The Lost Journal Part 2 (A Secret Apocalypse Story) Read Online Free PDF Page A

been dragged behind him.
    His weapon,
an M4 carbine with an infra red scope and a 40mm grenade launcher was still
gripped in his hand. The hand was still attached to most of his arm. It was several
feet away on the other side of the footbridge.
    Now the thing
was slowly turning back towards me. It was crawling. But then it got back up.
    I took a
step back. My heart stopped.
    When they get
back up. A human. A person that in all probability should be dead. Someone that
has been blown apart, their legs shattered and their guts and major organs
hanging out in the world. When they get back up…
    It shook me
to my core.
    If I wasn’t
a trained soldier, if it wasn’t just a reflex, I probably would’ve frozen up
completely. I probably would’ve died.
    The infected
soldier took a few stumbling steps towards me.
    I heard a
loud crack as one of its leg bones, its tibia maybe, snapped clean in half. A
sliver of extremely sharp bone stuck right out through the skin, right through
his pants.
    The thing
stumbled to its knees. But he kept shuffling forward, arms outstretched. Mouth
wide, wide open.
    My training
kicked in.
    I raised the
rifle. Fired two shots into its chest and one into its head.
    I destroyed
the radio in the process but at that point I didn’t really care about the radio.
Would the military even come back if I called them? I doubt it.
    They were in
the process of retreating. They had their hands full.
    I grabbed the
fallen soldier’s hand, pried his cold fingers apart and relieved him of his
rifle and spare ammo.
    "Look at
us," the dead soldier said. "Two of a kind. Two peas in a pod."
    I dropped
the arm. Took a big step back.
    "Yes," the
dead soldier said.
    I shook my
head. Took another step back. "What?"
    "Yes, to
whatever. Yes, you did the right thing. Yes, you screwed up. Yes, you had no
choice. Yes, we were a Special Forces team. Yes, we are two peas in a pod."
    "I’m not a
Special Forces soldier," I said to the corpse.
    "Sure ya
not. And I’m a goddamn china man."
    "I’m
Japanese."
    "Whatever. Turn
away."
    "What? Why?"
    "Turn away
and describe what I’m wearing, describe me, my facial features."
    "I’m not
turning away."
    "Of course
not. That would be dangerous. I could hit you. I could attack you. Hell, I
could even bite you. But that wasn’t the point of my little exercise. The point
was; if you were to turn away or close your eyes, you could still remember
everything I was wearing. You would know my eye color. Hair color. Skin tone. I
bet if someone asked you to describe this harbor you could do it with autistic
savant like detail. You know the exits. You know the points of cover. You know
everything."
    "Who are
you?"
    "You mean,
who was I?"
    "Whatever."
    "I’m nobody.
I’m a ghost."
    "What?"
    "Exactly. No
one knows about us. We don’t exist. I’m only telling you because, well, you’ll
be dead soon anyways. Dead men tell no tales, right?"
    "What were
you doing here? What was your objective?"
    "You already
know. Our primary target was Doctor West. Secondary target was the girl. Maria
Marsh. Approximately sixteen years of age. Caucasian. Blonde hair. Blue eyes.
Apparently she’s immune. No one believed Doctor West when he called it in. We
figured he just wanted to be rescued. But he was adamant. Command sent us in
because Doctor West was in charge of the research. He knows everything. If
anyone can save us, it's Doctor West. That's why he was our priority."
    I shook my
head. "You should’ve left that guy to die. And trust me, Maria is immune.
She was bitten. She was dying. But her body, her immune system fought the
virus. And won. You need to get back on the airways. Tell your people to send
reinforcements. You need to get Maria out of here. She is special. She can put
a stop to this madness."
    "Don’t you
think I’ve already tried calling for a goddamn extraction. There was no
response."
    I remembered
back to that night in the unofficial immigration center. The slum in