Dr. Amanda Mackenzie zipped herself into the bulky, blue biosafety suit, slipped on her yellow boots, and stepped through the first airtight steel door. She waited for the buzzing sound that signaled the depressurization of the closet-sized room she stood in and the green light that told her the final “Slammer” door was now unlocked. Stepping aside, she waved goodbye to a coworker, secured the door behind her, and watched through a small window as a chemical spray showered the leaving researcher. Next, she attached an air hose, cranked the little yellow handle which allowed fresh air into her suit, and found her place at the lab table where part of the anomaly squirmed in a Petrie dish.

Anomaly suited the object better than moving finger, at least in her scientific mind. After all, a disembodied finger wasn’t supposed to move. Even worse, the body it had been cut from shouldn’t be moving either. Especially since troops found it in a sealed copper sarcophagus confirmed to be at least five thousand years old.

“You ready for the presentation?”

She barely heard the muffled whisper behind her. The biosuits made conversation difficult, even at close distances.

“Guess so, Dan. I hate to drop everything to tell government officials what I don’t know.”

Dan propped a video camera on a tripod and attached a cable to a monitor. “I’ve already got a camera on the zombie–”

“Don’t say that word,” Amanda said. “It’s an anomaly, but hopefully not for long. We only have to find out how the virus works on the corpse’s tissue to solve this riddle.”

“Whatever,” Dan said. “One camera’s on you, one on the anomaly, and I’ll carry another where it’s needed. I’ve got the monitor divided into split screens to focus on one to three different things. The large monitor on the wall will allow you to see the interviewers live from a conference room upstairs. They’ll see what you see on your monitor and if you want to highlight anything, just highlight it with the cursor. Everything’s routed to one computer where I’ll burn it on DVD.”

She glanced around as several researchers and assistants left their stations and formed a line to leave and be decontaminated one by one. Apparently, General Cranton didn’t want the President to think things were too crowded in the Slammer. The Slammer served as a quarantine room for possibly infected workers and to treat and supervise patients suffering from known or unknown pathogens. But until now, all patients had been technically alive. The Slammer’s appearance was unremarkable, nothing like what most people would think a state of the art level-four containment facility would be. White concrete blocks formed the walls around the dark doorframes with their steel or wooden doors. A dull light copper paint colored the floors. Only the yellow and red warning placards provided any bright colors. Hell, she’d been in small town clinics fancier than the Slammer.

This new viral strain caused so much fear among even seasoned researchers that Fort Detrick’s Base Commander decided to keep everything related to the anomaly in one place. With the Slammer rarely in use, they had cleared out one examination room to house the anomaly and converted the other rooms into a high-tech research facility devoted to cracking the new virus. Better to do it that way than risk infecting any of USAMRIID’s other labs or other level-four facilities like The Centers for Disease Control or World Health Organization.

Amanda watched the anomaly lumbering around its secure room. Its brown flesh looked like wrinkled, cracked leather. Brownish crud was packed between its yellowed teeth. Its dried eyes barely moved and the flesh of its neck was too brittle to allow it to turn its head, forcing the anomaly to rotate its entire body to look at something. How could it even see through those eyes? They resembled little deflated balloons floating in dry goo that looked like the filling of those chocolate Cadbury Easter eggs.

“We’re almost good to go,” Dan said. “Hold the headset directly to your biosuit’s hood. The sound’s cranked all the way up, so you shouldn’t have trouble hearing. Your microphone is on the table and is super-sensitive. As long as you speak loudly and clearly they shouldn’t have problems hearing you.”

An image appeared on the large monitor of several men taking seats around a semicircular table. The President sat directly across from the camera with the Secretary of Defense to his right and General Cranton to his left. An elderly man examined the clay tablets that had been found in a smaller copper cylinder inside the anomaly’s sarcophagus.

“You dolts are lucky that soaking these cuneiform tablets in that chemical bath didn’t destroy them.” The old man yelled at Cranton.

“Excuse me Professor Thatcher, but we had to make sure they were properly decontaminated,” General Cranton said. “However, we recently discovered that risk of infection is very low from inanimate objects, but Dr. Mackenzie will fill in the details. Whenever you’re ready, Dr. Mackenzie.”

“What we know is that the virus, the Inanna Strain we’re calling it, only lives outside the host for less than an hour. During that hour, it can be carried to another deceased host through airborne means or through exposure with contaminated objects. However, having vacated the host, the virus is immediately weakened to the point of near non-lethality. But we have found that even the weakest–”

“But, Miss Mackenzie, you just said a new host could become infected.” The President leaned back in his chair and stared into the camera with a squinty, confused look. “But then you said it was non-lethal. Does that mean it can make someone sick? How bad?”

“That’s DOCTOR Mackenzie, Mr. President. But the weakened virus cannot infect a living human. However, it can reanimate dead tissue. So if you have a corpse within an hour’s airborne infectious distance of a living anomaly, said corpse could become infected and reanimated. Or if someone placed a corpse on a surface previously visited by an anomaly within an hour of its leaving.”

The President shook his head and leaned so far back in his chair that Amanda thought he’d flip backward. Others at the meeting glanced at each other, but no one said anything. Amanda remembered having the same feelings of doubt and disbelief, but that was before she came face to face with a walking corpse. She motioned for Dan to get a close up. He moved toward the window. Immediately the thing pounded on the impact resistant glass and gnashed its teeth. Amanda highlighted the image with her cursor and enlarged it until the anomaly’s face filled the entire screen.

“That can’t be possible,” the President said.

“I’ve heard of drugs that can slow and quiet heartbeats to the point that they mimic death. Surely, that must be the case.” The Secretary of Defense said.

Amanda bit her tongue and took a deep breath. “This corpse was found buried under twenty feet of earth in a sealed copper sarcophagus. Objects found with those clay tablets were carbon dated to five thousand years ago. That thing’s heart is shriveled and dried like a leathery prune. But it’s still walking around.”

The President leaned close to the Defense Secretary. The two whispered a quick conversation before the President nodded to a young officer who made a call on his cell phone.

“So this virus can raise the dead.” The President mumbled to himself.

“Excuse me, Mr. President, but I’d like to hear the threats to living people, please continue, Doctor,” Professor Thatcher said.

The President, Secretary of Defense, General Cranton, and especially the two Secret Service guards standing near the door all glared at the professor for his impertinence.

“But first I’d like to hear how she found out about the reanimated tissue.” The President shook his finger into the camera, but an almost perverted smirk curled the sides of his lips. “There had better be nothing immoral about your research.”

Amanda felt her skin crawl from his smile. A smile that turned his moral concern into a lie.

“No Mr. President, I’m not using Seventh Day Adventist conscientious objectors for medical experimentation like Fort Detrick did in the past. We used samples from a cadaver who donated her body to science.” She uncovered a beaker to reveal two more moving fingers. “I placed one finger in a Petrie dish where airborne pathogens reanimated it. I rubbed the other across that window the anomaly’s beating on. Any questions?”

Nothing except shocked faces stared across the monitor screen.

“Very well, now the worst part. We’ve found the Inanna Strain closely related to known viruses belonging to the Filoviradae viral family. Infections from Filoviradae viruses are caused through contact with bodily fluids, blood, vomit, saliva, etc. In this case, we’ve found evidence of brain activity and limited activation of the nervous system. Therefore, it seems that the virus, although it exits in all parts of the anomaly’s body, is strongest and most prevalent in the head. Oral swabs have shown abnormally high pathogen amounts present in spittle-like secretions emitted through its gums. This bodily secretion is highly infectious and could cause infection through a bite or should a scratch or wound come into contact with it.”

“Do you think it’s strong enough to be absorbed through the skin?” General Cranton asked.

Amanda shrugged her shoulders. “As I said earlier, the virus almost immediately weakens to the point of non-lethality once exposed to the air. So unless a deep wound or cut is present, infection through skin contact with the secretion is unlikely. Although someone with a weakened immune system would be at greater risk. We need to do more testing to be sure. The main threat of infection is through an anomaly’s bite. It tries to bite anyone who gets close to it.”

“What about the possibility of a vaccine?” The President asked.

“We don’t know enough about it yet. But hopefully we won’t need one. We’d need to see a living person become infected to replace these theories with facts. But I think we should destroy the anomaly and all samples of the Inanna Strain before that happens.”

“Unacceptable,” The Secretary of Defense said. “It is the mission of USAMRIID to study this stuff to help protect United States troops from infectious or chemical agents. There could be more of those things just waiting to be found and we need a vaccine. Other avenues of opportunity need to be explored.”

Other avenues of opportunity, what the fuck? Amanda shook her head. “But I truly believe that if this virus makes it into the population, it will have a 100 percent fatality rate.”

Another man stepped into view. “Pardon my interruption. I’m Captain Ford, Special Forces, recently appointed to security head for this project. These dead people, whether old dead or recently infected, how would you stop them?”

Amanda paused as two thoughts worked through her mind. She really had no idea. If fingers could live after amputation, couldn’t the whole thing survive unless it was completely destroyed? And why the hell was an unknown Special Forces captain in charge of security for this project? These stupid assholes were really gonna do it. Amanda feared it from the start, but hoped she’d figure out a way to talk them out of it. They wanted to study the Inanna Strain for possible weapons applications.

“Well, Captain, total incineration would work. Seeing that the brain is the only functioning organ, I suppose destroying the head would at the least slow its motor functions.”

“And one more question, ma’am.” Ford said. “The sarcophagus and objects were dated to ancient times, but you couldn’t allow the corpse to be dated without the virus possibly infecting the public. How do you know that this isn’t a modern weapon of mass destruction and that terrorists didn’t stick a new cadaver into an antique sarcophagus?”

“Allow me to field this question,” Professor Thatcher said. “My department carbon dated the artifacts, including samples of copper used to seal the sarcophagus. I can state with 100 percent surety that the sarcophagus was sealed for thousands of years. The Inanna strain isn’t a modern weapon of mass destruction. This anomaly, as you call it, was an icon of religious devotion worshiped by an ancient cult.”

“I know you’re one of the world’s foremost experts on Sumerology and cuneiform writings, but how do you know for sure?” General Cranton asked.

“And what the hell is Sumerology and cuneiformism or whatever?” The President asked.

Thatcher leaned back and sighed audibly. “I study the archaeology and anthropology of the Sumerian culture. Cuneiform is the distinctive wedge-shaped writing of the ancient Near East. Anything else?”

“Please, continue,” General Cranton said.

“I assume most of you know little or nothing about the Goddess Inanna, her descent into the underworld, or what it has to do with your walking corpse, but to make a long story short, here it goes. General Cranton called me three days ago and told me a military unit found the sarcophagus while digging fortifications about thirty miles west of the ancient city of Uruk. Each major Sumerian city-state had its own primary deity; Uruk worshiped Inanna. After the death of her husband, Dumuzi, Inanna descended into the underworld to rescue him. She threatened to raise the dead if Ereshkigal, queen of the underworld, wouldn’t free him. A deal was struck and Inanna never raised the dead. But someone did.”

“Who?” The President asked.

“These tablets told me everything. Ritual prostitution wasn’t getting the Inanna priestesses enough funds. They needed a miracle, something to prove Inanna’s power, and more importantly, increase donations. They sent acolytes to find a powerful wizard living in a cave somewhere in the Zagros Mountains. This wizard would have actually been more an alchemist, herbalist, or something of that nature, a scientist of his day, not a Lord of the Rings type wizard. Whoever he was, he was a genius. Without modern lab equipment or modern knowledge, he created a potion to raise the dead, used his own blood and flesh to nurture it. Something in that potion caused the virus you’ve named the Inanna Strain. I doubt it was an accident; because, according to these tablets, the wizard was famed for Necromancy, raising the dead.”

“And they really did it,” General Cranton said. “We’re looking at the indisputable truth.”

“Oh yes,” Thatcher said, “they did it. In fact, your anomaly is a rival priest from another cult. They murdered him and resurrected him to prove Inanna’s power. But the unthinkable happened, the dead priest bit several worshipers, who in turn bit several more. Luckily, King Gilgamesh, angered because he believed the priestesses insulted his favorite Goddess by mocking her power, split their skulls with his bronze-headed mace. He killed them, living and dead alike, save for one, the priest who had been the king’s friend. Gilgamesh imprisoned the priest, hoping he’d die naturally. But he lived for years without food or water and tried to bite anyone foolish enough to get close. In desperation and anger, Gilgamesh sent warriors to find the wizard and retrieve his secrets or kill him before he could reproduce the potion, but they returned empty handed. Finally, Gilgamesh ordered the priest’s hands, feet, and jaw bound with golden straps and had him sealed in the sarcophagus. Priests placed the tablets in the sarcophagus as both a warning and to tell future generations that living dead could be stopped by wounds to the head. These tablets are a lost chapter from The Epic of Gilgamesh. The King ordered this to be the only copy so that it wouldn’t inspire people to meddle with Godlike power.”

“That’s why I called it The Inanna Strain,” Amanda said. “Professor Thatcher said the tablets were about her, but he never told the whole story.”

“I didn’t want the story to influence your research, but you’re obviously on the right track.”

The President and Secretary of State both leaned toward General Cranton and a brief discussion followed. Cranton shook his head and seemed to grow angry. “You’ll do it or I’ll have you replaced,” the President yelled.

“Amanda,” Cranton said. “The President wants Dan to get a close up shot of the anomaly from within the secure room.”

What part of secure did that retard not understand?

“I’m sorry, Mr. President, but the anomaly is unrestrained because we’ve been monitoring its motor functions and reaction times. Seeing that we’re the only ones in the Slammer, it wouldn’t be safe to send Dan in.”

The secretary of Defense tossed several files across the table. “We’ve got dossiers on several possible replacements. Unless you both want to lose your jobs, I suggest you do as you’re told.”

“I’m a civilian, you’ll not order me like a recruit,” Amanda said.

“But you work for me,” the President said.

“I’m a citizen of The United States of America which means you actually work for me. As long as I control this lab, what I say goes.”

“We’ve already planned for that,” the Secretary of Defense said. “Captain Ford, assemble a team to cordon off the Slammer. Also, I want all civilian and nonessential military employees of Fort Detrick evacuated in less than an hour. All troops under General Cranton’s command are ordered to their barracks or off-base housing. Dr. Mackenzie, you’ve just been fired.”

“This is ludicrous,” Cranton yelled. “This is still my base.”

“Not anymore,” The Secretary of State said. “This command is now under the direct and total control of the President and his advisors. We have our own scientists who are being suited up as I speak to take control of all scientific procedures.”

“How can you do this?” Thatcher asked.

“Because I’m the President.”

“Do you have any further tablets to translate, Professor?” Captain Ford asked.

“I’m finished, in more ways than one.”

“Very well,” Ford said. “You will be escorted to a secured area for debriefing.”

“And I assume this debriefing will last quite a long time.”

“Indefinitely,” Ford said. “That goes for you as well Dr. Mackenzie. Decontaminate immediately, men are waiting outside the Slammer to escort you.”

Amanda sat in silence. How had this happened so quickly? They must have planned this from the beginning. All of the old conspiracy theories she used to laugh at swirled through her mind. Witnesses or even officials who had seen too much were often eliminated. Were they going to eliminate her? She couldn’t barricade herself in the Slammer. There was nowhere to run or hide. Her only chance was to play along, maybe escape or find someone to get a message to the press. All she knew was the Slammer really was a slammer; she didn’t want it to become her tomb.

Amanda sulked toward the decontamination chamber, opened the door, raised her arms, and turned around three times as the decontamination chemicals showered her and cleansed the chamber. Two M-4 armed soldiers waited outside the chamber. A line of four researchers waited several feet away while she removed her boots and biosuit. She tried to see her replacements, but didn’t recognize any.

The soldiers led her to an upstairs office where Professor Thatcher, General Cranton, and most of her colleagues sat around a rectangular table. Most of the desks and other furniture had been removed and the windows covered with black plastic sheeting.

“What the hell is going on?” She yelled to the entire group. Most shrugged their shoulders or shook their heads. Thatcher sat with his elbows on the table and his chin propped atop his clenched fists.

“I don’t even know,” Cranton said. “They went over my head. Sent most of my staff home and evacuated everything except USAMRIID labs and offices. They had a thousand Special Forces troops and private security guards move in after your presentation to make sure everyone left peaceably. They piled everybody into a bunch of trucks and shipped them out in less than fifteen minutes. They’ve brought in anyone who had any knowledge of the anomaly here. They’re even rounding up personnel at their homes.”

“But you’re the base commander. Aren’t protocols in place for something like this?” Amanda asked.

“I’m just a soldier and soldiers follow orders. I received direct orders from the President. They probably trumped up some Department of Homeland Security bullshit, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”

The anger built in Amanda until she punched the wall. “We all signed non-disclosure agreements, anybody who so much as heard a rumor about the anomaly, whether civilian employees or military. Why should we be treated like this? Who in the hell could they have replaced us with anyway. We’re supposed to be the best in our fields.”

Thatcher finished wringing his hands and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m the most disturbed of all, downright scared. I’ve got no immediate family, no close friends, only acquaintances and colleagues. They don’t need–”

“Hold it right there,” Cranton said. “I know this is highly unusual, but don’t jump to conclusions. I don’t see any evidence that any of us are in danger.”

Thatcher’s face reddened and he clenched his fists. “How do you know? If the stakes are high enough or the agenda far-reaching enough, the powerful always seem to get their way. I’m an old man. I could have a heart attack or get in a car accident and no one would question it. All they’ve got to do is cook up some bullshit about the anthrax attacks and they can ship you all to Gitmo indefinitely. That goon, Ford, even said this so-called debriefing could be indefinite. If they really want to tie up loose ends, they’ll pull a false flag terrorist attack. You’ll all be shown on television as either heroic victims or terrorists. What a crock of–”

Cranton jumped up and sent his chair slamming against the wall. “Listen you crazy conspiracy crackpot. I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’ll not allow you to start a panic. Let’s just stay calm until the debriefing.”

“The professor’s right,” Amanda said. “We’re up shit creek and we all know it, including you, general. We didn’t do anything wrong and we’re being treated like traitors. We’ve been replaced by bootlickers who I didn’t even recognize. There are only a handful of people in the country qualified to enter the Slammer under these conditions. Everyone qualified at USAMRIID is already here or being rounded up. If the President won’t trust us, he sure as hell wouldn’t trust anybody from the CDC or WHO. We need to be concerned for our safety in more ways than what Professor Thatcher suggests. We need to worry about what those amateurs are going to screw up.”

“She’s right,” a lab assistant, John, said. “If the Inanna Strain is released because of incompetence . . . I’ve got a family only three miles from here.”

“I . . . I still don’t understand why,” Cranton said. “This isn’t the way things are done. Why?”

“Because a dead body is walking around in a government-funded laboratory.” Thatcher flopped back into his chair as if the exhausting argument had taken years off his already elderly life. “They’re probably already calling scientists from pharmaceutical companies. Dollar signs are flashing in their eyes and military drumbeats pounding in their ears. What drugs, cures, or life extending treatments could be made from chemicals derived from this virus? What good would an army of the dead be in practical modern warfare?”

“And now they want to weed out who will stand up to them and who will join them,” Amanda said.

The door opened and Dan stumbled into the room. He backed into the corner and slid to the floor. “They don’t need me anymore so they brought me here. They really did it.”

“Did what?” Amanda asked.

“That cadaver you cut the finger from, they put it in the room with the anomaly. First, it bit her, but it didn’t like either the meat not being fresh or the chemicals used to preserve it because he spat it out. It still infected the corpse, a corpse damn it. It got up five minutes later. They put another cadaver in an adjoining room. I don’t know how it happened, but that body got up too. I think it was the moaning.”

Amanda knelt next to the almost hysterical man and held his hand. “What about the moaning?”

“The anomaly occasionally emitted that loud moan. You remember, whaaaa? I think it was calling for help or trying to speak with other dead. But when both dead couldn’t reach the third cadaver, their moans changed to a low whoooo sound. It was like a blowing sound. I think they blew the virus into the room.”

Amanda stood and faced the group. “So they’re not just dumb brutes. At the very least, they have instinct, possibly intelligence even . . . an agenda, the basic need to reproduce their kind.”

“That’s not the worst part.” Dan said. “Those stupid pricks don’t have much experience talking in biosuits. They were yelling louder than necessary and I heard the leader mention bringing in a living subject. I think they want to infect a human being.”

“What do we do?” A woman asked.

“We know this place like the backs of our hands,” Amanda said. “We break out and get to the press. Some of us might make it out. After they check our credentials, the press will have to believe us.”

Ford burst through the door and glared at the group one by one. “We have a dozen of your colleagues en route to the debriefing location. The implications of this discovery are of monumental importance to this nation. We have to see if you’re on board with the official agenda.”

“And what if we’re not?” Amanda asked.

“You’ll spend many years in a place that makes Gitmo look like a five star resort.”

“If you want to hang me out dry, go ahead,” Cranton said. “But these scientists have exemplary records.”

“And you all will continue to have your careers and lives as long as you play ball.”

“Can’t I talk some sense into you people?” Amanda asked. “I don’t know what your plans are, but you’re about to open Pandora’s Box.”

“You’re not playing ball, Dr. Mackenzie. You’ve all just walked into black ops territory. Nobody really believed what you had until we saw it with our own eyes. But we still formulated a contingency plan just in case. Details are way above all your security clearances combined. That is unless you take the same deal others took before you when they stumbled upon things that should not exist or things that fell outside congressional, judicial, or constitutional control. Things like Roswell, does that ring any bells? One last thing, if any of you try to leave, my men have orders to shoot to kill. I even have sniper teams deployed.”

Frantic pounding reverberated through the door followed by a frightened voice. “Captain Ford, sir, there’s a situation developing.”

Ford slammed the door behind him. Amanda listened at the door, but heard nothing. Christ, those goons didn’t even make it an hour before they screwed things straight to hell. She jumped when the shrill alarms sounded a major containment breech.

“Getting out of here is no longer a debate,” Thatcher said. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

“This isn’t what I swore an oath to defend,” Cranton said. “They played us for fools all along. I guess I was blind all my life, but no time to bitch about that now. Black ops guys are a nasty bunch. We may have to kill to escape. Do any of you have a problem with that?”

“How quickly your tune has changed,” Thatcher said.

Cranton looked at the entire group with rage trembling in his eyes. “Unlike those assholes out there, I took my oath to my country and constitution seriously. To protect them from all enemies, foreign and domestic.”

The scientists all looked at each other without saying a word. Amanda knew what they were thinking. The same thoughts crept through her mind. They were doctors, scientists, not killers. What about the damn Hippocratic oath? Hell with Hippocrates, he was long dead and Amanda wanted to live.

“I’ll do what I have to do,” Amanda said. “We’ve got to get word to the public.”

“And I’ve got to get to my family,” John said.

“We all do,” said another.

“I’ll check what’s going on outside,” a scientist said as she rushed to the window and tore down a piece of plastic sheeting before Cranton could stop her. A small hole cracked through the window and her pulped brain exploded through the back of her head along with a misty spray of blood and purplish-blue brain matter. She didn’t fly backward like in the movies. Her head flopped back and she collapsed almost straight down, landed on her ass and slumped backward with arms and legs splayed wide.

The youngest assistant, Cindy, ran screaming toward the door, but Amanda caught her around the waist and pulled her to the floor. No other shots came. But Cindy’s cries sounded over the blaring alarm. A fecal stench drifted from the body and soon mixed with the aroma of vomit as a technician named Toshiro splattered his lunch across the table.

Other screams soon joined Cindy’s. Only these cries echoed through the door. Gunfire and the thunder of fleeing footsteps followed.

Dan handed Amanda a small DVD. “I compromised my own biosuit to smuggle that out. It’s the recording of the presentation showing the President, Defense Secretary, and the anomaly. It’s the damn smoking gun that will blow the lid off this. I was gonna use it to save my ass, but you’re right, word has to get out. You’ve got the credentials to be taken seriously.”

Amanda slipped the disc into her pocket and nodded.

“We’ve got to get out of here now. I’ve got goodies in my office to use for a diversion,” Toshiro said while wiping vomit from his chin.

“What goodies?” Cranton asked.

“I’m a rocket hobbyist. I’ve got rocket fuel.”

“You know that storing flammable or explosive materials in your office is against base regulations,” Cranton said.

Toshiro laughed and flipped the general off. “So fire me. Oh wait, somebody already did.”

“What’s the plan?” Amanda asked.

Cranton cleared his throat. “Toshiro’s office is down the hall and to the right. Better yet, It’s only a couple doors down from Lab 4-B. They use a lot of oxygen tanks in that lab . . .”

*****

Cranton ripped the door open and slammed the improvised club, made from a table leg, across the bridge of the first guard’s nose. Dan and three other men rushed past and tackled the other guard before he could raise his M-4 rifle. Cranton finished his guard with a knee to the groin and an open palmed thrust to his nose, ramming his shattered nasal bone into his brain. The other guard tossed Dan and John off his back and squeezed off a short burst that ripped through a scientist’s stomach. Kicking the gun aside, Cranton cracked the edge of his club into the guard’s forehead, dropped to his knees, tossed the club aside, gripped the sides of the man’s head, and twisted. The audible crack of his neck reverberated in Amanda’s ears.

Toshiro took one M-4 and handed the other to Cranton while Dan took Cranton’s club and started stripping spare magazines from the two guards’ pouches. The dead guard had a Baretta M-9 pistol that Dan handed to Amanda along with two spare magazines. She pulled the weapon’s slide back slightly to check that a round was chambered and tucked the two mags in her pocket.

“Glad to see you know how to use it,” Cranton said.

“My dad taught me to shoot his .45 when I was twelve. I think I can handle a puny nine millimeter.”

Cindy removed her lab coat and pressed it to the wounded man’s belly. In seconds, the white coat turned into a soggy crimson lump of cloth as their colleague bled to death.

Cranton led Toshiro and Dan to Toshiro’s office while Amanda guided the rest through the hallways leading to the open stairwell descending to the lobby of USAMRIID labs. Luckily, the gunfire hadn’t attracted more guards. From the screams and shooting still blaring from downstairs, Ford’s troops had their hands full.

Peeking around the corner and over the edge of a short glass wall, Amanda looked down into the lobby and noted six guards. Still, a long walkway separated them from the stairs. Short, impact resistant glass walls lined the walkway on either side. Unfortunately, the impact resistant rating didn’t include 5.56mm ball ammunition.

Elevator doors opened in the lobby and four disheveled troops stumbled out. “We’re running out of ammo,” a soldier said. “We shoot them and they just keep coming.”

Amanda almost laughed. Ford knew how to kill them. Was he dumb enough to have forgotten, or dead?

“One of them tore a chunk out of Fred.”

Amanda’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the blood soaked bandage wrapped around his arm. How long ago had he been bitten? When would he turn?

“He’s acting really funny. We need to get a medic.”

The bitten soldier slumped to the floor. His friends gathered around, joined by two of the guards.

Half of Amanda wanted to warn them, but they had to get past the guards.

Gripping one of his buddies around the neck, the now dead soldier pulled him forward and bit out his throat. The wounded man jumped back with blood flowing through his clenched fingers. While the others stepped back, the dead man clutched another’s ankle, pulled him down, and chewed a chunk from the back of his leg. Four guards formed a line and each fired a three-round burst into his chest. A guard pressed against his friend’s throat wound with his bare hand, but his buddy died in a fit of twitching limbs. Seconds later, the dead man bit the hand that had tried to save him.

Impossible, Amanda thought, only seconds between death and rebirth. Of course, the infection would spread quicker if major blood vessels transported the virus throughout a victim, even if that victim only had seconds to live. No wonder Ford’s men were having such a hard time.

“You’re all safe,” Cranton said. “We heard the gunfire and I thought they got you.”

“The dead are active. It’s a massacre downstairs.” Amanda said.

The three men all carried four Snapple bottles with damp rags tied around them. Toshiro pointed to a bulging bag draped over his shoulder. “Hastily improvised smoke bombs. They’ll either conceal us from the snipers or kill us from the fumes. And seeing we’re no longer scientists, I’m gonna start calling these anomalies zombies.”

“Whatever,” Amanda said.

Cranton peeked into the lobby. “Shit, what a mess, but we’ve only got about thirty seconds until hell breaks loose. We’ll take the lobby and toss out the smoke bombs. You’ll be OK under the concrete canopy outside the doors. But then stay down and everybody run along the wall to the tower, then cross the road to the USAMRIID sign. Use that for cover until I can take out the guards by the Humvees. Oh, and plug your ears right about . . . now.”

An explosion rocked the building, followed by a fireball blasting down a far hall. Immediately, Dan and Toshiro lit the rags on two Molotov cocktails while Cranton burst around the corner and opened fire on the distracted guards below. Two dropped immediately. When two others raised their rifles at Cranton, Dan and Toshiro lobbed the Molotovs. Flames erupted around the soldiers’ feet and engulfed their legs. Toshiro bounded forward, raced along the walkway, and emptied his M-4 while screaming like Rambo, but didn’t hit anything but floor and wall. Dan lobbed another Molotov, which exploded against a zombie’s chest.

With the flames spreading and all the guards or zombies dead or dying, the group raced down the stairs. In the lobby, Thatcher coughed and stumbled as the black, putrid smoke enveloped the room. Amanda helped him up. Toshiro, Dan, and Cranton all hurled improvised smoke bombs. The chemicals ignited and plumes of yellowish-green smoke drifted upward and across the street between the building and large USAMRIID sign.

Amanda led Thatcher and the small group of scientists out and kept them pressed to the wall and behind the tower that jutted from the building.

The four soldiers guarding the Humvees, already alerted by the gunfire and flames inside the lobby, advanced through the putrid smoke with their weapons shouldered. A long burst from Cranton’s rifle cut one down and sent the others for cover. Before the soldiers reached the sign, Toshiro and Dan both hurled the last of the Molotovs between the men and the sign. Another burst from Cranton tore through a fleeing soldier’s back.

Amanda’s group ran across the street. Dan and Toshiro tossed their last smoke bombs between the sign and the Humvees before sprinting across to join Amanda. The thinning smoke from the first bombs no longer concealed their movements. Toshiro’s forehead caved in and his head flopped back. A misty crimson cloud still lingered in the air after Toshiro’s body collapsed in a heap. Dan rolled and landed next to Thatcher.

Concrete dust erupted from the canopy’s beam that provided Cranton cover from the two soldiers’ return fire. Both the sniper and soldiers had him pinned down. Amanda needed to help. She inched to the edge of the sign and peered around. The nearest soldier was less than twenty feet away. Light from the burning fuel illuminated his face, just a kid, probably no older than nineteen. This was life or death, no time for hesitation. She aimed and fired three shots. Her first bullet punched through his left eye and the others caved in his face between the eyes and blew his nose off in several pulpy fragments.

The other soldier spun toward her, but Cranton’s fire spun him around. “Oh shit,” the soldier cried as he dropped his rifle and stumbled forward three feet before falling on his face.

“We gotta go,” Dan said. “The smoke’s almost aired out.”

“You go for the second Humvee,” Amanda said. “I’ll fill up the first and head for the exit. You take everybody else and pick up Cranton. Got it?”

Dan nodded.

“Move it,” Amanda yelled and ran around the sign in a low crouch. Instead of going around, Amanda led them directly through the last swirls of putrid smoke. Thatcher’s labored breathing echoed in her ears until a choking gurgle replaced it. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed Thatcher staggering away with a fountain of arterial blood spraying from his neck. A scientist rushed to Thatcher’s side and soon his brains splattered across the dying professor and the parking lot.

Only ten feet to go, Amanda’s heart thudded and the pungent smoke burned her eyes and throat. Suddenly, a scientist only two feet behind her clutched his chest and lurched sideways, knocking John to the ground with him.

Amanda reached the first Humvee as gunfire erupted behind her. Dropping for cover and turning, she saw that the shooting wasn’t at her. Cranton fired over the Humvees toward the water tower. Of course, it was the perfect sniper’s perch; the old white water tower provided a view of the entire area. Concrete erupted from a bullet impact only a couple inches from Cranton’s face, but he fired until his weapon ran dry.

Cindy pulled the now limping John toward the Humvee’s rear door and Amanda climbed into the driver’s seat. “Somebody get on the machine gun,” Amanda yelled as she slammed down the gas pedal. “Shoot at the water tower.”

John climbed up but fumbled with the weapon. “I see the bullets in the side so I know it’s loaded, but how do I shoot it.”

Cindy climbed next to him and pulled the .50 caliber away. “Didn’t you see the last Rambo movie?” A huge muzzle flash belched from the weapon as the small woman blasted away. Amanda watched the tracer rounds streaking toward the water tower followed by sparks as the bullets slammed into the tank and sent small fountains squirting from the bullet holes.

“Give it to ‘em. Give it to ‘eee–”

Cindy screamed as John’s corpse slumped into the Humvee leaving a bloody streak across her skirt and legs. Luckily, Dan sped his own Humvee behind them with Cranton returning fire from his own .50 caliber.

Dozen’s of figures stumbled from USAMRIID labs and flooded the parking lot. Some had burning clothes from the raging fire in the lobby. But not all were stopping to drop and roll. A wave of dead flooded over the living. A ball of flame exploded from the lab’s roof and roiled into the night sky. Ford had lost his battle with the dead and Amanda wondered if he was one of the staggering zombies.

“Watch where you’re going,” Cindy screamed.

Amanda swerved as an eight-wheeled armored vehicle drove into her path. She recognized it as a Stryker, but this had a freakin’ cannon like a tank on top. Flooring the Humvee, she raced toward the base gate with Dan’s Humvee close behind. A massive flash erupted from the Stryker’s mounted 105mm howitzer and Dan’s Humvee disintegrated in a blast of flames and debris. The shock lifted the back of Amanda’s Humvee, but she regained control as she passed the guardhouse. Another shell blasted a shower of bricks, glass, and part of a sign, which had once read WELCOME TO FORT DETRICK, around the fleeing vehicle. Amanda raced into the city streets and hoped they were out of sight.

Ditching the Humvee a block from Cindy’s house, the frightened women crept from yard to yard until they met Cindy’s boyfriend by his truck. Amanda borrowed Cindy’s car and advised her to leave town. Cindy’s boyfriend only looked at the flames rising above Fort Detrick and pointed to the back of his pickup, already loaded with food, camping equipment, and supplies.

On her way to her friend Jill’s house, Amanda noticed the President’s helicopter flying low toward Washington, D.C. Amanda had never been into the geeky side of computer technology, but Jill and her boyfriend were as nerdy as they came.

As soon as Amanda pulled into the driveway, Jill ran out. “You’re all over television. The cops are after you. They say you sabotaged USAMRIID labs.”

Amanda handed Jill the Disc. “Watch that if you want the truth. I think the authorities will soon have their hands full.”

Jill and her boyfriend watched the DVD with wide eyes. Amanda half-expected them to think she was nuts. She’d think it herself if she hadn’t lived it.

Jill started copying DVD’s while her boyfriend looked up the addresses for every major news outlet. While Amanda stuffed the DVD’s into envelopes, Jill put copies of the film on several internet sites and emailed copies to friends and alternative news sources. One way or another, the word would get out.

“Check it out,” Jill’s boyfriend yelled from the living room. “Presidential news conference about the,” he made sarcastic quotation mark signs with his fingers, “terrorist attack on Fort Detrick. It’s a fuckin’ zombie attack, morons.”

The Secretary of Defense finished his statement while the President lingered behind him. “Yes, the President and I witnessed the attack. A good many brave young men gave their lives.”

“What were you doing there?” A reporter asked.

“A top secret debriefing.”

“And what about the reports starting to come in about zombies roaming the streets near Fort Detrick?”

“Conspiracy theories to detract from the truth. If you believe stories about the walking dead, then you’re buying into terrorist propaganda. Zombies, get real.”

Cameras flashed and reporters rose when the President stepped toward the podium. Instead of reaching for the microphone, he grabbed the Defense Secretary, sank his teeth into his throat, and ripped out a fleshy chunk. Reporters fell silent as the Defense Secretary’s shirt turned from white to crimson and blood arced from his severed arteries. The President pushed the podium over and toppled into the crowd, biting any unfortunate reporters within reach. Instead of dragging the President off the reporters, the Secret Service guards pulled away any reporters who attempted to defend themselves, allowing the President to bite several more. Soon, The Secretary of Defense stumbled to his feet and started chomping his own way through the crowd.

Before the last reporter fled, Amanda noticed a Band-Aid on the President’s hand. It must not have been more than a scratch, but deep enough for the virus to enter the bloodstream. Amanda looked out the window. Flames from the now uncontrollable fire at Fort Detrick glowed across the night sky. Cars and pedestrians packed the normally quiet street. Screams and gunshots echoed from nearby. The Inanna Strain was spreading beyond control.