own post. Is there a limit on how many times you can review a single post??
I was trying to include this little gem on my SPT post (see it here: www.ubersite.com/m/85436)
Here's tomorrow's schedule: Alarm goes off at 5:00 am, sit up and down the two Jameson shots I laid out on the night stand the night before. Throw on the closest clothes (without forgetting green of course) nearby and head to meet the crew outside the local pub around 5:30 am. They give the first 100 through the door that take a shot of Jameson and drink a Guinness a free T-Shirt. Then we booze it up until the rest of the crew shows up who don't care about free T-Shirts and we continue with the remainder of the Pub Crawl...
...which is hard to do in Denver.
BTW... where's the MAD love for my MAD Paint skills??