Whispers And Fact

No one has been able to learn anything about this infection. During one of our little community rendezvous Dad managed to trade some stuff for a hand-crank radio. We have been listening on it, picking up local transmissions of Cedar's Underground, or at least that's what they call themselves. So far there have been twelve radio operators discussing subjects amongst themselves, and on behalf of Cedar City,  and for all they know, the entire world. One of them is a bit of an eavesdropper.

He prides himself on listening to the cross chatter over the air, and on sneaking a listening ear in the right places. Part of me questions who he could really be, if he has an agenda, if what he's telling us is some weird propaganda, or if there is any truth to it.

I have resolved to check it out for myself . . . surprise! If and when I return I will tell you what I've learned.

[Two hours later] (I wrote that)

And he's back. So what did I do? I went creeping. Was I scared to death? OH YEAH. Did I happen upon some info? I did.

I  waited til it was dark. Real dark. No moon out tonight, kind of overcast - perfect. I dressed in my gray sweats, and a dark shirt. I wore a dark cap. I rubbed some mud on my face and hands. Then I stood in the darkness, trying not to piss myself, and wondering what I was doing outside, in the dark, in this environment.

"This is stupid." I said. "Stupid!"
Then, something in my head spoke up. Sounded like my Dad, "Commit to it, son."
It was true. I was in the dark. I was dressed up. Camouflaged. Perfect night. Fairly quiet. I assumed (always a dangerous thing to do) that the military, because they were on the lookout for Zed, weren't using infrared.

I'm not sure that was a good assumption.

I went for it. I crept by the houses, went through yards, avoided light (who the crapper leaves their lights visible at night, anyway?), and made my way toward the highest concentration of military in the area. Yeah.

As I creeped by several groups of Marines I caught snippets like, "Her butt is how round?" Followed by the proper gesticulations. Or ". . . drank 17 beers that evening, then went on a tequila binge . . ." And my personal favorite, "The Hulk could totally smash the moon to pieces . . ."

I climbed up to a better vantage point, and started keeping an eye out for the guy in the tie. After eyeing several trailers, I finally saw the guy. The same one who gave me the day pass. He walked in a brisk stride from one trailer to another. The Marines seemed relatively at ease, but this guy looked like he had business. He entered a trailer, shut the door, and stayed there.

I made my way down from my perch, snuck to the trailer, heart beating so hard I knew everyone could hear it, and tucked myself away in a snug spot near the wheel base. I listened hard. Don't quote me, and don't ask me whose voice is whose. I couldn't distinguish, and I couldn't peek in a window.

" . . . to be accelerated?"
"He didn't say."
"With that swarm last week I thought we were all dead."
"There would have been an airlift evacuation."
"Just for us? How could they do that? The civilians, the Marines."
"They always lift us out first. We're Green Zone. The Marines are used to that. The civilians are used to being next. They would have watched our chopper disappear into the horizon, hoping that the evacuation would come in the next few minutes."
"Only it wouldn't."
"No. No. Our resources are precious. They won't be wasted on the civilian population."
"So what? We set up a situation like a last stand, and write off the casualties?"
"Listen to you. You sound like you care."

There was a long enough silence that I could tell the guy was thinking carefully about what to say next.

"I am committed to the cause."
"I know you are." It's like I could feel the guy trying to change the subject in his mind. My gut said the wishy washy fella will get left behind when the wave breaks on Cedar City.
"But the problem here isn't acceleration, it's the nature of the beast. The way the infection is spread. The disease is a genius idea, and flawlessly executed, but it's not anything airborne, or transferable by touch, or even a blood borne pathogen. It's transferred by the saliva. Don't ask me why."
I shivered. I think if that freak had his choice he'd have just bombed us all with Ebola, and let us all die. I was scared, cold in spite of the heat, cramped in my little space, and sick to my stomach with what I was hearing.

When my leg finally woke up I limped out from under there. That's when I heard, "You see that?"
"What?"
"Lock 'n' load. Follow me."
I laid in the field, just a few feet from the trailer. I knew I had been spotted.
"What's going on Chase?"
"Peck said he saw something."
"I'm bored."
Another "lock 'n' load."
Then two more.
You thought my heart was hammering before? I lay on my chest, but I swear I was bouncing up and down on the ground. It was only moments before they spotted me.
I lay still as death, breathing slowly even though it hurt.
Five Marines tromping around me, weapons live. One guy stood over me a good ten seconds, scanning around, flashlight beaming. All he had to do was look down. I'm still not sure if the wetness on my suit is sweat, or a reaction to a boot next to my face.

"You got anything Chase?"
"Negative. Guiterrez?"
"Nada."
"I'm thirsty!" said one to my left. The Marine standing over me shined his flashlight in that direction, and walked away.
I listened harder than I had listened at the trailer, or at the door of the science fair judges in the ninth grade. When I could hear no footsteps on the field, when the steady drone of meatheads filled the air, I crawled backwards for too long to count. When I was in a nice, dark, quiet area I got up, dusted off, and walked home doing my best not to cry.

Sneaking back into the house was easy. Dad has finally achieved some peace with this world, so he sleeps again. I'm still wearing the same thing. I just had to write while I still remembered.

Let's check the facts.

A.) The zombie pandemic is caused by infection, infection spread by bites.
      Confirmed.

B.) Few people believe it's coincidence, or nature sharpening her lethal sword. The spectre of a disease that can both reanimate the dead, and cause the extinction of mankind is magical, something that belongs in the realm of super science. People are not buying that this is a natural occurrence, and I know why. It's engineered. Confirmed.

C.) The strong presence of military, their response time, the highly organized nature of their occupations, and their lines of loyalty pointing to a mysterious higher power has the citizens suspicious of who is in control. The President, most of both houses, and the Supreme Court are either missing or dead. Confirmed.

D.) No one has been named as the leader, yet it is obvious that there is strong leadership at every level. Confirmed.

E.) The presence of the military is not benign. There is a design. To me that is a fact. They have yet to retaliate, at least out in the open, to the wandering vagabonds in the city. But no one has been able to confirm that the machine gun fire occurring nightly is not directed at the living.

I enjoy conspiracy, design, subversive material, what have you. I can't tell if I accept it simply because I don't know what's going on, or if it is the stuff that makes the most sense. It seems to make the most sense. Bogeymen in white shirts and ties. Man do I sound like a contemporary moron. Blame it on Wall  Street! Old money, maybe; Wall Street - no. I can't buy that. I've always thought the bad guys, the real ones, were behind the scenes. They were off the radar.

Strong possibility.

Gives me the creeps to think about, but I'm not alone in this. I can't tell if I want a ham radio so I can talk to this guy, or if I want to continue to be unimportant.

I'm a long-term thinker. I want to see this to its conclusion.

Great. I got dust all over my blanket.

Goodnight.