LEFT 4 DEAD
Capitol Punishment
Chapter One: The Tarmac
"Single file!" shouted Major Wallace through his bullhorn. "Approach the line in a single file!"
Juliet St. John stared down at her iPhone as she tried to dial again. She held it to her ear and then muttered "damn" under her breath when she heard the same failed signal message. "Nothing," she said, turning to look at the man whose luggage she was carrying. "Nothing at all."
"We're almost there," said Lord William Stratford, the British Ambassador to the United States. "We're almost there and they'll take us to the safe zone, scan us, and send us home to England, infected population zero!"
It was true. In front of them, only five people were waiting to board the last Boeing 727 at the airport. And behind them, the city of Washington, D.C. Burned and festered with the infection that turned anyone affected into a raving, bloodthristy maniac bent on consumption of human flesh.
The infection had started two weeks before, in or around Fairfield. Washington had been the most important evacuation zone in the immediate area. Its multiple airports allowed for a relatively rapid evacuation, but when it became apparent that the infected just wouldn't stop, Washington became the target of a very long and very violent train of zombies who followed the refugees fleeing south.
Major Wallace raised his bullhorn, and this time, she was able to plug her ears. Even then, she heard his announcement: "Ladies and gentlemen, this transport is at capacity. Please step back and wait in an orderly fashion until the next transport arrives!" Juliet's blood ran cold and she turned to see that Wallace had stepped into the line cutting it off right behind her. She was waved forward after Lord Stratford.
"This stays," said the Corporal at the foot of the stairs, reaching up to snatch Lord Stratford's suitcase from Juliet by the shoulder strap. "There's no room."
"Excuse me," said Stratford angrily, reaching for the luggage. "I am the duly appointed-"
"I don't care," said the Corporal. "If you want it you're welcome to stay here with it."
With a huff, Stratford moved up the stairs. Juliet gave the Corporal an apologetic smile and followed Stratford. She ducked into the plane and found herself confronted with standing-room only. Nobody seemed to be moving down the aisle. "What's happening?" she asked Stratford, who simply shrugged. Juliet glanced to the left, where a few people were talking with the pilot. One of them saw Juliet looking and reached over to close the cockpit door.
"I have a bad feeling about this," said Juliet quietly.
A moment later, the PA crackled and a voice came over the line. "This is your captain speaking. All Congressional and agency support staff, please report to the front of the plane to receive information on the itinerary. Repeat, all members of support staff report to the front immediately."
There was a great jostling movement and a line of around a dozen people pushed there way to the front. Juliet and Stratford pressed against the wall to allow them to pass, and the Captain stepped out of the cockpit. "I'm sorry, but this plane is beyond capacity. We're going to have to ask you to step off the plane and wait for the next transport."
At this there was an outcry. "Get off the plane!" shouted one of the aides. "Why not them? We were here first!" He hooked his thumb towards the group of people waiting to make their way down the aisle.
"Congressmen, agency directors, and ambassadors take precedence. I'm sorry. Now if you'll just step off, the next transport-" said the Captain, gesturing towards the stairs off the plane.
"Like hell," spat one woman. "For God's sake, they're in the city already!"
The Captain pulled a pistol out of his holster and aimed it at the woman. "And if you people don't get off this plane everyone on board will die, including you. If you get off, you'll be first in line for the next one, subject of course to government officials."
The woman stared at the Captain. "You don't scare me, pal." And she reached up and seized the gun. They wrestled over it for a few moments until the Captain gave her a savage kick in the midsection. She collided with two other staffers behind her and both went careening down the stairs onto the tarmac. A melee broke out and the Captain shouted for the officers on the tarmac to help remove the people.
"Senator," shouted one of the assistants, looking plaintively at his client, who was sitting in the first class section. Juliet saw the man he was calling out to look up, then look back down at his newspaper, flipping the page casually. "Senator, please!"
"Move," ordered the Captain, slamming the butt of his pistol against the assistant's head. Dazed, he was an easy target for the Captain to shove him down the stairs. Juliet wiped blood splatter off her cheek and shied away, squeezing her eyes shut. She almost screamed when she felt a large hand seize her bicep and yank her towards the door. "Ambassador! No, no, I'm-"
"Is she with you, ambassador? You can both step off, then," said the Captain, jamming the gun against Juliet's side. Juliet watched disbelievingly as Stratford gave her a look of disinterest and shook his head mutely. "Right. Off you go," said the Captain, shoving Juliet out of the doorway.
She tensed, preparing to hit the ground, but found her fall broken by something solid but softer than the ground. It was the Corporal from before, who had been helping those thrown off the plane to their feet. "Are you all right, ma'am?" he asked, helping her right herself. "There you go. Are you injured?"
"N-no," Juliet stammered, unable to take her eyes from the plane as the Captain yanked the door closed, folding the stairs up into the cabin. "I'm fine. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to run into you."
"No need ma'am," said the Corporal. When Juliet turned around, she read the name sewn into his fatigues: Jackson. "The man who threw you off that plane should apologize, not you. As long as you're all right, no problem."
"I'm all right until the next transport arrives. The Captain said we would have priority," she said, glancing vaguely skyward, as if the next plane was right overhead. She glanced back at the Corporal, who remained silent and suddenly became interested in the safety of his automatic rifle. "There is another plane coming, isn't there? Corporal?"
"I'm sorry," he said. He raised his voice as the plane began to power up and roll down the tarmac towards the taxiway. "That was the last one. I've heard they're still taking evacuees at the Castle Crown if they're government employees. What agency are you with?"
"I'm not," she said angrily. "If the accent didn't clue you in, I'm British, I work at the embassy. Or I did until my boss just fired me. And if he didn't fire me by throwing me off that bloody plane then I quit."
"The State Department is giving passes to foreign nationals if they're employed at their nation's embassy," the Corporal said. "It's right-" He broke off as his radio squawked, and he reached up to his shoulder. "This is Jackson, go ahead."
"Corporal, your unit is relieved. Retreat to Crown for extraction to the western safe zone. You'll receive more orders at Castle Crown."
"Roger," said Jackson. He glanced back over at Juliet. "I'm headed that way now, ma'am. You could come along."
Juliet rubbed the back of her neck and looked off into the distance. "That wouldn't get you in trouble?" she asked timidly. "You've already been so nice, I'd hate to cause trouble."
"I've got plenty of room on the truck," said Jackson. "Most of my team have deserted. Come on, it's this way." He turned and walked back towards the terminal. He reached up to his jacket collar and switched on his radio. "Bravo team, roll out gray. Repeat, roll out gray. Over." There was a chorus of half a dozen 'affirmatives'.
"Roll out gray?" Juliet asked, increasing her pace to keep up with the Corporal.
He nodded, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "It means we move out without drawing much attention to ourselves. It's... sneaking, essentially," he said, shaking his head sadly.
"But all these people," Juliet said, waving her arms widely. "What happens to them?"
"We will air a public announcement of the closure of the airport once our forces get clear. The Virginia and Maryland National Guards have been nationalized and will be coming in to secure the city, if possible." He stopped near the head of the line Juliet had just come out of minutes earlier. "Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm and more information will be provided when it becomes available. I'm going to go check on our status."
Relatively mollified, the crowd settled in to wait. Juliet followed after him, pleased that she had chosen comfortable boots rather than high heels for travel today. "What status are you checking?" she asked.
"You ask a lot of questions," said Jackson matter-of-factly. "I'm not checking any status. But if I'd told them we were leaving they'd have torn us to pieces, or otherwise swamped the truck as we tried to leave. It would be chaos."
Juliet nodded towards the northeast, where plumes of smoke were rising from the city. "Look around you, Corporal, it's chaos already." He didn't answer. They walked in silence, weaving between groups of refugees, piles of luggage, and lines that were lined up waiting for nothing. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's... it's a different world."
"No problem," said Jackson gruffly. "The reason we have these policies in place is because we need to have something, anything, to rely on when the world goes to shit-as it has now," he said, gesturing towards a group of people fighting over luggage. "When people are afraid they do crazy things. And I don't have the answers. Nobody does. We can only do what we think is logical."
"Where did your men go?" Juliet asked. "Can I ask?"
"I started with a dozen under my command. Six were infected or killed when we tried to hold the line in Maryland," said Jackson. "Three more deserted after that. Not that I blame 'em. They had families in the area, they saw the writing on the wall. Before you ask, all my family lives in Oregon."
"How did you know I was going to ask?"
"You always ask."
Juliet chuckled despite the horror around them. They approached a set stairs; the line emerged from the terminal, went down the stairs, and then stretched off onto the tarmac. "Excuse me," said Jackson, moving up the free side of the stairs. "Excuse me. Pardon me. Make way, please. Thank you." They found their way up to the top, pushed their way into the jetway, and then emerged into the terminal. "Truck's this way," he said.
That was an understatement. A convoy of three trucks were there, as well as a command jeep. "Is that Wallace?" asked Juliet, nodding at the jeep.
"Yeah. Shit, he's looking this way." A moment later, he swore again when the radio squawked. "Corporal, who's the civvie?"
"She's a Beta, sir, British embassy. One on state's list."
"Name?"
"Juliet St. John," said Jackson after Juliet muttered it to him.
"She's on the list. Get her on board."
Jackson helped her onto the back of the truck, where she climbed over the guardrail and moved towards the cab where three others were sitting in fatigues. They nodded warily and she forced a smile. "Morning, gentlemen," she said quietly. Jackson climbed aboard and made the introductions as they settled onto the benches opposite one another.
The engines started in unison, sounding louder than Juliet anticipated. They rolled out together, the jeep leading the convoy. As the trucks pulled away from the taxi parking zone at the airport, the civilians who had been loitering around the airport watched in disbelief. Juliet watched as some began to run after the trucks as others shouted angrily after them.
The trucks roared out of the airport complex on the George Washington Memorial Parkway, heading northeast towards the Potomac. Juliet reached into her pocket for her iPhone and tapped redial for shits and giggles. She held it to her ear and sighed when she heard the same failure to connect.
Over the river, it was oddly quiet. When Juliet saw a team of fatigue-wearing men working on the side of the bridge, she glanced over to Jackson to ask, "What are they-?"
"Rigging the bridge to explode," he explained. "We've heard limited reports that they can't swim." Juliet's eyes flickered back towards the team working on the bridge, now receding into the distance. Jackson concluded, "We're going to air a public service announcement before we blow the bridge. If they're on the northeast side, we're going to get as many people in the southwest side before we do it."
"Sounds like a reasonable plan," Juliet said loudly as her hair whipped around her head in a frenzy. "Where are we going?" she shouted over the roar of the engine.
"Castle," he replied. "Castle-Crown to be more precise."
"I know, but what is Cas-"
The radio squawked and Jackson pressed his earpiece against his ears, holding his hand over his other hear. "Corporal, since you're getting good at finding dignitaries to evacuate, I'm sending you over to Punchbowl. We're getting a distress call."
"Roger," said Jackson, who turned the radio mic off and then pounded the window with his fist. He made a complicated hand signal and shouted, "Punchbowl!"
"Punchbowl?" asked Juliet. "What does that mean?"
"It's the Secret Service code name for our destination," he shouted. He saw confusion in her green eyes, so he turned and pointed into the distance. "The Capitol building."
Juliet was about to ask why they were going there, but she was distracted by a change in the rhythm of the convoy. She stood, gripping the railing and ignoring Jackson's warnings. At the front of the convoy, the truck had swerved to avoid a massive... something. Juliet didn't know what, but it was huge and it looked angry. "What the hell is that?" she shouted.
Weapons fire erupted, but that just made it even angrier. It hurled a car at the second truck in the convoy. The late-model Mercedes smashed against the truck and its windows shattered, the alarm shrieking. In response, there was another roar, but this one was somehow different. It wasn't one voice shouting in rage.
It was hundreds of voices shouting in rage.
The zombies flooded out of the wooded area at the end of the bridge, rushing at the convoy. They flooded onto the bridge, and the second truck, careening out of control, plowed through a whole swath of them, scattering blood and limbs across the pavement. The second truck swerved back onto the road and roared away as quickly as possible while the men in the back shot at the few zombies that were running after it.
The truck Juliet was on, truck three, picked up speed as it met the horde. An explosion of blood and bits splashed over the top, raining atop the men and Juliet in the back. Juliet thanked God for her hooded raincoat.
The big thing rushed at the truck, using its massive arms to propel himself like an ape would. He crushed another car under his weight and then leaped at the truck. "Hold on!" Jackson shouted, but Juliet already felt the subtle shift in weight. The truck titled, creaking, and then tipped onto its side.
Jackson and Juliet joined one of the other soldiers holding onto the railing on the side that was now at the top. The others sprawled on the pavement as the tank lurched after them. "Move," said Jackson, dropping to the ground. He pulled his assault rifle from his back and opened fire on the massive zombie.
Juliet dropped and darted for the relative safety of the traffic stalled on the other side of the divider. She ducked as a soldier came flying across the center divide, slamming into an SUV, whose windows shattered. By the sickening crunch and the limpness of the soldier's body, Juliet knew instinctively that he was dead.
The huge, angry zombie roared at Jackson, moving closer to him even as blood gushed through the zombie's wounds. He was almost within striking distance. Juliet sighed an apology to the soldier that lay sprawled on the SUV's hood and then began to loot his corpse. She helped herself to his assault rifle, handgun, and extra ammunition.
Raising the rifle, she pointed it at the zombie and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. "How does this work?" she shouted at Jackson. This was the wrong thing to do; it attracted a handful of regular-sized zombies towards her. They began streaming between the cars, slowed by the traffic that clogged that side of the bridge.
"Turn off the safety!" Jackson shouted back, ducking under the zombie's punch, which was so powerful that it threw the truck back onto its wheels. This flung Jackson back against the railing and he grunted.
Juliet looked at the weapon. "How?" she asked.
"That switch by your right shoulder! Yes, that one!"
Juliet flicked the switch and raised the rifle, squinting at the oncoming zombies. Her shots went wild, the rifle bucking against her shoulder. She instead turned it around and used it as a club as the zombie lunged for her, crunching his skull. The other zombie, an older woman, staggered over the first zombie's corpse, and Juliet repeated the action.
"Shoot this thing!" Jackson shouted, firing the last of his clip. He ejected it quickly, darting out of the reach of the massive zombie as it climbed up the back of the truck. He slammed another magazine home and raised his weapon, shooting some more.
Juliet raised the rifle, held it more firmly, looked down the sights and opened fire again. This time the bullets hit home, slamming into the hulking zombie and sending blood spraying out his back. She stopped every few seconds when the rifle's kick got the better of her, then repeated until she heard a click. She was out of ammo.
Jackson threw himself over the railing on the far side and ran towards the end of the bridge as Juliet replaced her clip. "Jackson, look out!" she screamed as the Tank hopped down and strained to lift the truck. He turned in time to see it coming at him, and he ducked between a pair of cars just before the truck slammed onto the top and nearly flattened the cars. "Jackson!" she shouted.
The huge zombie turned its attention towards Juliet, looking very much like it wanted to make her bleed as much as it was bleeding now. "Jackson, help!" The big ugly brute launched itself towards her, still frightening though it seemed weak from its wounds. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God!" she moaned and took off across the top of the cars, back towards the airport.