Patriot
Active Member
Been sitting on this one for a while. Had a good start a year or two ago and then I just didn't feel like pressing forward. Heh, I have some ideas of my own (rather than these snippets borrowing from someone else's vision, I just haven't worked out anything worth posting with them.
Ode to a Dying Species
Geoffrey Windham woke to an incessant buzzing in his head. He lay there for a moment before realizing that the buzzing was not in his head but coming from within the room. Without opening his eyes he reached up the bulkhead beside his head and pushed a button on the intercom located there.
“Yes?”
The reply was abrupt. “Captain, we have sighted the coast.”
“Very good. I’m on my way.” He fumbled for the button for a moment before finding it and switching off the intercom. He remained still for another minute before he opened his eyes and began to get up. He dressed quickly before heading out the door and down the corridor. Within a minute he was striding onto the bridge of his dirigible. It was a throwback to a classic era, built for a purpose entirely different from its mandate now. A wealthy Middle-Eastern businessman had the Nimbus built as his pleasure yacht of the skies. Sadly, he was never able to enjoy his own creation.
“Report, MacGregor.” Captain Windham strode to the center of the large bridge where two men were monitoring various consoles as well as keeping an eye out the bank windows directly in front of them.
“Captain, we’re 20 minutes from landfall. We have a slight tailwind at 14 knots, scattered clouds and weather for the next 24 hours looks like it will hold. Helium tanks are at 85 percent capacity and fuel reserves are at 75 percent. Current altitude is 500 feet.”
“Bring us to 700 feet. Jenkins,” Windham glanced to his left at a man hovering over a monitor, “what is our pos. . . Where is Jenkins?”
“Sir, Jenkins was pulled from duty following his daily checkup this morning. I am his replacement, Boone.”
Windham frowned. Jenkins sick too? That made 3 sick within the past week. This news was not good. “Very well, Boone. What is our position?”
“I believe we are 130 miles south of New York city. I haven’t gotten a signal lock for GPS this morning. I expect once we do, my estimations will be confirmed.”
“GPS on the fritz again? Have we determined if it is our equipment?”
“I had a signal lock until about 0200. Then the satellites began dropping off one at a time. I’ve got one of the electricians running through our system to verify that the antenna is operating normally.”
“MacGregor. I want you to head north up the coast. Hopefully, whoever is set up that distress beacon is still around to save. Eyes sharp people, I don’t want to miss any survivors.”
“Aye, sir!” MacGregor gestured to the helmsman and after a slight adjustment the airship began a slow turn northward.
Captain Windham headed up a ladder to the second deck of the bridge. From here he could better see what they were passing over. His thoughts turned to Jenkins. This was the second crewmember to take sick since they began the crossing. The signs were troubling. They had originally thought that any survivors were immune, now they were seeing that, at best, only some were immune. The rest were merely resistant and as the virus mutated they were caught up in its grip of death. He had his last two scientists working to find a cure. They had managed to slow the progression of the virus in the system but hadn’t yet determined how to eradicate it entirely. Jenkins would have 2 or 3 weeks rather than the 4 days everyone else had. If they couldn’t find a cure, humanity would be wiped off the face of the earth. Windham smiled grimly. The environmentalists got exactly what they wanted, a plague that only affected humans. A plague that was so deadly that it spread through the air across vast oceans. A plague that killed the host within four days. But they got something they didn’t count on, something far worse than the human that had existed before the plague. The host, while dead in every sense of the word, continued to live. Yet any semblance of the former self was lost. All that remained was a body with the urge to eat. A terror group in the middle east had originally claimed responsibility for the plague two weeks before it swept through their ranks. Not one was left to verify if they were telling the truth or not. The origin of the plague remained a mystery and somewhat irrelevant. The plague was already here, assigning blame was pointless, finding a cure was critical.
Making a mental note to go see Jenkins after his shift, Windham began scanning the coastline for signs of life. The creatures tended to avoid direct sunlight for unknown reasons. That being said, there was no hardened rule that they would not come out in sunlight. The crew would often sight what they thought was a survivor to only find out that it was one of the creatures roaming around during the day. And Windham would never forget the incident back in London where they were extracting a group of four survivors at midday when they were swarmed on the roof of a building by about 30 of the creatures. He lost eight of his men and all but one of the survivors. He could not afford to lose like that ever again. Humanity could not afford it.
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Markus Ward was using the hand pump to move diesel from the 50 gallon drum into the Dodge pickup when the alarm sounded. It wasn't much, just a string with cans tied to it so when it shook they banged together, but it was more than enough to give him warning. He released the pump handle and reached in the bed of the truck to pull out a 12" gauge shotgun.
"Lisa! Lock up!" Markus yelled and he jogged to the edge of the house and peered around the corner as the alarm fell silent. Seeing nothing, he began to ease along the side of the building. He heard the comforting sound of the metal shutters sliding closed and being locked in place. He smelled the intruder before he saw it as he reached the next corner of the building. The stench of death assaulted his nose as he peered around the corner directly into the creature's face. Before he could react, he was wrenched around the corner with surprising force, the shotgun skittered across the ground out of reach. The creature was upon him in a second seeking to bite him. Markus had landed on one knee when pulled around the corner with the creature bearing down on him from in front. He grabbed the outstretched arms, ignoring the decaying flesh, and rolled backward bringing his foot up into the creature's stomach. As he rolled back he pushed upward with his foot vaulting the mindless beast over his head. He quickly scrambled to his feet and rushed to the shotgun. The reaction time of the creature was superhuman and it was on its feet almost as it landed. It rushed at Markus seeking to bite him in the neck. Markus didn't have time to raise the weapon as it grabbed at him. For the amount of decay, the creatures possessed incredible strength. It grasped his body and brought it's teeth to bear. Markus managed to twist slightly in its grip causing it to bite into his shoulder instead of his neck. He stifled a scream of pain as he brought the gun up with one hand and clubbed its head. The blow staggered the figure in front of him and before it could recover he fired off a shot into its head. The slug decimated the skull dropping the creature where it stood.
Markus shrugged off the pain in his shoulder and cleared the rest of the yard, staying well clear of the corners. When he was satisfied that the one had been alone, he went to the front door and banged on it, "Lisa! It's me, open up!" He heard the sound of the bolt grating against the inner metal door and then the outer wooden door swung open. A young girl, not older than 9 ran out and hugged Markus.
"Mr. Markus! I'm scared!"
Markus hugged the girl before pulling her inside the building. "It's alright, there was only one. We're gonna hit the road as soon as I clean this wound." He let her close and lock the door as he shrugged off his jacket and shirt. The wound wasn't bleeding, the jacket had absorbed most of the bite. Instead he had a large bruise which he carefully swabbed with alcohol before pouring a generous amount over the whole area. He would survive, but his shoulder would hurt for a while. They had lingered too long in one spot. The distress beacon had been going for over two weeks without a sign of anything. They needed to get further from the city to a location where food could be grown and was easily defensible. Of their original group of 9, a party of 4 had left two days after setting up the beacon, heading for the mountains. After that they had lost 3 more to random attacks. It was down to Lisa and himself and he had no intention of letting her die here. He pulled his shirt and jacket back on and then surveyed the pile of supplies. It was pitifully small. They might last another week on the food if they could find a clean water source. He had considered heading to one of the many stores in the area to scavenge more food but after weighing the risks he tossed the idea out. They would head away from the city and hope for the best. If they were lucky they might find another group of survivors and could team up with them. He started ferrying the supplies to the truck making sure that Lisa locked to door behind him each time he went out. Within 15 minutes it was all loaded and Markus called Lisa out of the house.
"Ready to go?" Markus gestured to the young girl. She nodded and scampered onto the seat next to him in the truck. Markus had managed to fit the 50 gallon drum in the bed of the truck after draining it to another and then refilling it once it was in the truck. The engine roared to life and, after a couple tense minutes of letting it heat, he put it into gear and headed out onto the empty road.
