A Short Story By: Matthew S. Van Hove
As the moon shone bright in the night sky, it cast its silver rays down upon the sleepy town of Grant Utah. The town was considered vacant to the rest of the world, but to a select few it was home. There was no crime in Grant, which consisted of one main street surrounded by bricked buildings and shop windows. There was no violence here either. As well as no electricity, heat, fresh running water, or sewage. That again didn’t seem to be a problem for the residents of this quiet ghost town. For the residents didn’t need any of those things to survive.
It wasn’t that they were a hardy people, or hippies, or even people cut off from civilization. The people that lived in Grant Utah were actually dead. Undead was more the actual term. It was something that you heard more and more of as the days went by after the Corbinson Lab blew up a few months back. No one knows what really happened, and if they do they aren’t talking.
After the lab exploded, strange things happened to those people in Grant. Some say that a green gas cloud covered the town for five whole months and that anyone who went in or out of the cloud died two days later of a strange and undiagnosed disease. Others speculate that the place had been housing test subjects and that was why the electrified fence had been erected. Others say that there is nothing going on in the ghost town and it is all just rumors and superstitions, but it is hard to believe when anyone that crosses the fences doesn’t return.
Tonight, on this full moon, it seemed that someone was daring once again to cross the fence. Her name was Jennifer Tabor. She stood just on the other side of the fence with a pair of night vision goggles pressed hard to her eyes. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a tight braided ponytail and wore an outfit that could be considered “Battle Worthy.” Her legs were covered completely by black military grade body armor, around her waist she had a collection of ammo pouches and two holsters for hand guns that sat on her hips. She wore a skin tight tank top that had black and grey cammo print splashed over the front and back. The young woman looked ready for business.
As she lowered her goggles, the radio that was attached to her hip crackled to life which caused the young woman to jump almost completely out of her steel toed black boots.
“Jenny, you there?”
“Damnit Brock!” she snapped into the small receiver. “You nearly made me pee myself!”
“Sorry kid.” the voice on the other end said, she could tell he was smiling.
“Stop being a perv and tell me what you got.”
The radio went silent which gave Jenny the time she needed to hook her ear piece into her ear canal and switch the radio over to wireless. She pulled out a small microphone that would allow her to still communicate with her missing partner.
“Grant Utah.” He started “First to go silent after the lab explosion. First to have fences put up to keep in the ZB’s, oh and get this. Last to be evacuated when the lab was giving signs of explosion. It seems like they were trying to keep the subjects inside instead of letting them out.”
“Well that would explain this security fences. These things are at least thirty feet high, guard towers placed every fifty yards or so. Not to mention it is two hundred yards away from the town. They didn’t want anyone coming in or out.” Jenny said as she crouched down to tie her boot lace.
She looked up at the moon and sighed. “At least we’ll have some decent light when we get inside.”
“I’ll be there in twenty. Make sure your pack is ready. Get yourself prepared for anything. The last team that attempted this cleaning got over run.” Brock said sternly.
“They were amateurs Brock. Pure and simple. We’ve been doing this for how long now?”
“Since the lab blew.”
“Exactly! There ain’t nothing these ZB’s can throw at me that we haven’t seen already.”
“Just make sure you’re prepared kid. I don’t want to lose the relationship we’ve built here and then have to go and build a new one.”
Jenny and Brock both laughed. “Thanks for the show of care there buddy.”
The two had been working together for a long time and Jenny knew for a fact that if Brock got hurt or even killed that she wouldn’t be able to handle a new partner. They had been through more than their share of ZB scares. The first one in particular was the worst and it was something she didn’t plan of reliving any time soon. In memory or in person. As she opened her back pack she noticed that the worn leather bottom had started to fray at the seam and had become thin in many places. There were rips and tears in it, even some blatant holes had shown up over the years, but she didn’t care. It was her lucky pack. It was this pack that saved her from imminent death at the dead hands of a ZB.
“ZB’s.” she said softly. “Why call them that? Everyone already knows that they are zombies. The living dead, moving corpses. Not some stupid acronym.”
“They call them that because they don’t want to cause world wide panic.” Brocks voice echoed into her ear. She had almost forgot he could hear her even if she had whispered.
“Panic, the lab explosion caused that four years ago. We are just a clean up crew now. Janitors.”
“Janitors don’t need heavy artillery babe. And trust me, I’ve got the stuff that will make you think you’d died and gone to heaven.”
Jenny giggled and stood up, double checking everything. Florescent lanterns, light sticks, dynamite for those rare occasions it was needed, a few grenades, enough ammo to fill fifty guns, medical kit, a flashlight with halogen bulb, and finally a simple set of stick matches. She was set.
“Well get here with my toys already, I feel like playing and the moon isn’t getting any fuller.”
The booming sound of a heavy metal song echoed in the still night causing Jenny to pull her head set off rather quickly. The guitar was screeching like a banshee directly into her ear making her eyes water. She looked up as she saw a pair of dull yellow headlights moving toward her down the old dirt road that lead to the small town. She didn’t have to guess as to who was behind the wheel. No one she knew could drive a vehicle that from a distance looked as if it were out of control.
Brock was on his way.
As the jeep came to a screeching halt a few feet from Jenny, she realized that he hadn’t warned her about the music. It wasn’t anything big really, but it wasn’t like him. There had to be a reason he had called attention to his jeep from so far away.
“What the hell Brock! You nearly caused my ear to bleed.”
Brock stepped out of the jeep and the chasse gave an audible groan followed by the sound of shocks squeaking in relief as the large man found his footing. Brock was large, almost close to seven foot and wore his weight perfectly. He was thick for a man, but anyone who had seen him in action could tell you that there was very little fat on his frame. It was actually bordering on none.
He turned to face her and the playful smile that was on his lips faded almost instantly. He pulled out a shot gun and aimed it just enough away from jenny’s side that she wouldn’t be hit and fired. As the young woman saw the gun her eyes widened greatly and instantly hit the deck. Her hands covered her ears and still heard the shotgun go off once and then twice. Her eyes had closed tight on reflex and she cursed herself as she pushed herself up and dusted herself off. Not only had Brock not warned her about the music, but the split second warning of the gun blasts were more than enough to piss her off.
“What in the living hell Brock!? You think I am out here for my health! First you nearly cause me to go deaf with your damned music, then you almost kill my with your driving, and now you want to take my head off with your favorite toy! Should I just go home now so I don’t have to worry about being killed by the damned undead?” she was furious, but Brock’s expression hadn’t changed.
He just pointed behind her and let it hang at that.
Jenny’s scowled and then turned to look back toward the town. She didn’t see what Brock saw but as soon as she got close to the fence she understood.
There was a horrible scream, an inhuman wail; and suddenly the fence shook right in front of her. Standing there was one of the creatures. It was a ZB, and by the looks of it, it had been in this small ghost town from the beginning. The creature had rotten flesh hanging from its face, one of its eyes hung grotesquely from one socket and it carried a sickly green color to it. The worst part was the stench of rotted and feted flesh.
The zombie slammed itself against the fence toward Jenny letting out a second ear piercing scream. Jenny nearly fell back onto the ground again but gained her composure enough to pull out one of her twin eagles and pulled back the hammer. She pushed her hand out with all the steadiness and grace of a trained sniper and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed in the night and the undead body dropped to the ground. Right next to it were the remains of the ZB that Brock had dropped.
Seeing that caused all the anger and bluster to fly right out of Jenny.
“Thanks” she said with an apologetic smile.
“No worries babe. You just owe me a Coke now.” Brock said with a smile.
It was their private joke, every time one of them saved the other they would owe the one who saved them a Pepsi, Coke, root beer, or any other type of soda they could think of. If they were really keeping score; Jenny would have bough ten Brock over thirty different sodas, and Brock would owe just about the same amount to Jenny.
“Good thing these aren’t movie monsters huh?” Jenny said with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, we’d have both been dead a long time ago.” Brock added in with his own calming sigh.
It was true, the ZB’s weren’t like the creatures in the movies. They were created by a gas cloud that altered their internal structure. It rotted them from the inside out, but didn’t kill them. It put their bodies in a heightened state of survival, letting it live on for days sometimes even years without food. Blood didn’t flow in their veins anymore and to top it all off, they didn’t eat flesh. They attacked humans for food only when it was presented to them, like a hungry lion or tiger would if it had been starved for weeks.
There was no disease to transfer between bites or scratches because there was nothing living within the body. Viruses need a living tissue to survive and multiply, since the ZB’s didn’t have any of that, there was nothing to transfer.
The first case of an attack from one of these creatures had been very public. The man had looked sick and he pounced on a young couple that was walking near him. It was the first time the scare of undead swarming the streets happened. The creature was killed and the two people had been taken to a hospital and locked down for months with no signs of any change. Finally after a thorough physical, both were told they were perfectly fine.
The panic of a zombie infestation was quickly quelled by facts. The ZB’s that did find their ways into towns, cities, and other populations were treated more like a rabid dog than what they were. The threat of death was still there, but it seemed less severe since the disease couldn’t spread like in the movies.
Both Brock and Jenny had been scratched, bitten, cut, and mauled by ZB’s more than once, and they were more than thankful that the worst they had either had ever gotten from it was a mild infection that needed antibiotics.
“You ready for this?” Brock said reloading his shot gun.
Jenny took a deep breath to steady her nerves and nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be I guess.”
She lifted her backpack up over her shoulders and Brock scoffed and shook his head.
“When are you going to get rid of that thing?”
Jenny looked appalled at the question. “Never, not until it falls apart on me for good. This is my lucky pack, you know that.”
Brock shook his head and moved to the rear of the jeep, his massive hand dwarfing the handle as he lifted it to drop the tailgate. He pulled back the tarp that had been covering the large lump in the trunk and then waved Jenny over. Once she got to the rear of the jeep her mouth dropped open.
“For me? You shouldn’t have!” she laughed.
“Cheers girl.” Brock said with a smirk.
Every little girl dreams of owning a pony or becoming a princess, but since as long as Jennifer could remember she just wanted one thing. Guns. The more powerful and illegal the happier she was. She never knew why, but the sound of the gun barrel exploding and the smell of black powder always reminded her of home. The young hunter had grown up on a farm and next to that farm her father had built a firing range. Every day she would go out there while her father was out tending the cattle and chickens.
Inside the trunk just happened to be what Jennifer’s dreams were made of. Every type of gun she could think of, glocks, revolvers, shotguns, rifles, and she could have swore she saw a rocket launcher. She looked at Brock with what could only be described as awe and wrapped the big man in a hard hug.
“You always give me the best things!”
“Only the best for my Jenny.” Brock said with a large smile.
“Alright, enough of this chatter. We have a job we gotta do.” Jennifer said as she went back to the trunk grabbing a few handguns, a shotgun, and a sawed-off shotgun that she stowed through the straps of her pack. As she loaded each firearm she made sure to take extra ammo and then grabbed some extra flares. She took a deep breath and looked up at her friend and trusted partner to see him loading a shotgun and throwing on a harness that allowed him easy access to the weapon.
“Should we…” Jennifer started to ask but was quickly cut off.
“You know I don’t believe in God Jenny. No God, Christian, Catholic, Muslim, Jewish or otherwise would have allowed something like this to happen to so many people. I won’t pray to make you feel safe.” Brock said sternly.
It was obvious to anyone within distance of the conversation that this was an argument the two had been having for quite some time. It was in fact something they argued about constantly. Jennifer wasn’t a die hard bible thumping Christian, but she did have belief and faith in her God, and that this was all happening for a reason. She didn’t know what it was but she was sure there was a reason for it. Brock on the other hand had seen too many of his friends and family be killed by the ZB’s to have faith in anything. He prayed with Jennifer once and the rest of the team they had, and no sooner had they finished did a large wave of undead surrounded them. He and Jennifer survived, barely, while the others were torn to pieces. How could he believe in a God that allowed that.
“Alright big guy. I understand.” Jennifer said bowing her head and silently praying for their safety.
Brock moved up to the chain-link fence as Jennifer finished her silent vigil and looked at the lock. His eyes narrowed and then looked up at the town. Something was off and he couldn’t quite place it. He crouched down and looked at the road that lead into the ghost town and frowned even more. There were fresh footsteps that lead inside. They weren’t brand new, but they were newer than anything else around. Brock’s estimation was that the tracks were about a month old.
“We got a problem here Jenny.” Brock said breaking her concentration.
“What?”
Brock motioned her over and showed her the fresh tracks. Her look mimicked his as she understood what that meant. Someone had gone inside. Not only that but they never came back.
“That’s not all.” the big man said as he grabbed the lock. “This is brand new.”
“Crap. Is this a rescue mission now?”
“No, I can almost guarantee the person or people that went in never came out again.” Brock said solemnly.
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