Zombie Soap 2: Conspiracy

Fifteen

A/N: Hi everyone! It's been awhile since I've posted one of these, but I wanted to say a few things.

First of all, thank you to everyone who's made it this far! I remember posting the original story, thinking it would be something short and funny. I never expected it to turn into something this big, let alone win a Watty!

I'm grateful to all of you for sticking with me and the Soap Squad, and I see all of your comments, even though I don't always reply.

For this chapter, I chose to have Diego make his own assumptions on the military. The Army's basic training isn't as hard as it used to be because of the rules in place now, but back in the day (think the Korean and Vietnam War days), Drill Sgts could hit people to make them comply and learn. When I was in, the Drill Sgts used to trash our barracks, wake us up every two hours, and make us do physical exercise to the point of muscle failure and push us further. I don't even know if they can do that now (I was in a long time ago) but it's fun to bring some of it back.

Also, the last two chapters were kinda disturbing, but I wanted to remind everyone and myself it's time to bring back the horror soon.

Diego: Part I

At one point or another, everyone indulged in that fantasy of what they would do if the end of the world occurred. The internet was full of games to determine how long a person would survive the apocalypse or predict death in a ridiculous, but fun way.

Having been a cop and avoiding being shot once or twice, Diego occasionally had those thoughts. He envisioned himself escorting his mother somewhere safe, singlehandedly fighting whatever he faced, be it alien invasions, the Yellowstone eruption, or the zombie apocalypse.

He'd band with the remnants of the human race, become a hero, and rebuild the world while he settled down in a remote location. Then, the fantasy would end, and he'd fall asleep before returning to his mundane life.

Of course, this was all before the joke became a frightening reality. His mother hadn't made it out alive, he wasn't a hero, but rather a man living from day to day, unsure if humanity stood any chance of recovery. Communication with the world outside the facility was gone, the virus infected more people by the day, and no one was immune to its effects.

Oh, and if the Soapies ever got loose inside the complex, everyone might as well lay down their weapons. The soldiers recruited to keep them safe were mostly undisciplined and wet behind the ears. Those who had experience were few and far between, many of them killed when the virus spread the first day the gates opened to refugees.

Everyone left was placed in charge of a unit, and those like Diego, Ackerman, and anyone else with police or military training from the outside, were given a command as well.

His first day with his squad had been a nightmare. This group lacked cohesion and a desire to work together, their physical endurance sucked, and their willingness to take orders left something to be desired.

He didn't know much about the military, but from what he understood, the police academy wasn't too different from boot camp. Both sects adhered to rigorous training and physical fitness, rules had to be followed, and they shared a common goal to serve and protect.

When General Reyes called for Ackerman and Diego, they were met by a crusty old man with the Army Values imprinted into every fiber of his soul. Reyes lived and breathed his work, and smiled less than a Vulcan in a room full of Andorians. His welcome was brief and his instructions were simple. Contribute, don't question orders from the top, and do whatever it took to whip the men and women in shape. There was no room for hurt feelings, stress cards, or people who couldn't cut it. If they had to get creative in gaining compliance, so be it.