Death Flu

Chapter One

Scott Repp stared at the city landscape in the distance. His battle group was getting closer to Columbus, Georgia, population 190,000… as of a couple days ago, anyway. It was June 7th, and a warm and sunny day. Any other year and people would be out having cookouts and watching the Braves, but today wasn’t a normal day. There wouldn’t be a normal day for a long time; maybe not ever. The last normal day had been June 1st.

Columbus was still far enough away that it could almost be normal… like it had been before.

Scott hung onto that illusion of normality and cast his mind back to the final moments of his old life, back to June 1st.

He’d been on a two-week leave from the army, visiting his family in the small town of Rogers City in northern Michigan. His eight-year-old son, Nick, and his thirteen-year-old daughter, Stacy, had argued about a fossil they had found while taking a walk on the beach. Scott smiled — his kids always seemed to find something to fight about. As they argued Scott flashed back to better times when he and Heather were still married. They’d met at a party at her dad’s. One thing led to another and they were soon married, happily too. She was never really thrilled about moving from base to base, but they finally settled in Fort Benning, Georgia.

It had been five years earlier when he’d walked into his bedroom and found his wife moaning while a staff sergeant was having his way with her. At 6’4 and 225 pounds, Scott didn’t have any problem picking up the sergeant and throwing him against the wall. As he was stomping the guy it went through his mind he would probably spend time in the brig and be demoted from his rank of captain, but he was angry at the time and didn’t give a damn what happened. In the background he heard his wife screaming for help but he couldn’t stop. The only thing that stopped him killing the guy was the burly MP who had heard Heather’s screams, and had restrained him.

Scott got a few days in the brig and was temporarily demoted to sergeant. As for the guy screwing his wife, he got three broken ribs and a broken nose, not to mention a dishonorable discharge. It could have been worse for Scott, but they had looked at what he’d walked into and reasoned that most any man would’ve lost it.

After the divorce, Heather and the kids moved back to Rogers City with her dad. Scott stayed in Georgia where he only had one more year to get his twenty years in. At thirty-seven, Scott looked pretty good for his age despite all the smoking and drinking he’d done over the last twenty years. Although he didn’t have a hard time finding women to date or to sleep with, he just couldn’t bring himself to commit to a relationship. Since he had found his wife screwing around he started drinking more and feeling depressed. He missed his kids and didn’t get to see them much.

Scott’s mind had snapped back from the bitter memories when he looked up to the balcony to see his dad waving for him to come up from the beach. His children were picking up on his dad’s fear and quit their fighting to get up the stairs straight away.

Come, watch the news, his dad had said.

It was about that nasty Avian Bird Flu shit again.

Come on, Dad, he’d said, pissed that his walk on the beach with his kids had been interrupted for this. That shit’s old news!

Just listen, will you?

Fine, whatever!

The reporters were talking about how the Avian Bird Flu was bonding with a different strain of flu. Avian Flu was almost always lethal but now it seemed to have gone airborne. The reporter was saying that health officials were trying to contain the new flu strain in Japan, but things weren’t looking too good since a Japanese man had brought it back to Japan from the United States. Scientists figured the Avian Flu was lying dormant in him when he picked up the new strain of flu while in the States. The most health officials were saying about it was that the two flus somehow bonded causing the lethal Avian Flu to become airborne.

Scott had the impression they didn’t know what was going on, just that it was real bad.

Damn, Dad, Scott had said. That doesn’t sound too good at all. If this guy was sneezing and coughing at the airport this flu will be world-wide in days. You can bet this shit’s going to spread like wildfire!

Chapter Two

One of the first cases of the flu in the United States was Nancy Jones who had the misfortune of being in Tokyo Airport at the same time as Kato Hayashi, the young Japanese man who unknowingly carried the new, combined deadly strain of flu to Japan from the States. Nancy had no idea that she’d walked right by him not long after Hayashi had sneezed.

On the flight to Hawaii, she hadn’t thought twice about her runny nose and slight headache. As the symptoms turned to sneezing and coughing while sitting in Honolulu International awaiting her flight to Los Angeles, she thought they were just symptoms of jet lag.

I’m just worn out, she thought.

Nancy was more than worn out. She had Stage One of the new flu. By the time she got home, her muscles were sore and her stomach didn’t feel good. That was Stage Two. After Stage Three set in, Nancy’s live-in boyfriend took her to the hospital with a fever of 103 and rising. She had diarrhea and severe vomiting and was getting dangerously dehydrated. She was examined by Dr. Tom Anderson who had seen plenty of flu in his time, but nothing as bad as this.

Later on that night Nancy slipped into Stage Four, which was a fever of 110 degrees and a coma she wouldn’t be coming out of.

On June 6th, Dr. Tony Clever was working a double shift due to so many of the hospital staff being home with the new and deadly flu. He looked at the newest arrival in the autopsy room, name of Nancy Jones. What a shame, he thought, so young and beautiful. The cadaver’s skin had a grayish tint to it. Her lips were cracked from dehydration and the eyes that were once a sky-blue were now faded and milky.

Tony sighed and turned to the table to grab the razor-sharp scalpel he would use to cut the incision in her chest. A loud passing of gas came from the autopsy table accompanied by a foul smell. There was no dignity in death, he thought.

He turned back to the body while turning on his tape recorder: Caucasian female, age twenty-six. The time, 0400. Date, June 6th.

As he went to make his first cut, the body jerked! He jumped back; his heart rate accelerated.

Shit, he exclaimed. What a rookie mistake. Bodies did that a lot, so why was he so damn jumpy? He’d been doing this for five years now. He was about to return to the body when… it sat up!

Holy jumping shit, Tony said.

The woman turned and looked right at him, making a low, moaning sound.

Heads are going to roll for this, Tony said. Don’t they check for pulses up there? He went to the woman to comfort her, putting his hand on her shoulders. The woman looked at him, grabbed his wrist, put her mouth to it, and took a big bite.

Fuck, he said, falling back as blood began spurting out of his wrist. The bitch must have gotten an artery! He looked at the woman who was chewing on the flesh she’d ripped from him, blood dripping down her chin.

Why? Why? Why would you do that?

The woman answered him with another moan, and got off the table. She started walking towards him.

Fuck this, Tony thought. I’m out of here.

He ran towards the door, running into Mary, one of the morgue attendants.

What’s going on, Tony? Mary noticed his bloody wrist. What happened to you?

That corpse bit me! She’s supposed to be a corpse and she bit me! I gotta get help for my wrist.

Tony, wait!

But Tony was already running down the hall.

Great, she said under her breath. Now I am here alone with a woman in shock.

Something wasn’t right about this woman. She looked dead! But that was impossible. She was sick and Mary had to help her.

Ma’am, are you all right?

The woman kept coming towards her while moaning.

I’m here to help you. Let me give you a hand.

The woman grabbed Mary around the waist and buried her mouth in Mary’s neck, taking out a big hunk of her neck, severing the carotid artery. Blood shot up to the ceiling, spraying everywhere.

Mary took two steps back and collapsed to the floor, in shock and fading fast from blood loss. The last thing Mary saw was the woman’s mouth coming for her face.

Chapter Three

Scott got the call on the 6th telling him to get back to base ASAP. He said his goodbyes to his family, telling them it would blow over soon and he would be home to finish his leave.

His dad had looked doubtful. Given what they were hearing on the news, that wasn’t surprising. It seemed the flu was spreading faster than anyone expected. Half the world’s population was on its knees sick, and the other half was busy trying to deal with it. Mass looting was going on world-wide. Scott was glad he wasn’t overseas where a good portion of the U.S. Army was.

He flew from Alpena to Detroit via an army transport plane, and from Detroit to Columbus airport where he was picked up by a young corporal.

Do you have a name, Corporal?

Yes, sir, Captain. It’s John, sir.

Fill me in on what’s going on here, John.

It’s FUBAR, man. Everything is going to shit, fast. Hell, they’re even saying there are reports of the dead coming back to life and eating people! It’s fucked up!

"What do you mean, the dead are coming back to life?"

I heard it was down in California or someplace. Like I said, It’s FUBAR everywhere.

Okay, John, I’ll take your word for that.

Sir, the major wants to see you ASAP when we get to the base.

Scott waved the corporal on. They sat in silence as they drove to Fort Benning. It was chaos there, men running everywhere gearing up for war.

Probably going to kick some looter ass, Scott said to himself, but he wasn’t sure whether he meant it.

Captain, the major is waiting.

Lead on, Corporal.

Yes, sir.

When he got to the situation room, Major Swartz greeted him. Scott noticed General Thompson standing and looking at a city map of Columbus. Salutes were given and returned

Well, Captain Repp. So nice that you could make it. Sorry you had to cut your leave short, but as you probably already heard, things aren’t going so good here. Nor anywhere else in the world for that matter.

Yes, sir, I have heard.

Captain.

Yes, General.

We’re going to be sending in five hundred men, regular and Guard alike.

Only five hundred, sir? Columbus has nearly two hundred thousand people in it.

I’m aware of that, Captain, but this shit’s hitting everywhere, especially in the bigger cities. Doctors say that after people catch this new flu, death normally occurs within a week. The good news is that some people are recovering, but most are not. The brains in the Pentagon are saying 3.2 billion people’ve got this flu and they’re expecting a death rate of 2.6 billion. Do the math, Captain. That’s a lot of corpses.

Yes, sir. My mom wasn’t feeling well when I left.

Sorry, son, but this epidemic has hit everywhere. So, I’m saying that anywhere from two to four days we’re going to have to deal with a lot of bodies.

Sir, the corporal who picked me up was saying the dead were coming back to life. What’s that all about?

General Thompson fixed Scott with a stare. It’s true, he said. He grimaced, like his words had tasted of ashes. There are no answers yet to why that is happening. But we’re soldiers and we know what to do. Put the men in full battle gear. Take four tanks downtown as well as some chopper support. Send as many light vehicles as can be spared for Columbus. Look on the bright side, at least you’re not going to Atlanta! God-speed, gentlemen. I’m off to Fort Stewart."

They saluted the general as smartly as on any parade ground. The moment he was out the door, Scott asked: Where are the rest of the officers, Major?

Either getting their shit ready or headed to Macon or to Atlanta. Besides Major Peters, I’m the highest ranking man here. All the top brass are in Washington.

I take it Major Peters will be in charge of the base in your absence?

Correct, Captain. Now start getting your force ready. We pull out in the morning to Columbus.

Yes, sir!

And Repp?

Yes, sir.

Bring plenty of ammo. God only knows what’s going to happen there.

Scott stiffened. He was expecting to establish martial law in a corpse-strewn city. That was a foul-enough prospect — especially if these rumors of reanimated corpses were true — but why was Major Swartz so nervous? And why the call for so much ammo? Scott phrased the question as respectfully as he could: Sir, is there something else I should know?

Swartz pursed his lips, reluctant to answer. When he did reply, his voice was uncharacteristically clipped. What the General failed to mention are the reports from Los Angeles and New York City. The flu victims are coming back to life within twenty-four hours after death. Those who have died and come back to life are attacking the living.

But why?

Swartz’s face changed from fear to disappointment. "You’re stuck in the wrong era, Captain Repp. You ask why. I tell you what. What you need to know is that revived corpses are attacking the living and eating their victims. The question you should be asking is how. How are we going to survive?"

*

On the way to the supply shop, Scott ran into his good friend, Lieutenant Washington, a wiry black man. Scott had become friends with Lieutenant Washington while serving in Iraq. When cigarettes had shot up to four dollars a pack, Scott switched to Cheyenne cigars, and he lit one up now.

David, it’s good to see you again, he said as the two men shook hands.

Damn, Scott, it’s on the news, man — about the dead people walking and chomping on people.

Great, Scott said. Now I get to kill dead people. When they said joining the army was going to be an adventure, they weren’t lying. So… Scott steeled himself to keep the fear in check. How’s your family doing, David?

Not good, man. My little boy caught this new flu and I had to leave him to come back here. I should go AWOL and go back to him.

Look, David, I know what they say about this shit isn’t good, but going AWOL won’t help either of you.

I know, man, but I’m so worried.

I know, man, I know.

Washington sighed, looking embarrassed he’d said so much. Look, Scott, I’ve got to run

Sure. I’m needed at carpool.

Okay, buddy, catch you latter.

Scott headed off to the supply depot. Along the way, he met a few more friends but no one had time to chat. When he arrived he asked the staff sergeant for an M-16 rifle and a 9-millimeter pistol with lots of ammo.

Yes, sir, the staff sergeant barked, as he rushed to get the captain’s gear, because he knew this captain hated staff sergeants, and with good reason. After retrieving the captain’s gear he couldn’t help but ask: How’s the wife, sir?

If looks could kill he knew he’d be dead right now. Sorry, sir, I forgot. Be safe, Captain.

Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll try.

After Scott had stowed his gear, he went to the officers’ bar for a few beers. Not surprising, there weren’t many officers drinking.

What can I get you, Captain? the bartender asked.

A Busch Light, if you got one.

Sure do. Here you go.

Scott noticed the TV in the corner of the bar. Hey, turn the news up would you?

They’re playing the same old shit, sir. Bodies coming to life and all that.

The bartender met Scott’s implacable stare, and wilted. But I will turn it up. Sir.

On the news they were showing a man stumbling towards two police officers by some hospital in New York City. The cops opened fire on the guy, hitting him with two good chest shots. The man merely stumbled back and then started walking towards the cops again

What the fuck, Scott thought. The guy should be dead. But he wasn’t. Then one of the cops put a shot into the man’s head. This time the guy didn’t get up.

Pretty fucked up shit, hey, captain?

Scott didn’t answer. The bartender was right, but Scott didn’t want to admit it. Only after he’d started his sixth beer did Scott find the courage to call his dad.

Hey, son, you made it.

Yah, Dad, I did.

Have you been watching the news?

I have. It’s not good.

You know your mom’s not doing very well. She’s got a fever and throwing up. I think I’m going to take her to the doctor tomorrow.

Dad, listen, they’re saying people that die from this killer flu are coming back from the dead to eat the living.

There was silence from the other end for other a minute. Yes, I know, son. I’ve seen it on TV.

What about Stacy and Nick? asked Scott on the edge of panic. How’re my kids?

Their mom called and said they’re good.

That was all Scott wanted to hear right now. Dad, I’ve got to get some shut-eye because we’re going into Columbus tomorrow.

Okay, son. I’ll talk to you soon, and be careful.

I will, Dad. You too.

Chapter Four

Two Years Earlier

Jed Jack Sherman drove the stolen pickup down Highway 98 towards Oloh, a dinky little town in Mississippi. Most people just called him Jack Jr., as they did his dad, since both bore an uncanny resemblance to actor Jack Nicholson. Of course Jed, a name which no one called him, was the younger Jack while his dad, Harlan, was the older Jack. Each could also do a good Nicholson impersonation when asked to.

Young Jack had just pulled out of the parking lot of the five-and-dime liquor store, where he added breaking and entering along with auto theft to his current armed robbery charge. What could he say? He had Pabst Blue Ribbon on his mind as well as a smoke. You couldn’t do either in Hattiesburg jail and Jack was dying for both. He couldn’t complain, though. Before the armed robbery he had only spent a few years in jail for selling drugs, assault and battery and two drunk driving charges. For the most part Jack had been lucky. He had gotten away with two murders and a few armed robberies, not to mention the moonshine he ran for his uncles.

But two weeks ago his luck had run out. He had been drinking Jim Beam and doing beer chasers while minding his own business when his girlfriend, Sunshine, came in bitching about bills and how lazy he was getting. Jack had met Sunshine at Hank’s, his favorite bar. The owner, Hank, always had sexy girls working behind the bar inasmuch as most of his clients were men. Hank’s theory was that if he was the one sitting at a bar he wouldn’t want to watch a male bartender’s ass.

The good drunks at Hanks agreed, with Jack being one of them. He had already bedded two of Hank’s bartenders. Then, on a warm May night, after Jack walked into Hank’s and first laid eyes on her, he had just stood there and stared. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was 5’7 with long, straight, black hair that hung nearly to her shapely hips. She had on a cut-off t-shirt that showed her flat stomach, and a pair of Daisy Duke shorts that emphasized her perfectly shaped butt. Nipples pushed hard against the cotton of her t-shirt, and her skin was light brown, which made her heart-shaped face and curvaceous lips irresistible.

However, the feature Jack found most striking about her was her sky-blue eyes. He would like to get lost in those eyes and never come back.

After he had seated himself at the bar, Carla, an attractive blonde, had come over to take his order. How you doing Jack?

Not bad. Jack recalled fondly a few fun nights he had spent with Carla. Hey, Carla, who’s the new skirt, and where did Hank find someone like that to work in this place?

Gee, thanks, asshole! And what am I, chopped liver?

Compared to her, Carla, you’re chopped shit. Now tell me who she is!

Carla knew better than to press young Jack’s buttons. She recalled having worn his brand of Mississippi Eye Shadow, a black eye. Her name’s Sunshine. She strips at Nubbins part time. Maybe that’s where Hank found her.

You work out there sometimes, don’t you Carla?

Sometimes.

How long has she been working there?

Carla shrugged. "Not too long — maybe six months or so. She is very beautiful, isn’t she? I hear some of the girls talk, and they’re jealous of her."

I agree, she’s way too fine to be working with those low-lives. Before Carla could say anything, Jack ordered a Pabst and a shot of Jim Beam, and went back to staring at Sunshine.

*

As the night went on Jack drank more and more to get up the courage to talk to the new babe. Normally Jack had no problem talking to women since his dad had drilled into his head that women were good for three things: breeding, fetching beers, and the occasional punching bag. But this girl was different in that there was something about her he couldn’t figure out.

He lit up a Marlboro and drained the rest of his beer. He looked for Carla to get him a refill but she wasn’t around. Instead, the new girl walked over and in a sexy Southern voice asked: Can I get you something, sweetheart?

Temporarily speechless, Jack finally squawked, A Pabst and a shot of Beam.

She laughed. Honey, for someone that looks like my favorite actor, you sure don’t sound like him.

Jack cleared his throat and said: A Pabst and a shot of Beam, in his best Jack Nicholson voice.

She smiled. Much better, thank you.

He gave her the money, and a minute later she was back with his drinks and change.

Been pretty busy, hey? he asked.

Yes. Thank goodness I get off in an hour.

Would you permit me to buy you a drink after your shift?

Are you trying to pick me up? she asked, with a serious look on her face. You’re, like, the twentieth guy to ask me that.

I reckon so, he said.

Even though Carla had warned her about him, Sunshine went against her better judgment and said: I’ll tell you what. There’s a little diner down the road, and you could buy me a cup of coffee.

All right! Sounds like a plan.

An hour and a few drinks later she said to him, I’m ready for my coffee, honey.

Jack got up and staggered to the door, holding it open for her. The fresh air felt good on his face, sobering him up a little. He got into the passenger side of her car and closed the door.

You don’t have a car? asked Sunshine.

Yah, it’s at home. I’ve already gotten two drunk driving tickets and I don’t need a third.

Smart move, she said.

They didn’t say much on the short ride to the diner. After they were seated and had placed their order for coffee, she looked at him and said: Carla says you guys had something going for a while?

Yes, we did.

She also says that you like to hit women. Is that true?

Only if they deserve it.

Right then she should have gotten up and left but he was sexy and she kind of had a thing for guys who had a dangerous aura to them. Plus, his eyes seemed not to look at you but through you. Then there was this uncanny resemblance to Jack Nicholson, which was a big bonus in her book. It had been a long time since she had dated a man and she admitted to herself that she was caught hook, line and sinker with this guy. By the way, my name is Sunshine. What’s yours?

Name’s Jed, but you can call me Jack if you want. Most people do, anyhow.

Okay, Jack, what do you do for a living?

Jack was forced to think fast. Was he to tell her that he sold drugs and ran shine? Oh, I work with my uncles and with my pa in the fields.

What do you grow?

Some tobacco and cotton.

Sounds like a tough way to make a living, she said.

If only she knew. Indeed it is. So, what’s your story, Sunshine? I heard you work at that shit-hole, Nubbins.

I’m not proud of that, but the bills have to be paid.

You sure are beautiful, Jack said, trying to look respectful and not leer. What’s your heritage?

My dad is Irish and my mom is Cherokee Indian.

They did a fine job when they made you.

Sunshine blushed as she murmured a sweet thank you.

Why isn’t a pretty girl like you in college or with some rich guy or something?

Short story. I married my high school sweetheart, got pregnant at eighteen and had my son, Bret. Things went okay for a few years but then Nick, my husband, discovered drugs. He pissed away our savings on them as well as on some bimbo he met at work. He was so sweet to me and Bret in the beginning, but the drugs and the long hours he was putting in did something to him. It made him mean.

Jack leaned back with hands behind his head and slowly shook his head sadly. Drugs and women on the side will do that to a man, he said.

Yes. Anyway, one day he came home mad at the world and hit Bret for spilling juice on the carpet. I knew then it was over. The next day, when he was at work, I packed Bret and my things and went to live with my mom and dad in Brookhaven. The only time I had to see Nick was at the divorce hearings. The divorce went fast since I didn’t want anything from him. Seeing that he had already gotten his new girlfriend pregnant, he didn’t have any problem signing off on Bret. After awhile I moved to Hattiesburg to live with my aunt until I could save up enough for my own place. Now I live in Oloh in a small two-bedroom house. That’s about it for my life story.

I just find it hard to believe you’re single, though.

I work around guys all day long and then go home and spend as much time with my son as possible. Yes, I have been asked out hundreds of times but I’m not sure if I’m ready to get involved right now.

That sucks, because I was going to ask you out.

She gave him a hard, appraising look, which he returned. He didn’t get angry and he didn’t wilt. She seemed to like that. I’ll tell you what, Jack, she said. Let’s take it slow and see what happens.

Chapter Five

Scott went to the barracks to get a few hours of sleep. As he lay in his bunk listening to the men snoring and the occasional fart, Scott couldn’t stop thinking about what was going on. Just a few days ago, he’d played with the kids and watched the Celtics and Lakers play for the championship. Could it all be over? Could this be the end?

He didn’t know, but he finally managed to fall sleep, getting five good hours until at 0600 two sergeants came in, banging cans