“You said your satellite phone isn’t reaching anyone,” I said.
Vitale looked at me. “It’s pockets of people. Just pockets. And no one in New York, best we can tell.”
“We saw D.C. on the news a few days ago.”
“Gone. Virus hit them hard. Everyone and their mother were vaccinated,” he said.
“The president?”
“To be honest, I haven’t heard a word, but I’m a sergeant, so not very high on the totem pole,” he said. “He wasn’t vaccinated. Vice president either. I’m sure they’re in hiding somewhere secret and separated. To be honest, he’s no one now, just a survivor like you or me, but he has a fancy as shit bunker to wait it all out in. That’s the difference.”
“So what was this? This facility? I mean, if there’s no government…”
“Never said there was no government. Just a lot fewer of them, is all. Hell, they needed some serious down-sizing anyway.” He laughed in a short, guttural burst. “This camp is military. Medical. What we were told almost a week ago is that they’re set up around the country. Going to be used for research. A way to find a cure to un-infect the diseased.”
“We were going to be guinea pigs?”
“Blood samples only. It isn’t asking much. Doctors need clean blood to work on ways to fight the virus, which is an oxymoron, since a vaccination against a virus was what caused it all in the first place. Point is, if you didn’t get inoculated, your blood is prime real estate.”
“But, I mean, I thought I heard it was a contaminated vial that impacted a shipment of vaccinations that got sent out, so a case full of people were given the medicine. However many vials are in a shipment, or a case. I don’t get why this is so widespread,” I said, knowing my desperation for answers was transparent as shit.
“You heard wrong. The vaccinations against the H7N9 were contaminated. Not every shipment, but most. Apparently, the vial that broke wasn’t immediately discovered. The contaminant was in the air, fouling up shit for nearly twenty-four hours before someone spotted broken glass under one of the workstations. That stuff…that contaminant…managed to find its way into everything. Went out in shipments across the country. The entire country and this is where it gets worse -- overseas. I have no idea what kind of fucked-up shit’s going on in Europe, but I can bet it ain’t any prettier over there than it is over here,” Vitale said.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
“You knew. The military knew.”
“We got word about the vaccination issues, but as they say, far too late. The elderly, the young, they were first in line. Most first responders, your firemen, police officers, paramedics and a good portion of the military, too were in trouble and we knew it. What we didn’t know, couldn’t know, was the side effects. That. This. These zombies. No one knew.”
“Holy fucking shit. You knew. Most of the military spared?” Dave said.
“Most? No, they were not, son.”
“And what happened to them.” I pointed toward the camp. “To everyone here?”
“We’re about to find out.”
I had numerous questions that I wanted answered, but now wasn’t the time. I only prayed there would be time later. It felt like there might not be and that worried me.
“Look, I’m leaving one of you here. Right fucking here,” Vitale said. He pointed a finger and jabbed it toward the captain, “That fucker tries to move the boat, you shoot him. Fucking headshot.”
“Sir?” Marf let his eyes move from the captain to his sergeant. “You’re not serious, sir?”
“The fuck I’m not. When we left the port, when we all climbed onto the vessel there, Captain Travis up there, he hadn’t heard shit from the camp. In hours. How long it take us to get here? Like four five hours. And nothing from the camp. The whole time. Nothing. Got the crewman up there trying to reach someone. Anyone. Think that fucking captain shared any of that information with us? He didn’t. Not with you and not with me. So we boated all the way the fuck out here, and we now I’ve got three soldiers out there. And fuck if I have heard from them in, how long, Spade?”
“About six minutes,” he said.
“Six fucking minutes of radio silence since we heard about Barron. Six fucking minutes. So yeah, I’m serious as shit. Keel tries to pull away from the dock, blow the fuckers brains all over his own damned deck.” Sergeant Vitale grit his teeth. He knew Keel heard every word. Wanted it known not as a threat, but a promise.
“I’ll stay,” Spencer said.
“You can do it, soldier?”
“Kill that captain? Yes, sir.” Spencer stood at attention.
Vitale nodded. “This is your command. You protect those people on board. We’ll keep in touch as best we can. We’re going to operate under radio silence as best we can. Everyone understand?”
“Yes, sir,” we said.
“Fine, you can at-ease. Just keep your eyes open, got me? Watch the boat, the water and the land. This fog is going to be tough as shit seeing much of anything,” Vitale said.
“I understand, sir.”
I felt all Secret Service-like; radio buds in my ears, a button to depress for speaking into the cuff. Kinda cool.
“Emergency transmissions only,” the sergeant reiterated. “And you, Corporal, you understand everything I’ve said?”
“Clearly, sir.”
“Okay. We’re going to split up into two search parties. Lieutenant Marfione, you’re going to take McKinney and Rivera. Chatterton, you’re going to come with Private First Class Spade and me.”
Vitale used our last names, symbolized to me that we’re together, a team.
“Headshots people,” Vitale said. “Be smart about your resources. If you can stab ‘em without getting bitten, do it. Saves ammo and is quieter. These bastards are drawn to noise. And McKinney, Rivera, you do whatever Marf tells you to do without question. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” we said.
“We don’t have much to go on. We’re assuming Barron is injured at best. The three of them might be hobbling around inside the compound. Look at who you are shooting before you shoot them. Not gonna have minutes, or even seconds to contemplate what to do. Split decisions, okay? Might be Palmeri, but now she’s got lifeless fucking eyes, and she is drooling black blood all over her uniform. Might think she was a cool soldier, but now she’s a zombie. What do we do then, Spade?” Vitale said.
“Headshot.”
Vitale clapped his hands together. “Bingo. Headshot. However, if she is just covered in blood and guts from fighting zombies, then we want to try our best not to blow her fucking brains out. Clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. It sounded comical, like a joke. This was Robin Williams improving a speech to troops. Might have come across better had he started with a big, Gooooood morning, Apocalypse! At the very least, a Na-nu na-nu.
Sorry. Wasn’t liking it. Vitale and Keel, our leaders, were losing it. Out of control. I didn’t know if it was nervous breakdowns, if they’d been exposed to other chemical agents, or what. Their…behavior was obscure and uncomforting.
Dave stared at me. He agreed. Was in his eyes. We’d have to have each other’s backs. Chatterton looked our way. No doubt. The three of us saw a problem. If I wasn’t reading the signs wrong, Marf also felt the same. Trust was thin in these . . . platoons. Getting thinner by the second.
Spade? Spencer? They acted gung-ho for Vitale. Didn’t mean they agreed with or were against anything unfolding, just I hadn’t seen anything to indicate one side was preferred over the other. Except Spencer was ready to shoot a Coast Guard Captain, and Spade was ready to explode the brains of a fellow soldier on a split-second guess.
Other than that…
# # #
I did not like leaving my kids on the boat. It was the very last thing I wanted to do, but there didn’t seem to be much choice. People were in trouble. They’d saved us. My kids were safer with the vessel. I had every intention of returning.
Clouds back lit by moonlight looked iridescent in the sky. When they passed over the moon, we were plunged into darkness, but they passed quickly. The fog seemed to be settling some, too. It stayed low around our calves and as we walked, it swirled away and returned.