World War Z_ An Oral History of the Zombie War ( PDFDrive )

in face-first…sometimes that face would be gone.
Those were times when we called a full retreat to a defensive position and waited for the
Cousteaus, the scuba divers trained to work and fight specifically in those flooded tunnels. With
only a searchlight and a shark suit, if they were lucky to get one, and, at most, two hours of air.
They were supposed to wear a safety line, but most of them refused to do so. The lines tended to
get tangled and slow up the diver’s progress. Those men, and women, had a one in twenty chance
of survival, the lowest ratio of any branch of any army, I don’t care what anyone says. 1 Is it any
wonder they received an automatic Legion of Honor?
And what was it all for? Fifteen thousand dead or missing. Not just the Cousteaus, all of us, the
entire core. Fifteen thousand souls in just three months. Fifteen thousand at a time when the war
was winding down all over the world. “Go! Go! Fight! Fight!” It didn’t have to be that way. How
long did it take the English to clear all of London? Five years, three years after the war was
officially over? They went slow and safe, one section at a time, low speed, low intensity, low
casualty rate. Slow and safe, like most major cities. Why us? That English general, what he said
about “Enough dead heroes for the end of time…”
“Heroes,” that’s what we were, that’s what our leaders wanted, that’s what our people felt they
needed. After all that has happened, not just in this war, but in so many wars before: Algeria,
Indochina, the Nazis…you understand what I am saying…you see the sorrow and pity? We
understood what the American president said about “reclaiming our confidence”; we understood it
more than most. We needed heroes, new names and places to restore our pride.
The Ossuary, Port-Mahon Quarry, the Hospital…that was our shining moment…the Hospital. The
Nazis had built it to house mental patients, so the legend goes, letting them starve to death behind
the concrete walls. During our war it had been an infirmary for the recently bitten. Later, as more
began to reanimate and the survivors’ humanity faded like their electric lamps, they began
throwing the infected, and who knows who else, into that undead vault. An advance team broke
through without realizing what was on the other side. They could have withdrawn, blown the
tunnel, sealed them in again…One squad against three hundred zombies. One squad led by my
baby brother. His voice was the last thing we heard before their radio went silent. His last words:
“On ne passé pas!”
DENVER, COLORADO
[The weather is perfect for the neighborhood picnic in Victory Park. The fact that
not one sighting has been recorded this spring gives everyone even more reason
to celebrate. Todd Wainio stands in the outfield, waiting for a high fly ball that he
claims “will never come.” Perhaps he’s right, as no one seems to mind me
standing next to him.]
They called it “the road to New York” and it was a long, long road. We had three main Army