by Stephens, L.
Suddenly, the minibus screeched to a halt, and screams started to fill the cabin as a horde of zombies started to surround the vehicle.
“What the fuck is going on?” Roger yelled forward. “Move this fucking van!”
Pandemonium was unleashing inside the minibus as the occupants jostled each other to get away from the undead slapping and biting at the windows close to them. What Joy would have given to be back in the green room, on her knees, with Roger’s cock going in and out of her mouth right now.
Joy calmed herself. There was no point giving in, even though Roger was now standing and his bulging cock was in her face. The minibus lurched forward. Tires screeched and the windows shuddered until there was a sudden whoosh as whatever was stopping their progress was inched out of the way. Roger squeezed himself back in between Joy and Denise again, and the passengers returned to somewhat of a collective sanity when a sudden and eerie silence sucked all sound from the minibus. The former obstruction was now lying by the wayside, and Joy could see it was a small hatchback with windows smashed in and the doors flung wide open. Blood was everywhere. Whoever was in the car was now a bloody mess from being feasted on by fifteen zombies who had squirmed their way into every orifice the car presented. If it wasn’t real before, it definitely was now.
“Roger, I have to tell you something,” Denise said quietly into his ear.
Joy could hear it. Everyone in the minibus could hear it.
“Not now, okay?” Roger said, waving his arm, trying to dismiss whatever was about to blurt from her lips. “This not the time or the place.”
It didn’t work. Denise had decided this was her moment.
“It can’t wait, Roger,” Denise said with a more intimate tone. “We have been together almost every night for the last three weeks. You have to know how much you mean to me.”
Joy was embarrassed. She couldn’t believe the naiveté of this poor girl. She felt deeply sorry for her and realized suddenly it was all her fault. She was the other woman, and she hadn’t given a thought to whether Roger was seeing someone else. This was all just her calculated plan to get herself and Greytech off the hook, whatever way she could.
“Just don’t!” Roger said sharply as he finally turned to face Denise. “This is not the fucking time for you to be talking about this!”
“But Roger,” Denise said, reaching out for him, tears welling in her eyes. “I love you!”
“Don’t fucking touch me. I fucking mean it!” Roger screamed as he deflected the slowly moving hand that was reaching to caress his face.
Screams started to trickle down the minibus as they pulled out of the parking garage and onto the street. Joy didn’t have to crane her head this time. She could see the horde of over two hundred zombies blocking their way. Sheer terror and panic ran through the minibus. Everyone began yelling instructions at the driver of what to do and where to go, but Joy remained calm. She was in her own world now, coming to terms with what she was a part of. The minibus jerked into reverse, and all of the passengers turned to her as if they were waiting for an answer to a question, Joy quickly realized they were not looking at her but at the window behind her. She didn’t turn to see what they were looking at. She just watched as their faces contorted and their eyes grew wider than their open mouths. The minibus stopped with a thud, and everyone started feverishly looking for a way out. Joy still didn’t need to turn around or look for an exit. She could see the zombies rushing her side of the minibus, and she could hear the slaps and hits on the window behind her. It all meant one thing. There was no way out.
“Can anyone get a signal?” Derek called from the front of the cabin as he held his phone to the sky.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Roger yelled as he leaned forward with his head in his hands, looking at the floor.
Denise began rubbing his back, and it seemed to calm Roger down, when suddenly there was a blur of movement, and Roger sat up like he was sitting on a white-hot poker and brutally elbowed Denise in the face. She keeled back as blood spurted from her nose, and everyone turned to see Roger standing over her, his hands balled up into fists.
“I fucking told you not to touch me!” Roger screamed as he began raining down blow after blow into Denise’s face. “Do you think I was fucking joking, you fucking slut?”
The zombies outside seemed to stop for a second to watch the show through the windows before a group of men started grappling with Roger, pulling him off Denise and dragging him down the narrow aisle to the front of the minibus, and the zombies went back to work.
“Denise!” Roger screamed as he was pinned down. “I fucking told you!”
Denise’s head lay against the back window at a ninety-degree angle with her face caved in, and there was nothing anyone could do.
The light in the cabin dimmed as the zombies grew in number, blocking out the light, and Joy could see the windows starting to bulge inwards from the pressure, and she thought to herself, it wouldn’t be long now.
“Move!” Derek called over his shoulder as he tried to keep Roger from getting loose. “Move the fucking bus!”
The minibus’ engine roared, and the cabin started to rock. Everyone looked around, holding their breath as the smell of screeching tires filled the air, and with another almighty roar of the engine the minibus moved forward and started gaining momentum. Joy gripped the seat in front of her tightly as the minibus drove over whatever came in its path. It felt like they were travelling up a muddy hill, losing traction momentarily before speeding forward seemingly out of control.
CHAPTER 87: HOW DID I GET HERE?
Compassion is the radicalism of our time
― Dalai Lama XIV
The world around them was falling apart. Correction: had fallen apart. The smoke from the fires that littered the city had cut down visibility to a point where they could barely see twenty feet in front of them. They sat separated from each other, carving out their own personal space on the small rooftop.
Sarah was concerned at the relative ease everyone had settled into, herself included. Even though David’s grizzly death had brought a sense of closure, she was seconds away from giving into her grief, but for the good of the women on the roof she had to keep it together. Without making it obvious she patrolled the rooftop, keeping an eye on the men, looking for weapons she could gather at a moment’s notice. With his size, attitude and the fact that he had a gun, Daryl seemed to offer the biggest threat on paper, but his actions so far had told another tale. Daryl could have left them all to die when they encountered the zombies inside the building, but he had actually risked his own life getting them to safety. Ryan on the other hand, lacked obvious strength, but his cunning was a game changer, not to mention he had already shown the breakneck speed with which he could take advantage of a situation. He sat close to Lynne without making it seem like he was. Everyone could feel his laser-like focus on her or, worse, on Ava, maybe seeing the child as some sort of pawn he could use if it ever came down to it. Sarah didn’t just mentally assess the men; the women were also a huge factor in how this was going to play out. Jill was in her own world, and Sarah had seen plenty of her type before, and in a situation like this, there was nothing worse. Sarah could tell Jill would betray them without hesitation. Lynne was her most reliable ally, but deep down she knew with Ava in tow, she was also her biggest liability.
Lynne had pulled a sheet out of her handbag and made a small tent to shield Ava from the sun and smoke. Much to the relief of the others Ava had worn herself out crying, and Lynne’s constant soothing had finally eased her to sleep. It seemed Lynne and Jill were the only ones with phones. Lynne had hers pressed to her ear, while Jill feverishly swiped and tapped the screen of hers as she paced up and down making sure to keep the entire rooftop in between her and Ryan. Sarah had been racking her brain trying to remember Jake’s number but she realized she had only ever heard the number once, and that was at the nightclub where she had met him. She knew the first three numbers were eight-one-eight but that w
asn’t helping anyone. She thought if she could log into Facebook maybe she could send him a message or even better call him through the app.
“Do you have service?” Sarah asked as she approached Jill cautiously, trying not to spook her.
Jill stopped moving but kept swiping at her phone. It was like she had heard Sarah but there were still more pressing matters. Sarah had noticed her necklace in the car, so she assumed that was her name.
“It’s Jill, right?” Sarah said sweetly. “I was wondering if I could just send a message to my family and tell them I’m okay.”
Jill stiffened, covering the necklace that bore her name with her free hand, and Sarah regretted the tack she had taken instantly.
“I’m in the middle of something right, now,” Jill said petulantly. “Why don’t you ask her?”
Jill pointed her chin to Lynne who had her phone to her ear on what seemed like an endless call with no one there. Sarah saw over her phone that the dating app Tinder was filling her screen. Sarah had used the app before and knew how it worked. In between boyfriends, her friends had suggested she try it out just for fun, and after relentless badgering she had given in. Just like her friends had said, it was fun at first and a great ego boost because generally if you were a half decent looking woman, you were most likely batting a thousand. For Sarah, the whole idea of meeting someone from the internet just didn’t seem right, in the spur of the moment she had chatted and organized coffee dates for later in the week but as the dates loomed, her enthusiasm to meet a total stranger reduced significantly. It didn’t help that a lot of these seemingly good guys had grown impatient and had tried to escalate the nature of their online relationship by requesting intimate photos of Sarah or by sending pictures of their erect cocks. She understood there were people who could benefit from this but Sarah could just go to a bar and meet someone without the added stranger from the internet awkwardness.
“Tinder?” Sarah asked. “You think this is a good time for that?”
“Well I’m trying to save our lives,” Jill said simply.
“You serious?” Sarah said, trying not to put any judgment into her tone. “It looks like you’re looking for Mr. Right.”
She failed miserably with her tone, but it seemed to do the trick, as Jill finally looked up and showed her the screen of her phone, so Sarah could see it more clearly. Notification after notification started flowing into the phone like an avalanche.
“I don’t understand. It’s the end of the world and you’re making matches?” Sarah said perplexed.
“You don’t get it,” Jill said with a touch of sass. “All these guys want me. I guarantee you, one of them will risk their life to come save me.”
As Jill turned back to her phone and began sifting through the messages, Sarah stood shell-shocked. Not because she was astounded by Jill’s flippant attitude, but because Sarah could see that it wasn’t a bad idea. It was true. There were probably a few guys already about to head out of the safety of their homes to try to be a modern-day knight in shining armor.
CHAPTER 88: HELP IS NOT AN OPTION
I’ll never make Ava proud, Lynne thought. I never have. I deserve all of this. I’m an embarrassment, a walking corpse. I’ll never make Ava proud. I never have.
Now that she wasn’t being chased and Ava was safely tucked away in her tent, Lynne finally had a moment to catch her breath. They were all strangers lumped together at seemingly the end of the world, but they were all calm about it, like admitting the truth would turn their worlds upside down even more, if that was possible. With no adrenaline running through her body or anything else to keep her occupied, she could feel a stream of heat shooting up her leg, originating from the bite Zombie Becca had inflicted on her. It was obvious to her, whatever had happened to Becca and everyone else in this town was beginning to happen to her. At the moment, the bite was just uncomfortable, but she knew, knowing her luck, that soon she would be writhing in pain and once again Ava would be front row center, witnessing her mother in another embarrassing position.
They all watched as Daryl carefully took one of the paint cans that were being used to keep the door closed and took it towards the middle of the rooftop. Normally, Lynne might have questioned him, but she was enjoying the distraction and the removal of the paint can didn’t seem to have an adverse effect on the barricade, so she let him continue. He pried open the can and started pouring it out on the ground as he shuffled along in a line. The paint was a dark red and looked almost like blood, so it stood out against the grey color of the rooftop. By the time he had finished with his shuffling art project, he had spelled out the word “HELP” in large block letters and had done a pretty could job, but it seemed none of them were going to compliment him on it. He looked around at everyone expecting just that, but was met with silence and grim faces. They all knew it would do no good.
The recorded message playing on the phone at her ear suddenly stopped, and she was greeted with the background sound of a frantic call center.
“Hello? Hello?” Lynne yelled into the phone. “Can you hear me?”
She had been on hold with 911 for the past twenty minutes, but it had seemed like a futile operation, only serving to rundown her battery and her sanity. When someone did finally answer, it sounded alien. She needed everyone else on the rooftop to hear too so she had witnesses, so they could confirm she wasn’t going crazy. Lynne pressed the screen on her phone and put the call on speaker, which made everyone on the rooftop turn their heads towards her.
“911, what's your location?” came the voice of the 911 operator.
“We are on the roof of an office building downtown,” Lynne said as quickly as her mouth could manage. “I have a child. Please, please we need help!”
Lynne held her breath and hoped to God that this was going to be the answer to all their problems.
“I'm sorry, ma'am, that is out of our jurisdiction,” the operator replied with an unnervingly even tone. “Your area is now governed by the armed forces.”
“What?” Lynne hissed. “I have my daughter here. Surely you can send a helicopter or something!”
“Ma'am, our hands are tied,” the operator said, this time more empathetically. “You are going to have to wait ‘till the armed forces get to you.”
“Can you put me through to them? Please!” Lynne pleaded.
There was a long pause, and tears welled in Lynne’s eyes. She could see this was turning into a bureaucratic run-around, that she would most likely be put on hold and then disconnected five minutes later.
“Ma'am, you are going to have to hang up and call them directly,” the operator said with a sigh.
“Excuse me?” Lynne said, her anger bubbling to the surface. “The least you could do is put me through to them!”
“Ma'am, I'm sorry!” the operator stuttered, trying to find the right words to put Lynne at ease. “As you know, we have a crisis situation right now.”
Crisis situation? Lynne thought. The wave of anger was running through her faster than the zombie-itis was. This person didn’t know what a crisis situation was. Lynne was in a crisis situation; she had been in a constantly evolving crisis situation for the past twenty-four hours.
“Put me through to your manager!” Lynne screamed into the phone.
There was a long pause, and Lynne realized she had stopped breathing. She couldn’t believe she was at the mercy of someone who probably wasn’t even in Los Angeles, who possibly was not even in the continental United States.
“Ma'am, please,” the operator said solemnly. “I'm sorry. God bless.”
The line turned to static then ended in eerie silence as the call was disconnected.
“Fuck!” Lynne yelled, looking at her inactive phone. “I live in this goddamn town for thirty years, and I have come down-fucking-town, five fucking times. Now I'm stuck here, and I’m going to fucking die here!”
Everyone who was looking at her turned away. The show was over and it had been an absolute travesty, one star.
Ava stirred from her sleep and looked out from the sheet tent to Lynne, who looked back down at her.
“Ear muffs, baby,” Lynne said and began stroking Ava’s hair.
“Mommy, I want to go home,” Ava said sleepily.
“I know baby. Mommy does too,” Lynne said. “Just close your eyes and go back to sleep. Mommy’s thinking.”
Lynne looked down at her cellphone and gave a big sigh. She had to find an exit for Ava, someone to take care of her. The time was going to come when she would become like all the other bloodthirsty mutants roaming the streets. She tapped a few buttons and put the phone to her ear, and it began to ring for a second or two before going straight to voicemail.
“Hi, you have reached the phone of Mark Zultana of Tarzana BMW. Leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a wonderful day!” Mark’s cheery voice echoed around the rooftop.
Lynne’s face contorted in anger as the loud beep from the voicemail filled the rooftop.
“Mark,” Lynne said through her teeth. “Stop putting me straight to voicemail! We need your help. 911 can't help us! Don't be an asshole. I know you’ve got your family, but I need you right now. Ava needs you right now. Your daughter needs you!”
Tears rolled down Lynne’s cheeks as she breathed in, trying to catch herself.
“Mark, please call me,” Lynne said in between sobs. “Please.”
CHAPTER 89: TINDERELLA
