“Our latest estimates show that North America suffered an infection rate of close to ninety-five percent. Sadly, we are also aware that many uninfected people have perished. We have calculated that there are less than fifteen million people left alive in our nation.”
The young man swallows hard before continuing.
“One hundred and twenty million people have died, and an additional two hundred and twenty million have risen as zombies. The army has culled the numbers of the undead, and estimates are that they have destroyed up to fifty million of them, but the numbers remain staggering.”
He fixed his glasses yet again.
“I been instructed to share these details with you to impress upon you that there are very few living, uninfected people left. We need any survivors out there to work together. Please, do not see other survivors as enemies or threats. There are plenty of supplies for all those that remain. Honour President Clarkston’s wishes, and help each other. Help us rebuild the nation.”
“We urge those people in major metropolitan cities to leave these areas as soon as you can, as the cities are overrun by the undead. For the rest of you, please stay indoors. Hide, and stay safe.”
“Please stay tuned for further instructions. We will repeat this broadcast every four hours. Thank you and good luck.” And with a nod from the spokesman the broadcast ended.
Ethan relayed as much as he could remember about what he had seen. The group sat in silence. Some people crossed themselves. Their President was dead.
“Hey.” Craig looked around him. “People, please.” He stood up. “I know this is hard. But what we need to do now is exactly like our president asked, God bless his soul.”
He was met with silence.
“We are alive. We have a safe place, that we made safer today. And we can do more!”
Still there was no response. Craig slowly sank back down to his seat.
It was Ethan who stood up next. He walked over to John. “Hey, mister. Miller... I’d like to learn how to shoot a gun. Do you think you can teach me?”
“Me too!” Christine shot out of her seat, before Joe or Rachel could say anything.
Another half a dozen people made their interest known over the next minute, so John decided that his first instructional class could start right away.
Keith was also approached. Several people, including Emily, Patrick and Rosa were interested in learning self-defence. They set up a training facility in the gym downstairs that evening.
The rest of the group decided to collectively head to the media room and try to catch the re-broadcast from the government bunker.
Ethan was happy to set the tv up for the group. Once he was done, he made his way down the stairs to where John was starting to teach basic gun handling and safety. As he walked down the stairs, he thought about Channel Eight.
Ethan had been following the newscasts religiously since this all got started. The local news channel: Channel Eight had been his primary source of news, and the tv at home had been continuously tuned to that station. Ethan had a huge crush on their news anchor, Tammy Jensen. He figured that he surely wasn’t the only one. Tammy was strikingly beautiful. And those eyes...
As he got to the bottom of the stairs, he wondered about what happened to her...
Chapter Thirty
Tammy
October 28, 9:50AM
The sound of gunshots in the distance stirred Tammy from her slumber. The room around her was dark and silent. She sat up and swung her legs off the edge of her bunk. The concrete floor felt painfully cold to her bare feet. The sharp sting to the soles helped to bring her into wakefulness. She looked around in the dark room and could barely make out the other cots.
The rest of her team had voluntarily moved into the quarantine building last night.
They were more than just her team. They were very close friends – or even a family. Tammy had been there for their weddings and their divorces. She had a brief fling with Pete, the editor and they had both come to the realization that they were better friends than lovers. She remembered Becky, and the miscarriage. Tammy and the rest of the team had supported Becky through that, and the almost inevitable collapse of her marriage that followed a few months later.
So many memories... Tammy put her head in her hands and allowed the tears to come. She sat there for the next minute, weeping silently.
The sound of another gunshot brought Tammy out of her reminiscence and back to the present.
The sound of gunshots was a common occurrence at the safe zone, especially the last couple of days. While the number of the remaining soldiers had dwindled to a few dozen, the number of zombies surrounding the safe zone had increased exponentially. It became a security risk to have so many undead pressing in on the fences, so the soldiers were actively clearing the undead.
The hordes had to be culled. Tammy surmised. Too bad there seem to be an unending number of zombies, while our soldiers are dwindling rapidly.
Tammy frowned, momentarily stuck on the word ‘culling’.
This whole plague. This syndrome. ... Was it a culling of mankind?
She shook her head to get rid of the idea.
Tammy pulled on her socks, got up and put on jeans and a t-shirt. No blouse and skirt required anymore since her blossoming career as a news anchor had come crashing down.
Along with the rest of the world.
She quickly brushed her teeth in the small sink and stared at herself in the mirror for a second. She looked tired. No spark in those blue eyes anymore. She considered pulling her hair into a ponytail but decided to let her dark hair hang down over her shoulders. She put on sneakers and walked over to the door leading out of her Quonset style
