Omega Pathogen: Mayhem (4 page)

“What is it?” she asks Jim.

“I don’t know, but they remind me a lot of someone having a migraine. Look at the way it’s, I mean he, is shielding his eyes from the sun.” Jim turns from the window and resumes helping prepare supplies and items for the barricade. He passes on his observation of the man in the backyard to Chris and Jeremy while they work.

Chapter 4

Siberia, USSR 1974

   Just outside the prisoner holding area of the bunker complex, Colonel Azarov, Doctor Kosktov, and a mixture of other scientists, military, and a handful of the complex’s guards crowd the reinforced window, peering into the prisoner section.

Both of the infected men seem to focus on the prisoners in the back of the room at the same instant, and begin to make a deep growling sound. The infected make a couple of hesitant steps to the prisoners, like that of an animal stalking prey.

With both infected issuing another growl, and with an increase of saliva drooling down their faces, they suddenly break into a sprint toward the prisoners.

One of the prisoners in the back of the room jumps on the bars to a nearby cell and climbs to the top. The other prisoners call out to the two infected that used to be their friends. The two infected close the distance and pounce on the men in the front of the huddled men, and begin to strike with fists and gnash with teeth at any flesh close to their mouths. The infected are knocked back, sometimes to the floor, and kicked and punched as the men realize they have no choice but to defend themselves from their former cellmates.

Each time one of the infected is knocked down or forced back, they immediately return to the fray. Although bloodied almost as severely as those they attack, the infected keep up their onslaught.

All throughout the battle of fists and teeth, the infected salivate and drool. Those not bitten by the infected are exposed to the frothing saliva from their attackers by way of slavering into their eyes, nostrils, and sometimes mouths during the attacks.

After several long minutes, perhaps half an hour, one of the two infected lies dead. Of the nine prisoners that had been left in the holding area, two still live. The others succumbed to massive wounds to almost every part of their bodies that was in reach of the teeth and clawing fingers and pounding fists of the infected.

Of the two remaining prisoners, one is the man who was able to flee to the top of the cell at the beginning of the attack. The second lies against the caged wall below the one who made it to safety, having failed to scale the cage due to his injuries.

The other living thing in the holding area is the living infected man who was released into the holding area. He’s squatting at the rear of the room, with his back to the wall.

His exhaustion is evident; he’s breathing heavily, mouth gaping. The blood of his victims, and his own, mixed with the continuous frothing saliva, drools and drips down his chin.

The infected attacker issues low growls and grunts in response to the moans and cries for help of the wounded man on the floor, leaning on the cell bars.

The man leaning against the cell loses his battle with consciousness, and his head drops to his chin. A few short seconds later his body slumps more and he slides to the left, onto the floor.

At the sight of the movement from the prisoner slumping to the floor, the infected rises quickly into a crouched position and issues deep growls as he stares. With no further movement from the injured man on the floor, the infected resumes his squatting position against the wall.

The prisoner on top of the cell quietly stares at his now-crazed fellow prisoner squatting and panting against the wall. Outside the holding area, the colonel and the others watch, some fascinated and excited, others repulsed but still unable to turn away.

“This is perfect, Doctor Kosktov,” the colonel says as he turns his head to look at the scientist beside him.

“With respect, Colonel, we don’t know yet if it is perfect. We don’t know what the effects of the encephalitis will be. The swelling and effects of the virus could kill them too quickly still, but we haven’t been able to study that part of the disease yet to understand the pathology,” Doctor Kosktov cautions the colonel.

“Fair enough, Doctor. You have one in there now and likely a second if the one on the floor lives through the initial infection.”

“Yes, Colonel. We will contact you as per protocol once we’ve finished our observations and have more information.”

“Not necessary, Doctor; I’ll being staying here. My lieutenant is already up on the ground, having the helicopters prepared for storage and having the men set up a living area in the enclosed ground level.”

“Of course, Colonel, as you wish. Please let me know if my staff can be of any help to you.”

Colonel Azarov does not answer or acknowledge the doctor’s words. Instead, he remains fixated on the sight behind the observation glass in the doorway to the prisoner holding area.

One of the two guards who snared and pushed the two infected prisoners into the holding area to be released upon the other inmates is standing against the wall.

The guard is in a whispered discussion with some of his coworkers about the insane infected men, and how he hopes they’ll finally be able to leave this cold, damp, and isolated tomb. Without thought, he reaches to his upper left uniform shirt pocket for a cigarette. Just before grabbing the pack, he realizes he’s wearing his protective gloves.

While removing his left, and then right glove, he’s unaware that his left index finger has slightly touched a small area of nearly dried saliva, splattered from the infected prisoner he unleashed on the others. A small amount of the saliva is transferred to his finger.

He deposits his gloves, as per containment protocol, into the bin to be destroyed later. Some of the saliva is transferred back to one of the gloves, reducing the amount on the surface of his finger. The guard begins to reach for his pack of cigarettes again, but diverts his hand for a second time, this time to quell an itch, a tickle in the inner corner of his left eye, using his right index finger to rub at the site that had been irritating him for the past several minutes.

Feeling the relief of the itch abated, once again he reaches for and this time grasps his pack of cigarettes. He offers his pack to the other guards around him and some accept. Removing one for himself with his left hand, he receives a light from one of those he’s shared with. Inhaling deeply, he feels the smoke enter deep into his lungs. He holds his breath for a second and then releases it with an upward-aimed exhale.

What Vladimir doesn’t feel is the virus that was in the nearly dried saliva, penetrating the mucous membranes in his left eye. He doesn’t yet feel the virus making its way into and through his circulatory system, inevitably making its way to his brain. He’ll feel it soon enough.

Chapter 5

Present

   “No, I don’t like it,” Arzu says in an angry stage whisper to Jim as they all sit on the upstairs landing, gathered for their dinner.

“Honey, I don’t like it much either, but we won’t be able to stay in this house for much longer.”

“We’ve been doing OK in here. Why do we need to leave right now?” Arzu asks.

“I know we need to leave soon if we’re going to have a chance of getting to Florida, to the rest of the family. We need as many supplies as we can bring with us, to keep from having to stop and scavenge for them. We can’t survive here for much longer ourselves. More and more infected seem to be around, and we’ll start running low on food and water,” Jim explains.

Looking at Chris and Jeremy, Jim lowers his voice further, looks each of them in the eyes, and says, “There are over four million people in Harris County. That’s not taking into account the population of Fort Bend County nearby. We have to leave soon.”

“You’re right, it makes sense. So what’s your plan?” Arzu asks.

“Like I said, the first thing we need is to be able to better protect ourselves, not just from those infected out there, but from the people who may want what we have and try to take it, or those who just want to do us harm because they think they can. When society is in chaos, the worse types seem to come out. I want to start at the sporting goods stores and then grocery stores, maybe auto stores too, for things we may need for breakdowns.”

“Isn’t that looting?” Jeremy asks.

“I guess it technically could be called that, but we’re only taking what we actually need or may need to survive. We’re not taking TVs, shoes, or crap like that just because we can; it’s only what we need for survival.”

“I was actually just screwing with you, Dad. I know there’s a difference.”

“I need help; I need ideas on how we can get the crazy ones in our area to move away from our house long enough for me to get out of the garage and get it closed again before they get in.” Chris looks at his dad with what his dad and grandfather have often described as a ‘shit-eating grin’ on his face.

“What about fireworks? Maybe we can use their attraction to noise to help us.”

“That sounds like a good idea, but do you have any? I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do, Dad. While I was out in the garage looking for more screws or something, I saw a load of them in a box. I guess they’re the leftovers from the Fourth of July.”

“Hell, it could work! We need to figure out how we can get them far enough away and in the opposite direction that I need to go.” Jim replies.

“What do you mean
you
? You need someone to go with you to the stores to help.” Jeremy points out.

“No. No one can go with me. We need at least two to defend the house.”

“I can help defend the house,” Arzu responds, taking a little offense.

“I know you can, honey, but we need you to help get the kids up into the attic if things get bad.” The family sits silently, the only sound the occasional fork moving across a plate, until Jeremy says, “Dad, you have tires in the garage, they have inner tubes.”

“Uh, yeah, Jeremy, they have inner tubes. So?”

“What about making a slingshot and shooting the fireworks out of the air vent opening in the attic?”

“That’s a freaking awesome idea, Jeremy,” Chris says, with a smile shared by Jim and Arzu.

“Let’s finish eating and see what we can come up with.” After eating, Chris and Jeremy bring one of the old tires inside the house from the garage. After much prying and some cursing, they’re able to separate the tire from the rim and get to the inner tube.

They realize a couple of issues they have that cause problems with the plan. One is securing the section of inner tube to the frame of the vent opening in the attic. This is solved when Jim comes up with the idea of affixing the inner tube to the wooden frame with screws, using large-diameter washers. Then narrow boards will be screwed in place on each side where the inner tube is mounted, for added support.

Arzu is the one to solve the issue of actually getting the string of fireworks to go in at least the general direction they want them to go. Her idea is to place the fireworks into a glass jar, screwing a lid with holes to the top to allow air to enter, and preventing the fuse from suffocating itself out.

Chris makes some adjustments to the fuse of the noisemaker fireworks, cutting the fuses from extras and attaching them to lengthen the main fuse so they can be sealed in the jar and then lit by the fuse sticking out. By time they’ve finished preparing their slingshot and projectile, dusk is upon them. The time to take action today is past, and they’ll have to make their attempt tomorrow.

The family makes their preparations for the night, checking and rechecking the new furniture barricade they’ve put in place. Jim and Chris go to the game room to try to get some sleep, while Jeremy takes the first watch. Arzu takes Berk and Kayra to the spare room again to sleep together, so the younger children are less likely to be disturbed by their dad’s and older brothers’ movements throughout the home during the night.

Jeremy spends his watch walking back and forth from the game room in the rear of the home, where his dad and Chris are trying to sleep, to Kayra’s room at the front of the home. The former and latter locations give the person on watch a view of approaches to the first floor windows, the most vulnerable areas to their home. The west side of the home, where the spare bedroom is, and where Arzu and his younger siblings are sleeping, and where Berk’s room is, has no windows on the lower floor.

Jeremy is armed with his dad’s Mossberg 500 shotgun with a modified adjustable stock, and loaded with seven rounds of three-quarter inch #00 Buckshot, which contain eight lead pellets. Excellent for close range, where tight quarters can make aiming difficult to do before an intruder can close distance quickly.

The night goes by, with several more of the infected seen in the neighborhood and more approaching the home, testing the plywood-covered windows, as well as the doors, several times. Jeremy observes some of the infected eating pieces of animals, people, and some things that are unidentifiable. He even sees some eating foods like potato chips and other household groceries.

The infected fight each other over their meals. Jeremy witnesses them working together when they surround and catch a dog. Once the animal is killed, they again begin their fight over the spoils. Jeremy takes mental notes to let the others know about the behavior he’s seen. While walking toward the upstairs landing to check the interior of the home, he’s met face to face by Chris. “Shit, dude!”