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Chapter 3: Containment
Posted By: Spencer Gregoire
Date: 21 November 2008, 1:16 am
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Chapter 3: Containment
"You cannot kill them; you will only make them stronger."
Military scientist Jacob Mathers nearly vomited. The overpowering stench of rotting flesh was enough to kill a man without help from the tentacles.
"What did we get ourselves into now?" Jacob held his breath, and fought back a wave of nausea, he felt his head spinning. Then the world stopped, and he composed himself.
"Doctor, are you ok?" The Doctor had nearly forgotten about the reason he was here. He needed to tell all he had been able to gather in the past few hours.
"I'm fine, what is the status of the infected areas?"
"The Infected have been contained in the town, for now. Please doctor, we need all of the information you can give us." The Major was right. There was a reason he was here.
"Well, much of the knowledge I have is based on limited intelligence. So bear in mind that what I say may only be partially true." The Major, along with his staff, nodded, they understood. "Roughly three days ago, an unknown object crash landed about five miles from the town. Nothing was thought of it. Later examination reveled a calcium based substance which was found to be identical to the specimens we have recovered." Jacob pointed to the dead carcass of one of the larger man shaped forms.
"How about their Physiology, they way they move, the way they fight?" The Major was obviously uncaring about where they came from or what they were made of. He wanted to know how to kill them.
"Very well," Jacob walked over to the dead form on the table, so far he had termed these forms grunts. "These are what I have termed grunts, or combat forms if you prefer." They are basically humans that have been mutated into the ultimate boxer. They grow a large spiked tentacle, and evolve the muscles and tendons to be more robust allowing for increased mobility. They do not seem to be using weapons thus far, but that could very easily change." The Major nodded, Jacobs could tell he had the man's interest. But, the Major also betrayed a hint of worry in his expression. Almost as if he could hear the bad news coming. The Major decided to preempt this.
"So, they seem to be dimwitted grunts that cannot use a weapon. I have a hard time believing that they are that easy to deal with." Annoyance riddled his voice, Jacobs could not stall anymore; he had to tell him the bad news.
"Despite their apparent lack of inelegance, they have a firm grasp on basic coordination. They also appear to be come more coordinated as they assimilate more minds. They can also learn very well. They learned to stay out of the open when our bombers began to make runs. They learned to rely on ambush when outnumbered."
Jacobs had actually rehearsed how to say the next part. There was no easy way to tell a commander that his men were useless. "Major, there is no easy way to say this. But your men are teaching them how to wage war. Much like how antibiotics will eventually breed super bugs." The Major was about to lose it.
"What are you trying to tell me? Whatever your point is, you need to make it fast." His hands balled into a fist, he grasped the chair he sat in with anger.
"Major, your men will try, but they will ultimately fail. Unless every one of these things is all kill at once, the Infected will persist forever. Your men cannot kill them; your men will only make them stronger." The words hit him hard, his gazed softened. Jacobs detected a slight sagging in the commander's shoulders. Those words should have pushed him over the edge, but the Major was a smart man. He knew that the facts were clear.
The silence continued for another minute, then the Major let loosed a defeated sigh, followed by: "So," He paused, looked around the room. He saw the grim future ahead of them. "What are you suggesting we do?"
There was no real silver bullet. Jacob had a solution, one that would obliterate the infected in one fell swoop. However, this solution would have everlasting consequences for future generations. "We need to launch a nuke, and we need to do it before these things become to smart for us to contain.
Sergeant Randal woke to the same tent he had fallen asleep in. The Blackness of sleep faded, he examined the ceiling. He'd not been in this place one day, and he was already missing the barracks. He braced his hands against the cold stainless steel bed cage, pushed his body up till he was sitting upright. Then he reached a tired had and rubbed the back of his neck, he shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and then brought his feet down to the dirt floor. The six foot National Guardsman briskly dawned his armor, and then strode quickly from the door. The late afternoon sky was being overtaken by a shroud of darkness.
"Sir, the men are armored and armed, as you ordered. Those zombies are not getting past us." Randal qualified his statement with an approving nod, then spun on his heels and went off to inspect the lines further. At first glance these creatures were anything but intelligent. But when the intelligence was passed down from the doctor, Randal realized that Complacency would be the death of them.
The clump of trees about two hundred meters ahead of them would provide a perfect staging point for an attack from the infected. The Major had ordered bombing runs to soften the city, afterwards he had made sure that at least three hundred men were ready to defend this weak point, and others like it.
"Keep those guns ready; don't let them catch us off guard." The men gawked; they had obviously not understood the severity of the situation.
"Sir, these things, they are not that huge of a threat" He paused, as if only trying to convince himself. "Are they?" Randal crouched down alongside the trooper; he could see the anticipation in his eyes. So far, the soldier had been able to hold on the firm belief that these grubs were nothing more then the slow moving mutants seen in so many zombie movies.
"Private, I'd suggest you keep that gun loaded. That's all I am going to say."
Randal needed his men ready, but he did not need them to be nervous wrecks. In the spirit of being ready, Randal thumbed the release button on the M4 assault carbine. He made sure the clip was full. Randal then slammed the full clip into carbine.
A tug in his self-conscious brought his attention to the tree line. Several collections of motions brought his attention to the tree line. Randal then realized too late that he had made on critical error. There was a small valley that ran from the woods in front of them to a perfect position for an attack on Randal's undefended rear guard. He cursed the oversight, Randal did not yet have time to fortify his rear flank. Frankly he did not feel the action was necessary. The Trees ahead vomited hundreds of figures. Dozens of Mutated humans emerged from hiding in their rear. The outnumbered and surrounded men would not stand a chance; the containment would soon be broken.
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