Zombie Apocalypse Now!

by Rachel Tsoumbakos

  A dark hall presented itself with two doors on the left and one on the right. Berta jerked her head to the first one on the left and Tatiana positioned herself, ready to fire. The door swung open onto a small lounge room. Dust motes danced in the sunlight shining through from the kitchen. A chair, the theatre system and a wizened Christmas tree were all to be found there. The decorations still glittered even through the dust of time.

  Taking a deep, rattling breath, Berta backed out of the room and made her way along the dim corridor. The single door on the right was next. It too was ajar and swung noisily as Berta poked it with the spear gun.

  “Do you think he’s in there?” Pippa asked. Her eyes were glowing as she stared at the familiar building. It looked deserted, and lonely. Yet still she hoped.

  Roslyn didn’t know what to say.

  “How did you know Walter?” she finally asked.

  “I didn’t,” Pippa replied. She’d tucked her hands underneath her legs, yet she still jiggled. “Wesley worked with him.”

  “Walter worked with a lot of people; I don’t remember anyone called Wesley.”

  “You might have known him as Person A.”

  And then Roslyn realised who she was talking to.

  Wesley was the reason for the apocalypse – as well as its possible saviour.

  The bathroom was clear, so was the little laundry alcove adjoining it.

  Only one door remained. The light was fading fast. Berta glanced at Tatiana, who nodded quickly and stuck her chin out towards the final barrier.

  This door was closed tight and Berta was hesitant to touch it. Tatiana’s breath was close behind her as she reached forward and grasped the door knob. It clattered from her fear before whining as she turned it.

  The room smelled stale and wisps of silvery webs hung from the bare light globe. Berta waved her spear gun as she entered to clear the spider webs out of the way before entering.

  The small bedroom was neat and as sparse as the rest of the house. Only the bed clothes were disturbed. One drawer of the dressing table hung open and a single sock was draped over its edge.

  “It’s clear,” Berta announced.

  “What about under the bed?” Tatiana whispered.

  “Shit.”

  “Is he really immune?” Roslyn whispered, even though she knew the answer already.

  “Apparently so,” Pippa replied.

  “Is the baby?”

  Both of them looked at Pippa’s rounded middle.

  “I-I don’t know. We never got it tested in time.”

  “Are you immune?”

  Pippa paused before shaking her head sadly. One hand scratched at the bite on her leg.

  “Oh, that sucks,” Roslyn finally said.

  “How close were they to developing the vaccine?” Pippa asked tentatively.

  “I’m not sure. I’m not even sure anyone is still alive in there.”

  Both women gazed out of the car window and off towards the horizon. The Forensic Unit’s windows winked back at them as the twilight deepened.

  The floor boards creaked as Berta kneeled down. She felt so vulnerable on her knees. Tatiana closed in behind her, ducking, ready to shoot, yet not lowering herself entirely to the floor. At least she had the opportunity of flight if something leaped out at them.

  Slowly Berta’s hand reached out before clasping at the frayed edge of the red blanket. With each breath, the light seemed to bleed from the room. She would have to hurry. Without even thinking, she whipped the blanket up and over the top of the bed. Letting go, she scuttled backwards and away from danger. Tatiana tripped as she tried to jump out of the way.

  Berta was undefended.

  There was nothing there.

  Yet the pair still jumped when the blanket slipped back to cover the space under the bed.

  “All clear!” Berta called as she exited the house.

  Pippa was free from the car before the sentence was even complete.

  They found her curled up in the bed blanket. Tears streamed down her face in direct contrast to the manic grin plastered across her face.

  “I’m home,” was all she said.

  No one saw the book clutched in her hand.

  Nor did they see the shadow as it darted away outside the window.

  Diary of Pippa Roscoe to her unborn child

  January 26rd

  (45 days after the first reported outbreak)

  Little One,

  We’re home.

  Well, at your daddy’s home, anyway.

  I’m sleeping in his bed tonight, the very bed you were conceived in. For the first time in three days, I feel like I just may make it out of this mess alive. The bite was itching today, it must be healing. I wish I had the privacy to check on it more often, but I worry at the others reaction if they see what happened to me.

  I found one of your fathers journals taped to the underside of his sock drawer. I wish I could read it tonight, but everyone is worried about candle light attracting the undead. Maybe I will wake up early enough tomorrow to read it.

  Love always,

  Mamma Pippa.

  Welcome to the Funhouse Forensic Unit

  Diary of Pippa Roscoe to her unborn child

  January 27rd

  (46 days after the first reported outbreak)

  Little One,

  Daddy has been keeping secrets. From me, and you, and Walter, and everyone across the country. I kinda feel ill.

  Yes, he was immune, that wasn’t a lie. But he had the cure and he WITHHELD it! He knew the goddamned answer and he didn’t tell a single living soul. Who would have guessed that the answer to all this shit was worked out by someone who hadn’t even passed high school? Man wouldn’t all those scientists be pissy if they knew – that’s if there are even any still alive at the facility. And his journal gives nothing away either, so our only hope is the Forensic Unit in Morristown.

  Wish me luck Little One…

  Love always,

  Mamma Pippa.

  “Here’s his I.D. card,” Pippa exclaimed as her bulging form struggled out from under the bed.

  “Where is he, if he isn’t at work then?” Tatiana asked without tack. Pippa frowned and the emotional tide of pregnancy threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Maybe he’ll come home,” Pippa managed to mutter before flinging the card at Tatiana’s head and fleeing the room.

  “What a dumb arse you are Tats,” Rosalyn said while rolling her eyes.

  Martin broke the tension by rubbing between Rosalyn’s legs. Yowling once, he jumped up onto the bed. Rosalyn sneezed as the cat massaged the untidy bed.

  “Are you girls ready to go?” Tatiana called from the kitchen.

  Berta was trying to maintain the peace as they drove up the long, winding driveway that would bring them to the front door of the once secure facility.

  “How long did Walter work here, Ros?”

  “Six years, before that he was a clinical immunologist with Victoria University.”

  Berta nodded as she steered the car towards the large glass doors at the front of Morristown Forensic Unit. She had to dodge overturned cars and fly blown bodies in the process. Pippa was glued to the passenger window, trying to spot Wesley among the fallen – and hoping desperately that he wouldn’t be there.

  Rosalyn refused to look.

  “If we drive around to the side of the building, there’s a secure car park. We should be able to park really close to the entrance there. If we block it with the car, we’ll be safe from any roaming zombies,” she said numbly.

  Berta followed as instructed, all the while her spear gun lay across her lap, fully loaded, but with the safety on. Rosalyn had a pitch fork wedged awkwardly between the window and her seat, Tatiana her trusty crowbar and Pippa was the back up with the gun she’d nabbed from the security guard. They were yet to come across a gun supplies shop, so they were dangerously low on ammo. That gun was their last resort.

  Using Wesley’s I.D. card, they made their way thr
ough the boom gate and into the car park. The side entrance was certainly clear from bloated bodies. Berta pulled up to the glass doors. They were sensor activated and all were surprised when they opened as they approached.

  “Fuck me, it’s still functional,” was all Tatiana could say. The others just gazed, wide eyed and open mouthed. Rosalyn and Pippa silently prayed harder than ever before in their lives.

  A long glass corridor led from the glass doors to the brown-bricked building. There was not a soul in sight, but one lone door at the end of the corridor stood slightly ajar, ominously.

  Martin purred loudly on the single bed, an occasional kick of his back paw and a yellowy dribble of spittle the only indication that anything was wrong.

  The dark halls echoed with the clatter of nervous feet. Berta headed the exploration party, Rosalyn just behind her, directing. Tatiana and Pippa bought up the rear, neither of them knowing where they were. While Pippa knew of the facility, she was never permitted to enter it. Now her eyes darted to each door label, hoping to find some clue as to where she might find more information on Wesley’s little secret. Absently, she rubbed at her belly, the baby inside kicked in response.

  “Walter worked on the second floor, the lifts are just up ahead,” Rosalyn said confidently.

  Pressing the button, the slight hum alerted them to the fact that the lifts were still operational, even if the lights weren’t. There must be a generator somewhere prioritising electrical functions, Rosalyn thought.

  The facility had seventeen floors and the old elevator creaked its way down from one of the higher levels. A shrill ding announced its imminent arrival. The doors opened and the four women were poised to step inside when an arm reached out and grabbed Berta’s gun.

  Instinctively she fired, not even sure it if was human or zombie she was hitting. With the absence of a scream upon impact, she could only assume the lift contained the living dead.

  The hand held tightly to her gun, not giving her a chance to reload or even to pull the spear free of the zombie’s guts. Tatiana tried to reach in and swing her crowbar, but there was not enough room to do that. Pippa hung behind and nervously wondered if the time to use her gun was now.

  Without even thinking, Rosalyn leaned forward and lunged at the creature. Berta let go of her gun and Tatiana leaped out of the way just in time, to see a pitchfork protruding from the forehead of a zombie in a white lab coat.

  “Is it Walter?” Rosalyn screeched before realising that she was the only one who could confirm that.

  Leaning forward, she stepped over Berta’s spear gun and clutched at the side of the lift. Her heart bounced around in her chest like it was doing an aerobics class and her hands shook as they clutched weakly at the steel door. Leaden legs refused to move her forward.

  Tatiana peeked in.

  “Is he bald?” she asked.

  “It’s not him!” Rosalyn cheered as she rushed forward. It wasn’t him, that’s for sure, but it was still a man she knew.

  The sight of Walter’s boss, Frank, hit her hard. Her guts twisted and she actually couldn’t breathe for a moment or two. Then when her lungs sucked in air, it was in great ragged gulps.

  “We have to keep moving,” Tatiana eventually said.

  Without thinking, Rosalyn stepped over the prone body and pushed herself into a corner of the elevator. The other women followed. Berta pressed the button and the doors closed them in with the body.

  Luckily they were only travelling one floor – after all, what sort of conversation do you make when there’s pulpy brain goo oozing out across the floor thanks to the pitchfork in the head of the zombie at your feet?

  The sound of shouting was the first thing they all heard as the door slid open. Berta and Tatiana both chanced a quick look at the other two.

  Someone was alive up here.

  “Hello?” Tatiana asked. It was dicey, her voice could attract the undead, but she figured that was going to happen anyway since someone was already shouting.

  “Help me!” The frantic voice called back. “Help me, there’s so many of them!”

  Oh shit.

  “How many?” Tatiana called back. The four women followed the sound of the voice, all their weapons at the ready.

  “I-I don’t know! Lots!”

  Tatiana huffed with irritation and kept moving forward. There was only one open door along this corridor and they all assumed this was where the voice was coming from.

  “Wesley?” Pippa called out with excitement. She wanted to rush forward, but the other three blocked her way.

  “Pippa! Oh my god, Pippa!”

  Tatiana was level with the door now and she carefully leaned forward. The door was wide open and the sight of a horde of angry undead welcomed her, their moaning was frantic as they threw themselves at the bars of what appeared to be a human-sized cage. Quickly she did a head count before stepping back against the wall.

  “There are eleven of them,” she said quietly.

  “What do we do?” Rosalyn asked.

  “Can we kill that many?” Berta asked.

  Pippa quickly checked the barrel of her gun. “I could take out six of them.”

  There was silence from the women.

  Inside the room, Wesley yelled and the zombies moaned.

  Making a uniform decision, all four women quickly put together a hasty plan.

  Finally, leaping forward, Rosalyn leaned into the room and poked one of the zombies with her pitchfork, attempting to lure them out into the wide corridor.

  The zombie turned and Rosalyn screamed.

  “Walter!”

  Going to Hell in a Hand Basket

  The moans of the undead filled the hall. Tatiana pushed Rosalyn behind herself and waved her crowbar around. Pippa stepped forward, also covering the distraught woman and levelled her gun at the mob of zombies in front of them. Her shaking hands made the gun swing around wildly.

  “Walter!” Rosalyn’s screams were raw and jagged, similar now in tone to the moans of the hideous creatures they faced. Walter paused every time Rosalyn bellowed. His nose lifted to the air, his mouth open, devouring the scent of his still living wife.

  Berta stepped out from behind the women and aimed her spear gun. She was scared, but her hand was steady, she’d done this all before.

  “Get outta my way, Tatiana!” she shouted just before pulling the trigger. Tatiana ducked as she swung her crowbar, busting the kneecaps of Walter in the process. Walter dropped to the ground. Berta had been aiming for Rosalyn’s undead husband, but instead killed another white coat behind him. One yank of her spear and the sickening crunch of breaking skull assaulted their ears.

  Yet, it was still better than the sound of Rosalyn’s keening.

  Tatiana jumped up again and swung her crowbar once more. The comforting thunk of metal against bone resulted. The splat of old gloopy brains against the nearest wall followed.

  This was fun, Tatiana decided.

  The count was currently two down, one injured, but the number was climbing. Pippa’s shaking hand settled and she got lost in the excitement of the kill. She stepped out, away from her friends and came face to face with a woman in a lab coat. Her brown hair, once long and straight and caught to one side with a hair clip, was now tangled and bloody. Pippa pulled her arm up quickly and bought it to the forehead of the woman, then pulled the trigger. She was not prepared for the recoil. It shot up her arm and she actually dropped the gun. Jumping back, she checked to see if the lab woman was dead.

  Three down.

  She ducked down and grabbed the gun. As she stood, she looked around. Tatiana had killed another zombie and Berta had killed two more.

  That just left five zombies. This was so doable, Pippa decided as she rubbed the squirmy little child in her belly.

  “Walter.” Her voice was feeble now as she crawled across the dusty hall towards the man she married as soon as she’d turned eighteen. His marbled eyes heard her voice; his head lifting once more, mouth open, catching the sce
nt of her.

  He still remembers me.

  “Walter, baby.”

  He moaned in response and started dragging himself towards her. Dark, thick blood oozed out of his shattered kneecaps but there was no pain etched on his face.

  Rosalyn reached out and held his hand. It was cold and rough, dead skin chapped and ragged from tasks that Rosalyn didn’t dare think about.

  “I love you baby,” she said quietly, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  Walter moaned in agreement and then ripped out her throat.

  Pippa saw the whole thing. Her feet moved, yet not quickly enough. Her hand was raised but she was not a good shot, so never even had a chance to pull the trigger.

  “NOOOOOOO!”

  Tatiana turned and saw her newly found friend lying in a puddle of her own ooze. Warm blood still shot out of her severed artery. Walter drank it like it was the elixir of youth.

  Berta, who was the closest, was horrified by what she saw. It still didn’t stop her from plunging her fully loaded spear gun into the head of Walter though. He slumped next to his wife.

  “How long before she reanimates?” Berta asked.

  But there was no time for a reply. Four more of the undead had to be dealt with.

  And these four meant business. They huddled together, shuffling, hands outstretched. The three women also pulled themselves together, unsure of how to approach them.

  Berta pulled her spear gun free from Walter, thankful that she didn’t have to reload. She cocked the gun and shot.

  It was the first time that day she’s missed her target.

  The zombie she hit yowled in frustration as the spear hit him in his shoulder. One arm automatically dropped as its severed nerve gave way. She threw her weapon to the ground, not risking pulling the live zombie closer to her in order to wrestle her spear free.