The Infected Dead (Book 5): Shelter for Now Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Mud Island, SC

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  SHELTER FOR NOW

  BOB HOWARD

  Copyright © 2017 Bob Howard

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945754-20-3

  Cover art by Lorena Martin of Premade Ebook Covers

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my dear and supportive friends Ivan and Christina Martinez and their wonderful children, Kenneth, Tanalee, and Theo Robert Martinez. It means the world to me that their two older children, Kenneth and Tanalee, enjoy my books. When Theo is older, I hope they will encourage him to read them, as well.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  When I started Shelter for Now, I had a working title and some really different ideas. I wanted to go places that other zombie apocalypse authors haven’t gone, but I have also kept in mind everything my readers have suggested. The number one request has been for shorter chapters for those people who like to finish a chapter before going to sleep at night. So, Shelter for Now has twice as many chapters as Exist for Now. I have connected with many of you through social media, and I got to meet some of you on a trip to Columbus, Ohio this last summer. I would like to thank all of you for your encouragement and support. When I write, I think about whether or not you will like what I’m creating.

  I always like to mention the people who give their valuable time to proofread the material. Whether it is a little or a lot, every little bit helps. Unless you’ve tried to help a writer, you can’t imagine how rough it is on beta readers. Rob Kilburn, Cori Anderson, and Stacie Turcotte all gave much appreciated input on this project. Of course my wife and my daughter, Dawn and Julie, have put some long hours into the book. I’m grateful to all of you.

  Lorena Martin of Premade Ebook Covers is the best! When I give her an idea of what I would like the cover to be, she comes back with a variety of samples and choices, as well as suggestions on what might work better. I’m very glad we discovered her work.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE WHITE HOUSE was a bee hive of activity as the Secret Service and White House security personnel ran from room to room organizing the different groups that would be departing together on board the incoming squadron of Marine helicopters. One by one they were touching down on the White House lawn, quickly loading with passengers, and lifting off just as quickly.

  The White House had far too many guests present on the evening of the infection outbreak who were listed in the Presidential Succession Act. After the President, there were eighteen positions of power identified as next in line should the person above them be unable to survive. Of those eighteen, there were twelve at the White House for President Freeman’s birthday. They had all insisted upon staying despite the increasingly horrifying news that was coming in from around the world. None of them wanted to be the first to leave as long as the President was staying, and he wasn’t going to let anything ruin his birthday party.

  When it became obvious that the city itself was as much in chaos as the rest of the world, the guests began making their private phone calls. Security personnel were sent to gather up the family members to be brought to the White House. As the sun went down, more and more vehicles were arriving at the security checkpoints that would allow access by the families and friends of important guests.

  The process broke down when other important Washington power-brokers began arriving. People who felt they had contributed enough cash or other resources to the last campaign went to the White House with complete confidence that they and their families would be welcomed with open arms.

  The East wing entrance checkpoint was choked with people demanding entry in a matter of minutes, and when vehicles arrived carrying the families of the various Secretaries in the line of succession, people wouldn’t let them through. As the chaos mounted it became obvious to the security officers that they would have to close the gates and stop anyone else from entering. Just as they were closing the gates, the infection that had been spreading wildly throughout every major city in the world began surging down the streets around the White House.

  The sound of gunshots on the front lawn of the White House caused an automatic response from security guards, and Secret Service agents began well rehearsed procedures to ensure the safety of those they were sworn to protect.

  There were still Senators, Congressmen, and an assortment of dignitaries who were arguing with each other when the first infected dead wandered in among them and savagely bit the extended arm of the Ambassador to France. The infected appeared to be a young woman who had not showered in days. In reality, she had been as sophisticated as the Ambassador, but when she had been dragged down in the street a few blocks away, she had been bitten several times and died quickly. Her body had been trampled by the crowds of people trying to escape, and her clothing made it seem like she lived on the streets.

  The ambassador had been shaking his fist in the face of an armed guard through the closed iron gate and informing the man he would never work another day in Washington, DC. At first he felt angry because he had been interrupted. Then he felt surprise and confusion and asked the filthy young lady what she thought she was doing.

  Then he felt the pain burning in his arm. When he started to scream, the people pushed in all directions just to try to put some distance between themselves and the creature that was pulling away a large piece of the man’s forearm using her teeth. Some of them continued to try to get through the closed gates while others understood it was time to find another way to escape.

  A security guard opened the gate just a few inches to allow someone to get through, and the crowd of normally distinguished and civilized people reacted. When they grabbed the gate and pulled it open so fast that they pulled the guard with it, the crowd surged forward pushing the infected young woman ahead of them. Secret Service agents did as they were trained and shot her repeatedly in the chest. The crowd around her tried to push backward in the opposite direction, and it created an open area all around the woman’s body.

  There was a moment when everyone paused. It was almost as if there was a video playing, and someone stopped it at the moment when the agents opened fire. Everyone stayed where they were except the woman who had been shot. The bullets had punched her in the chest and knocked her down, but she got back up. A second volley of bullets included one that struck the infected woman in the forehead, and this time she didn’t get back up. The agents all figured it out at the same time. It didn’t take a word of explanation for all of them to realize the target had moved from the chest to the head.

  Inside the White House, the Secret Service had their lists of groups that would be taken away in a helicopter next. The President’s group had already been lifted to s
afety, followed shortly by the Vice President and his family. The first Marine One helicopter banked away from the city in the direction of Andrews Air Force Base to rendezvous with Air Force One. The President had his wife and two teenaged daughters with him. They had not been able to locate his son or the Secret Service detail assigned to protect him. Even though he was in his mid-twenties, the President still thought of him as a kid, and he made the agent in charge swear they would find him and bring him to the shelter.

  The helicopter carrying the Vice President and his family appeared to be heading north, but the flight plans were known only by the pilots and copilots.

  The President pro tempore of the Senate, Harold J. Thornton III, watched from inside the White House until it was his turn to be escorted to a helicopter. The Secret Service agent who came for him said the President was safe in an undisclosed location, and so was the Vice President. He had to admit, he had been at least a little disappointed to find he hadn’t moved up the chain of succession by at least one spot. He wondered where the Speaker of the House was since the Speaker was one step above him in the chain.

  The agent didn’t have much information for Senator Thornton. He only knew that the Senator was going somewhere to the south, and his family had already departed for that location. He was also told that government intelligence units were referring to the crisis as an extinction level event caused by a contagion. The Senator never cared for biology classes, but he was pretty sure it was serious.

  “Whatever,” he said out loud. “Just get me out of here.”

  ******

  President Freeman’s helicopter landed at Andrews Air Force Base only to find the base to be under siege. Air Force One was fueled, and preflight checks had been done. All they had to do was move the President from the helicopter to the plane, but across that short distance was a barrier of gun fire and the infected.

  Secret Service agents and Air Force Security Police were laying down heavy fire toward a huge crowd of infected dead that had somehow breached the secure area between them and Air Force One. It appeared that many of the infected were wearing hospital gowns, and had possibly been in treatment at the base hospital before anyone knew the contagion was so lethal.

  Malcolm Grow Medical Clinic was closer to the Air Force One hangar than the helicopter crew would have liked. When the Air Force decided where to locate the hangar, they had in mind that the President would be closer to medical treatment if the need arose. It wasn’t located in the immediate vicinity of the hangar, but it was close enough. Now it was keeping them from moving the President to his means of escape.

  The Marine Captain flying the helicopter was a combat veteran, and he was not someone who would hesitate to make a split second decision. On his command, the President and his family were escorted back to their seats and strapped in. The big Marine helicopter went upward like an elevator, and it immediately banked to the right.

  It barely traveled one hundred yards before it sat down on the main runway directly in front of a private passenger flight that had just been fueled and was moving slowly toward the terminal. The flight crew was on board, but it had not yet been boarded by passengers.

  Marines and Secret Service agents knew exactly what the Captain had in mind, and as the helicopter landed, the doors were already opening. The President, his family, and his staff were escorted quickly to the Boeing 737 that had already come to a stop. Stairs were being driven out to the side of the plane and were in place just ahead of the presidential party.

  When the President arrived at the top of the stairs, the pilot was at the door waiting for him.

  “Welcome to Executive One, Mr. President.”

  Executive One was the designation given to any private aircraft that was used to carry the President when Air Force One was not in service.

  The Boeing 737 was a comfortable plane, but President Freeman surveyed the passenger cabin with distain. It just wasn’t Air Force One. He thanked the pilot and went to a seat, thinking the entire time that they would find a way to transfer to his more familiar surroundings as soon as they could.

  The plane taxied toward a runway as soon as the last person was on board and the stairs were removed. Through his window the President could see the big blue and white plane where he wanted to be. It was also rolling forward and heading toward a runway.

  President Freeman motioned for one of the agents to come to his side, and he told the young man to inform the pilot that they should coordinate with Air Force One to rendezvous at the best location for them to transfer over to his plane. He was not going to travel all the way to their shelter in first class. To him it was just too undignified.

  The agent went forward and spoke with the flight crew. There were only four flight attendants on the plane, and they were doing the best they could to get everyone situated. The agent returned with the information the President wanted to hear. If he had come back with anything else, he would have sent him back with the message that it wasn’t a suggestion, but the young agent said they would arrive in Pittsburgh in just about an hour, and they could make the transfer then.

  The pilot had been slightly offended because his 737 was a fine plane, and he was pleased to have the call sign of Executive One, even if it was under such unusual circumstances. He would follow the orders of the President, but he told his copilot that he would vote for the other guy the next time. He told the navigator to prepare a flight plan to Pittsburgh even though there was no one they could call to file the plan with.

  Pittsburgh came into view before the President had a chance to finish his third bourbon and water. For some reason, he found even that to be somewhat annoying. He didn’t recall ever having to finish a drink quickly on Air Force One just because they were going to land.

  The Captain of the Boeing 737 made the usual announcements about landing and said which gate they would approach. President Freeman considered everything the pilot said to be unnecessary. All he wanted to know was that Air Force One would be there too.

  As soon as the President complained about this new demonstration of incompetence, the pilot announced that Air Force One was on approach and that there was a change of plans. They would stop parallel to each other on separate runaways and escort the President and his party directly to Air Force One because the airport terminal was no longer safe.

  The view of the airport from Executive One was slightly obstructed by smoke, but every passenger on board could see that Pittsburgh had not escaped what was happening in Washington. In every direction they could turn, the skyline was accented by the orange glow of fires, and one of the brightest of those fires was the main terminal of the airport. As the sun had set the fires appeared to grow larger.

  Stairs were being driven to both planes even before they came to a stop, and the doors were hardly open before the President was rushing out of the private flight.

  Normally the pilot would have been even more insulted by the President’s lack of courtesy, but even he was beyond caring. From his view in the cockpit, he could see that the faster everyone got off of the plane the sooner he could get back in the air. The turmoil up by the main passenger terminal was enough for him to know that it wasn’t safe to hang around any longer than he had to.

  It wasn’t until the passengers had all disembarked that the copilot asked the pilot where he planned to go. He realized that they had a perfectly good airplane with plenty of fuel, but they had no destination.

  “Any idea where Air Force One is going?” he asked.

  “I heard one of the Secret Service agents say something about a shelter of some kind in Columbus, Ohio. Any chance they’d give us a break because we got them this far?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to ask, but let’s just go to Columbus first. If we radio them and ask, they’re just going to say they don’t know what we’re talking about.”

  “If they answer at all,” said the copilot.

  They didn’t bother to ask the tower for clearance to take off because the tower had gone dark
, and they couldn’t raise them on the radio. The pilot watched for incoming traffic and fell in behind Air Force One as soon as it taxied onto a runway for take off.

  ******

  The airport at Columbus, Ohio didn’t do any better than the airport at Pittsburgh. Large fires raged through the business district downtown and through the upscale neighborhoods on the northeast side of the city near John Glenn International Airport. It was totally dark outside by the time they reached Columbus, and power had failed across the city. Entire neighborhoods were in darkness, and the blue and red lights on police cars were more visible from the air.

  The pilot and copilot of Air Force One established radio communication with the crew of the 737 that had carried the President out of Washington. They realized the Boeing passenger liner was still following them when they also noticed there was no other air traffic approaching Columbus. All they knew was there had been distress calls from flight after flight until there was just silence.

  The two flight crews agreed that the 737 should bypass Columbus to see if Rickenbacker International Airport to the south was doing any better, and then they could decide which was better for them to approach. The pilot of the 737 checked their fuel and saw they had plenty left to be able to make another detour and radioed that he would check in as soon as they had Rickenbacker in sight.

  Air Force One was trying to raise the tower at John Glenn, but they were only getting static. Some of the automatic systems were still working, but there was no voice contact. The pilot and copilot were happy to see the Instrument Landing System antennas located along the runways were still functioning, and they were able to set the proper glide slope for the big plane on the longer of the two runways.