Listen, we just have to cross the flats - we’ll make it.”  Harry spoke softly, comforting his younger sister Scarlet.  

 

They were camped out under a large pine tree; about 100 yards from what the locals referred to as the “Rail Trail.”  

 

About two hours - by car - north of New York City, the Hudson Valley was a collection of many small - and historical communities - many of which were linked by rail a century ago.  When the trains stopped, the tracks were removed and the “rail” became a “trail.”  Walking, jogging, horseback or bike riding were now common uses of the trail by most.

 

But that was before it all happened.  It started in Boston.  It was only a matter of weeks before the entire eastern seaboard was overwhelmed by the “virus,” “mutation,” or “act of god,” that turned humans into aggressive, fast, and “rabid” predators with no other desire than to find another victim.  

 

The National Guard didn’t help; Boston was gone before they could even muster outside of the city.  All it took was a simple out-of-control commuter train from Boston - one infected soul aboard - to blow through its designated stops and ram into Penn Station, for the zombie infection to spread uncontrollably from there on out.  

 

When the military realized that Manhattan was now infected, they took out all the bridges in the hopes that they could curtail any further spread.  Gone were “The Tap,” “The GW,” and the Brooklyn Bridge, along with all the others connecting the rest of the country to Manhattan.  

 

All it did was slow the progression of the “Zombie Apocalypse” now on its way to devour the nation, and perhaps the world.  

 

The world responded and closed off all travel to the country; the entire North American land mass was quarantined.  

 

Harry and Scarlet - Harry a senior in high school; Scarlet a freshman - made their way out of their parent’s Upper West Side brownstone right after the bridges were blown.  Both their parents were down town working their Wall Street jobs.  

 

Harry had received a call from his mother as she watched the Brooklyn Bridge get lit up by an F16.  

 

“Get to the cabin, don’t worry about your dad and I, just get there - get there anyway you can.”

 

All Harry said was “okay” and then the connection was lost.  

 

Harry looked at his sister “we gotta go.” 

 

“Where?” Scarlet replied.

 

“Mom said get the cabin.  We have to leave now.”  Harry got firmer in his tone.

 

“But…how?” Scarlet responded.  She was beginning to panic.  

 

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.  Let’s go.”  Harry grabbed a backpack, filled it with some food, a couple bottled waters, and through it on his back.  

 

Harry and Scarlet headed out the door, and made their way the few blocks to the Hudson River; a sprint the whole way - civilization crumbling in their wake.  After dodging a few zombies, a lone jet ski drifted right off shore on the water.  Without hesitation they both jumped in and swam to the jet ski.  

 

With luck, it started and with Harry at the helm, Scarlet held on tightly to her older brother - to her, he was the only safe place left in the world.  Initially heading west across the river, Harry turned the jet ski north - an effort to head as far up river as possible - hoping to get to the family cabin on the edge of the Catskill Mountain Range in a little community called West Hurley.

 

Scarlet turned her head around every now and then - the doomed Manhattan skyline getting smaller and smaller as the jet ski skipped over the tiny waves on the Hudson.

 

The jet ski came to a halt; the engine died.  In the middle of the Hudson, Harry and Scarlet sat silent in the water.  Neither spoke a word.  Suddenly a helicopter could be heard in the distance.  It approached, then hovered over the two teenagers.  A basket came down.  It was the U.S. Coast Guard.  Harry and Scarlet were saved.  Or so they thought.  

 

The next four years were harrowing for the brother and sister.  But they managed to stay together as they were shuffled between refugee ships scattered across the Atlantic; cruise ships, merchant ships, and smaller vessels served as the last refuge for anyone who was able to make it out of the cities up and down the I-95 corridor of the eastern United States.  

 

While they were safe, the stories and rumors that circulated within the flotilla - largely driven by drone footage, and the occasional refugee that was plucked from the zombie-plagued landscape and taken - after quarantine - to one of the ships, was the only information that they had.  Harry and Scarlet weren’t sure if they would ever step on soil again.   

 

And apart from wanting to reunite with their mother and father - believing that they made it off Manhattan when they did - they were okay with that.  The rumors of the zombie virus slowing as it exited the cities and into the rural areas and communities were just that - rumors.  Could the “simpler folk” and the shotgun-wielding “rednecks” of rural America really have slowed or stopped the zombies?  Could they really have done what the military couldn’t?

 

These questions couldn’t be answered.  

 

While NATO had, up until now, kept the fleet of American refugees supplied with food and water - that was about it.  NATO was too paranoid of allowing Americans onto European soil; the risk of an infected person setting foot on continental Europe was too much.  But their willingness to continue with the resupplies was starting erode; they had assisted the “floating” America for years at this point; they couldn’t do it indefinitely.

 

The people of the ships were eventually presented with an option by their political and military leaders - stay on board and possibly die of starvation, dehydration, or both, or take a one way ticket to the U.S. mainland and fend for themselves.  

 

It was an easy decision for Harry and Scarlet; ship life sucked and was getting suckier.  If they could get the authorities to deposit them as close to their family’s cabin as possible, it was worth it.  

 

As the flotilla moved toward the New Jersey coastline - hoping to disembark as many refugees as possible - Harry and Scarlet were at the front of the line.  

 

“West Point.  Can you get us to West Point? We’ll go right now.  As soon as you let us.”  Harry spoke confidently to a man in a military uniform.

 

The man looked down at a map, some data on a computer - it was kinda like someone working for an airline at an airport would do - and then lifted his head and said to Harry and Scarlet, “Get whatever bags you have, get to the hangar bay now.”

 

Then the man spoke into a radio “I got a brother and sister wanting to be delivered to West Point.”

 

“Copy.” A voice on the other end of the radio said.

 

Harry and Scarlet made their way to the hangar bay; the two of them were loaded onto a helicopter.  The helo lifted off and began to ascend.  A couple seconds later, Harry and Scarlet looked up and out as they sat in their seats.  Helicopters and Osprey aircraft as far as the eye could see, all heading in the same direction.  It wasn’t long before the New Jersey coastline was insight; all of the aircraft began diverging down different flight paths.  Harry and Scarlet’s aircraft turned north and hugged the coast.  Looking down, Harry and Scarlet marveled at the landscape.

 

It was apocalyptic; scary and uninviting.  It had been years since the zombies came; fires burned, zombies stumbled around - there was no other life.  About an hour later, the helo touched down on a small field on the edge of the Hudson River.  The architecture of the buildings of the United States Military Academy at West Point was unmistakable; it was remarkable how well preserved they were after years of the zombie apocalypse. 

 

“Good luck.” The helicopter crewman said as Harry and Scarlet stepped off and onto the grass.

 

The helicopter lifted off and traveled out of sight.

 

“What now?” Scarlet said to Harry.

 

“We head north, along the river until we get the walkway.” Harry said, referring to the “Walkway Over the Hudson,” another portion of the Hudson Valley’s Rail Trail system.

 

“Once there, we’ll take the rail trail inland toward New Paltz, then up to Hurley.  We’ll be at the cabin in a couple days.”  Harry spoke in a confident tone.

 

That was a week ago.  The trip was easier said than done.  Outrunning zombies was hard; there were pockets of them everywhere.  

 

At one point during the trip, Harry and Scarlet had taken refuge in a horse stable right outside of New Paltz.  About twenty to thirty zombies had chased them through the village.  They outran them but were getting tired.  They needed to rest.  They hid in the stable; holding each other.  They could hear the zombies getting closer.  They were right outside of the stable now.

 

Harry looked at Scarlet “I’m sorry sis.  I’m so sorry.”  

 

Just then a monstrous sound echoed through the countryside.  Then another roar.  Harry and Scarlet could hear the zombies begin to travel away from their position in the stable.  

 

Then carnage.  Harry and Scarlet couldn’t comprehend what was happening.  It lasted only a few minutes; screeching, screaming, animalistic grunts - then silence. 

 

Harry and Scarlet stayed hidden for sometime, then got the courage to leave the security of the their hiding spot in the stable.  Once outside - a bit away in the distance where the tree line was - bodies were scattered; pieces of bodies thrown everywhere.  Blood and guts.  Something had destroyed the zombies.  

 

Harry and Scarlet didn’t have time to think.

 

“Let’s get out of here.”  Harry said to Scarlet.  The two began making their way north, linking up with the rail trail once again.  They were so close now; so close to the family’s cabin in the Catskills.  And maybe even to their parents. 

 

“We just have to get across the flats Scarlet.”  It had been one day since the chaos at the horse stable.  Scarlet didn’t have anything left.  Years on a ship, then travel all the way from West Point.  Eating squirrels and berries.  The teenage girl had nothing left in the tank.  

 

Harry reiterated “we’re almost there Scarlet.”

 

“I know, but are we?  We could get to the cabin and it could be ransacked.  It could be surrounded by zombies.  Mom and Dad aren’t there Harry.  What are we doing?” Scarlet had tears in her eyes.  

 

“It’s too late to ask those questions.  We won’t know anything until we get there.  What I do know is that if all of those rumors from the ship are true, the mountains are where we’re safe.  The Rednecks up there, with all of their guns - they don’t let the zombies get there…” Harry replied.

 

Just then, in the distance, twigs and branches began to break - lots of noise.

 

Harry and Scarlet had learned to run from this.  As they rose, they began to sprint to and down the rail trail.  Behind them, zombies - fast zombies - baring down on them from all directions.  There were too many to count.  They had just about made it to the flats on the outskirts of Hurley.  The flats were farmland; fields that butted up against a steep incline of landmass - the start of the Catskill Mountain Range.  

 

As the two sprinted across the flats - unsure of whether or not the mountains would be their savior - the zombies gained on them; at least fifty or so were in pursuit of the brother and sister.

 

Harry stumbled - his shoe catching on the tall grass that blanketed the flats.  

 

Scarlet reached for him, then she stumbled.  Scarlet grabbed Harry’s arm as she fell, pulling Harry down with her.  

 

For a moment, both of their faces were flat against the ground.  They could hear the zombies approaching; the zombies slowed as they realized their prey was within their grasp.  

 

Harry and Scarlet had almost made it.  As they lifted their heads, they could see the end of the flats right in front of them; the mountainside towering over them.

 

“We almost made it sis.” Harry said as he looked at his sister, tears in his eyes.

 

Just then a magnificent roar let out across the flats.  The zombies stopped.  They listened curiously.  Their heads tilting and bobbing as they tried to identify the sound.  They moved cautiously again toward Harry and Scarlet.

 

An overwhelming smell of sulfur overtook the brother and sister.  Then the ground shook.  Not a lot, but enough to tell them that something was coming.  

 

Bursting the brush and out of the mountain side, three large ape-like figures appeared.  They charged into the field.  Bounding past Harry and Scarlet.  Harry and Scarlett stood and looked behind them as the creatures engaged the zombies in hand to hand combat.  

 

The zombies fought back; each zombie was torn to pieces as it attempted to take on the giant beast.  With every zombie incapacitated, each beast would locate the head of the zombie and stomp it - the scull crushed; brain matter scattered.  

 

The commotion summoned more zombies.  Harry and Scarlet could see the tree line - from the side of the flats from which they just came - explode with zombies.  

 

The three beasts had extinguished the zombies in the vicinity, and now sought to retreat.  One ran right at Harry and Scarlet.  

 

“Holy shit, it’s fucking Bigfoot” Harry yelled.  

 

The monster grabbed both of them, and threw them across both of its stinky and furry shoulders; both of their head dangling and smacking the back of the beast as the beast retreated with its comrades into the mountains. 

 

Harry and Scarlet made eye contact right before the sulphuric smell of the Bigfoot overwhelmed them and they both passed out. 

​

____________________________________

​

 

“Frank, did you ever think that when you became a member of the ‘Deep State,’ it would take on a literal meaning?” 

 

A man sat behind a large desk, Frank sitting across from him.  

 

“I can still remember the day.  Do you?”  The man asked Frank.

 

“I do sir” Frank replied.

 

“And here we are - what five years later?  living down here - who knows if we’ll ever see the sun again.” The man continued.

 

“You were able to get Jacob to talk.  We orchestrated an entire war to get that fuckin’ star gate in Babylon.  That got us nowhere.  You kept your word to Jacob and let him go home after he took us there…and then ‘big surprise,’ the gate closed and self-destructed as soon as he walked through it.”  

 

The man sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up on his desk.  He continued to speak to Frank, but he was no longer making eye contact - instead he just stared off at some other part of the office.

 

“You were a hero amongst us with that star gate thing.  We didn’t hold the whole arrangement with Jacob and is subsequent departure against you.  We did get some of the star gate tech reverse-engineered after all.”

 

The man then turned back and looked Frank right in the eyes, “then came the Lab 51 incident, which sent us back to the Stone Age.  And don’t give me that tired old excuse of ‘I did achieve gain-of-function’ response that you’ve been preaching about since the entire eastern seaboard of the United States fell to the zombies.”

 

The man leaned over his desk - almost laying his belly on it - as he sought to get closer the Frank.

 

“You were allowed to come down here for one reason, and one reason only - you know alot.  And that’s also the reason we didn’t just snuff you out - you know alot. You almost know too much - we kinda need you still.”

 

The man sat back down in his seat.  

 

“I’m not entirely sure where we go from here.  What’s there, a couple thousand of us down here.  We’re doing just fine.  Thank god for those fuckin’ Bigfoots, huh?”

 

The man stood up and continued speak while walking around the desk, then sitting on it right in front of Frank.

 

“You know, when I was first read into this whole ‘Deep State’ thing, Jacob the alien and that whole thing that happened in 1947 was hard to believe.  But look at us now.  Do you think history will believe where we are now?  Do you think when they read ‘man met alien, man used alien’s blood to make zombies, zombies destroy all but a few men because Bigfoot came to the rescue’ - do you think anyone will believe this shit or do you just think history will just default to ‘The United States fucked around and found out?’”

 

The man continued staring at Frank.  

 

There was silence in the room.  

 

Frank spoke.

 

“Sir, listen I know it’s bad.  And I know it’s really all kind of my fault.  But to be honest, the rest of the world is humming along.  Yes, the East Coast of the United States is gone, but the Bigfoots have been keeping their end of the bargain…”

 

Just then, another person walked into the office.  The man and Frank stood immediately and faced the individual.  

 

In a deep Boston accent the man spoke, “Gentlemen, I hear that the'ah flotillas are'a starting to'a repopulate the eastern seaboard with survivors.”

 

“That is correct, Mr. President” Frank responded.  

 

“I mean holy shit, you’ve been injecting me with'a this shit since 1963.  Now’s a good of time as any to'a bring forth and reveal that the United States Government has never failed to plan for the eternal continuation of this'a great nation.  And Frank, you'a owe me my Boston back.”

 

“Yes sir.” Frank replied.