Zombie Battle (Books 1-3): Trinity Read online

  The gas station.

  It wasn’t so much the gas station, but the people surrounding the van. She drove closer and saw they weren’t people and they seemed to be attacking the van.

  Obviously, there was someone in that van they wanted and Lil floored it, screeching the her vehicle to a stop, grabbing her weapon from the passenger’s seat and firing it the second she stepped out.

  Lil honestly didn’t think twice about what she did. When she saw the baby, she was glad she took that chance.

  Irma still clutched the baby on her lab. Jerry had fallen asleep hours before hand, and Lil knew it would be a long time before Irma set down that child.

  Irma wasn’t sleeping. She stared out. Her face drawn with sadness.

  “I’m so sorry about your daughter,” Lil said. “I am”

  “Thank you.”

  “Where were you headed?”

  “North. Saul said to stick with you. Said you had somewhere to go.”

  Lil nodded.

  “Where?” Irma asked.

  “North. But somewhere safe.”

  Irma looked at her. “Safe? Is there such a thing?”

  “If anywhere is safe, this place is,” Lil said assuredly.

  Irma sat back. “What is happening?”

  “I don’t know. All I do know is we just have to go forward, keep fighting. Survive.”

  “Can we? Can we survive this thing?”

  “I believe so. I really do.” Lil reached over and placed her hand on Irma’s. Upon touch, their hands instantly gripped to each other.

  In silence, sadness and fear, they held hands and continued on to the next phase of their journey that seemed nothing less than a nightmare without an end.

  Part Three

  INVASION

  CHAPTER ONE

  May 9th

  Five miles North of Huntersville, North Carolina

  “It’s okay, baby, hold on, almost there.” Rene Lincoln conveyed those words via the rearview mirror to her six year old daughter Kayla. She didn’t put her in the booster seat; in fact, Rene would have preferred to have the child up front with her. But since she was uncertain of her driving, she didn’t want to chance Kayla suffering another injury. And Kayla was injured. Normally Rene was a cautious driver. In fact, her driving record was impeccable. But as she drove from her home to seek medical attention in Charlotte, Rene’s entire body shook. Her concentration teetered between the road and her daughter in the backseat.

  Kayla was bleeding; she whimpered and moaned while growing increasingly pale.

  What had happened?

  Rene’s husband Brad, an Army Reservist, returned from a very short and secretive mission in Peru. He told Rene that on his drive home from the airport he started feeling sick. By the time he reached home he could barely make it up the stairs.

  He claimed it was airsickness or something he ate on the plane and went right to bed.

  Rene didn’t think twice about it. In fact when his Commanding Officer called to see if she had heard or seen him, Rene lied. She knew her husband and if duty called, he answered. So she told his commanding officer she hadn’t heard from him at all.

  It was when she and Kayla went to check on Brad that she discovered everything was wrong. Terribly wrong. Brad had changed dramatically and the low-grade fever had compromised his senses. He was out of control.

  He lunged for Rene and Kayla. Despite the fact that Rene tried to fend him off, to reason with him, he kept coming. That was when Kayla was injured. Fearful, Rene grabbed the child and fled from the house. She placed Kayla in the car and took off. She left her purse, her phone, and everything else in the house.

  Kayla didn’t seem that bad, more hysterical and scared than anything else. A trip to the Emergency Room in Charlotte wouldn’t take that long, twenty minutes, depending on traffic.

  How bad would Kayla get?

  Within minutes, Kayla grew worse.

  Another worried glance to the back seat and Rene saw even more blood. Kayla’s moans grew faint.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Rene reached her arm back, one hand on the wheel, the other for her daughter. “Daddy didn’t mean to bite you. He didn’t mean it.”

  And Daddy did bite her.

  On the nape of the neck, just by the shoulder. At first Rene swore Brad took a chunk out of Kayla, but it had to be an optical illusion, there was no way he could have done that.

  Now as she drove, Kayla’s shirt now saturated with blood, Rene began to rethink that reasoning.

  “We’re on the highway now, sweetie. There aren’t any cars and we’ll be there real fast,” Rene said.

  But Kayla was quiet. No moans. No cries. No sounds.

  Rene’s heart thumped with fear. She glanced to the rearview mirror and Kayla was slumped over. “Kayla!” Trying to keep the car steady, Rene reached back again for her daughter. She felt her leg. Her skin was cool. Panicking, wanting to scream, Rene looked again in the mirror.

  Kayla’s eyes opened.

  “Oh, thank God. Thank God.” Rene gasped. “Thank …” No sooner did her fingers grip her daughter’s leg in relief, Kayla growled deep and demonic, and with a near scream planted her teeth deeply into Rene’s hand.

  Screaming and terrified, Rene ripped her arm from Kayak’s grip. But the once weakened child had gained strength and Kayla leapt into the front seats and lunged at Rene.

  Perched on her mother’s chest, Kayla savagely grabbed Rene’s cheek, widened her mouth and like a famished demon, took a huge bite out of Rene’s face. Her eyes covered by blood and astonished by Kayla’s attack, Rene couldn’t see, she couldn’t drive, she couldn’t even scream in pain.

  The car swerved first left, then right until finally, at full speed, it smashed through the guardrail and rolled over the hill.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Washington, D.C.

  At one time, perhaps when he was a teenager, General Greg Lance had ambitions of being President of the United States. But he served his country in another way, and one he loved. He became a dedicated Marine and worked his way up to serving in the Pentagon.

  When he was appointed Secretary of Defense, he knew he had reached his ultimate goal.

  Retirement wasn’t that far off. He took pride in his position of authority.

  Lance was well aware of the meteor that landed in Peru and the infectious disease it carried. He signed the order for the men to go down there, even assigning Colonel Manning personally. Manning was the best, he and Captain Steven Long.

  When it was discovered that the disease was highly contagious and caused violent dementia, it was Lance himself that recommend using a thermobaric bomb to turn the area into a ‘fire hole’ in order to burn out the infection and halt the spread.

  He then immediately brought this men home.

  He saw no need to be rushed from the pentagon to the Whitehouse to be present at Manning’s briefing with the president. The menial aspect of things were not his forte. That was Manning’s. Lance was focusing on other things. He was focused on the military aspects of the recent hostage and ‘lone wolf’ terrorist attack at Fort Bragg.

  It was Saul Klein, Director for the Center for Disease Control that recommended that all personnel brought back from Peru were to be located and detained.

  That warning skipped right by Lance. He was, somehow, out of the loop on this one.

  Had he known of it, he would have put two and two together with the incident at Fort Bragg. As it was, he was headed to the briefing unaware.

  Fixated on one disgruntled and mentally unbalanced soldier going crazy at Fort Bragg, he was blind to anything else it could be. Or rather ignorant.

  Things had progressed quickly. So much so, by the time Lance arrived at the Whitehouse, he was totally out of the loop.

  As he approached the oval office, he met up with Secretary of Health Donald Kraus. He greeted Kruse with a firm handshake.

  “Don,” Lance said as they walked. “The Peru thing must have been worse than we thought, b
ringing you in here. Manning must have some good Intel.”

  “Well, yes.” Don was the same age as Lance, pushing retirement. Stood about the same height as the dark skinned General. Although he looked less worn, he did appear more worried than the coarse General. “But I don’t think Manning knows about the distress signal from the CDC.”

  Lance stopped walking. “The what?”

  “About an hour ago. Shortly after the Mayor of Atlanta requested the National Guard. Didn’t you know?” he asked.

  Lance hadn’t expected to hear any of what he was told. Briefly he felt like an idiot. “No. I was wrapped up in the Bragg thing.”

  “We’re guessing it’s connected,” Don said. “That virus …. It got out of Peru.”

  “Yes, we know that,” Lance stated. “That stupid CDC doctor brought it to Germany, but the Germans said they have it under control.”

  Don shook his head. “No. we brought it here.”

  Just as Lance’s eyes widened, an ungodly scream came from the Oval office and without hesitation, Lance flew by Don, and burst through the doors.

  The scream came from the president, but that quickly ceased.

  Where was he? Lance didn’t see the president.

  He saw four men by the desk. They were hunched over, fighting and pulling unsuccessfully at someone or something.

  “Where’s the president!” Lance cried out.

  “Help us,” One of them called.

  Then another of the men, an aide, screamed. He swung around, grabbing his arm. Blood poured from a deep wound.

  When he did that, Lance saw the president’s leg. The president was on the ground with Manning on top of him.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A step forward confirmed it was not an hallucination. Manning was pulling out and gnawing on every organ possible from the gaping hole in the president’s torso.

  “Back away!” Lance ordered, then shouted, “Manning!”

  Colonel Manning cocked his head from his feast and turned with a snarl to look at Lance. Manning’s eyes had lost all color, his blood-filled mouth contrasted starkly with his deathly white skin.

  Lance paid no attention to the noisy commotion in the room. He knew what he had to do.

  Retrieving his revolver, Lance took aim just as Manning lowered his mouth again to the president. Lance fired a single shot. It hit Manning in the head and the colonel sailed sideways.

  Still holding his weapon, Lance raced to the president and knelt on the floor.

  He had never seen anything like it. The president was in a pool of blood. His stomach, large intestines and liver lay half eaten on the floor next to his body. A huge chunk of skin was missing from the president’s neck.

  “Help is on its way.” Lance heard someone say.

  Help? Lance thought. Are they kidding? He brought one knee up and laid his arm over it, lowering his head in complete confusion.

  Thinking, ‘what the hell just happened here?’ Lance peered down to the president.

  The president opened his eyes.

  “What the hell?” Lance jumped up and stood.

  The president sat straight up. His eyes stared without blinking, then machine like, he turned his head to Lance.

  His eyes … his eyes were exactly like Manning’s. No life, no color.

  Then the president extended his hands, widened his mouth and hissed.

  He snapped his jaws once and it was too close for Lance’s comfort, He didn’t need to be a CDC doctor or virologist to know something was fucked up.

  The president tried to stand and the rest of his organs flowed from him. Lance calmly aimed his gun and fired. One shot to the president’s forehead, and the president fell backwards.

  Stepping back, Lance turned slowly. The room was full. Everyone stared at him.

  “You …” Don pointed. ‘You just killed the president.”

  “What are you insane?” Lance snapped. “You saw. You all saw.”

  “You killed him.” Don repeated.

  “I didn’t kill him, you idiot! He was already dead.” Lance said with a harsh tone, then ran his hand down his face. “Someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Center for Disease Control, Atlanta.

  Everyone else had left. Sergeant Jack Edwards and Saul Klein were the only ones who remained behind at the CDC complex.

  Saul was ready to leave, really ready to leave. His own daughter had passed on and revived not a few hours before hand. It broke his heart to see her die; it killed him to place the three inch nail into her skull to kill the brain.

  The plan was simple; Jack’s wife Lil had picked up Saul’s wife and grandson. A freak occurrence brought the women together and they were traveling north to a secure place.

  Saul and Jack were going to leave.

  That was until they discovered that despite the fact the CDC building was secure, it wasn’t secure outside.

  All of the land phone lines seemed to be out of order and Jack’s cell phone ceased getting a signal.

  They placed a distress signal via the computer network.

  Saul sat back in the communications room. Massively depressed because of his daughter was an understatement. Sipping a drink, he watched the monitors.

  So many people were there trying to get in, banging on the doors and windows. The sad thing was the infected made their way there as well.

  Pandemonium and death ensued, windows were broken and the first floor crawled with walking dead.

  Jack and Saul were trapped without enough ammunition to get out.

  Saul paused in his monitor watching to refresh his drink. He then poured some in Jack’s glass. “Anything?” he asked Jack.

  “No signal. I’m thinking of going up to get one.”

  Saul slowly shook his head then ran his hand through his thick, curly salt and pepper hair. “You’re nuts.”

  “I’m also not resting until I know my wife and your family are safe at Garrick’s.”

  “Hating to beat a dead horse,” Saul said. “You’re sure this Garrick’s is safe?’

  “Sir, Garrick has been planning the apocalypse for a long time. If anyone did it right as far as a safe haven or fortress, he did.” Jack downed his drink. “Nothing from CDC Vermont or Washington?”

  “Nothing.”

  Jack exhaled and finally sat. “What’s the deal? I mean, could this thing have taken over this fast? I know Atlanta has to be in disarray, but the entire country?”

  “Doesn’t make sense and the expert in me has to say, ‘no’, there has to be a communication breakdown,” Saul said. “Not this fast. Just this morning everything was fine. We were chasing twenty men across the country who may or may not have been infected. Even if every single one of them began a chain of events, the country for the most part would have to be up and running.”

  “And we’re just out of the loop?” Jack asked.

  “That’s my theory. Suffice to say, Jack, I think you and I may not quite make it to Garrick’s, because we still have a job.”

  “I’d like to do that job,” Jack said. “It’s what I do best and what I can do to keep my wife safe.”

  “Me as well.” Saul chuckled softly. “Not that Irma will like that much. Me working and her in session.”

  “Sending our families to the hills, that was the right thing to do, right?”

  Saul nodded. ‘Absolutely. I want my family …’ His head lowered. “Or what’s left of them, to be safe and secure somewhere. Because even if we beat this, who knows how long this thing will go on or spread until we do.”

  “But first we need to find out what’s going on outside of Atlanta.”

  “And what’s left.” Saul added.

  And they were about to find out sooner than they thought. Across the room, the laptop screen blipped and a man’s voice came. “Hello.” the man called.

  Jack and Saul spun to look at the laptop. On the screen a webcam chat had initiat
ed and a thin balding man with glasses, spoke close to the camera on his end. “This is Vermont. Anyone there?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Five miles North of Huntersville, North Carolina

  When Bud Stewart took the job as school bus driver twenty years earlier, he knew what that entailed. He knew he’d have to deal with screaming, fighting, loud and often time smelly kids. But he loved it and got to know those kids well.

  Everyone loved Bud the bus driver.

  When he heard the chaperone for the yearly field trip to the Charlotte Museum backed out, Bud volunteered.

  It was a good time, up until about an hour before they were to leave. They got a call from Principal Harborrow telling them to hang tight, that Atlanta was reporting some sort of virus outbreak and ironically, some mad man was on the loose from Fayetteville.

  Bug hung tight, but Ms. Lange the third grade teacher took off in a panic, claiming she had family in Atlanta. To Bud, rushing out and about made no sense, and really neither did sitting at the museum with 22 third graders.

  But the principal assured Bud that many people were panicking and to stay off the roads for a spell.

  Bud agreed, but around five pm, the kids were getting restless and some were even crying. The principal was getting bombarded with calls from parents, so the instruction came to bring the kids directly to the school.

  Relieved, Bud packed up the kids and headed out of Charlotte.

  It wasn’t a long drive and traffic was pretty thin. Like a late evening traffic flow. He knew the trip home wouldn’t take long and the further down the highway he drove, the fewer cars he saw.

  He wanted to turn on the radio, but for fear of scaring the kids, he didn’t. He did manage to get one more call into the principal, who informed him that things were looking bad in Atlanta and in Fayetteville.

  It was like a nightmare.