“...Into the Nothing...

  ...Faded and weary...

  ...I won’t leave and let you fall behind...”

  - Benjamine Burnley

  Malcolm’s eyes fluttered as he woke; he became aware that he was lying down. His vision returned to him as he rubbed the scruff of his face, creasing his full, black beard.

  A voice called out, “Medic! He’s waking up again!”

  Malcolm became aware of the tent ceiling above him. He looked over to see that Lieutenant Kenneth Johnson was waiting by the tent flap for the medic to enter. Johnson stepped aside for the grunt with a medical cross on his helmet to approach Malcolm.

  The Medic spoke. “Glad you’re awake Major. You know how lucky you are to not have long term damage?”

  Malcolm noticed the light pouring through, indicating evening. “How long was I out?”

  “Shit, five days by now.” The medic answered. “Lay still, let me get your heartrate.” He pulled out a stethoscope.

  Malcolm took the brunt of the news as the medic listened to Malcolm’s bear chest.

  Johnson spoke up. “Been coming and going in terms of awareness the whole time too. ‘Accosted me’ kept getting said.”

  Malcolm raised a brow. “Someone give me a mirror.” He watched Johnson hesitate with a funny grin. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I can’t possibly be disfigured!”

  “Na…,” said Johnson. “You just look like a hobo who took a dead guy’s uniform to blend in!”

  The Medic humored Malcolm by passing a nearby mirror. He analyzed his features and saw that the bruises were slowly receding, though his face still had patches of purple. He thought about the self-inflicted wounds, remembering the squad that had left the building he entered as a potential diversion. “Someone tried to kill me…”

  “Yes…” The medic said. “You were babbling shit about ‘factions’ forming.”

  Johnson spoke up. “The dudes on Mercer Island are gonna love hearing that shit! You been going on about how ‘they’re’ posing a threat to the whole quarantine!”

  The Medic took out a notepad. “About all that…I need to double check how aware you are, plus questions.

  Malcolm huffed. “Get it done.”

  “Do you know what day it is?”

  “Go fuck yourself; I just woke up!”

  “No then. It’s Friday, May Twenty-First. What unit are you in command of?”

  “South Gate Checkpoint last I knew.”

  “Not since your beating. Command has been in the hands of Major Raynes.” The Medic told him. “We brought you there by the way.”

  “Well then.” Malcolm quipped. “I’m not helpful delirious.”

  “Indeed. I guess I can assume you know what city you’re in and all the rest.” The Medic made several checks on the board. “Now then, you were assaulted?”

  “They tried to kill me!”

  “They?” The Medic seemed confused. “One or multiple?”

  “Two. They were wearing camo masks; could’ve been hermaphrodites for all I know.”

  The medic took a deep swig of a flask. “Walk me through the assault, now that you’re lucid.”

  Malcolm spoke off the top of his head. “I got back from the field and was relaxing on the rooftop when I was grabbed from behind. First, they tried to choke me, then I threw them off, but they had my gun. One whipped me senselessly while the other was keeping watch by the door. Once I was down, they had the gun against my head. Then they spoke about how this was all my fault; said Clemens died because of me. I think they knew someone else we euthanized.” Malcolm stopped himself from blinking.

  “And how’d you get out of that one?” Johnson asked.

  “Adrenaline. I twisted their arm at the last moment. Then I was on the attack and they both bolted out of there. I collapsed from dizziness or else I would’ve killed them myself.”

  The medic was noting everything quickly. “Well then. Any other indication as to what unit they may have been with?”

  “Nothing...Not even a badge.”

  “Interesting…Perhaps some draftees are snapping?” Johnson postulated.

  Malcolm continued. “When they ran away, one of them mentioned a name but I was blacking out.”

  The Medic wrote that down. “Well fuck. Good thing we kept you under guard. If someone did this for revenge, they’re at this checkpoint…” he took a sip of liquor from a small flask. “…Last goddamn thing we need right now is a witch hunt.”

  Malcolm finally began to sit up. “On the contrary, it’s exactly what we need.”

  “Explain the fucking logic of that.” Johnson demanded.

  “Because the whole Q.Z. could face a homicide wave, at best, if revenge killings go unanswered.” Malcolm rationalized. “Worst case is anarchy.”

  “That’s fucking counterproductive…” The jaded Medic sighed. “The Living Dead are upon us, meanwhile you want public trials…let’s bring back hangings too.”

  Malcolm remembered current events. “What’s the sitrep on that anyway?”

  “On what?” asked Johnson.

  “The fucking world.” Malcolm barked. “I returned from an op outside the walls when jets passed overhead. You said that was five days ago?”

  The Medic took a deeper swig of the flask. “Naegleria Infections were running rampant in the towns outside Seattle. It gets impossible to tell the Berserkers from the living, so the General said, ‘Burn them’. Similar story playing out in other states from what I’ve been hearing.”

  “What about the cities?” Malcolm asked. “The other Walls and the-“

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “We don’t know dude.” The Jaded Medic interrupted. “Every continent is getting hit hard; everyone says that China and India got the worst of it. Assuming anyone's still alive over there.”

  “Japan too.” Said Johnson. “It’s a tight-ass Island nation; lots of people. Really you should’ve just said all Asia is getting Necro-raped.”

  “Well logic dictates that.” Malcolm answered as the Medic looked pissed off at Johnson. “What’s Mercer Island doing since the bombings?”

  The Medic stood and leaned against a post near the tent flap, he absorbed the evening sun as he drank. “Telling us less than what our own broadcasts can. Your replacement for the checkpoint command was declared, but no new promotions to fill vacancies. Every living civilian in town is penned up inside their local community center,” he looked at Malcolm with a flushed face. “I’m ordering people screened for Naegleria if they so much as have insulin withdrawals! I just came from seeing a diabetic and he was lucky to have died; lots of people get sent to Mercer Island if they have any sickness!”

  Malcolm stood as he began to dawn his camo shirt. “We burned the hospitals. Command must improvise now.”

  “Except people are saying that anyone who does have the Flu gets sent to those science ships we have with the fleet! They’re getting experimented on over there! People aren’t stupid, we can tell what’s what!”

  “Calm down.” Malcolm ordered. “You’ve been drinking boiled water, right?”

  The medic nodded. “I’m really just drinking.”

  “Then don’t get bitten.” Malcolm affirmed. “You’ll be fine. Now lead me to Major Raynes, someone tried to kill me, and I intend to root them out.”

  “Sir. If they blame you for Clemens and whoever else, how do you know they weren’t reporting to Raynes?” Johnson asked.

  “Because if that’s so, it had to be a friend of Clemens at another checkpoint. While I’m no friend of Raynes, we got history; I’m safe here.”

  The Medic sighed again. “He’s likely on top of the wall. Take the elevator beside the gate.”

  Malcolm grabbed his utility belt and stepped outside while strapping on his weapon holster. Everywhere he looked, he expected Liam to make an interference, instead he saw masses of grunts crossing the mess area for dinner. Malcolm considered his low food intake and weak legs after days on bedrest, he then looked to the wall which blocked off their zone. He opted to grab a bowl of stew and joined a trail of grunts entering the fenced off area.

  Malcolm passed wooden tables with bench chairs packed with soldiers, some grizzled by the events over previous weeks while the rest were just rotated from the fleets. There was a sense of malaise about every conversation blending:

  “…Dude. When I tell you that Manhattan is gone. I mean, it’s gone.” One private uttered.

  Someone at their table gasped. “That’s gotta be bullshit! I thought the Zones in New York were set up?!”

  “Tune in to our own fucking broadcasts!” The Private continued. “Place was swarming with Berserkers! No one was left alive, and our forces outside were getting battered! We burned it too!”

  A gaff was heard. “There goes Wall Street!”

  Malcolm stood in a queue leading to the tented slop services with cooks providing food to all who came in several lines. He listened intently to all the chattering voices; the line next to his had two sergeants.

  “…No dude, England said ‘fuck all’ to any refugees pouring in.” One of them finished.

  “Whatever man. Last thing I heard out of Europe was that massive exodus of refugees starting to trickle over to them.”

  “That was four weeks ago! Last I saw on the news was ships, boats, and rafts, all dead in the water…”

  ***

  Malcolm ate his bowl of stew on the ride up the wall’s elevator which was hoisted by chain pulleys. As he gulped his food, he caught a direct sight of a squadron of Black Hawks hovering towards him and passed above the gate line.

  Malcolm stepped onto the wall palisades and only had to search for the operator tower above the gate. Inside Malcolm found a former Camp Benning roommate, the newly promoted Major Raynes. He was standing beside the gate operators and relaying commands to the squadrons of helicopters outside. Malcolm set his empty bowl on a table nearby and belched before calling. “Sir! Your predecessor has risen.”

  Raynes eyed Malcolm with confusion. “No one told me you were recovered. I’d have figured you’d be chilling before your next assignment.”

  Malcolm approached. “I’ve been sleeping for days; I’d call that rest.”

  “Huh...I take your point.” Raynes stepped away from a long table covered with area maps and approached Malcolm. They shook hands, “Rumor has it, you made a better name for yourself than I expected.”

  Fuck you too.

  Malcolm nodded and forced a half smile. “I did what good that I could.”

  Raynes smiled back. “You pulled out boys out the fire like a proper leader, from the front.”

  Malcolm felt compelled. “And where were you when this all started?”

  Raynes’ smile seemed to become forced. “Japan.”

  Malcolm pretended to wince. “Oomph...reports said things got nasty. Which base did you lead from? Behind all your-”

  Raynes yanked away from the handshake annoyed. “I don’t need to justify my career to you.”

  Malcolm shrugged. “I climbed the ranks. You skipped them, so the criticism is damn fair.”

  “If you want to sulk over losing you command, take the whole fucking day for all I care.” Raynes was turning back to his technicians and officers, who remained focused on relaying messages and commands across the Seattle Zones.

  “I’d rather get my orders and take my mind off things by dealing with Berserkers.”

  Raynes stared at Malcolm disapprovingly. “Your orders are that there are no new orders. Every post has been on rotation, we’ll work you back into the swing of things.”

  “Let’s work on who tried to kill me.”

  Raynes looked starkly puzzled. “Nelson! This whole zone has been on edge since the water got infected and you want Mercer Island to start an inquisition for you?”

  Malcolm stepped forward, sternly. “If we let it go, a wave of homicides will follow once word spreads! Now I broke one of their arms; start looking at the other checkpoints for injuries the day I got jumped.”

  Raynes rubbed his temple in frustration. “Nelson, I barely have any more pull with the higher ups than you did with your brief tenure running this checkpoint. And the gravity of my situation belays any goddamn detective work you want from me.” He then looked past Malcolm and out the windows.

  Malcolm turned around and approached the windows, witnessing a sea of cars, tents and campfires stretching as far as the horizon. Refugees were clogging every street and intersection with more squatting inside adjacent buildings. Malcolm looked directly below to see a gathered mass of civilians throwing their garbage at the closed gate while some were spraying graffiti. The black hawks hovering above seemed to be recognizing the width and length of the civilian swarm as their headlights shone down on the masses.

  Malcolm looked back at Raynes who was rubbing baggy eyes as he spoke. “Firebombing the local towns slowed the infection spread; only now the refugees from the outbreak sites have nowhere to go. Crowds have been growing outside the gates all week. It’s at the point now that all missions outside the walls are coming and going by air.”

  Malcolm’s eyes bulged. “…Mercer Island is just letting these people gather?”

  Raynes looked at Malcolm again. “The Zones are at capacity for the moment. Until we can quickly screen Naegleria without drawing blood samples from everyone, there they stay.”

  “Raynes…” Malcolm hollowed. “These people already brought the Flu amongst them. They know less than we do.”

  Raynes answered with a hollow tone. “...I know...”

  “Then do something. It’s a fucking outdoor slaughterhouse down there!”

  “We have walls Nelson; the Dead don’t form ladders.”

  Malcolm’s jaw dropped. “This is about not getting penned in and dependent on air support from the Navy! Smother them with tear gas; get them out of there!”

  “I’m waiting on HQ’s authorization on the matter.”

  “Why are they needing time to decide!?” Malcolm demanded.

  “I don’t know!” Raynes was flabbergasted. “I heard someone talking about a possible vaccine deployment soon…We’re no short on test samples; they got to be close to something!”

  “There is no medicine for THIS!” Malcolm pointed out the window. “We can’t let these people in, they’ll die if they stay out there! When that happens, all of them will turn into a zombie horde swarming our perimeter!”

  Raynes swallowed a loud gulp. “Good soldiers follow orders Nelson. Stand down and report to your barrack.”

  Malcolm nearly raised his finger but relented and turned to leave. He stopped while looking out the window. Down below, Malcolm could almost make out the meaningless SOS signs held up by refugees. “LET US IN”, “WHERE’S UNCLE SAM?”, “PROTECT AND SERVE??!”