The Peril of Onion County
A local politico-science fiction thriller.
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Part 1 Peril in Onion County
After the major corruption bust of 44 New Jersey politicians in the summer of 2009 the reputation of New Jersey took a major hit (if thats at all possible). The in house authorities handling the press relations for the state of New Jersey were looking for something that would represent the good side of New Jersey. Seeing how well the gecko spokes-cartoon is doing for Geico Insurance they decided on a similar route. After paying $150,000 to an outside consultant, Slate Street Partners, the consultants quickly arrived at the proposition to use a newt for the intended purpose. After all, a newt is cuter than a gecko. Since the state has unlimited resources of tax monies at its disposal, the authorities took this idea one step further and instead of having a cartoon animated mascot they wanted a real one that could actually talk up New Jersey. With all the screw ups in the past from the state this brainstorm would certainly be a hit. It was the end of October when they contracted out with Professor N. Jay Dotcom, who maintains a secret experimental lab hidden in the hills of Watchung Reservation. The professor was given the charge of getting a cute mute newt to actually talk and then to speak highly of New Jersey, a seemingly Herculean task (ie: the part of speaking highly of NJ).
Given this charge, Professor Dotcom went about setting up his lab paraphernalia and since he was located within the Watchung Reservation he could easily turn over any rock, brush away any miscellaneous politicians and retrieve all the newts he needed.
His plan of attack was well thought out. He was to install a live newt in a small cage, with all the comforts of home. While the newt is enjoying himself, the newt would be wearing a small specially made beanie with integral tiny headphones. The professor figured he would play an audio loop tape with political and campaign rhetoric 24/7 and given enough time the newt may not only be able to formulate speech but also be it in the right vernacular saving that extra step. The tape loop played “Tippecanoe and Tyler too”, “I like Ike”, “a chicken in every pot, a car in every garage”, “a kinder more gentler nation”, “I did not have sex with that girl”, “mission accomplished”, “hope and change”, and so on. This should be sufficient to achieve his plan. Logging in his daily progress ledger, for the newt, he used a contrived scientific acronym of “NJN”, New Jersey Newt.
Then a set of events initiated a horrible reaction. The professor, while cleaning out the NJN cage, inadvertently dislodged the tiny aluminum headphone beanie from the newts cranium; and a coincident errant radiation bombardment from a far away solar flare engulfed the Watchung area. This harmless radiation, however, affected the NJN which was in a vulnerable transitional phase. The NJN started to grow and grow fast.
The growing height of the NJN busted through the cage and then through the ceiling and roof of Professor Dotcom’s secret lab. The height of the NJN soared above the building. The NJN topped out at a height of 110 feet. The Professor, standing among the falling debris of his lab wrote his final entries into the lab ledger, “What havoc has been wreaked! I have created a large hulking serpent with who knows what intentions towards the good citizens in the area.” Before fleeing for his life from his lab, his final entry identified the new creature with the deadly scientific acronym-“LHS”, large hulking serpent.
Let us tune in on this unfolding thriller...........
From its lab escape, the creature traverses down the Watchung slope thru Mountainside and is now wreaking that havoc on the surrounding Onion County communities of Westfield, Cranford, and Clark caught unawares of this calamity.
Police Chief Derby of Mountainside, following the path of destruction back to find what initiated the creature is the first to arrive at the destroyed Watchung lab and calls out to the Professor: What happened? What is that large creature? It just flattened Chrone’s Restaurant? We must alert high level authorities.
Professor Dotcom standing outside, dazed, nods in agreement and can only stammer: It is the dreaded LHS.
Chief Derby escorts the Professor down the hill to the center of Mountainside hopefully to assess and resolve the situation, but to no avail since the Professor is somewhat reticent, embarrassed at what was released on Onion County.
The initial alarm of the residents is well deserved. Immediate word goes out from the local officials to the local area US army officials. The regional army reserve corps is responding by dispatching a General Renna of the Reserves and his arrival in Mountainside is due shortly. The armories of Westfield, Plainfield and Rahway have been mobilized with men and tanks moving out and surrounding the LHS, trying to halt its progress. Onion County is, indeed, in Peril. General Renna pulled up to the center of Mountainside for initial fact-finding and command with Chief Derby and the Professor. Reports coming back from a fast established front note attempts made to stop the LHS with tanks and rockets have been feeble at best. The General turned to the Professor and stated:
We need your direction since you are the expert in matters such as this. Professor, please, there is a Clark Valley school with children in the path of the LHS. Help us! We must stop it. Of course, always as an easy resolution we can deploy an atomic bomb but that might damage outlying counties not in crisis. Professor we need input?
But the professor was swooning badly over the damage that he alone had inadvertently put in motion; and headed back toward his lab without hearing the pleas.
Part 2 Is it futile or is their hope?
With the LHS now deep inside of Onion County, General Renna decided to establish the main command HQ post at Garwood, the industrial center of the county. Monitoring and observation is now being made from the high roofs of the Lincoln-Franklin school complex with reports down to the adjacent command center. From the high point post, a cry via walkie-talkie from major Bury, the post observer with high powered telephoto binoculars:
General, my god! The LHS, being held at bay at Stiles Avenue and Raritan by the 5th battalion from Rahway Armory, is now spewing some sort of light green substance from its mouth. Reports from the ground state the whole 5th battalion was soaked by that LHS slime and is now staggering around responding with no common sense. Almost like zombies! Plus those huge fungus covered feet are stomping the local residents escaping from the Winfield district across the parkway sending those poor people to an early and moldy grave.
General Renna subsequently received ground reports stating some fleeing residents had found sanctuary in the local Cranford library and oddly the LHS stopped in its tracks and then veered around the building.
General Renna after hearing these reports astutely remarked to his subordinates: I find this odd that the LHS may be avoiding structures such as a library. Could be a structure, filled with books and magazines, can deflect this LHS onslaught? Could it be the creature’s weakness is bleached paper or maybe chemicals in the ink? This conjecture needs further thought and may be a small but good sign of hope. But we need the Professor on board to figure out a true course to stop this giant LHS and the dangerous spewing substance. The Professor appeared so distraught over his failed radiation experiment from whence this LHS was created. And we should note that the kids in that Clark Valley school which was in the direct path of LHS's destruction hid in the school library. That choice of hiding just may have saved their dear little lives.
The General turned to Captain Monarch standing in wait nearby: Go to the research lab at Watchung to see if you can bring the Professor back to his senses and back to HQ. But be wary, whatever that green substance is, it may be around the area of the lab when the LHS broke out of the facility.
Captain Monarch snaps a salutes, then proceeds towards the nearest command jeep and heads north down Walnut ave in Garwood avoiding any patches of green substance he sees on the road. On his trek to the Watchung Hills, he observes destruction of homes and the path of the creature through Gallows Hill Cemetery. “At least the LHS can’t harm those already at rest”, he thought.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
2nd chapter
Part 3 At the Lab
Captain Monarch in the army jeep races around the bend of New Providence Road up toward the professor's partially destroyed laboratory on the Watchung Reservation hill, where the professor previously had gone back inside to save his papers.
Captain Monarch slams his jeep to a stop, jumps over the side board and races through the unhinged front door of the lab. From amid the dust, the Captain calls: Professor! Professor, we must get out. Ceiling debris is falling and we don’t know when the structure will collapse. Professor! I hear you making a noise, keep up the noise so i can find you. There you are, let me push those beams off you, you’re trapped bad. Let me help you up, we need you at Command HQ. What? What are you saying?
Duh!...I...can’t….concentrate….duh…..can’t…think…..duh…must have got too near the LHS… and got some……strange LHS emitted substance…on my….forearm…duh……..do not touch it….scrape it away with a ruler…..duh…..duh…..
Professor, we do have reports this substance may be dangerous. There you go, I got the LHS substance away from you, you’re safe now, can you think?
……..duh!.......
My god, there’s lingering after-effects from the LHS substance. Professor, we’ve got to get you back into reality. I got it; maybe your progress ledgers and textbooks over there hold the answer. I’ll bring one over and see what’s written in it. Professor, which of these books may hold the answer? Wow, when I hold up a textbook near you, your eyes start to clear, is this good?
Yes…..Captain…somehow…..I…..feel…..suddenly....stronger, hold ..those books closer to….me, I’m starting... To get my consciousness back, …starting to think better. The affects of the LHS substance are subsiding; I feel I am coming back to normal, Captain.
The Professor gets up and says: Thanks for saving my life, and my intelligence, from that LHS. The professor peers at the captain’s badge. Captain Monarch is it, I owe you one. Now let’s get out of here to HQ and figure out a way to stop that fungus footed, spewing LHS.
The army jeep with the professor and with Captain Monarch at the wheel flies back down New Providence Rd into the outlying destruction around Onion County and to face the creature they call the LHS.
Part 4 Airborn and Evening
In a cloud of dust, the army jeep commandeered by Captain Monarch and carrying the Professor screeched to a stop on 2nd avenue in front of the Lincoln- Franklin school complex in Garwood. As they climb out, a slight sickly sweet aroma fill their nostrils. The General from the main operations tent calls to them to quick, go to the dispensing tent and get fitted for a gas mask. Once inside the operations center, a muffled but serious discussion ensues.
Why the gas masks, General?
General Renna replies: We are in a dangerous situation, professor. The LHS is emitting a green substance which is being distributed by winds. This substance appears to affect anyone’s common sense that comes in contact with it. And we cannot allow key coordination strategies to be compromised by possible blithering. We must take precautions.
The professor deliberated to himself on the substance and came to a sudden awareness.
"That substance that the LHS is emitting must be a byproduct of all the campaign slogans and rhetoric that I had constantly been feeding it. Political rhetoric as it stands is just useless blather, but the LHS somehow reversed the properties of the rhetoric and has created a solid substance to be used against us. This solid blather is affecting any infected person’s common senses, making them like zombies with no independent thought processes."
Then he had a sudden realization: "The LHS may be creating its own army of those affected by the solid blather material. A blithering idiot zombie army!. If this is so, all life in Onion County, New Jersey and possibly the earth is in Peril. Can the giant LHS and its spewing blather be stopped?" Furthering his thinking, he believed it would not be wise to not tell the general of the possible impending doom.
The Professor turned to the General and spoke: General this substance is to be considered solid blather, dangerous, and no one should come in contact with it. As to being airborne, my quick analysis of the blather purports that it is probably comprised of part hot air, part moisture and an unknown substance that is carried aloft by the vehicles of the hot air and moisture. This allows some residents to be affected by the blather by inhalation and turn into some sort of blithering zombie. This is a terrible turn for the worse as it’s now airborne. I strongly suggest sealing up the tent airtight and setting up dehumidification of the ingress air that we breathe. We would need portable fans and dehumidifiers, 6” hosing, visqueen plastic, tape, cotton, powder shields and dust spot testers; here, I’ll make a list.
The General turned to his trusted Captain Monarch and gave him the instructions: Two towns over, we are lucky to have a company that has this type equipment for maintaining strict cleanliness and rigid air controls. Take Corporal Bean and Private Delio and go with haste to Schering Plough in Kenilworth to retrieve the equipment on this list. Be aware, this may be a most dangerous mission in this campaign against the onslaught of the LHS. Do not breathe deeply, and stay away from anyone that may be affected by the blather and turned into blithering zombies. It is getting toward evening so be back before midnight.
The Captain and his two subordinates jump into the jeep and head down North Avenue thru Cranford. The General and the professor turn inward to determine any further strategies to contain the giant LHS causing this Peril in Onion County. Dusk of the first nightfall slowly inches over the compound. Black out lights in the camp turn on and shine dimly in the various tents. The major comes down from his high observation point atop Franklin school to retrieve a cup of coffee. The Garwood streets around the army HQ complex are desolate, the minor electronic bizzing of the nearby blinking light at Orchard and Brookside making an odd noise thru the silence.
Miles away, the racing jeep passes thru Cranford into Roselle Park and now corners down Faitoute toward the Kenilworth Boulevard. As the three men progress down Michigan Avenue, the corporal turns to Captain Monarch to remark: Captain, this may sound strange, but it sure is eerily quiet and I saw no residents in sight from Cranford all the way into Kenilworth.
Before he was able to finish his sentence, the Captain had to hold up on his speeding jeep because in the dimming evening light between the Dunkin Donuts and the Post Office on the Boulevard, it appears that a wide heavy obstacle of some sort comprised of overturned cars stayed their route, almost like a makeshift roadblock. The Captain slowed to a stop.
Captain Monarch in the army jeep races around the bend of New Providence Road up toward the professor's partially destroyed laboratory on the Watchung Reservation hill, where the professor previously had gone back inside to save his papers.
Captain Monarch slams his jeep to a stop, jumps over the side board and races through the unhinged front door of the lab. From amid the dust, the Captain calls: Professor! Professor, we must get out. Ceiling debris is falling and we don’t know when the structure will collapse. Professor! I hear you making a noise, keep up the noise so i can find you. There you are, let me push those beams off you, you’re trapped bad. Let me help you up, we need you at Command HQ. What? What are you saying?
Duh!...I...can’t….concentrate….duh…..can’t…think…..duh…must have got too near the LHS… and got some……strange LHS emitted substance…on my….forearm…duh……..do not touch it….scrape it away with a ruler…..duh…..duh…..
Professor, we do have reports this substance may be dangerous. There you go, I got the LHS substance away from you, you’re safe now, can you think?
……..duh!.......
My god, there’s lingering after-effects from the LHS substance. Professor, we’ve got to get you back into reality. I got it; maybe your progress ledgers and textbooks over there hold the answer. I’ll bring one over and see what’s written in it. Professor, which of these books may hold the answer? Wow, when I hold up a textbook near you, your eyes start to clear, is this good?
Yes…..Captain…somehow…..I…..feel…..suddenly....stronger, hold ..those books closer to….me, I’m starting... To get my consciousness back, …starting to think better. The affects of the LHS substance are subsiding; I feel I am coming back to normal, Captain.
The Professor gets up and says: Thanks for saving my life, and my intelligence, from that LHS. The professor peers at the captain’s badge. Captain Monarch is it, I owe you one. Now let’s get out of here to HQ and figure out a way to stop that fungus footed, spewing LHS.
The army jeep with the professor and with Captain Monarch at the wheel flies back down New Providence Rd into the outlying destruction around Onion County and to face the creature they call the LHS.
Part 4 Airborn and Evening
In a cloud of dust, the army jeep commandeered by Captain Monarch and carrying the Professor screeched to a stop on 2nd avenue in front of the Lincoln- Franklin school complex in Garwood. As they climb out, a slight sickly sweet aroma fill their nostrils. The General from the main operations tent calls to them to quick, go to the dispensing tent and get fitted for a gas mask. Once inside the operations center, a muffled but serious discussion ensues.
Why the gas masks, General?
General Renna replies: We are in a dangerous situation, professor. The LHS is emitting a green substance which is being distributed by winds. This substance appears to affect anyone’s common sense that comes in contact with it. And we cannot allow key coordination strategies to be compromised by possible blithering. We must take precautions.
The professor deliberated to himself on the substance and came to a sudden awareness.
"That substance that the LHS is emitting must be a byproduct of all the campaign slogans and rhetoric that I had constantly been feeding it. Political rhetoric as it stands is just useless blather, but the LHS somehow reversed the properties of the rhetoric and has created a solid substance to be used against us. This solid blather is affecting any infected person’s common senses, making them like zombies with no independent thought processes."
Then he had a sudden realization: "The LHS may be creating its own army of those affected by the solid blather material. A blithering idiot zombie army!. If this is so, all life in Onion County, New Jersey and possibly the earth is in Peril. Can the giant LHS and its spewing blather be stopped?" Furthering his thinking, he believed it would not be wise to not tell the general of the possible impending doom.
The Professor turned to the General and spoke: General this substance is to be considered solid blather, dangerous, and no one should come in contact with it. As to being airborne, my quick analysis of the blather purports that it is probably comprised of part hot air, part moisture and an unknown substance that is carried aloft by the vehicles of the hot air and moisture. This allows some residents to be affected by the blather by inhalation and turn into some sort of blithering zombie. This is a terrible turn for the worse as it’s now airborne. I strongly suggest sealing up the tent airtight and setting up dehumidification of the ingress air that we breathe. We would need portable fans and dehumidifiers, 6” hosing, visqueen plastic, tape, cotton, powder shields and dust spot testers; here, I’ll make a list.
The General turned to his trusted Captain Monarch and gave him the instructions: Two towns over, we are lucky to have a company that has this type equipment for maintaining strict cleanliness and rigid air controls. Take Corporal Bean and Private Delio and go with haste to Schering Plough in Kenilworth to retrieve the equipment on this list. Be aware, this may be a most dangerous mission in this campaign against the onslaught of the LHS. Do not breathe deeply, and stay away from anyone that may be affected by the blather and turned into blithering zombies. It is getting toward evening so be back before midnight.
The Captain and his two subordinates jump into the jeep and head down North Avenue thru Cranford. The General and the professor turn inward to determine any further strategies to contain the giant LHS causing this Peril in Onion County. Dusk of the first nightfall slowly inches over the compound. Black out lights in the camp turn on and shine dimly in the various tents. The major comes down from his high observation point atop Franklin school to retrieve a cup of coffee. The Garwood streets around the army HQ complex are desolate, the minor electronic bizzing of the nearby blinking light at Orchard and Brookside making an odd noise thru the silence.
Miles away, the racing jeep passes thru Cranford into Roselle Park and now corners down Faitoute toward the Kenilworth Boulevard. As the three men progress down Michigan Avenue, the corporal turns to Captain Monarch to remark: Captain, this may sound strange, but it sure is eerily quiet and I saw no residents in sight from Cranford all the way into Kenilworth.
Before he was able to finish his sentence, the Captain had to hold up on his speeding jeep because in the dimming evening light between the Dunkin Donuts and the Post Office on the Boulevard, it appears that a wide heavy obstacle of some sort comprised of overturned cars stayed their route, almost like a makeshift roadblock. The Captain slowed to a stop.
3rd Chapter
Part 5 Grim
At HQ, it is now dead of night and eerily silent everywhere, just the crackle of radio static on the Generals belt penetrates the night. Professor Dotcom turns to the General and asks for the status of the LHS rampage. By walkie-talkie the General calls up to the Franklin school observation point above: Major Bury, status report on the LHS.
The Major, squinting through the mask goggles and special night vision binoculars reports: We have low light, but it looks like the LHS has moved through Clark/ Winfield region into Rahway area. I have reports that it took out the Westernberry residential complex on Main Street, Rahway. Fortunately, none of the units were occupied so there are no fatalities from the collapse. But it looks like it may have been more a poor construction that resulted in the collapse because it came quick and complete when the just LHS brushed against the structure. Thank god, it happened before residents moved in. Further ground reports state that a mass of blithering zombies, apparently led by a local mayor there, all affected by the blather, have now taken over the train station and a nearby jewelry store. Citizens have all but abandoned the downtown area for fear of their lives. LHS destruction is unstoppable and on going.
The General directs the nearby radioman: Call up the reserves from the Edison/ Amboy armories in the Middlesex county area to mount a night barrage from the south, hopefully containing the destruction and redirecting the LHS northward back into our Onion County region. Unfortunately the original 5th battalion holding the center of Onion County had been sprayed by blather and now is staggering around as blithering idiots thru the Linden/ Roselle area. It has come to be apparent that the zombies once they become blithering look for a leader over them and as in that Rahway zombie horde possibly with a political persuasion.
The General turns to the professor: It’s grim. We are having trouble containing this LHS and the destruction. Our forces and weapons are minimal to useless. Collateral damage from the spewing blather is rampant. If we can’t stop the LHS and the blather, this just could be the end we are watching. Professor, we need a resolution, you're our last hope.
In the glow of the hanging blackout lanterns, one could see the strain on General Renna’s face. In the distance occasional sharp volleys of ominous noises are heard as our fighting forces valiantly try to hold the line in the cold night air. Cracks of gunfire and the whoosh of shoulder rockets ring out. The distant rattle of tank treads on road asphalt spell out the foreboding words ultimately defining the Peril not only in Onion County but the state of NJ and possibly elsewhere this may lead.
The Professor sat down in front of a lamp and table. He places a pad of paper and a pen in front of himself. He begins to scribble but it makes no sense. He then holds his head and says: General, I am having a hard time focusing my thoughts. These masks although efficient are still not keeping the aerosol atoms of airborne blather out 100%. It is affecting all our thoughts and actions to a degree. But i must deliberate. I need to focus on a solution and soon. I just wish that Captain Monarch makes it back with the dehumidification apparatus. I have full faith and trust in his success in retrieving it since he did save my life. Without him it will be a long night full of indecisiveness.
The professor glanced up through the netting at the moon, strangely wrapped in light green shading made by the airborne blather mist glowing in the moonlight; they all await the imminent return of Captain Monarch and his men with the gear
Part 6 The Leadership Factor and the First Escape
In the lowering light of early evening, Captain Monarch and his subordinates, Bean and Delio are surveying the overturned line of cars stacked between the Dunkin Donuts and the Kenilworth Post Office, blocking the intersection of Michigan Avenue and the Kenilworth Boulevard. This is completely hobbling their route and they are not 2 miles from their destination of Schering Plough across the nearby parkway.
Captain Monarch after surveying, commands: Corporal Bean, you and Private Delio get out and tie the front spindle tow cable around that black Crown Victoria with the Onion County license plates, the one leaning against the Dunkin’s wall. I’ll tug it away and we’ll be able to drive thru the opening toward our destination.
Captain, I’m afraid.
Now, Private, you may be young and green, but I’ve handled plenty of missions. This is a simple “cut and retrieve” and we’ll be back at HQ before midnight. Just jump out and tie the tow cable to the bumper. Corporal Bean, watch Private Delio’s back.
Thanks, Captain. Maybe its just first mission jitters.
The two soldiers jump over the jeep rail, release the cable from the winch at the jeep front end and then scurry with the cable over to the black Crown Victoria. They loop the cable around one end and were looping the hook around the other side when a dull noise from the nearby darkened foyer of Dunkin Donuts startles them: ………duh……duh…….duh……duh…..
The two prongs of the dimwitted zombie swarm came from both around Palmer video rental and Charlie’s hot dogs just too soon and caught the men off guard. It was too late for Private Delio, as he becomes inundated in the mass; the zombies pulling the gas mask away from the young soldiers face and he crying to the Captain: go, go save yourselves.
The Captain averts his face as he couldn’t watch the zombies pull Private Delio into their fray. Corporal Bean scrambles into the jeep and the Captain guns it backward pulling the black Crown Vic away and creating just a large enough opening. The zombie masses lurch toward them and Captain Monarch deftly steers the jeep around them, steering in reverse thru the gap and dragging the Crown Vic tight back into the blockade sealing the masses behind. But there are blithering zombies on the Boulevard side too. The Captain has to stop because the cable, still attached, is now taught against the Crown Vic. Realizing there is only one answer for escape, Captain Monarch cries to the corporal: Take the wheel; I will have to go over the top of the front hood to unhitch the lynchpin of the cable to free ourselves. As I do, gun it in reverse to try to get as far away.
The Captain was yelling over the din of the dull duhs. They are getting deafeningly close. Quickly Captain Monarch hangs over the front edge grabbing at the lynch pin, all the while the blithering zombies are grabbing at him. The corporal slides over behind the wheel and now floors it in reverse at the exact moment the Captain pulls the lynchpin from its socket. They break free of the cable and from the myriad zombie hands that were tightening their grip on the two men. The jeep roars backwards into the Sunoco gas station across the Boulevard knocking over fuel pumps in its way, crashing thru the front window and comes to a stop. Captain Monarch scrambles from the jeep hood back into the driver’s seat. They wheel the jeep around and then roar forward going east down the Boulevard. The mass of dimwitted zombies were left mulling in the intersection; and the final fate of Private Delio was known but left uncertain.
In closing the distance to Schering Plough, Corporal Bean breaks the silence: Captain, it was horrible, Private Delio, I knew Private Delio…….but he couldn’t finish the sentence.
A few moments later the Corporal again spoke: Captain, if those zombies are dimwitted and blithering, just how did they know to do the roadblock and ambush?
Captain Monarch knew the answer, thought about not telling the Corporal since it is too reprehensible but the Corporal had to know the truth because Private Delio was his friend.
Corporal, in those moments that we were facing certain death, I saw some creatures that were on the fringe of that zombie mass. They appeared to be the ringleaders guiding the blithering idiots. They were still part human, but part blithering idiot. As a reservist, I’m from this area and I believe I recognized their horrid faces. The odd part is to a man they used to be local political bosses of this Onion County area before the LHS destroyed our county’s fabric. The horrible part is we can only suspect that we may encounter other blithering idiot zombie masses being controlled by local political bosses and all infected by the airborne blather from the LHS. What this horrible information means, could be a certain end for what we have come to know and love. It goes beyond the Peril of Onion County and could affect all of NJ and elsewhere it may lead.
Captain Monarch continues: But Corporal, I will promise you this, on my bars as Captain; we will succeed in this mission and we must go on to save Onion County from this Peril. Private Delio did not die in vain.
Unfortunately, the time spent escaping the roadblock full of blithering idiots with their local political bosses delayed their schedule. It was now late and dark as they progressed across the parkway bridge, then immediately veering right upon the Schering lawn and crashing through the metal fence surrounding the pharmaceutical company’s compound. They spied a Schering road sign inside, pointing toward building 13 as the supply building and headed in that direction. They knew that they would find the vital supplies inside to maintain critical operations back at HQ. They now stop the jeep, jump out, and run up to bldg 13. Surprised they find bldg 13’s door unlocked and open, but for the mission they must enter anyway.
It was dark inside, and then their eyes became accustomed to the low light.
At HQ, it is now dead of night and eerily silent everywhere, just the crackle of radio static on the Generals belt penetrates the night. Professor Dotcom turns to the General and asks for the status of the LHS rampage. By walkie-talkie the General calls up to the Franklin school observation point above: Major Bury, status report on the LHS.
The Major, squinting through the mask goggles and special night vision binoculars reports: We have low light, but it looks like the LHS has moved through Clark/ Winfield region into Rahway area. I have reports that it took out the Westernberry residential complex on Main Street, Rahway. Fortunately, none of the units were occupied so there are no fatalities from the collapse. But it looks like it may have been more a poor construction that resulted in the collapse because it came quick and complete when the just LHS brushed against the structure. Thank god, it happened before residents moved in. Further ground reports state that a mass of blithering zombies, apparently led by a local mayor there, all affected by the blather, have now taken over the train station and a nearby jewelry store. Citizens have all but abandoned the downtown area for fear of their lives. LHS destruction is unstoppable and on going.
The General directs the nearby radioman: Call up the reserves from the Edison/ Amboy armories in the Middlesex county area to mount a night barrage from the south, hopefully containing the destruction and redirecting the LHS northward back into our Onion County region. Unfortunately the original 5th battalion holding the center of Onion County had been sprayed by blather and now is staggering around as blithering idiots thru the Linden/ Roselle area. It has come to be apparent that the zombies once they become blithering look for a leader over them and as in that Rahway zombie horde possibly with a political persuasion.
The General turns to the professor: It’s grim. We are having trouble containing this LHS and the destruction. Our forces and weapons are minimal to useless. Collateral damage from the spewing blather is rampant. If we can’t stop the LHS and the blather, this just could be the end we are watching. Professor, we need a resolution, you're our last hope.
In the glow of the hanging blackout lanterns, one could see the strain on General Renna’s face. In the distance occasional sharp volleys of ominous noises are heard as our fighting forces valiantly try to hold the line in the cold night air. Cracks of gunfire and the whoosh of shoulder rockets ring out. The distant rattle of tank treads on road asphalt spell out the foreboding words ultimately defining the Peril not only in Onion County but the state of NJ and possibly elsewhere this may lead.
The Professor sat down in front of a lamp and table. He places a pad of paper and a pen in front of himself. He begins to scribble but it makes no sense. He then holds his head and says: General, I am having a hard time focusing my thoughts. These masks although efficient are still not keeping the aerosol atoms of airborne blather out 100%. It is affecting all our thoughts and actions to a degree. But i must deliberate. I need to focus on a solution and soon. I just wish that Captain Monarch makes it back with the dehumidification apparatus. I have full faith and trust in his success in retrieving it since he did save my life. Without him it will be a long night full of indecisiveness.
The professor glanced up through the netting at the moon, strangely wrapped in light green shading made by the airborne blather mist glowing in the moonlight; they all await the imminent return of Captain Monarch and his men with the gear
Part 6 The Leadership Factor and the First Escape
In the lowering light of early evening, Captain Monarch and his subordinates, Bean and Delio are surveying the overturned line of cars stacked between the Dunkin Donuts and the Kenilworth Post Office, blocking the intersection of Michigan Avenue and the Kenilworth Boulevard. This is completely hobbling their route and they are not 2 miles from their destination of Schering Plough across the nearby parkway.
Captain Monarch after surveying, commands: Corporal Bean, you and Private Delio get out and tie the front spindle tow cable around that black Crown Victoria with the Onion County license plates, the one leaning against the Dunkin’s wall. I’ll tug it away and we’ll be able to drive thru the opening toward our destination.
Captain, I’m afraid.
Now, Private, you may be young and green, but I’ve handled plenty of missions. This is a simple “cut and retrieve” and we’ll be back at HQ before midnight. Just jump out and tie the tow cable to the bumper. Corporal Bean, watch Private Delio’s back.
Thanks, Captain. Maybe its just first mission jitters.
The two soldiers jump over the jeep rail, release the cable from the winch at the jeep front end and then scurry with the cable over to the black Crown Victoria. They loop the cable around one end and were looping the hook around the other side when a dull noise from the nearby darkened foyer of Dunkin Donuts startles them: ………duh……duh…….duh……duh…..
The two prongs of the dimwitted zombie swarm came from both around Palmer video rental and Charlie’s hot dogs just too soon and caught the men off guard. It was too late for Private Delio, as he becomes inundated in the mass; the zombies pulling the gas mask away from the young soldiers face and he crying to the Captain: go, go save yourselves.
The Captain averts his face as he couldn’t watch the zombies pull Private Delio into their fray. Corporal Bean scrambles into the jeep and the Captain guns it backward pulling the black Crown Vic away and creating just a large enough opening. The zombie masses lurch toward them and Captain Monarch deftly steers the jeep around them, steering in reverse thru the gap and dragging the Crown Vic tight back into the blockade sealing the masses behind. But there are blithering zombies on the Boulevard side too. The Captain has to stop because the cable, still attached, is now taught against the Crown Vic. Realizing there is only one answer for escape, Captain Monarch cries to the corporal: Take the wheel; I will have to go over the top of the front hood to unhitch the lynchpin of the cable to free ourselves. As I do, gun it in reverse to try to get as far away.
The Captain was yelling over the din of the dull duhs. They are getting deafeningly close. Quickly Captain Monarch hangs over the front edge grabbing at the lynch pin, all the while the blithering zombies are grabbing at him. The corporal slides over behind the wheel and now floors it in reverse at the exact moment the Captain pulls the lynchpin from its socket. They break free of the cable and from the myriad zombie hands that were tightening their grip on the two men. The jeep roars backwards into the Sunoco gas station across the Boulevard knocking over fuel pumps in its way, crashing thru the front window and comes to a stop. Captain Monarch scrambles from the jeep hood back into the driver’s seat. They wheel the jeep around and then roar forward going east down the Boulevard. The mass of dimwitted zombies were left mulling in the intersection; and the final fate of Private Delio was known but left uncertain.
In closing the distance to Schering Plough, Corporal Bean breaks the silence: Captain, it was horrible, Private Delio, I knew Private Delio…….but he couldn’t finish the sentence.
A few moments later the Corporal again spoke: Captain, if those zombies are dimwitted and blithering, just how did they know to do the roadblock and ambush?
Captain Monarch knew the answer, thought about not telling the Corporal since it is too reprehensible but the Corporal had to know the truth because Private Delio was his friend.
Corporal, in those moments that we were facing certain death, I saw some creatures that were on the fringe of that zombie mass. They appeared to be the ringleaders guiding the blithering idiots. They were still part human, but part blithering idiot. As a reservist, I’m from this area and I believe I recognized their horrid faces. The odd part is to a man they used to be local political bosses of this Onion County area before the LHS destroyed our county’s fabric. The horrible part is we can only suspect that we may encounter other blithering idiot zombie masses being controlled by local political bosses and all infected by the airborne blather from the LHS. What this horrible information means, could be a certain end for what we have come to know and love. It goes beyond the Peril of Onion County and could affect all of NJ and elsewhere it may lead.
Captain Monarch continues: But Corporal, I will promise you this, on my bars as Captain; we will succeed in this mission and we must go on to save Onion County from this Peril. Private Delio did not die in vain.
Unfortunately, the time spent escaping the roadblock full of blithering idiots with their local political bosses delayed their schedule. It was now late and dark as they progressed across the parkway bridge, then immediately veering right upon the Schering lawn and crashing through the metal fence surrounding the pharmaceutical company’s compound. They spied a Schering road sign inside, pointing toward building 13 as the supply building and headed in that direction. They knew that they would find the vital supplies inside to maintain critical operations back at HQ. They now stop the jeep, jump out, and run up to bldg 13. Surprised they find bldg 13’s door unlocked and open, but for the mission they must enter anyway.
It was dark inside, and then their eyes became accustomed to the low light.
4th chapter
Part 7 Aisle “D”
Captain Monarch and Corporal Bean focus their eyes to the surroundings being revealed by the low light shining in from the open doorway and the high bay windows above. Supply bldg #13 is obviously a warehouse, tall; about 25 foot high, with towering metal racks stretching toward the back and, from their corridor vantage point, methodically lined up as far as their eyes could make out, at least a quarter mile. On the racks, appeared to be box upon box, large vials and flasks of chemicals, devices of all sorts, lined up cleanly for what appears to be a robotic selection conveyor system hung by heavy channeling from the roof trusses above.
Corporal Bean turns on his hand held mag-light, but the captain deflected Corporal Bean’s arm downward, and whispers loud enough thru the gas mask: Turn it off, that door was unlocked for some reason and we don’t want to alert who or whatever’s in here; unsure if an encounter would be friendly.
Bean switched it off and placed it back in its sling and responded: Captain, more than likely it was left open by the fleeing warehouse people when they heard of the giant escaping LHS. I’d sure run too, without looking back. And don’t forget we have to balance our time schedule versus being too careful. And, Captain, there's always our trusty point 38’s, as he patted the pistol on his side-belt. I received the silver cluster in marksmanship last year.
You’re right, but we still must move with caution.
From the doorway, the first rack they approached had a large black letter “Z” on a white placard background 15’ up. The Captain states: Well, at least we know they work their inventory alphabetically and not by pharmaceutical codes, it makes for a lot easier retrieval. Corporal, grab that electric wagon near the wall and we’ll work backwards from Z to A in getting the supplies. And keep the headlight off. What did the professor want? Visqueen plastic, 6” ducting, dehumidifiers, duct tape, cotton, powder shields, dust spot testers, I have the list in my pocket. Looks like most of it will be in the “D” aisle and will make it easy on us. But the dehumidification apparatus is normally very heavy.
The men set to pulling the supplies working down the aisles quietly, loading the items in the electric wagon. They retrieve the plastic, shields, other ancillary items and then head toward their main goal in “D” aisle. It was a good quarter mile down the main corridor, with the electric wagon quietly whirring, the rubber wheels softly making an occasional squirch noise while rolling along the smooth concrete floor. The warehouse darkness engulfs them even more than the night itself. They park the wagon at the head of the “D” aisle, and walk down the aisle to scope out the locations and to coordinate the rest of the supplies they need. The Captain stops in front of the dehumidification apparatus, luckily located on a lower shelf since it is heavy. He turns to Corporal Bean: Corporal, proceed down the aisle to assure the ducting and dust testers are there. He turns back to the dehumidifier to look for lifting hooks.
Moments later the Corporal comes running hurriedly back in a panic: Captain, Captain! As I passed some empty shelving I spied large scratch marks in the floor and almost stepped in some liquid that looks like that blithering zombie-making blather. Thank God the moonlight reflected off the green droplets or I would have been a goner for sure.
Hmmm, lets go down and see what is there, or at least see what is missing.
The two men went to the empty shelving, avoiding the green droplets: Corporal that looks like blather alright. I saw it up close when the 5th battalion was sprayed. Luckily it missed me. And those scratch marks start at that empty shelf. No robotic retrieving devices would make such markings unless those robots were out of whack. But the empty shelving, what’s that shelf tag say that was originally stored there?
The Captain bent down and peered closely trying to make out the letters: Hmmm, it reads “distillation device”. It looks like all the distillation devices were removed and dragged down toward the back wall of the warehouse. Corporal, I know we're behind schedule but we must follow these scratches to make sure everything’s secure, before we return to HQ.
The men not knowing the Schering Plough layout were unaware that bldg #14 which is connected to supply bldg#13 is the pharmaceutical clean rooms where most of the lab testing is done.
The two men, following the scratches went deeper into the warehouse; coming to a closed door in the back of Bldg #13. Through the opaque window in the door they could just make out a yellowish-green light and possibly shadows moving inside: Corporal, look, this may be dangerous, but I’m planning to look inside. I don’t have a good feeling so you better go back to the wagon. I’ll return in a few moments.
Captain, my choice is with you, we’ve been through enough together. One more look-see won’t hurt us. But I think you better be the one to open the door first.
They both unclasp the holsters of their point 38’s, the captain turning the knob on the door, noting that the door swung into the warehouse. It quietly opened.
Part 8 The Inner Ring and the second escape-inside
The lab room door opened silently to a slit. Putrid steam-like gases and yellow greenish air seeped out, tumbling across the concrete floor like low rolling fog, slowly engulfing their boots. There was a slight electrical humming noise and they heard that now-dreaded constant sound of dull “duhs”.
Crouching next to each other, Captain Monarch puts his hand on Corporal Bean’s shoulder to direct his sight, and whispers closely: Look on the lab benches, that apparatus in the center of the main zombie ring must be those distillation devices from inventory. You can recognize them by the large copper electric heating flasks and the spiral glass cooling tubes. And hovering over the top of that equipment is a most terrible discovery for us so far. That half man, half blithering idiot standing up on the lab chair emptying that pail of what appears to be blather into the top flask of that distillation device I recognize as a key political figure around this area. That’s Senator LesManiac. He appears to be the one leading this experiment. Look at him! He’s actually eating chunks of the disgusting green blather like he thrives on it; it’s become part of him. Is there no humanity left in him?
Says Corporal Bean in return, pointing to an area below LesManiac: It even gets worse. Look at those creatures on the reclining chairs around the distillation devices. My God, they each have catheters coming from the distillation cooling manifold into the veins of their arms. They are being transfused by the distilled blather. What is in that stuff that they thrive on?
The Captain replies: I think can make out who some of them are, too. It looks like the Onion County Freeholders are in on this experiment. There’s freeholder Miraclelbelly, Scallion, Slimyman, O’strada, even freeholders Weird and Kowallaby are there, although I never thought they would have been part of it, but sadly they are. It looks like these blithering idiots are being groomed as the new leaders of the dimwitted zombie masses, to take complete control of Onion County and even further out, once our society is reduced to shambles. Horrible, just horrible.
Shocked by that reality, Corporal Bean is taken aback and by mistake knocks his mag-light out of the sling and it clinks on the concrete floor. The horde turns their direction. Senator LesManiac gives a huge roar: DUH, DUH, DUH!!!!
And the blithering masses start stumbling at Captain Monarch and Corporal Bean with blank but fierce looks of dimwittedness. Duh…duh….duh….
The zombies plow thru the door filling into building 13 with the Captain and Corporal falling back, and pulling out their point 38’s and firing.
Captain, the bullets are not doing anything!
Corporal, keep firing as we run. Aim for their legs, we have to get back to the cart and into the jeep.
But Captain, the dehumidification device…
There’s no time for that Corporal, get into the cart, we have to get back to HQ to warn them. Keep firing.
The men keep firing but there is no slowing the zombies, as one falls another take its place.
duh…duh…duh.
They make it back to the cart, reloading and firing; the zombies closing in. The weighted down cart heads up the main corridor leaving the main blithering mass at back. Near aisle “S”, suddenly a zombie drops from the conveyor system, overturning the cart forcing them and the cart to slide and slam against the “T” shelf overturning boxes, bottles and equipment, throwing them to the floor. A mass of zombies are closing in. The 2 soldiers hide behind piles of broken boxes, firing and reloading and firing again. They run out of ammunition.
Captain, my 38’s empty.
So’s mine, Corporal.
What are we going to do? We are being surrounded.
Start throwing anything to hold them back for our escape.
The two men start throwing anything they could get their hands on. The Corporal found a huge box of textbooks ripped open from the cart impact and, starts heaving them at the zombies just in the hopes of holding them back a few more seconds. Suddenly, the zombies open rank and stopped their forward motion. Duh…duh…duh…duh……………….
Screams the Captain: The books! For some reason…throw more books at them!
The Corporal is heaving them left and right, the zombies start falling back. The captain got the cart re-righted.
Captain, we’re running low on the textbooks.
Get in, throw the last of the books, we’re almost out of here.
They neared the back door and jumped out of the cart, through the door and back in the jeep. The captain starts it up and speeds toward the front gate, breaking the warning arm and pulling out onto Galloping Hill: I’ll head east into 5-Points and up Chestnut street avoiding the Boulevard blockade.
Captain Monarch and Corporal Bean focus their eyes to the surroundings being revealed by the low light shining in from the open doorway and the high bay windows above. Supply bldg #13 is obviously a warehouse, tall; about 25 foot high, with towering metal racks stretching toward the back and, from their corridor vantage point, methodically lined up as far as their eyes could make out, at least a quarter mile. On the racks, appeared to be box upon box, large vials and flasks of chemicals, devices of all sorts, lined up cleanly for what appears to be a robotic selection conveyor system hung by heavy channeling from the roof trusses above.
Corporal Bean turns on his hand held mag-light, but the captain deflected Corporal Bean’s arm downward, and whispers loud enough thru the gas mask: Turn it off, that door was unlocked for some reason and we don’t want to alert who or whatever’s in here; unsure if an encounter would be friendly.
Bean switched it off and placed it back in its sling and responded: Captain, more than likely it was left open by the fleeing warehouse people when they heard of the giant escaping LHS. I’d sure run too, without looking back. And don’t forget we have to balance our time schedule versus being too careful. And, Captain, there's always our trusty point 38’s, as he patted the pistol on his side-belt. I received the silver cluster in marksmanship last year.
You’re right, but we still must move with caution.
From the doorway, the first rack they approached had a large black letter “Z” on a white placard background 15’ up. The Captain states: Well, at least we know they work their inventory alphabetically and not by pharmaceutical codes, it makes for a lot easier retrieval. Corporal, grab that electric wagon near the wall and we’ll work backwards from Z to A in getting the supplies. And keep the headlight off. What did the professor want? Visqueen plastic, 6” ducting, dehumidifiers, duct tape, cotton, powder shields, dust spot testers, I have the list in my pocket. Looks like most of it will be in the “D” aisle and will make it easy on us. But the dehumidification apparatus is normally very heavy.
The men set to pulling the supplies working down the aisles quietly, loading the items in the electric wagon. They retrieve the plastic, shields, other ancillary items and then head toward their main goal in “D” aisle. It was a good quarter mile down the main corridor, with the electric wagon quietly whirring, the rubber wheels softly making an occasional squirch noise while rolling along the smooth concrete floor. The warehouse darkness engulfs them even more than the night itself. They park the wagon at the head of the “D” aisle, and walk down the aisle to scope out the locations and to coordinate the rest of the supplies they need. The Captain stops in front of the dehumidification apparatus, luckily located on a lower shelf since it is heavy. He turns to Corporal Bean: Corporal, proceed down the aisle to assure the ducting and dust testers are there. He turns back to the dehumidifier to look for lifting hooks.
Moments later the Corporal comes running hurriedly back in a panic: Captain, Captain! As I passed some empty shelving I spied large scratch marks in the floor and almost stepped in some liquid that looks like that blithering zombie-making blather. Thank God the moonlight reflected off the green droplets or I would have been a goner for sure.
Hmmm, lets go down and see what is there, or at least see what is missing.
The two men went to the empty shelving, avoiding the green droplets: Corporal that looks like blather alright. I saw it up close when the 5th battalion was sprayed. Luckily it missed me. And those scratch marks start at that empty shelf. No robotic retrieving devices would make such markings unless those robots were out of whack. But the empty shelving, what’s that shelf tag say that was originally stored there?
The Captain bent down and peered closely trying to make out the letters: Hmmm, it reads “distillation device”. It looks like all the distillation devices were removed and dragged down toward the back wall of the warehouse. Corporal, I know we're behind schedule but we must follow these scratches to make sure everything’s secure, before we return to HQ.
The men not knowing the Schering Plough layout were unaware that bldg #14 which is connected to supply bldg#13 is the pharmaceutical clean rooms where most of the lab testing is done.
The two men, following the scratches went deeper into the warehouse; coming to a closed door in the back of Bldg #13. Through the opaque window in the door they could just make out a yellowish-green light and possibly shadows moving inside: Corporal, look, this may be dangerous, but I’m planning to look inside. I don’t have a good feeling so you better go back to the wagon. I’ll return in a few moments.
Captain, my choice is with you, we’ve been through enough together. One more look-see won’t hurt us. But I think you better be the one to open the door first.
They both unclasp the holsters of their point 38’s, the captain turning the knob on the door, noting that the door swung into the warehouse. It quietly opened.
Part 8 The Inner Ring and the second escape-inside
The lab room door opened silently to a slit. Putrid steam-like gases and yellow greenish air seeped out, tumbling across the concrete floor like low rolling fog, slowly engulfing their boots. There was a slight electrical humming noise and they heard that now-dreaded constant sound of dull “duhs”.
Crouching next to each other, Captain Monarch puts his hand on Corporal Bean’s shoulder to direct his sight, and whispers closely: Look on the lab benches, that apparatus in the center of the main zombie ring must be those distillation devices from inventory. You can recognize them by the large copper electric heating flasks and the spiral glass cooling tubes. And hovering over the top of that equipment is a most terrible discovery for us so far. That half man, half blithering idiot standing up on the lab chair emptying that pail of what appears to be blather into the top flask of that distillation device I recognize as a key political figure around this area. That’s Senator LesManiac. He appears to be the one leading this experiment. Look at him! He’s actually eating chunks of the disgusting green blather like he thrives on it; it’s become part of him. Is there no humanity left in him?
Says Corporal Bean in return, pointing to an area below LesManiac: It even gets worse. Look at those creatures on the reclining chairs around the distillation devices. My God, they each have catheters coming from the distillation cooling manifold into the veins of their arms. They are being transfused by the distilled blather. What is in that stuff that they thrive on?
The Captain replies: I think can make out who some of them are, too. It looks like the Onion County Freeholders are in on this experiment. There’s freeholder Miraclelbelly, Scallion, Slimyman, O’strada, even freeholders Weird and Kowallaby are there, although I never thought they would have been part of it, but sadly they are. It looks like these blithering idiots are being groomed as the new leaders of the dimwitted zombie masses, to take complete control of Onion County and even further out, once our society is reduced to shambles. Horrible, just horrible.
Shocked by that reality, Corporal Bean is taken aback and by mistake knocks his mag-light out of the sling and it clinks on the concrete floor. The horde turns their direction. Senator LesManiac gives a huge roar: DUH, DUH, DUH!!!!
And the blithering masses start stumbling at Captain Monarch and Corporal Bean with blank but fierce looks of dimwittedness. Duh…duh….duh….
The zombies plow thru the door filling into building 13 with the Captain and Corporal falling back, and pulling out their point 38’s and firing.
Captain, the bullets are not doing anything!
Corporal, keep firing as we run. Aim for their legs, we have to get back to the cart and into the jeep.
But Captain, the dehumidification device…
There’s no time for that Corporal, get into the cart, we have to get back to HQ to warn them. Keep firing.
The men keep firing but there is no slowing the zombies, as one falls another take its place.
duh…duh…duh.
They make it back to the cart, reloading and firing; the zombies closing in. The weighted down cart heads up the main corridor leaving the main blithering mass at back. Near aisle “S”, suddenly a zombie drops from the conveyor system, overturning the cart forcing them and the cart to slide and slam against the “T” shelf overturning boxes, bottles and equipment, throwing them to the floor. A mass of zombies are closing in. The 2 soldiers hide behind piles of broken boxes, firing and reloading and firing again. They run out of ammunition.
Captain, my 38’s empty.
So’s mine, Corporal.
What are we going to do? We are being surrounded.
Start throwing anything to hold them back for our escape.
The two men start throwing anything they could get their hands on. The Corporal found a huge box of textbooks ripped open from the cart impact and, starts heaving them at the zombies just in the hopes of holding them back a few more seconds. Suddenly, the zombies open rank and stopped their forward motion. Duh…duh…duh…duh……………….
Screams the Captain: The books! For some reason…throw more books at them!
The Corporal is heaving them left and right, the zombies start falling back. The captain got the cart re-righted.
Captain, we’re running low on the textbooks.
Get in, throw the last of the books, we’re almost out of here.
They neared the back door and jumped out of the cart, through the door and back in the jeep. The captain starts it up and speeds toward the front gate, breaking the warning arm and pulling out onto Galloping Hill: I’ll head east into 5-Points and up Chestnut street avoiding the Boulevard blockade.
5th chapter
Part 9 The Third Escape-outside
The men sped past the 5-Points A&P but screeched to a halt. Swarms of blithering idiot zombies from Union, Roshelle Park and Elizabeth were converging down Locust, Chestnut, Vauxhall and Salem into the center of 5-Points.
The Captain hollers in alarm: Corporal, look in the back of the swarm. They are carrying a grotesque creature covered in blather on a carved wooden chair:
It's, it's assemblyman Cryandsob. He’s meeting up with Senator LesManiac’s hordes. We’re doomed, we can’t get thru this way, we have to go back toward the Boulevard and figure some way out.
Captain Monarch spins the jeep around and heads west back down the Boulevard. The zombies, pouring out from the Schering Driveway onto the Boulevard, force the Captain to divert into the nearby Graceland Cemetery, knocking down gravestones. They then try to cross the parkway bridge but it is blocked by blithering zombies. They cut down the Parkway embankment and cross the concrete of the highway, crashing thru the fence of the Galloping hill golf course, smashing against the driving range building which collapses like matchsticks, then onto the entrance road and swerving back onto the Boulevard. They get as far as La Griglia restaurant when they are forced to stop. The first mass of zombies is waiting, in the Michigan avenue intersection, crying horrendously:
…duh….duh…duh.
Now what, Captain?
Corporal I have an idea. Get me that flare gun from under the seat. If my eyes are telling me correctly, the zombies standing in that intersection are also standing in a huge pool of gasoline from when we knocked over those Sunoco gas pumps in our first escape. I can see the glint off the liquid from the moon. You take the wheel, Corporal. And head right at those blithering zombies. I’ll fire the flare at the right time. When it goes off it’ll be like 4th of July but just keep driving forward.
The Corporal hands the flare gun to the Captain, slides into the driver’s seat and shifts into gear. He guns the engine and heads straight for the horde. The dimwitted zombies start forward….duh….duh…duh…duh. The captain takes careful aim with the flare gun at the giant pool of gasoline beneath the feet of the horde of zombies. Right at the L&J auto body shop he lets the flare fire into the pool of gas. The swirling red trail of sparks hits the mark.
Duck!, yells the Captain.
With a huge whoosh and gas explosion, the hordes of zombies and overturned cars were tossed aside like burnt pixie sticks. The nearby Kenilworth diner collapses in flames. Through the rising wall of flames Corporal Bean steers the jeep, both crouching low as not to get incinerated. They were singed but clear of the inferno. They keep straight down the Boulevard only slowing slightly when they pass the Kenilworth Library.
In the light of the rising inferno the few blocks back, they could see some people peeking out the Kenilworth library windows. The Captain yells: Stay low, you’re safe there, don’t go out. We’ll be back to save you.
The men race west down the Boulevard; the roar of the flames could be heard all the way past McKinley School.
They kept going and headed up through the demolished Onion College complex, with its flattened observatory, onto Brookside toward Walnut in Garwood and the command HQ they left 8 hours ago. And in the end, the mission unknowingly would have only two of three make it back.
Part 10 The Uninvited Guest
At command HQ, it was 4am, a strange green hue in the distant horizon signaled the start of sunrise as the moon surrendered from the skies. From atop the high observation point of Franklin school, the crackle of Major Bury‘s voice over the walkie-talkie sounded stark: General, one of our jeeps approaching fast from the east, coming through the Onion College debris corridor. It appears to be Captain Monarch and his men, but they look like they are traveling light, sir.
General Renna turns to Professor Dotcom: Something appears seriously wrong, Professor.
All eyes turned toward the jeep as it screeches to a stop in front of the command HQ. Captain Monarch and Corporal Bean, get out, go through the translucent overlapping entrance flaps and Captain Monarch immediately reports to the General: There are serious hordes of Zombies amassing at 5-Points in Union when we left the area, General. Unfortunately, I failed in two ways. My man, Private Delio was captured by those blithering idiots. More than likely he was KIA. Plus I failed at the mission of retrieving the dehumidification devices from Schering Plough. We were surrounded and just escaped with our lives. I am sorry to report this, take full responsibility and would understand if I am relieved of my position.
The General puts his hand on the Captain’s shoulder: Captain Monarch, these are deeply trying times we are experiencing. The loss of Private Delio into that blithering horde is most saddening. I will have a courier immediately notify his next of kin. But at this point, you are too invaluable to this action. You will prepare the report once, or, God forbid, if this action is ever resolved. You may stand down for now. It looks like both of you need a cup of Joe. You know where the tent is.
As the Captain left, the General turns to Professor Dotcom: Professor, without those dehumidification devices for our tents, we have serious problems.
Indeed, General, our cognitive thinking is infected by that blather, but we must soldier on and we must find the solution to this Peril of Onion County, and the slow horrible spread through the state. I do have some ideas I am considering.
At that moment a small-engine plane could be heard in the distance.
Major Bury, report please on the plane.
General, it looks like a single engine Cessna approaching from the south-west toward our coordinates. It appears to have the state of NJ markings and 2 occupants. One person is planning to parachute out, the door is open.
All eyes watched as the plane flies over the compound and the single occupant parachutes from the plane toward ground. Through the green early morning mist, they watch him bounce off the side wall of Franklin school and land in a nearby tree, summarily hanging 10 feet off the ground by the cords. This unknown parachutist luckily survived the mishap.
The General yells out: Cut him down quickly, outfit him and bring him into the command tent.
Within moments, the person in khakis is standing before the general, and brushing himself off.
General Renna spoke first: And you are?
Through the breathing mask, the bedraggle person says: General, I’m adjutant professor Mac Greevy of Rutgers in New Brunswick. I’m from Trenton and I’m here to help you.
The General and Professor Dotcom look at each other through the gas masks and roll their eyes.
The men sped past the 5-Points A&P but screeched to a halt. Swarms of blithering idiot zombies from Union, Roshelle Park and Elizabeth were converging down Locust, Chestnut, Vauxhall and Salem into the center of 5-Points.
The Captain hollers in alarm: Corporal, look in the back of the swarm. They are carrying a grotesque creature covered in blather on a carved wooden chair:
It's, it's assemblyman Cryandsob. He’s meeting up with Senator LesManiac’s hordes. We’re doomed, we can’t get thru this way, we have to go back toward the Boulevard and figure some way out.
Captain Monarch spins the jeep around and heads west back down the Boulevard. The zombies, pouring out from the Schering Driveway onto the Boulevard, force the Captain to divert into the nearby Graceland Cemetery, knocking down gravestones. They then try to cross the parkway bridge but it is blocked by blithering zombies. They cut down the Parkway embankment and cross the concrete of the highway, crashing thru the fence of the Galloping hill golf course, smashing against the driving range building which collapses like matchsticks, then onto the entrance road and swerving back onto the Boulevard. They get as far as La Griglia restaurant when they are forced to stop. The first mass of zombies is waiting, in the Michigan avenue intersection, crying horrendously:
…duh….duh…duh.
Now what, Captain?
Corporal I have an idea. Get me that flare gun from under the seat. If my eyes are telling me correctly, the zombies standing in that intersection are also standing in a huge pool of gasoline from when we knocked over those Sunoco gas pumps in our first escape. I can see the glint off the liquid from the moon. You take the wheel, Corporal. And head right at those blithering zombies. I’ll fire the flare at the right time. When it goes off it’ll be like 4th of July but just keep driving forward.
The Corporal hands the flare gun to the Captain, slides into the driver’s seat and shifts into gear. He guns the engine and heads straight for the horde. The dimwitted zombies start forward….duh….duh…duh…duh. The captain takes careful aim with the flare gun at the giant pool of gasoline beneath the feet of the horde of zombies. Right at the L&J auto body shop he lets the flare fire into the pool of gas. The swirling red trail of sparks hits the mark.
Duck!, yells the Captain.
With a huge whoosh and gas explosion, the hordes of zombies and overturned cars were tossed aside like burnt pixie sticks. The nearby Kenilworth diner collapses in flames. Through the rising wall of flames Corporal Bean steers the jeep, both crouching low as not to get incinerated. They were singed but clear of the inferno. They keep straight down the Boulevard only slowing slightly when they pass the Kenilworth Library.
In the light of the rising inferno the few blocks back, they could see some people peeking out the Kenilworth library windows. The Captain yells: Stay low, you’re safe there, don’t go out. We’ll be back to save you.
The men race west down the Boulevard; the roar of the flames could be heard all the way past McKinley School.
They kept going and headed up through the demolished Onion College complex, with its flattened observatory, onto Brookside toward Walnut in Garwood and the command HQ they left 8 hours ago. And in the end, the mission unknowingly would have only two of three make it back.
Part 10 The Uninvited Guest
At command HQ, it was 4am, a strange green hue in the distant horizon signaled the start of sunrise as the moon surrendered from the skies. From atop the high observation point of Franklin school, the crackle of Major Bury‘s voice over the walkie-talkie sounded stark: General, one of our jeeps approaching fast from the east, coming through the Onion College debris corridor. It appears to be Captain Monarch and his men, but they look like they are traveling light, sir.
General Renna turns to Professor Dotcom: Something appears seriously wrong, Professor.
All eyes turned toward the jeep as it screeches to a stop in front of the command HQ. Captain Monarch and Corporal Bean, get out, go through the translucent overlapping entrance flaps and Captain Monarch immediately reports to the General: There are serious hordes of Zombies amassing at 5-Points in Union when we left the area, General. Unfortunately, I failed in two ways. My man, Private Delio was captured by those blithering idiots. More than likely he was KIA. Plus I failed at the mission of retrieving the dehumidification devices from Schering Plough. We were surrounded and just escaped with our lives. I am sorry to report this, take full responsibility and would understand if I am relieved of my position.
The General puts his hand on the Captain’s shoulder: Captain Monarch, these are deeply trying times we are experiencing. The loss of Private Delio into that blithering horde is most saddening. I will have a courier immediately notify his next of kin. But at this point, you are too invaluable to this action. You will prepare the report once, or, God forbid, if this action is ever resolved. You may stand down for now. It looks like both of you need a cup of Joe. You know where the tent is.
As the Captain left, the General turns to Professor Dotcom: Professor, without those dehumidification devices for our tents, we have serious problems.
Indeed, General, our cognitive thinking is infected by that blather, but we must soldier on and we must find the solution to this Peril of Onion County, and the slow horrible spread through the state. I do have some ideas I am considering.
At that moment a small-engine plane could be heard in the distance.
Major Bury, report please on the plane.
General, it looks like a single engine Cessna approaching from the south-west toward our coordinates. It appears to have the state of NJ markings and 2 occupants. One person is planning to parachute out, the door is open.
All eyes watched as the plane flies over the compound and the single occupant parachutes from the plane toward ground. Through the green early morning mist, they watch him bounce off the side wall of Franklin school and land in a nearby tree, summarily hanging 10 feet off the ground by the cords. This unknown parachutist luckily survived the mishap.
The General yells out: Cut him down quickly, outfit him and bring him into the command tent.
Within moments, the person in khakis is standing before the general, and brushing himself off.
General Renna spoke first: And you are?
Through the breathing mask, the bedraggle person says: General, I’m adjutant professor Mac Greevy of Rutgers in New Brunswick. I’m from Trenton and I’m here to help you.
The General and Professor Dotcom look at each other through the gas masks and roll their eyes.
6th Chapter
Part 11 The government’s solution
With this new uninvited but hopefully needed guest from the government inside command HQ tent, the General asks Professor Greevy: Just what help will you be able to provide?
Professor Greevy replies: We have been monitoring this Peril in Onion County, and although the federal level feels that the main army from the surrounding area should be mobilized, the state of New Jersey reassured the feds that this is just a nuisance. Trenton has sent me as the one person to easily dismiss this.
The General sputters: Professor, there is a 110 foot tall LHS with moldy feet stomping its way through Onion County, threatening all residents. We have no idea how many casualties are out there. There is an untold amount of destruction. Spewing blather is creating an army of dimwitted zombies. A major resolution is needed from Trenton, and they sent you?
The sunrise revealed the frustration in the General’s furrowed brow. Professor Dotcom then speaks: Now see here, we have been fighting this LHS from the beginning, and I may have an idea for resolving……………..
But before he could finish, Professor Greevy interrupts arrogantly: Look, we know all about this and see it as a minor inconvenience for this county. The state legislature convened last night and agreed to send me as their representative. I am fully capable to handle this situation. I have history and English degrees from both Kean College and Rutgers University, and I got passing grades on the chemistry electives I took at those colleges. Because of this wealth of education, the state certified me in molecular biogenetics. So step aside and I will discuss the final resolution with the General. I am handling this now.
The General nods to Professor Dotcom to stand back. There will be no test of academic wills while this LHS with its horde of blithering zombies remains at large.
Ok, General, says Professor Greevy: Here is your solution. Since we at Trenton have been monitoring this from the beginning, we heard that the LHS veers away from libraries. As we all know libraries contain paper, so with my superior intellect I was able to determine that bleached paper is the answer. The state legislature has voted on an emergency $50 million appropriation for supplies. A large plane rented from Corey Zine Plane rentals now waits at Teterboro with the full supply of paper determined. These supplies were bought from Norcrass Paper Supply Company, so they are grade A. But, since Libraries contain more than just paper, to be safe, the legislature also directed us to stock this plane with inks bought from Codie Ink Company, index cards from Roeberts Card Company, chairs from Stander Furniture Company and light bulbs from Greenie Electrical Supply. Cost of course for expediency was no object in acquiring these items. Once dropped from above onto this LHS of yours, it will be instantly destroyed. The plane is ready to take off from Teterboro, when word is given.
Professor Dotcom interjects to Professor Mac Greevy: Professor there has to be more to the solution than just these products. Paper won’t solve this; even light bulbs and chairs. There are light bulbs throughout the county and the LHS just stomped right over them. I was sitting in front of a pad of paper and a pen with ink all night and wasn’t cured of the blather induced contagion.
Greevy indignantly responds: Look, Professor Dotcom, do you have a state certification in molecular biogenetics? No? Then allow me to continue. The legislature in their emergency appropriation deemed that these items needed to be purchased from these exact companies in order to protect the safety of the seniors, hard working families and children of NJ. You do care about children, don’t you Professor?
Professor Dotcom, nodded yes, and confused with the logic of the fully certifiable professor stumbled back and allowed him the latitude.
It is now pushing 7am, the green hued sunlight glints off the wasteland of Onion County. The General radios above to Major Bury: Major where’s the LHS now?
Still in Rahway, Sir, but moving toward Linden. The armories from Middlesex County appear to have deflected the LHS back northward, fortunately.
General Renna turns toward Professor Greevy and gives the word: Go, professor!
Professor Greevy pulls out the miniature radio phone from his pocket, flips the transmitter switch and with a muffled whisper into the front says: All systems go, its show time.
He turns back toward the General and says: In thirty minutes, all your problems will be solved and you’ll look like a hero, thanks to Trenton.
The General mumbles under his breath: Yes, let’s pin all our hopes on Trenton and the state legislature.
Professor Greevy quizzically asks: Did you say something General?
The General replies: No, it must have been the morning’s breaking winds.
Professor Greevy turned toward the north and looked to the sky for his plane.
Part 12 Oh Happy Day, What?
Professor Greevy, cloaked in tight kaki garb and an awkward fitting gas mask, gazed up through the polarized rose colored lenses of the mask and intensely studies the early morning skies northward over Onion County. Some enlisted men stop their duties and look in that direction also. This morning has its period of seeming quiet as if the normal county calm prevailed; a calm all but punctuated by insistent rocket fire coming from the direction of the Linden area. All of this is now heard through a strangely induced haze, perhaps from dust raised from the stomping fungus feet along with the airborne blather of the LHS, perhaps the many collapsed and burning buildings, perhaps the smoke wisps of the rocket trails as they try with futility to bring the beast down, maybe the combination of all three to nurture it’s creation. All of this slowly wafting from that direction, where the LHS was fought back in the middle of the night from the valiant forces of the Middlesex county armories. The demarcation held.
Dispensing his duties despite the non-stop 24 hours, Major Bury, from the observation post atop Franklin school, is first to notify command HQ.
Plane coming. Looks like a Dehavilland 760 cargo. Wing lettering says ‘Corey Zine Plane Rentals’. ETA 5 minutes.
The sudden and heightened tension of the compound could be felt. The drone of the props are at first low but then could be heard loud. The cargo plane now could be seen following a southerly route with the parkway below as the guide. Its target- the LHS, which is now making its way on Stiles street crossing St George in Linden. Behind the LHS the destruction of the Pathmark and Gulf station left in flames. The progress all being reported by Major Bury and his telephoto binoculars.
Professor Dotcom, in the background studying the local maps announces the prognosis: The forecast of intersecting paths of plane and beast plants the point squarely in the fields behind Mother Seton High School.
Professor Greevy seconds: This will be the final waterloo of your LHS. Machiavelli couldn’t have written a better end to this nuisance.
It is now 9 AM. Professor Greevy switches his radiophone to aeronautical mode and radios the occupants of the plane above: Captains Marvey and Hilgram, do you see the target?
Chump change, Professor Greevy, responded Capt Marvey. Looks like we’ll meet that nuisance near a circular road that underpasses this Parkway route.
In the meanwhile, many of the men at HQ have joined Major Bury at the school roof to observe the victory they all expect. General Renna, frowns on this since no orders to that effect were given, but the situation permitted some leeway and it would be a good victory to observe. The ball is now in Trenton, Greevy and Marvey’s court to end this Peril.
From Professor Greevy’s radio phone comes the plane’s ongoing progress overheard from the serious monotone voices: Approaching target……opening bomb bay doors………..Capt Hilgram, do you have the sighting in the target lens…yes, captain…adjust path 2 degrees SSW, decline 5 degrees, wind minimal…….steady……steady……steady……steady….fire in the hole. Payload away!
Major Bury then reports down, with the men on the roof heard cheering in the background:. General, the plane dropped its payload, now veering off toward the coast. The furniture. bulbs and ink dropping on the LHS. The paper appears to now be covering the beast, a desk had a direct hit on the LHS head…..Oh my god, the LHS just let out a projectile stream of blather and it just hit the plane. The plane is faltering and losing speed. It’s swerving north and appears an impact area will be around Elizabeth.
From professor Greevy’s radio, a frantic Capt. Marvey could be heard. We’re going down, no time to bail out, we are heading for some county building in Elizabeth, can’t pull up, pedals jammed, going down. Can’t stop…………….
The radio frequency went dead.
Major Bury reporting in sudden grave tones: It looks like the plane hit direct into the top 6th floor of a Onion County administration bldg. It’s now in flames. Just horrible! Hold it; my men are signaling me to turn toward the LHS. Sorry, General, I digressed from the operation at hand. General, the LHS is covered in ink, paper, broken bulbs and chairs. A huge vapor trail is rising off the surface of the LHS. The LHS surface must be hot; the ink is evaporating making huge dark clouds above it. The LHS appears to be shaken and stumbling. It just fell, tripped over the parkway bridge and fell into the Target mall nearby. The LHS is down, the LHS is down. The LHS is lying there smoldering in its mist, its not moving.
Professor Greevy lets out a huge whoop through his gas mask: Oh, happy day!
The men on the ground and on the school roof are cheering. General Renna looks at Professor Dotcom and with a shrug gives a thumbs up.
But then Major Bury’s voice breaks the silence: General, the LHS is not staying down. It’s rising again. It must have been that direct hit from a desk that knocked the LHS over. It may be the operation was unsuccessful. This does not look good. The creature is up again, moving north on Central avenue. This is bad, really bad. My god, what is happening…………..?
Major Bury could not finish that thought. The command HQ heard it across the green misted sky, too. The LHS released a huge roar heard county wide. One ominous sound, loud and clear:
DUH!
Major Bury again reporting down to HQ below: Oh, oh, looks like we got trouble. That noise, whatever it was alerted all the zombies from around the area. It looks like hordes of those blithering idiot zombies are now making their way through the Onion County College debris field. General, they may be heading this way.
Captain Monarch from the corner of the tent blurts out: General, that’s LesManiac’s and Cryandsob’s hordes. There’s got to be hundreds of them.
General Renna cries to Professor Dotcom and to his radio man to get on the speaker: Batten down, we’re in code red!
Professor Greevy says: What? This just couldn't be. Trenton and I were wrong?
With this new uninvited but hopefully needed guest from the government inside command HQ tent, the General asks Professor Greevy: Just what help will you be able to provide?
Professor Greevy replies: We have been monitoring this Peril in Onion County, and although the federal level feels that the main army from the surrounding area should be mobilized, the state of New Jersey reassured the feds that this is just a nuisance. Trenton has sent me as the one person to easily dismiss this.
The General sputters: Professor, there is a 110 foot tall LHS with moldy feet stomping its way through Onion County, threatening all residents. We have no idea how many casualties are out there. There is an untold amount of destruction. Spewing blather is creating an army of dimwitted zombies. A major resolution is needed from Trenton, and they sent you?
The sunrise revealed the frustration in the General’s furrowed brow. Professor Dotcom then speaks: Now see here, we have been fighting this LHS from the beginning, and I may have an idea for resolving……………..
But before he could finish, Professor Greevy interrupts arrogantly: Look, we know all about this and see it as a minor inconvenience for this county. The state legislature convened last night and agreed to send me as their representative. I am fully capable to handle this situation. I have history and English degrees from both Kean College and Rutgers University, and I got passing grades on the chemistry electives I took at those colleges. Because of this wealth of education, the state certified me in molecular biogenetics. So step aside and I will discuss the final resolution with the General. I am handling this now.
The General nods to Professor Dotcom to stand back. There will be no test of academic wills while this LHS with its horde of blithering zombies remains at large.
Ok, General, says Professor Greevy: Here is your solution. Since we at Trenton have been monitoring this from the beginning, we heard that the LHS veers away from libraries. As we all know libraries contain paper, so with my superior intellect I was able to determine that bleached paper is the answer. The state legislature has voted on an emergency $50 million appropriation for supplies. A large plane rented from Corey Zine Plane rentals now waits at Teterboro with the full supply of paper determined. These supplies were bought from Norcrass Paper Supply Company, so they are grade A. But, since Libraries contain more than just paper, to be safe, the legislature also directed us to stock this plane with inks bought from Codie Ink Company, index cards from Roeberts Card Company, chairs from Stander Furniture Company and light bulbs from Greenie Electrical Supply. Cost of course for expediency was no object in acquiring these items. Once dropped from above onto this LHS of yours, it will be instantly destroyed. The plane is ready to take off from Teterboro, when word is given.
Professor Dotcom interjects to Professor Mac Greevy: Professor there has to be more to the solution than just these products. Paper won’t solve this; even light bulbs and chairs. There are light bulbs throughout the county and the LHS just stomped right over them. I was sitting in front of a pad of paper and a pen with ink all night and wasn’t cured of the blather induced contagion.
Greevy indignantly responds: Look, Professor Dotcom, do you have a state certification in molecular biogenetics? No? Then allow me to continue. The legislature in their emergency appropriation deemed that these items needed to be purchased from these exact companies in order to protect the safety of the seniors, hard working families and children of NJ. You do care about children, don’t you Professor?
Professor Dotcom, nodded yes, and confused with the logic of the fully certifiable professor stumbled back and allowed him the latitude.
It is now pushing 7am, the green hued sunlight glints off the wasteland of Onion County. The General radios above to Major Bury: Major where’s the LHS now?
Still in Rahway, Sir, but moving toward Linden. The armories from Middlesex County appear to have deflected the LHS back northward, fortunately.
General Renna turns toward Professor Greevy and gives the word: Go, professor!
Professor Greevy pulls out the miniature radio phone from his pocket, flips the transmitter switch and with a muffled whisper into the front says: All systems go, its show time.
He turns back toward the General and says: In thirty minutes, all your problems will be solved and you’ll look like a hero, thanks to Trenton.
The General mumbles under his breath: Yes, let’s pin all our hopes on Trenton and the state legislature.
Professor Greevy quizzically asks: Did you say something General?
The General replies: No, it must have been the morning’s breaking winds.
Professor Greevy turned toward the north and looked to the sky for his plane.
Part 12 Oh Happy Day, What?
Professor Greevy, cloaked in tight kaki garb and an awkward fitting gas mask, gazed up through the polarized rose colored lenses of the mask and intensely studies the early morning skies northward over Onion County. Some enlisted men stop their duties and look in that direction also. This morning has its period of seeming quiet as if the normal county calm prevailed; a calm all but punctuated by insistent rocket fire coming from the direction of the Linden area. All of this is now heard through a strangely induced haze, perhaps from dust raised from the stomping fungus feet along with the airborne blather of the LHS, perhaps the many collapsed and burning buildings, perhaps the smoke wisps of the rocket trails as they try with futility to bring the beast down, maybe the combination of all three to nurture it’s creation. All of this slowly wafting from that direction, where the LHS was fought back in the middle of the night from the valiant forces of the Middlesex county armories. The demarcation held.
Dispensing his duties despite the non-stop 24 hours, Major Bury, from the observation post atop Franklin school, is first to notify command HQ.
Plane coming. Looks like a Dehavilland 760 cargo. Wing lettering says ‘Corey Zine Plane Rentals’. ETA 5 minutes.
The sudden and heightened tension of the compound could be felt. The drone of the props are at first low but then could be heard loud. The cargo plane now could be seen following a southerly route with the parkway below as the guide. Its target- the LHS, which is now making its way on Stiles street crossing St George in Linden. Behind the LHS the destruction of the Pathmark and Gulf station left in flames. The progress all being reported by Major Bury and his telephoto binoculars.
Professor Dotcom, in the background studying the local maps announces the prognosis: The forecast of intersecting paths of plane and beast plants the point squarely in the fields behind Mother Seton High School.
Professor Greevy seconds: This will be the final waterloo of your LHS. Machiavelli couldn’t have written a better end to this nuisance.
It is now 9 AM. Professor Greevy switches his radiophone to aeronautical mode and radios the occupants of the plane above: Captains Marvey and Hilgram, do you see the target?
Chump change, Professor Greevy, responded Capt Marvey. Looks like we’ll meet that nuisance near a circular road that underpasses this Parkway route.
In the meanwhile, many of the men at HQ have joined Major Bury at the school roof to observe the victory they all expect. General Renna, frowns on this since no orders to that effect were given, but the situation permitted some leeway and it would be a good victory to observe. The ball is now in Trenton, Greevy and Marvey’s court to end this Peril.
From Professor Greevy’s radio phone comes the plane’s ongoing progress overheard from the serious monotone voices: Approaching target……opening bomb bay doors………..Capt Hilgram, do you have the sighting in the target lens…yes, captain…adjust path 2 degrees SSW, decline 5 degrees, wind minimal…….steady……steady……steady……steady….fire in the hole. Payload away!
Major Bury then reports down, with the men on the roof heard cheering in the background:. General, the plane dropped its payload, now veering off toward the coast. The furniture. bulbs and ink dropping on the LHS. The paper appears to now be covering the beast, a desk had a direct hit on the LHS head…..Oh my god, the LHS just let out a projectile stream of blather and it just hit the plane. The plane is faltering and losing speed. It’s swerving north and appears an impact area will be around Elizabeth.
From professor Greevy’s radio, a frantic Capt. Marvey could be heard. We’re going down, no time to bail out, we are heading for some county building in Elizabeth, can’t pull up, pedals jammed, going down. Can’t stop…………….
The radio frequency went dead.
Major Bury reporting in sudden grave tones: It looks like the plane hit direct into the top 6th floor of a Onion County administration bldg. It’s now in flames. Just horrible! Hold it; my men are signaling me to turn toward the LHS. Sorry, General, I digressed from the operation at hand. General, the LHS is covered in ink, paper, broken bulbs and chairs. A huge vapor trail is rising off the surface of the LHS. The LHS surface must be hot; the ink is evaporating making huge dark clouds above it. The LHS appears to be shaken and stumbling. It just fell, tripped over the parkway bridge and fell into the Target mall nearby. The LHS is down, the LHS is down. The LHS is lying there smoldering in its mist, its not moving.
Professor Greevy lets out a huge whoop through his gas mask: Oh, happy day!
The men on the ground and on the school roof are cheering. General Renna looks at Professor Dotcom and with a shrug gives a thumbs up.
But then Major Bury’s voice breaks the silence: General, the LHS is not staying down. It’s rising again. It must have been that direct hit from a desk that knocked the LHS over. It may be the operation was unsuccessful. This does not look good. The creature is up again, moving north on Central avenue. This is bad, really bad. My god, what is happening…………..?
Major Bury could not finish that thought. The command HQ heard it across the green misted sky, too. The LHS released a huge roar heard county wide. One ominous sound, loud and clear:
DUH!
Major Bury again reporting down to HQ below: Oh, oh, looks like we got trouble. That noise, whatever it was alerted all the zombies from around the area. It looks like hordes of those blithering idiot zombies are now making their way through the Onion County College debris field. General, they may be heading this way.
Captain Monarch from the corner of the tent blurts out: General, that’s LesManiac’s and Cryandsob’s hordes. There’s got to be hundreds of them.
General Renna cries to Professor Dotcom and to his radio man to get on the speaker: Batten down, we’re in code red!
Professor Greevy says: What? This just couldn't be. Trenton and I were wrong?
7th Chapter
Part 13 We’re being Surrounded
On the command from General Renna, a private started to crank the red alert siren. The low frequency growl getting louder, warning all those around, and then echoes thru the surrounding community of Garwood. The residents, whoever were left, are already in their basements, cowering from the Peril of the LHS when it initially went through the north end of the boro, destroying Onion County College in it's wake. Major Bury still positioned atop Franklin school for the last 24 hours radios down in urgency: General, those dimwitted zombie hordes are now on the outside of town. Swinging around, Major Bury also declares: And the LHS is near the Girl Scout offices on Grove Street and coming this way. We're being surrounded.
General Renna taking the handset from the radioman says to Major Bury: Stay put on the roof. Send whoever else is up there down to help. We are demobilizing the compound as fast as possible and moving into the school buildings. The situation is dire. Will make contact with you once we set up again. Signing off!
The General turns toward Captain Monarch: Go. Help our men on the west side of the school. If need be, abandon the tents and just move the critical equipment inside the nearby Lincoln school and re-set up there. I'll take the east side of our compound and move it into the Franklin school. We'll regroup in the 2 schools and reestablish contact.
To the two professors, the General yells: You two move first and go inside now, we need your expertise if and when these blithering hordes hit.
Both Greevy and Dotcom, nod in unison and scurry under the tent flaps toward Franklin, Greevy pushing Dotcom away to proceed first. The radioman finishes packing the communication gear and follows fast. The bustle of the men throughout the HQ compound as they break camp show definite urgency. The late October morning sun adds to the sweat. The tension from the imminent Peril is tangible. Moments pass.
Private Bean at the north east corner of the compound was the first to look up and see the front fringe of the hordes come around 3rd avenue onto Walnut. My God, General Renna, they've arrived!
General Renna leans toward his shoulder microphone and commands through all the walkie-talkies on the men's belts. Men, drop whatever you have and get inside the school, fast. And bar the doors.
The men abandon their positions and retreat through the doors of Franklin and the adjacent Lincoln school on 2nd avenue. The hordes spill into the courtyard and towards the school doors now slammed shut, wedges of broken wood chairs jammed in the inside handles by the men. The zombie mass covers the door windows of both schools, banging their bodies and heads against them, again and again. The duhs fill the courtyard in ominous echos.
In Franklin School, the radioman finishes setting up the communication gear in a first floor classroom and the General contacts Major Bury on the roof. Major, what do you see?
They’re all around us, General. They have ringed the 2 schools. Looks like Lincoln is definitely taking the brunt of the hordes. Franklin is surrounded on 3 sides, but with minimal resistance toward the east side, front of the school. Worse, the LHS has now crossed the railroad tracks and is 2 blocks away. It just flattened Shop-Rite. We're really in for it bad, General.
Major, keep us posted on the progress as long as you can.
The crackle of the intercom interrupted. It was Captain Monarch over in the Lincoln school location to the west.
General, we don't know how long we can hold this position. Zombies are at the doors and windows. The mesh security wire is giving way.
The General heard the crash of glass through the intercom. Lincoln School is being breeched.
Captain, fire at will, you must hold them back.
Captain Monarch gives the command order to fire.
The crackle of gunfire can easily be heard by ear from the General's location in Franklin school.
Captain Monarch has 20 men with him at Lincoln school. The zombie mass presses through the broken doors and crawls through the nearby windows. Monarch and his men are forced to fall back into the hallway, blasting away with their weapons with little affect. The men backing down the hallway, the zombies pressing forward; more zombies joining the mass by coming through the classroom windows, through the doors into the hallway.
Monarch and his men retreat up a ramp and encounter an auditorium. There they climb to the stage and fire down at the pressing mass of zombies. With nowhere else to go, Captain Monarch had to think fast but could come up with nothing. He radio’s the General over at Franklin school.
General, my men are trapped. We are in an auditorium, running low on ammo, can't hold the hordes back. What should we do?
The General went to speak, but Professor Dotcom, grabbed the mike off the General's shoulder clip. Sorry, but allow me, General.
Professor, if you have an idea, go right ahead.
The Professor, yelling into the mike: Captain, I have been slowly determining a solution and the same idea may fit here in your situation. If you remember in my lab you held a textbook near me, and i suddenly revived. This may be the clue.
Over the heavy noise of duhs and the rapid fire of weapons, Captain Monarch responds: I remembered during my encounter at Schering Plough's warehouse, myself and private Bean threw text books at the zombies to hold them back. Could textbooks help us from this predicament?
Yes, Captain, this is the direction I was thinking.
Monarch turned to Corporal Buettner next to him. He is firing furiously down at the zombies trying to climb on the stage: Corporal, take someone with you, go through that stage door, hopefully the zombies haven’t made it to that hallway yet. Go into a classroom and grab all the books you can carry, bring them back to the stage.
Yes, sir. Buettner grabs Private Bramnick. The 2 men holster their guns and run thru the stage door left.
Professor Dotcom continues: Captain Monarch, years ago, I lectured in that auditorium to 8th graders on the importance of science. As I recall, there is a marked entrance to a steam utility tunnel to the right across the hall. This connects the two schools. You must try to make it to the tunnel over to Franklin where we are.
Yes, Professor.
Corporal Buettner and the private just then return with their hands filled with books.
Captain we found 41 books, all we could get.
Captain Monarch, remembering the Schering Plough escape, almost said to start throwing them, but held back for a better idea. Over, the horrid noises, he yells. Corporal Buettner, hand out 2 books to each man. 20 men are 40 books; I'll take the last one. Have the men hold a book in each hand and swing it back and forth around themselves. We might be able to get thru the hordes that way. Head towards the back of the auditorium, There is a steam tunnel door. We must get our men into that tunnel and toward safety with the main group in the other school.
But Captain, the books make no sense. How are they supposed to stop these blithering zombie hordes? And you will end up with only one book, how can you swing only one?
Corporal, they may be afraid of paper, just do it, that’s an order.
The books were handed out. The men one by one holster their weapons and start swinging the books. The hordes suddenly stop their relentless pressing. The din of hideous duhs, are quieting down.
Captain, its working! The books are working! They are afraid of the paper.
Head off the stage, form a line, keep swinging those books. Lead the men toward the steam tunnel to Franklin school. I'll follow.
Corporal Buettner, leading the men, went down the stairs onto the main floor, swinging the books. The blithering hordes part like the Red Sea before Moses. The men walking slowly, swinging the books, make their way in single file toward the back. Captain Monarch then goes to follow but with one book couldn't cover all his sides and the zombies press back around him. He retreats and becomes stuck on the stage.
From the back of the auditorium, yells Buettner. Captain, watch out, what are you going to do, you can't get out.
The captain yells back. Keep leading your men toward that tunnel. I'll be alright.
With that, Captain Monarch, looks around, pulls out his pocket knife and retreats to the back of the stage. He grabs on to sand bag ropes behind him and cuts the balancing rope. The zombies lurch toward him, climbing on the stage, filling the stairways, the doors. The rope yanks Monarch up out of the closing grasp of the zombies, and he, still clutching his book hopefully heads up to some platform hidden high behind the curtains. But is there one? He suddenly is drawn from sight of the men he saved.
Corporal Buettner, leads his book-swinging men to the tunnel, and throws open the door. One by one the men drop their books and climb into the tunnel. When Buettner saw to the last man in the tunnel, he piles the books at the tunnel entrance and climbs in. The hordes can not get close, the piled books with their dreaded paper holding them back.
At the other end of the tunnel is Franklin school, and some safety. The Franklin tunnel door is drawn open and the General and his men help Buettner and his contingent of 20 out of the tunnel, one by one.
When the last one was out, the General turns to Corporal Buettner and inquires. Where's Captain Monarch?
General, when we last saw him, he was on the stage wrapped in curtains, surrounded by zombies. That's all we saw.
The General held his head low and murmured. Curtains, indeed. Captain Monarch was a brave man.
The banging of the zombies against the walls, doors and windows of Franklin school, bring the reality of the situation back home. There is no true safety at Franklin. The Peril still remains.
Major Bury’s voice comes across the radio in a short concise message with a sense of dread they could all feel: General, the LHS is here.
Dear reader please transition into the "older archives" by clicking to the right
On the command from General Renna, a private started to crank the red alert siren. The low frequency growl getting louder, warning all those around, and then echoes thru the surrounding community of Garwood. The residents, whoever were left, are already in their basements, cowering from the Peril of the LHS when it initially went through the north end of the boro, destroying Onion County College in it's wake. Major Bury still positioned atop Franklin school for the last 24 hours radios down in urgency: General, those dimwitted zombie hordes are now on the outside of town. Swinging around, Major Bury also declares: And the LHS is near the Girl Scout offices on Grove Street and coming this way. We're being surrounded.
General Renna taking the handset from the radioman says to Major Bury: Stay put on the roof. Send whoever else is up there down to help. We are demobilizing the compound as fast as possible and moving into the school buildings. The situation is dire. Will make contact with you once we set up again. Signing off!
The General turns toward Captain Monarch: Go. Help our men on the west side of the school. If need be, abandon the tents and just move the critical equipment inside the nearby Lincoln school and re-set up there. I'll take the east side of our compound and move it into the Franklin school. We'll regroup in the 2 schools and reestablish contact.
To the two professors, the General yells: You two move first and go inside now, we need your expertise if and when these blithering hordes hit.
Both Greevy and Dotcom, nod in unison and scurry under the tent flaps toward Franklin, Greevy pushing Dotcom away to proceed first. The radioman finishes packing the communication gear and follows fast. The bustle of the men throughout the HQ compound as they break camp show definite urgency. The late October morning sun adds to the sweat. The tension from the imminent Peril is tangible. Moments pass.
Private Bean at the north east corner of the compound was the first to look up and see the front fringe of the hordes come around 3rd avenue onto Walnut. My God, General Renna, they've arrived!
General Renna leans toward his shoulder microphone and commands through all the walkie-talkies on the men's belts. Men, drop whatever you have and get inside the school, fast. And bar the doors.
The men abandon their positions and retreat through the doors of Franklin and the adjacent Lincoln school on 2nd avenue. The hordes spill into the courtyard and towards the school doors now slammed shut, wedges of broken wood chairs jammed in the inside handles by the men. The zombie mass covers the door windows of both schools, banging their bodies and heads against them, again and again. The duhs fill the courtyard in ominous echos.
In Franklin School, the radioman finishes setting up the communication gear in a first floor classroom and the General contacts Major Bury on the roof. Major, what do you see?
They’re all around us, General. They have ringed the 2 schools. Looks like Lincoln is definitely taking the brunt of the hordes. Franklin is surrounded on 3 sides, but with minimal resistance toward the east side, front of the school. Worse, the LHS has now crossed the railroad tracks and is 2 blocks away. It just flattened Shop-Rite. We're really in for it bad, General.
Major, keep us posted on the progress as long as you can.
The crackle of the intercom interrupted. It was Captain Monarch over in the Lincoln school location to the west.
General, we don't know how long we can hold this position. Zombies are at the doors and windows. The mesh security wire is giving way.
The General heard the crash of glass through the intercom. Lincoln School is being breeched.
Captain, fire at will, you must hold them back.
Captain Monarch gives the command order to fire.
The crackle of gunfire can easily be heard by ear from the General's location in Franklin school.
Captain Monarch has 20 men with him at Lincoln school. The zombie mass presses through the broken doors and crawls through the nearby windows. Monarch and his men are forced to fall back into the hallway, blasting away with their weapons with little affect. The men backing down the hallway, the zombies pressing forward; more zombies joining the mass by coming through the classroom windows, through the doors into the hallway.
Monarch and his men retreat up a ramp and encounter an auditorium. There they climb to the stage and fire down at the pressing mass of zombies. With nowhere else to go, Captain Monarch had to think fast but could come up with nothing. He radio’s the General over at Franklin school.
General, my men are trapped. We are in an auditorium, running low on ammo, can't hold the hordes back. What should we do?
The General went to speak, but Professor Dotcom, grabbed the mike off the General's shoulder clip. Sorry, but allow me, General.
Professor, if you have an idea, go right ahead.
The Professor, yelling into the mike: Captain, I have been slowly determining a solution and the same idea may fit here in your situation. If you remember in my lab you held a textbook near me, and i suddenly revived. This may be the clue.
Over the heavy noise of duhs and the rapid fire of weapons, Captain Monarch responds: I remembered during my encounter at Schering Plough's warehouse, myself and private Bean threw text books at the zombies to hold them back. Could textbooks help us from this predicament?
Yes, Captain, this is the direction I was thinking.
Monarch turned to Corporal Buettner next to him. He is firing furiously down at the zombies trying to climb on the stage: Corporal, take someone with you, go through that stage door, hopefully the zombies haven’t made it to that hallway yet. Go into a classroom and grab all the books you can carry, bring them back to the stage.
Yes, sir. Buettner grabs Private Bramnick. The 2 men holster their guns and run thru the stage door left.
Professor Dotcom continues: Captain Monarch, years ago, I lectured in that auditorium to 8th graders on the importance of science. As I recall, there is a marked entrance to a steam utility tunnel to the right across the hall. This connects the two schools. You must try to make it to the tunnel over to Franklin where we are.
Yes, Professor.
Corporal Buettner and the private just then return with their hands filled with books.
Captain we found 41 books, all we could get.
Captain Monarch, remembering the Schering Plough escape, almost said to start throwing them, but held back for a better idea. Over, the horrid noises, he yells. Corporal Buettner, hand out 2 books to each man. 20 men are 40 books; I'll take the last one. Have the men hold a book in each hand and swing it back and forth around themselves. We might be able to get thru the hordes that way. Head towards the back of the auditorium, There is a steam tunnel door. We must get our men into that tunnel and toward safety with the main group in the other school.
But Captain, the books make no sense. How are they supposed to stop these blithering zombie hordes? And you will end up with only one book, how can you swing only one?
Corporal, they may be afraid of paper, just do it, that’s an order.
The books were handed out. The men one by one holster their weapons and start swinging the books. The hordes suddenly stop their relentless pressing. The din of hideous duhs, are quieting down.
Captain, its working! The books are working! They are afraid of the paper.
Head off the stage, form a line, keep swinging those books. Lead the men toward the steam tunnel to Franklin school. I'll follow.
Corporal Buettner, leading the men, went down the stairs onto the main floor, swinging the books. The blithering hordes part like the Red Sea before Moses. The men walking slowly, swinging the books, make their way in single file toward the back. Captain Monarch then goes to follow but with one book couldn't cover all his sides and the zombies press back around him. He retreats and becomes stuck on the stage.
From the back of the auditorium, yells Buettner. Captain, watch out, what are you going to do, you can't get out.
The captain yells back. Keep leading your men toward that tunnel. I'll be alright.
With that, Captain Monarch, looks around, pulls out his pocket knife and retreats to the back of the stage. He grabs on to sand bag ropes behind him and cuts the balancing rope. The zombies lurch toward him, climbing on the stage, filling the stairways, the doors. The rope yanks Monarch up out of the closing grasp of the zombies, and he, still clutching his book hopefully heads up to some platform hidden high behind the curtains. But is there one? He suddenly is drawn from sight of the men he saved.
Corporal Buettner, leads his book-swinging men to the tunnel, and throws open the door. One by one the men drop their books and climb into the tunnel. When Buettner saw to the last man in the tunnel, he piles the books at the tunnel entrance and climbs in. The hordes can not get close, the piled books with their dreaded paper holding them back.
At the other end of the tunnel is Franklin school, and some safety. The Franklin tunnel door is drawn open and the General and his men help Buettner and his contingent of 20 out of the tunnel, one by one.
When the last one was out, the General turns to Corporal Buettner and inquires. Where's Captain Monarch?
General, when we last saw him, he was on the stage wrapped in curtains, surrounded by zombies. That's all we saw.
The General held his head low and murmured. Curtains, indeed. Captain Monarch was a brave man.
The banging of the zombies against the walls, doors and windows of Franklin school, bring the reality of the situation back home. There is no true safety at Franklin. The Peril still remains.
Major Bury’s voice comes across the radio in a short concise message with a sense of dread they could all feel: General, the LHS is here.
Dear reader please transition into the "older archives" by clicking to the right
8th chapter
Part 14 The Peril We all Face
Major Bury atop the Franklin School continues to report the ongoing event: General, the LHS just took out the Westwood and the Hess station and is coming right up Walnut, right towards Franklin school.
The General from inside Franklin can hear the explosion of the gasoline tanks from the Hess station one short block away. He takes a few steps back and yells into the mike: Watch yourself. Major Bury, time to get down off that roof!
Major Bury stands up and grabs his telephoto binoculars, but it is too late. From the south side over the parapet, the LHS peers down on the Major.
Franklin school for all of its 3 stories height, with attic and including the additional 10 foot high hillock it was built on only has a total height of 80 feet. With the LHS at 110 feet, 30 feet of the horrid LHS looms over the parapet edge. With steam still coming off the scales from where the ink doused the creature near the parkway, the searing green eye spots its prey-Major Bury!
Major Bury drops his equipment and makes a break for the roof stairwell, a sudden huge roar being emitted from the cavernous hole in the front of the LHS pushing him forward;
DUUUUUUUUHHH.
The LHS spews out the stream of dark green blather. Bury grabs the doorknob and swings himself inside slamming the door and falling down the flight of stairs into the industrial arts room. He could hear the splash of the thick goop against the stairwell cover. Bury rolled hard, gets up and runs toward the stairs across the hall, heading with fury down toward the first floor. He thanked the stars and the tightly fitting mask and clothes that he escaped without a vestige of blather on his person.
With the arrival of the LHS into the courtyard the blithering dimwitted zombies become even more agitated, the banging on the building gets louder. But Franklin School built back in 1910 out of solidly poured reinforced concrete holds them back. The General is getting reports from his men inside that Franklin is nearly surrounded with minor resistance in the eastern front portion. The General considering this yells into the mike to the walkie-talkies on the men's belts: all hands, head fast to the basement and toward the east side of the building. We will regroup there for the escape. The men pour down the stairwells into the basement and toward the front of the building. They throw open the doors of the large room. There becomes a stark realization of why there may be minimal resistance near the front of the building.
Professor Dotcom yells out: Of course, the library! They are staying away from the front of the building because the library is right here. That proves my theory for sure.
The Professor turns toward the General: General, I must go upstairs to the radio.
Professor, that is sheer suicide, you won't make it.
General, I have to radio orders out to a station I had set up previously, based on my thoughts when we were outside in the tents.
Professor, its your life, better take one of my men with you for protection.
No, I'll go alone; I don't want to sacrifice anyone else if I fail.
The Professor lunges toward the door passing the men crouched behind the rows of wooden bookshelves, their drawn weapons at the ready for a possible imminent breech and orders to fire for their lives. He heads up the staircase to the first floor classroom. He could see thru the basement windows at grade the rows of moldy feet of the zombies as they banged against the first floor windows and doors. He must make it before Franklin is breeched. He must not fail against the Peril that will take them all down.
The Professor heads into the first floor classroom where the radio is set up. He grabs the mike, and adjusts knobs to the preset frequency; then speaks the words: Bristol 1, Bristol 1 this is Franklin. Do you copy? Are you at the ready point?
The crackling emission comes across the speaker. We read you clear, Franklin.
Suddenly, he feels a presence behind him at the door. He turns. A zombie got in! The blithering idiot was at the classroom doorway. He lost his breath in fright.
As the zombie took its first step into the class toward the Professor, 5 shots ring out forcing the zombie to stagger back into the hallway. It was Major Bury from the second floor stairwell. As the zombie fell backward, Major Bury dives into the classroom, past the zombie, weapon in hand and slams the door giving them both some safety.
Major Bury, bullets won't stop them.
Well Professor, it sure looks like it won't tickle them either.
The door starts shaking. The Professor yells to Major Bury: If that zombie breaks the door, start throwing those books at him. Don't ask why, just start throwing if he gets in.
The Professor turns back toward the mike and gives the command: Bristol 1, we need you... now!
Roger, over and out, Franklin.
The window in the classroom broke, with the zombie hand reaching through.
Major, throw those books. We must push that zombie back and get down into the basement.
They start throwing books and the zombie falls back. They make it out the door, into the stairwell, more zombies they encounter, but they throw the rest of the books they carried and make it by, down the stairs into the basement. They break thru the door back into the library, and to safety, however fleeting it may be.
The troops could feel the vibrations from the LHS stomping in the courtyard. They could hear the collapse of Lincoln school. They can hear the banging of the zombies as they throw themselves at the walls of Franklin school. The huge roars of duhs coming from all directions. This was an attack on their last sanctuary. Surely it will hold only for a short time since there is overwhelming numbers of the enemy. Even if paper was the true weapon, what the library holds will never be able to stop this many. And the zombies backed by the force of the LHS will overcome any impediment by sheer numbers alone. Left here the valiant soldiers, the professors, the General are certainly doomed.
The General considered giving the order to have his men fight their way out to safety through the gauntlet of zombies and the LHS. This could also be the end of them all, though, but what recourse? The Professor put his hand on the General's shoulder which stopped him from giving that ill-fated order.
General, there should be another plane anytime soon. My plan is in motion.
The General turns, but before he could respond, there comes the heavy drone of jet engines low overhead. A whistling is heard... no! A thousand whistlings! A bump, bump, bump could be heard as many things are hitting the ground outside, also bumping and bouncing against the windows and roof. The zombies outside emit horrendous duhs but suddenly are quieting down. The many bumpings continue. The windows being rattled by the zombies stop rattling. The bumpings continue. Moments pass. It becomes quiet. The bumpings stop. The crouching men inside the library are looking around. A pervasive silence outside leads them to wonder.
After a long 5 minutes, the Professor gets up slowly and whispers to the General. I think it just may have worked. General, you can give your men the order to stand to.
The General got up and commanded: Men, gather up, we are heading outside. But keep your weapons drawn.
Apprehensive, the troops are being led upstairs by Professor Dotcom and the General. They file up the stairwell, out the exit into the courtyard. One by one they timidly go outside, their weapons still at the ready; and stand in a huddled bunch looking around not knowing if the zombies will attack again.
There they behold a sight. Among broken branches, crushed plants, shards of glass, shoes and ripped clothing were many, many books, thousands of books, disheveled, broken open, spread across the courtyard, up Second Avenue, Walnut and Third, fully covering the ground like the autumn leaves. Lincoln school was half collapsed nearby. But no zombies or the LHS were in sight!
The General cried out: The books! Paper and ink! It was as I thought at the beginning of this Peril. But professor, how did you arrange it. There were no orders.
The Professor explained: General, while we were outside in the tents and after the failure of the first plane, I came to a realization. And I set a plan in motion. I radioed to Bristol Air Force Base in Delaware. I have connections with some high ranking officers there when i did propulsion studies for them. I explained the situation we were encountering with blithering zombies and the LHS. They, knowing what New Jersey has become, agreed to help me. They loaded up a B-52 with all the books from the campus Library of Delaware University near Bristol. They were flying on standby above New Brunswick waiting for an order from me. I gave them that order when we were trapped in the library in our final stand. They dropped the thousands of books on the hordes. It appears to have worked.
The General looked confused. Professor Greevy nearby sputters: But the books are simply made of paper and ink. Paper and ink is exactly what we dropped on the nuisance in the first place. It didn't work then, so why should it have worked now?
The Professor continued: Yes, books are made of paper and ink, but that's not the whole answer. It is the way the ink is on the paper....it is written in words, in thoughts, in ideas...all written as information. This is what finally did the LHS and the blithering idiot zombies in. Knowledge and information. That was our only weapon we could use against them. That’s why our final line held inside the library. We were surrounded and engulfed by knowledge. The LHS was a creature born out of error, cultivated only by a climate of political rhetoric, it fed on ignorance and with its blather had total control of those who have no real thirst for knowledge. From those in the public who feel no concern for information they were easily swayed by that blather, and the LHS formed an army of dimwitted zombies by its side.
Just then a yell came from across the courtyard. It was Captain Monarch. He was safe. He runs to join the group.
The Professor was glad to see his friend. How did you escape? Your men said you were a goner.
Professor, I escaped the zombies when I was pulled up into the curtains above the stage. There was a platform up there. The zombies tried to get to me by the one stairway up to the platform. At that point on the platform I placed the one book I had left, and it held them back. Until the LHS partially crushed Lincoln school and then I fell onto the stage. I rolled into cartons of glee club song books and covered myself in them so the zombies wouldn't get me. They then left to head toward your position. The school partially collapsed but I was safely left inside an air pocket formed by roof debris. After hiding there for a while it got quiet so I came outside and saw the troops.
The Professor nods to Captain Monarch and says: That was quick thinking. Songbooks, of course, contain rhyming ideas set to music.
The General looking around then turns to Professor Dotcom. Do you think this Peril of Onion County is gone for good?
The Professor sighs: General, we may have thwarted the blithering zombies for now. They may have returned from whence they came. But from what Captain Monarch has told us of his encounters with the zombies, they were being controlled by not only political blather but from political bosses around the area. And they certainly are still here. Without the public sharing in continual knowledge while being truly informed, dimwitted hordes can return. And unfortunately it looks like it could be next week.
The General flinched and asked: Why is that? Why next week?
The Professor responded: General, why Election Day is next week.
THE END...........duh, possibly for all of NJ.
Major Bury atop the Franklin School continues to report the ongoing event: General, the LHS just took out the Westwood and the Hess station and is coming right up Walnut, right towards Franklin school.
The General from inside Franklin can hear the explosion of the gasoline tanks from the Hess station one short block away. He takes a few steps back and yells into the mike: Watch yourself. Major Bury, time to get down off that roof!
Major Bury stands up and grabs his telephoto binoculars, but it is too late. From the south side over the parapet, the LHS peers down on the Major.
Franklin school for all of its 3 stories height, with attic and including the additional 10 foot high hillock it was built on only has a total height of 80 feet. With the LHS at 110 feet, 30 feet of the horrid LHS looms over the parapet edge. With steam still coming off the scales from where the ink doused the creature near the parkway, the searing green eye spots its prey-Major Bury!
Major Bury drops his equipment and makes a break for the roof stairwell, a sudden huge roar being emitted from the cavernous hole in the front of the LHS pushing him forward;
DUUUUUUUUHHH.
The LHS spews out the stream of dark green blather. Bury grabs the doorknob and swings himself inside slamming the door and falling down the flight of stairs into the industrial arts room. He could hear the splash of the thick goop against the stairwell cover. Bury rolled hard, gets up and runs toward the stairs across the hall, heading with fury down toward the first floor. He thanked the stars and the tightly fitting mask and clothes that he escaped without a vestige of blather on his person.
With the arrival of the LHS into the courtyard the blithering dimwitted zombies become even more agitated, the banging on the building gets louder. But Franklin School built back in 1910 out of solidly poured reinforced concrete holds them back. The General is getting reports from his men inside that Franklin is nearly surrounded with minor resistance in the eastern front portion. The General considering this yells into the mike to the walkie-talkies on the men's belts: all hands, head fast to the basement and toward the east side of the building. We will regroup there for the escape. The men pour down the stairwells into the basement and toward the front of the building. They throw open the doors of the large room. There becomes a stark realization of why there may be minimal resistance near the front of the building.
Professor Dotcom yells out: Of course, the library! They are staying away from the front of the building because the library is right here. That proves my theory for sure.
The Professor turns toward the General: General, I must go upstairs to the radio.
Professor, that is sheer suicide, you won't make it.
General, I have to radio orders out to a station I had set up previously, based on my thoughts when we were outside in the tents.
Professor, its your life, better take one of my men with you for protection.
No, I'll go alone; I don't want to sacrifice anyone else if I fail.
The Professor lunges toward the door passing the men crouched behind the rows of wooden bookshelves, their drawn weapons at the ready for a possible imminent breech and orders to fire for their lives. He heads up the staircase to the first floor classroom. He could see thru the basement windows at grade the rows of moldy feet of the zombies as they banged against the first floor windows and doors. He must make it before Franklin is breeched. He must not fail against the Peril that will take them all down.
The Professor heads into the first floor classroom where the radio is set up. He grabs the mike, and adjusts knobs to the preset frequency; then speaks the words: Bristol 1, Bristol 1 this is Franklin. Do you copy? Are you at the ready point?
The crackling emission comes across the speaker. We read you clear, Franklin.
Suddenly, he feels a presence behind him at the door. He turns. A zombie got in! The blithering idiot was at the classroom doorway. He lost his breath in fright.
As the zombie took its first step into the class toward the Professor, 5 shots ring out forcing the zombie to stagger back into the hallway. It was Major Bury from the second floor stairwell. As the zombie fell backward, Major Bury dives into the classroom, past the zombie, weapon in hand and slams the door giving them both some safety.
Major Bury, bullets won't stop them.
Well Professor, it sure looks like it won't tickle them either.
The door starts shaking. The Professor yells to Major Bury: If that zombie breaks the door, start throwing those books at him. Don't ask why, just start throwing if he gets in.
The Professor turns back toward the mike and gives the command: Bristol 1, we need you... now!
Roger, over and out, Franklin.
The window in the classroom broke, with the zombie hand reaching through.
Major, throw those books. We must push that zombie back and get down into the basement.
They start throwing books and the zombie falls back. They make it out the door, into the stairwell, more zombies they encounter, but they throw the rest of the books they carried and make it by, down the stairs into the basement. They break thru the door back into the library, and to safety, however fleeting it may be.
The troops could feel the vibrations from the LHS stomping in the courtyard. They could hear the collapse of Lincoln school. They can hear the banging of the zombies as they throw themselves at the walls of Franklin school. The huge roars of duhs coming from all directions. This was an attack on their last sanctuary. Surely it will hold only for a short time since there is overwhelming numbers of the enemy. Even if paper was the true weapon, what the library holds will never be able to stop this many. And the zombies backed by the force of the LHS will overcome any impediment by sheer numbers alone. Left here the valiant soldiers, the professors, the General are certainly doomed.
The General considered giving the order to have his men fight their way out to safety through the gauntlet of zombies and the LHS. This could also be the end of them all, though, but what recourse? The Professor put his hand on the General's shoulder which stopped him from giving that ill-fated order.
General, there should be another plane anytime soon. My plan is in motion.
The General turns, but before he could respond, there comes the heavy drone of jet engines low overhead. A whistling is heard... no! A thousand whistlings! A bump, bump, bump could be heard as many things are hitting the ground outside, also bumping and bouncing against the windows and roof. The zombies outside emit horrendous duhs but suddenly are quieting down. The many bumpings continue. The windows being rattled by the zombies stop rattling. The bumpings continue. Moments pass. It becomes quiet. The bumpings stop. The crouching men inside the library are looking around. A pervasive silence outside leads them to wonder.
After a long 5 minutes, the Professor gets up slowly and whispers to the General. I think it just may have worked. General, you can give your men the order to stand to.
The General got up and commanded: Men, gather up, we are heading outside. But keep your weapons drawn.
Apprehensive, the troops are being led upstairs by Professor Dotcom and the General. They file up the stairwell, out the exit into the courtyard. One by one they timidly go outside, their weapons still at the ready; and stand in a huddled bunch looking around not knowing if the zombies will attack again.
There they behold a sight. Among broken branches, crushed plants, shards of glass, shoes and ripped clothing were many, many books, thousands of books, disheveled, broken open, spread across the courtyard, up Second Avenue, Walnut and Third, fully covering the ground like the autumn leaves. Lincoln school was half collapsed nearby. But no zombies or the LHS were in sight!
The General cried out: The books! Paper and ink! It was as I thought at the beginning of this Peril. But professor, how did you arrange it. There were no orders.
The Professor explained: General, while we were outside in the tents and after the failure of the first plane, I came to a realization. And I set a plan in motion. I radioed to Bristol Air Force Base in Delaware. I have connections with some high ranking officers there when i did propulsion studies for them. I explained the situation we were encountering with blithering zombies and the LHS. They, knowing what New Jersey has become, agreed to help me. They loaded up a B-52 with all the books from the campus Library of Delaware University near Bristol. They were flying on standby above New Brunswick waiting for an order from me. I gave them that order when we were trapped in the library in our final stand. They dropped the thousands of books on the hordes. It appears to have worked.
The General looked confused. Professor Greevy nearby sputters: But the books are simply made of paper and ink. Paper and ink is exactly what we dropped on the nuisance in the first place. It didn't work then, so why should it have worked now?
The Professor continued: Yes, books are made of paper and ink, but that's not the whole answer. It is the way the ink is on the paper....it is written in words, in thoughts, in ideas...all written as information. This is what finally did the LHS and the blithering idiot zombies in. Knowledge and information. That was our only weapon we could use against them. That’s why our final line held inside the library. We were surrounded and engulfed by knowledge. The LHS was a creature born out of error, cultivated only by a climate of political rhetoric, it fed on ignorance and with its blather had total control of those who have no real thirst for knowledge. From those in the public who feel no concern for information they were easily swayed by that blather, and the LHS formed an army of dimwitted zombies by its side.
Just then a yell came from across the courtyard. It was Captain Monarch. He was safe. He runs to join the group.
The Professor was glad to see his friend. How did you escape? Your men said you were a goner.
Professor, I escaped the zombies when I was pulled up into the curtains above the stage. There was a platform up there. The zombies tried to get to me by the one stairway up to the platform. At that point on the platform I placed the one book I had left, and it held them back. Until the LHS partially crushed Lincoln school and then I fell onto the stage. I rolled into cartons of glee club song books and covered myself in them so the zombies wouldn't get me. They then left to head toward your position. The school partially collapsed but I was safely left inside an air pocket formed by roof debris. After hiding there for a while it got quiet so I came outside and saw the troops.
The Professor nods to Captain Monarch and says: That was quick thinking. Songbooks, of course, contain rhyming ideas set to music.
The General looking around then turns to Professor Dotcom. Do you think this Peril of Onion County is gone for good?
The Professor sighs: General, we may have thwarted the blithering zombies for now. They may have returned from whence they came. But from what Captain Monarch has told us of his encounters with the zombies, they were being controlled by not only political blather but from political bosses around the area. And they certainly are still here. Without the public sharing in continual knowledge while being truly informed, dimwitted hordes can return. And unfortunately it looks like it could be next week.
The General flinched and asked: Why is that? Why next week?
The Professor responded: General, why Election Day is next week.
THE END...........duh, possibly for all of NJ.
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