Chapter 2
September 21, 2009
Millbury Massachusetts
After a fitful night's sleep, John woke up and made a pot of coffee. As the coffee pot announced that it had completed it's task, he heard the shower start up in the bathroom. As Sara began singing the chorus to “Renegade” by Styx, John sat down in his chair and turned on the TV.
Almost every channel had some sort of emergency news running about the fate of El Paso. A lot of it looked like it had been filmed during the night. Brow furrowing in worry, he picked up his phone and called his uncle. This time, it took nine tries before he got through.
“Hello?” Uncle Walt said. He was out of breath. John heard something he'd never heard in the old retired drill sergeant's voice before. Fear.
“Uncle Walt? How are you guys doing?” John asked anxiously. “This crap is all over the news, but I still don't know what's going on. They're showing some pretty awful pictures of mutilated people all over the ground.”
“Boy, this ain't the place to be right now, I can tell you that. We decided last night to get the hell out of here this morning, but when we tried, all the streets were blocked by accidents or roadblocks. We came back and are going to wait it out. Jesse called this morning; he's going to try to get a flight out here today to help us out.” Uncle Walt said, speaking of his son.
“I don't know if that's such a good idea. Can he get there from the airport?”
“We'll find a way. I told him not to come but he said he had to.” Uncle Walt said, sounding tired.
John heard a commotion on the other end of the line. “Hold on, boy. Your aunt says some one's prowlin' around the back yard.” John could hear his uncle lay the phone down.
Several minutes later, he heard a gun shot. Then another. Then two more close together. A few tense moments after that, the panicked voice of his Aunt Sally began speaking in to the phone.
“John? John? Your uncle got attacked. Some guy was in the back yard and Walt went out there. The man was covered in blood!”
“Aunt Sally? Ok, calm down, is Uncle Walt alright? Are you?” John said, clenching his fist impotently.
“John, your uncle's alright, but that man, he tried to bite him! Walt shot him, but he didn't stop coming at him. Walt just kept shooting.” Aunt Sally grew increasingly panicked as she spoke.
“Aunt Sally, is Walt alright? Is he inside? Are the doors locked?” John said, growing more agitated as he spoke.
There was a long silence on the other end. Then, Uncle Walt picked up the phone.
“Boy, I'm fine. Don't you worry none about me. This ain't any worse than 'Nam, and I got through that just fine. I don't know what's going on but we'll be fine. They're saying on the TV that they're evacuating the wounded to Dallas and some to Atlanta. Everyone else will be evacuated as soon as possible. We may try the roads again if it comes to that, but I'll let you know.” Uncle Walt paused, breathing hard. “Boy, if we don't make it up there, you make sure Jesse and my grandkids are alright, ok?”
“Don't even say that Uncle Walt, you know I'd do that anyway.” John said. He glanced at the TV just in time to watch the ticker across the bottom say that the entire state of Texas as well as southern California were now under martial law.
“They just declared martial law.” John said into the phone.
“I know, John. We're fine. I'll call you later tonight. Hopefully Jesse will turn around and go home.”
“We both know he's still itching to play Texas Ranger, and this is his chance. I'll let you know if I hear anything.” John said. “Be careful, Unc.”
“You too, boy.” Uncle Will said, right before the phone went dead.
Sara came out of the shower, wrapped in a big fluffy towel, her hair dripping wet. “Hey you, what's going on?”
“Nothing good. Just got off the phone with Uncle Walt. Someone tried to attack him in his own back yard.” John paused. “Pretty sure he shot him” He said, trying to be nonchalant.
“What? Oh my god! Are they alright? Did he call the police?” Sara asked, concern on her face.
“Won't do any good, babe. All the police are at the border or the hospitals trying to stop the...whatever they are. TV just said they are under martial law. Southern California too.”
“I thought it was just some drugged up Mexican cartel crashing the border. Isn't that what they said it was last night?” Sara asked anxiously.
“I know, that's what they said. But I don't think that's what's going on.” John said. “I'm not working today, taking a personal day.”
“Oh, well, I'll be home by four. If my students let me.” Sara said, walking back in to the bathroom.
“Can't you take a day off?” John asked.
“Not today, John.” She was using his name so he knew she was serious about going to school. “Big quiz, and you know how much that would please my kids if they didn't get their quiz.” Sara said, laughing, as she turned on the blow dryer.
John picked up his cup of coffee and headed to the basement door. “Alright sweetheart, come give me a kiss before you leave. I'll be down in the basement.”
Sara pulled out of the driveway at 7:10. Three hours later, John was still in the basement loading supplies into duffel bags and backpacks. His phone chimed, signifying that he had a new email. Flipping open his phone, he read the new message.
M, this just came in to the NEC office, meant for officers only. Shit, I don't know what to do. I'm taking the family to Maine, tonight. You know the place. You can get me on the shortwave if you need to. Same frequency we practiced on. Good luck.
-JCon14
We have lost all contact with the compound. Something terrible has happened. We believe the virus was released too early, or incorrectly. All FSC members are ordered to secondary positions. Any and all that can give shelter and aid to core members are ordered to do so. Secondary compounds are to be locked up and defended with deadly force.
John rubbed his head thoughtfully. He quickly deleted the email and closed his phone. Muttering to himself, he zipped up the large green duffel bag he had been working on, boxes of ammunition and packets of food visible as the zipper began to close.
John sat in front of the TV. The clock on the cable box said 1:19 pm. He glared at it, willing it to go faster, to hit 4:00. It stayed where it was, probably out of spite, he thought to himself.
The news from Texas was bad. Outbreaks of enraged, murderous people had been confirmed in Dallas, Houston, and Galveston. All three cities held major populations of evacuees and wounded from El Paso.
There was no news from El Paso at all. News helicopters flying over the city were showing mobs of bloody people flowing through the streets like a river of corpses. Every once in a while, the camera would zoom in on the crowd as it pulled a person from a stalled car, or broke in to a store, dragging people out in to the chaos, and eating them. John did a double take, making sure he had actually heard the newscaster say “eating them”. He stared at the television, horrified. Every zombie movie he'd ever watched came crashing back in to his thoughts as he stared.
Of course, no one on TV had called them zombies yet. They'd called them everything from infected to drug addicts to angry Mexican mobs.
John flipped the TV to a channel showing news from California. A pretty Latina woman was speaking in to the camera. “No communication at all with San Diego. The last evacuation buses left the city three hours ago, headed for Anaheim. Many buses were filled to overflowing with wounded. Military cargo planes also assisted in the evacuation, heading to bases in California and Nevada. Wait...it seems that we have just received word that Anaheim is under attack from mobs of violent illegal aliens. We are receiving reports of mass casualties...” John turned the channel back to the station monitoring Texas. His cell phone began to chime.
“Hello.” John said on the first ring.
“John? Hey man, it's Jesse.” The deep baritone on the other end sounded tired.
“Jesse? Where are you? Uncle Walt said you were headed to Texas.”
“I was. They stopped the flight in Dallas, loaded up all the empty seats with evacuees and sent us back to Logan. When was the last time you talked to Dad?” Jesse asked.
“Sometime early this morning. Around 6:30, I think. I haven't heard anything from him since. I've tried, but it keeps saying that all the circuits are busy.” John said.
“Dammit, I couldn't get to him. I'm headed back to New Hampshire now. I'm going to send Jen and the kids over to your parents house, and I'm going to try to make it to him in my truck.” Jesse said.
“That's not a good idea, Jesse. But I'd do the same thing in your position.” John said. “Do you still have that rifle?”
“Yeah, I'll bring it. Never thought that old Mini 14 would come in handy but now I'm glad I have it.” Jesse said. Sirens could be heard in the background.
“Hey John, something's going on back at the airport, I think. Tons of cops headed in that direction. Looks like I missed whatever it was. I'll call you if I hear anything from Dad.”
“Good luck, Jesse. I'll let my parents know you're sending them over.”
John flipped his phone closed. He looked at the clock again.
At 4:14 pm. John heard Sara's car pull in to the driveway. He went to the door and walked outside. Sara watched him scanning the woods surrounding the house. She glanced at his shoulder holster, the snap covering the Sig Sauer P220 unfastened. She raised her eyebrows at him.
“Hi honey, strappin' the big guns, huh? Something wrong? Did you hear from Uncle Walt?” Sara asked, reaching for her tote bag as she got out of the Volvo.
“They're in Boston, baby. I just heard it on the scanner.” John said, hurrying his wife inside.
“Woah, where's the fire? More importantly, where's my kiss? And who's in Boston?” she asked.
“Sara, I think they're zombies.”
