HVZA (Book 3): Hudson Valley Zombie Apocalypse [Project Decimation] Page 4

  Instructions were given and the pilot swung into position, facing south over the Hudson River, toward the bridge. Within seconds, Hellfire missiles were indeed raining hell down the length of the makeshift pathway. Splinters of metal and wood, and chunks of concrete and burning flesh sprayed hundreds of feet into the air, as balls of fire incinerated the remaining body parts and anything combustible.

  Then it was the water’s turn to wreak havoc, as the partially damned river pushed hard against the weakened pathway until it finally gave way, bursting apart into the millions of small pieces from which it had been composed. Those pieces rushed passed the remnants of the bridge and started heading downriver and out to sea.

  The long line of zombies waiting to escape Manhattan still pushed forward, and as impressive as the mighty explosions had been, it was an even more mesmerizing sight to see thousands and thousands of zombies being pushed from behind and dropping into the river before their forward movement finally stopped. As tempting as it was to fire on the huge crowd that now just stood there, gazing blankly over the edge, the crew decided their ordnance would be better spent on the hordes that had already crossed.

  Circling around to the north, to the head of the huge sea of undead humanity, they unleashed their Hydra rockets in a lethal strafing run. A second pass created more piles of zombie hamburger meat with the 30 mm rounds from the M230 chain gun. Despite the mass destruction wrought from the Apache, however, the herd’s numbers barely appeared to be touched.

  With the remaining Hellfire missiles, they decided to blow enormous holes across all of the lanes of the Palisades Interstate Parkway, to at least slow down their northward progression. It would buy some precious time for the survivors who had been trying to get back on their feet in Rockland, Orange, and the surrounding counties. But even as the Apache flew away back to base, zombies stumbling into the smoldering craters in the road would eventually fill the holes and form a grisly pavement for the countless others that followed.

  Chapter 8

  It seemed to be a lifetime ago that Becks was a young medical student just starting out. She had been terrified at the enormity of the task that lay ahead of her, not to mention the staggering expense she would have to shoulder. Her parents offered to help, but their meager retirement income was barely sufficient to cover their property taxes, medical costs, and daily expenses.

  As if it all wasn’t daunting enough, she also had no small crisis in confidence. Sure, she was already a nurse, and a damn good one, but did she have what it took to be a doctor? After acing her first few classes, she slowly came to believe that she belonged, that she was just as good—if not better—than the other medical students. She could do it. She would do it, and nothing could derail her trip to the top of the medical field.

  Then she met Dr. Martin Devereaux.

  Intimidation and belittlement commenced on day one. Granted, he treated every student—and fellow faculty members—like crap, but Becks took it particularly hard. She had certainly dealt with her share of arrogant and obnoxious doctors and Ph.Ds. at the hospital and ParGenTech, but Devereaux was a special kind of sadist. He didn’t attack your weaknesses to make you stronger. He targeted your strengths and ground you down.

  One of young Becks’ greatest strengths was her ability to think outside the established medical boxes. She looked at things differently, and always envisioned new ways of approaching illnesses and diseases. After reading about all the advances in biomedical nanoparticles, she decided to write her term paper on their possible uses against parasites to target delivery of drugs. She even thought to use nanoparticles in the body to mimic certain human cells to distract parasites away from the real cells, and thus slow their destructive progression and give more time for accompanying treatments.

  Her research had been extensive and she had even made numerous trips on her few days off to the Colleges of Nanoscale Sciences and Engineering in Albany to learn as much as she could. She consulted with the best minds in the field, and conducted several highly successful experiments. In the end, her term paper resembled more of a doctoral thesis, and Becks fully expected to receive high praise and honors.

  Instead, Devereaux gave her a C with no word of explanation.

  “This has to be a mistake,” an incredulous Becks told her friends at school when they picked up their papers from Devereaux’s assistant.

  When she later went to his office to ask about the poor grade, she still fully expected he would apologize at the obvious error and give her a glowing A+.

  “I don’t know who you think you are,” Devereaux barked at Becks with contempt, “but I know who I am, and that’s the grade I say this paper deserves.”

  For the first time in her life, mild-mannered Rebecca Truesdale went ballistic. Students and teachers within earshot of the ensuing argument stopped to listen in wonder and admiration that someone had the guts to stand up to the mighty Devereaux, but it was all for naught. For every sound argument Becks presented—albeit red-faced and yelling—Devereaux obstinately countered that he was the expert and if she didn’t like the grade of C, he would gladly change it to an F and recommend her for expulsion.

  Becks had no recourse. Devereaux was far too famous and influential for her to garner any support against him, and he brought in far too much money for the university to even consider taking any type of disciplinary action. Becks was told she was free to file a complaint, but it would not go well with her plans of someday graduating from that institution.

  The young medical student was devastated, and the rising star on campus sank below the radar. She still did well on all her other courses, but the blazing fire within her had been extinguished.

  In a strange twist of fate, it would take a zombie apocalypse to reignite that flame and motivate her to reach her true potential. And now that she was a highly respected doctor and researcher, at the top of who was left in her field, Devereaux had to rear his ugly, hateful head, with an idea that had been sparked by the very paper he had so harshly criticized.

  “Dr. Truesdale,” the colonel began after Becks had related to everyone in the conference room the condensed story of her research, the disputed paper, and the battle with Devereaux. “You are the obvious choice to accompany Mr. Hernandez back to Columbia to speak to Dr. Devereaux, and extract him, if possible. I trust your personal issues will not prevent you from helping to save the human race?”

  “For god’s sake, Becks, say something!” Phil whispered, as he elbowed her in the ribs when she didn’t reply right away.

  “I’m thinking about it,” she whispered back, her blood still boiling.

  Before she could speak up and respond, however, a sergeant rushed into the room and handed the colonel a flash drive. While he didn’t speak a word, and only gave the colonel a stilted nod, his expression spoke volumes, and a chill swept through everyone in the room.

  “It appears that your information was unfortunately accurate,” the colonel said to Pete, as he stuck the flash drive into the side of the huge screen in the front of the conference room. He signaled for the lights to be turned off, and then the video footage from the Apache helicopter began.

  Gasps, choked sobs, and cries of shock and horror arose from the dark room. No words could adequately express what they were seeing, or what they were all feeling. A tidal wave of death was heading their way, and as things were, survivors would not be able to stand up against it. They would have to run, or die.

  When the lights came back on, Becks stood up. The anger that had burned so hotly just moments ago had chilled to an icy fear, and a stone- cold resolve.

  “I’ll be ready to go see Devereaux within the hour.”

  “Like hell you’re going without me,” Cam said, strapping on his holsters.

  Word of Sticky Pete’s arrival and the massive zombie herd had spread like wildfire throughout West Point, and Cam was already gearing up when Becks entered their quarters.

  “Unnecessary,” Becks replied. “Quick in and out. Simple.”r />
  “Nothing was ever simple before the zombie apocalypse, and it sure as hell is never simple now,” Cam added with emphasis. “Just try and keep me from going.”

  Cam certainly had a point, but the mission should be quick and easy, and she really didn’t need a body guard. On the other hand, she was trembling ever so slightly at the thought of going back “out there.” Since being rescued from the hell of New Jersey, she had not left the confines of West Point. She would probably be fine on her own once the mission got underway, but it certainly would be nice to have Cam by her side—not that she would admit to it.

  “Suit yourself,” Becks simply said, as she stripped off her lab clothes and donned her beloved camo clothing, boots, and a host of pistols and knives.

  It would have been helpful if they could have had at least a few hours to more thoroughly go through all of the Project Decimation data, but from Pete’s description of Devereaux’s condition, every minute counted. A civilian cardiac surgeon would also be accompanying them—the same man who Becks had first met when she opened the clinic on Bannerman’s Island, which now seemed like it had been decades ago.

  A young Army doctor would also be going, as, after Becks, he seemed to have the most knowledge of biomedical nanoparticles. The team was rounded out by two heavily-armed Rangers, each a mountain of muscles who had gained reputations for being one man armies. Still, Becks would take Cam any day in a fight, but she hoped that this mission would not require any violence—and that included what she wanted to do to Devereaux.

  They were all driven to the parade grounds where the transport helicopter awaited them. Pete looked sweaty and anxious, but otherwise alert, no doubt as the result of some potent amphetamines to keep him on his feet. What he really needed was about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep, but the clock was ticking, and as Becks had once said, there would be plenty of time to sleep once you’ve turned zombie.

  The young Army doctor, Julian Ritter, clutched hard to a stack of papers and shut his eyes when the helicopter lifted briskly up from the ground. He clearly didn’t like to fly, and Becks also suspected that he had never been beyond the gates of West Point since the apocalypse began. To distract him, she asked him if those papers contained the questions the medical staff had for Devereaux.

  “Huh? Yeah, I mean, yes, Ma’am. Uh, these are the questions,” Julian replied, rubbing his forehead repeatedly. “Uh, sorry, Ma’am. I, uh, I’ve never been in a helicopter before. And to tell the truth, I, uh, don’t get out much. Like never.”

  “It will all be just fine,” Cam said in his smooth, reassuring tone, as he patted the young man on the shoulder. “Just stay close and listen to instructions, and it will all be okay.”

  Julian relaxed his death grip on the stack of papers and he and Becks began discussing the various questions and comments the medical staff had hastily scribbled down. She was pleased at the young doctor’s knowledge of nanoparticles, and it was clear he had kept up with the latest research right up until the apocalypse began. He knew things that Becks didn’t, but he had never actually conducted any experiments, and only had a basic knowledge of parasites.

  They were both so absorbed in their discussion they didn’t realize they were hovering over Columbia University until they heard the pilot shout to Pete for the location of Devereaux’s building. Unfortunately, that building had a roof covered in solar panels, rainwater collection tanks and pipes, and buckets and containers of all shapes and sizes filled with vegetable plants.

  “I’ll have to land over there,” the pilot said, pointing to another structure about 100 yards away.

  The roof of that building had a couple of large air conditioning units, but there would be just enough room to set down safely—if it was strong enough to hold the big helicopter.

  “That one’s not secure,” Pete shouted back over the roar of the engines.

  “Oh boy, here we go,” Cam said under his breath, not intending anyone else to hear, as he surreptitiously gripped both pistols.

  There was a brief discussion between the crew members and Pete, and it was decided it would be safer to drop everyone down to the roof of the secure building, than land on the other structure and then possibly have to fight their way down several flights of zombie-infested stairways, and cross 100 yards of open ground. No one disagreed, although Julian suspected he would throw up or wet himself either way.

  Harnesses were distributed, and as a side door slid open and a crew member began to explain how to safely lower yourself down the rope, Julian did indeed drop to his knees and vomit. Fortunately, he did it with his head stuck outside the door so none of it got in the aircraft, but the pilot did have to adjust his position so no one would have to drop feet first onto the splattered half-digested scrambled eggs and bacon below.

  BZA, Cam had taken Becks zip lining, and she had loved the sense of freedom flying through the air. This was much shorter and straight down, but she still felt like a Navy Seal storming a terrorist compound as she rapidly descended to the roof—although it was a fantasy she wisely did not share in the presence of two Army Rangers.

  Everyone landed safely—and all of them tried to pretend not to notice Julian screaming like a little girl the entire way down. The helicopter then moved off and slowly and carefully settled down on top of the other building, where it would wait until they had gathered all the info they needed, and perhaps Devereaux himself.

  Pete’s first act when he landed on the roof was to rush over to the row of potted tomato plants that had been blown over by the rotors’ strong downdraft. Even though he would be leaving again—probably never to return—they had all lavished so much tender loving care on their rooftop garden he was compelled to stand the plants upright and gently brush off the dirt from their leaves.

  As he was clearing off the last plant, the door to the roof swung open and Becks and company all drew their weapons. But it was just Max and Arjun, who rushed toward Pete with wild exuberance. The two men were pretty banged up, but they were otherwise okay, and it was a very happy reunion as his two friends congratulated Pete and said they knew he could make it. The mood instantly shifted, however, when Pete asked about the others, especially Erin. Max and Arjun suddenly took a step back and fell silent. They didn’t need to actually say it, but Pete needed to know how it had happened.

  There had been a terrible struggle down by the river after they had launched Pete on the raft. Hundreds of zombies just seemed to come out of nowhere. Jiang had been grabbed and taken down by about a dozen of them, and Josh was also overwhelmed. Erin had rushed to their defense and was able to save both of them, and while the two men had been badly bitten, they would survive.

  Erin, however, had been bitten in both wrists, severing arteries. She tried to run back with them, but just a block away from safety, she collapsed and died in the street, despite their best efforts to staunch the flow of blood. Pete staggered backwards at the news, and Max and Arjun each grabbed a shoulder to help keep him upright. Pete had really liked Erin, maybe even loved her, but even in the apocalypse he never found the courage to tell her.

  There was more bad news, too. Back near the river, Margo had climbed a tree to pick off zombies at long range to clear the path ahead of the retreating team. Max had insisted they all stick together, but there was no reasoning with the pigheaded woman. Margo said she would be right behind them, but they never saw her again.

  Everyone just stood there silently to give Pete a moment, but a distant groan of hunger rising up from the gathering crowd of zombies below in the courtyard snapped Pete back into focus. He was now more determined than ever to initiate Project Decimation.

  Chapter 9

  The acrid stench of burned flesh still hung in the air from the Apache helicopter’s attack on the zombies crossing the makeshift bridge, as well as the multitudes that had made it to New Jersey. A gust of wind from that direction sent the foul odor towards Columbia University, but while everyone smelled it, no one commented, and they were all just happy
to get inside and let the heavy metal door slam shut behind them.

  As they descended the stairs, Becks was half hoping that Devereaux would be dead already, but she was not to be so lucky. Sticky Pete entered the lab first and all of the other students rushed to see him, except for Jiang and Josh who were recuperating from their wounds in the medical bay, as they had named their improvised infirmary. Pete introduced everyone in his group, and Becks did the same for the members of her team.

  “Where is he?” the cardiac surgeon asked once the greetings and formalities had been dispensed.

  “I’ll take you to him,” Arjun said somberly. “He’s not breathing well.”

  Becks and Julian went with the others to start going over the apparatus they used to produce gold nanoparticles. Cam and the Rangers stood by and listened to a lot of words and terms they didn’t understand, such as “reduction of aqueous chloroauric acid by citrate.” It was at times like this that Cam realized just how big the divide was between him and Becks, but it was also at these moments that he was proudest of her…and loved her the most.

  Cam understood very little about the ZIPs pheromones, how the zombies sensed them, and why they had to go to such lengths to create these nano things to block some sort of receptors. He was tempted to suggest just sticking cotton balls up a zombie’s nose—or simply cutting off its nose—to keep it from smelling these pheromones, but he knew enough to realize that if it was that easy, Becks or one of the other braniacs would have done it long ago. Indeed, it was far more complicated than that, as the network of ZIPs throughout the body had pheromone receptors in all mucous membranes, as well as certain parts of the skin.