“Hello?” Ellie called. “Mrs. Marshall?”
Ellie frowned when there was no answer. Normally the older woman was within earshot. She stepped inside the entranceway and looked around. There was an eat-in kitchen open to the living room when first walking in. Everything appeared to be normal. Nothing was out of place. The case of water that Ellie brought yesterday was sitting on the counter next to the sink. A stack of paper plates and an unopened package of napkins were next to it. Ellie noticed half of a stale peanut butter sandwich was on a plate on the counter. There was only one bite out of it.
Not wanting to startle the woman in case she was sleeping, or in the bathroom, she called out, “Mrs. Marshall! It’s me, Ellie. I just wanted to check in on you.”
Still nothing.
Ellie was growing even more concerned. Since meeting Mrs. Marshall for the first time three weeks ago, the older woman had never once left the condo. The only time Ellie had seen the woman go outside, it was to sit in her white, wicker rocking chair in her small, fenced-in patio where she smoked. Recently, Mrs. Marshall had run out of cigarettes. On Ellie’s last visit, she’d been complaining about needing her nicotine fix.
Crossing the living room, Ellie looked out the sliding glass door to see an empty rocking chair, and a few empty cigarette boxes, on the ground. There was no sign of Mrs. Marshall. Ellie hoped Mrs. Marshall hadn’t tried to walk to the gas station down the street to buy more cigarettes. She’d warned the woman about the dangers of leaving her condo. She’d told Mrs. Marshall that she’d try to find more cigarettes for her. Unfortunately, with the woman’s memory failing, she probably hadn’t even remembered their conversation.
Ellie still had Max on his leash. He tugged, pulling her towards Mrs. Marshall’s bedroom. The door was open a crack. Max used his nose to push open the door. Ellie noticed the bedcovers were still intact but wrinkled as if Mrs. Marshall had slept on top of the comforter.
Max ran to the bathroom door and nudged it with his nose. Ellie’s heart thumped in her chest. She held her breath and listened. For a second, she stood there, horrified, imagining the worst. What if Mrs. Marshall had fallen in the shower?
The door separating the bathroom from the bedroom was a pocket door that slid out from within the wall. Then there was a different, regular door for a small room that housed the toilet. Ellie had the same pocket door dividing her master bedroom and bathroom. The layout of Mrs. Marshall’s unit was similar to Ellie’s with one less bedroom. “Mrs. Marshall?” Ellie called through the door. She waited a few seconds for an answer. “Are you okay?”
Still no answer. Only silence.
Sucking in a deep breath, afraid of what she might find, Ellie tugged at the handle of the door. It wasn’t latched. The door quietly slid open. Right away, Ellie could see what looked like a body through the frosted glass of the shower door, lying in the tub. She could hear the trickling of water. The woman’s clothes were thrown in a pile on the floor as if hastily taken off.
Glancing at the counter, Ellie noticed that there were two full cartons of cigarettes and a small, black handgun. Not long ago, when Ellie had commented on the older woman living alone, Mrs. Marshall had bragged about keeping a gun in her closet. She’d boasted about not being afraid to use it. Although Ellie saw her as old and frail, the woman acted like she had nerves of steel. She must’ve been really something in her younger years.
Where the hell did she get the cigarettes from? Did she actually walk down to the gas station? Ellie’s heart raced when she noticed blood in the sink and droplets on the floor leading to the shower.
“Oh, God,” she gasped. “Mrs. Marshall?”
Sliding open the shower door, her eyes immediately focused on Mrs. Marshall’s white puffy face. Tears pricked the back of Ellie’s eyes. There was a large set of bloody teeth marks on the woman’s shoulder. Blood was smeared on the side of the tub and streaks on the shower walls. There was a blood-soaked washcloth on the woman’s chest. Mrs. Marshall still had her undergarments on. It appeared she was trying to clean the wound in the shower; then upon getting ready to get out of the tub, she’d become ill and collapsed. A small amount of water was still trickling from the faucet.
Ellie felt the ice-cold water with her fingers and then turned off the faucet. She kneeled down next to the tub. She was unsure if the woman was dead or had passed out. She prayed the woman was dead. She’d seen firsthand what happened to people that contracted the virus and it wasn’t pretty. First, they’d become ill, sick to their stomach, and then a high fever kicked in, accompanied by hives.
Ellie studied Mrs. Marshall’s puffed up face. She was pretty sure that she’d contracted the virus. Since, the woman was lying still, unmoving; she was more than likely dead. If she were alive, due to such a high fever, the infected generally went crazy. It was as if their brain went haywire. The strangest part of the virus was how every infected person Ellie had observed had golden yellow eyes and then became both violent and bloodthirsty. She’d also noticed how the infected suddenly had an abnormal strength that surpassed anything human. They had animal-like reflexes accompanied by guttural growls. She wondered if it was the high fever that triggered the animal instinct within the brain. Whatever it was, it was creepy as hell.
“Mrs. Marshall?” she whispered again.
Leaning forward, Ellie held her hand in front of the woman’s nose, checking to see if she could feel her breathing. She wasn’t feeling anything. She leaned closer, and then held still. Nothing.
The thought of possibly touching a dead body frightened her. Nervous, Ellie’s stomach clenched, and her hand began to shake. She knew she had to check. If Mrs. Marshall was still alive, she had to do what she could to save her. She couldn’t just leave her in the tub.
Ellie leaned forward into the tub and pressed the inside of her wrist to the woman’s forehead. To her surprise, her skin was hot to the touch.
“Oh, my God,” Ellie breathed. Mrs. Marshall was still alive. She then pressed the palm of her hand to the woman’s cheek, cupping it, just to make sure she was feeling heat, and wasn’t imagining it. Mrs. Marshall was burning up with fever. Ellie wondered how she was going to be able to get the woman out of the tub and over to her bed. She wanted to make the woman comfortable. She knew she was dying. And no one deserved to die in a bathtub.
Suddenly, Mrs. Marshall’s eyelids flicked open, startling her. Ellie froze, noticing that they were no longer pale blue. They were yellow. The golden eyes met hers and a deep growl, unlike that of a wild animal, rumbled within the old woman’s chest. Ellie’s brown eyes grew large with fright. She tried to get up but lost her balance. Her rear end hit hard on the tile floor as the old woman agilely leaped to her feet.
Scrambling backward, Ellie’s hands slipped on the wet tiles while keeping her eyes focused on Mrs. Marshall. Lifting the corner of her top lip, exposing tobacco stained teeth, the old woman snarled. Max stood at the entrance of the bathroom and began to bark and growl in response. The woman’s head snapped unnaturally to the side. Max had become her new target. As Ellie got to her feet, she watched the old woman, leap from the tub.
“Run, Max!” Ellie screamed, rushing from the bathroom, trying to slide the pocket door shut. Mrs. Marshall shoved her arm in the gap before Ellie could close it. Gnarled, arthritic fingers clawed at her as the woman banged her forehead against the door, trying to bust through it. Max continued to bark, riling the old woman up even more.
“Max, go home!” Ellie yelled. “Go home!” The dog ignored her and continued to bark, refusing to leave his owner’s side. Ellie didn’t know what to do. She was afraid to let go of the door.
“Max! Stop barking!”
The fur along Max’s spine stood on end as he snarled.
“Run, damn it!” Ellie screamed at Max, kicking her foot at him. She was hoping he’d get the hint. If she let go of the door, Mrs. Marshall would surely grab one of them. She didn’t know how she’d get both of them out of the condo unharmed. The pocket door began t
o slide open due to the old woman’s rigorous struggling. The virus had given her abnormal strength. The slack skin of her forearm was tearing away from the flesh as she continued to force herself through the door opening. Bright red blood was dripping down the white painted door panel as Mrs. Marshall frantically continued to push through.
Ellie’s fingers were slipping. “Max, come!” she commanded as she let go of the bathroom door, and sprinted towards the bedroom door. Mrs. Marshall came barreling through the pocket door and leaped at Max. Max bolted. Arms flailing wildly, the woman missed the little dog and crashed into the sliding glass door on the other side of the room. She immediately spun around, eyed her target, and pounced again at Max.
“Max!” Ellie screamed, holding open the bedroom door. “Hurry, Max!”
The small dog yelped while racing for the double bedroom doors. Ellie slammed them shut after he bolted out of the bedroom and into the living room. She held onto the handles as Mrs. Marshall’s body crashed into the doors with loud thumps. She could hear the woman’s fingers pawing at the wood as she snarled and growled on the other side. Ellie held onto the door handle, afraid the woman would figure out how to open them. Looking down, she realized the other end of Max’s leash was still in the bedroom. Max was trying to run and began squealing when he realized he was stuck.
The bedroom doors were shaking, Ellie reached down with one hand and motioned for Max to come to her so she could undo his leash. Large-eyed and squealing, Max refused. The more he yelped and squealed, the more Mrs. Marshall bashed into the doors. There was only a small latch at the top of the door frame securing the doors shut.
Ellie let go of the door handle and grabbed for Max. He started squealing louder. To Ellie’s horror, he was being pulled across the wooden floor of the living room. Mrs. Marshall had a hold of the leash on the other side of the doors. Fumbling with his collar, Max yelped hysterically in Ellie’s ear. Her thumb kept slipping off the small metal clasp. On the third try, she managed to unlatch it. She swooped up the little dog into her arms and ran for the front door. She was elated to see that she’d accidentally left it open. The little latch holding the double doors of the master bedroom gave way just as Ellie slammed the front door shut behind them. She hoped that Mrs. Marshall was too delusional with fever to remember how to open the front door.
Without looking back, Ellie headed for the garage. When she got there, she flung open the passenger side door and tossed Max into the SUV. She hurried to the driver’s side, hopped in, locked the doors, and revved up the engine.
***
Mike slowly pulled up to the front entrance of the military base and frowned. Things weren’t looking too good. The entrance was unmanned. Abandoned vehicles blocked his ability to drive onto the base. There was an AAV, Amphibious Assault Vehicle, on the other side of the entrance. Decomposing bodies in all stages of decay were scattered all over the asphalt.
Maneuvering the car as close as he could to the entrance, Sheriff Michael Wilson, parked the Corvette. He sat in the car with the windows rolled down waiting to see if anyone would appear. After a minute or two, he decided it was safe to get out of the car. He covered his nose, stepping over and around the decomposing bodies surrounding him. It appeared as if civilians had been trying to enter the military base for refuge and the military had been trying to keep them out. That was his guess anyway.
The acrid smell was burning his nostrils. He kept one hand pressed over his nose and mouth, and waved away the thick barrage of flies with the other while making his way through the carnage. Once on base, he looked around to make sure he wasn’t a target about to be shot for trespassing on government grounds, but nothing happened. No one was around.
It had been awhile since Mike had been on base. Years. Before going into law enforcement, he had been in the military, and stationed at Camp Pendleton. At the beginning of his military career, he’d planned on making it his lifestyle. He wanted to work his way up the ranks, put in his twenty years, and then retire. After a couple of tours to Iraq, Mike had the realization that he wasn’t cut out to be a lifer. When it came time to reenlist, he didn’t. Instead, he’d decided to go into law enforcement.
Walking around the AAV, Mike couldn’t tell if it was empty or if there were Marines inside. No one was in the driver’s seat. He guessed it was empty. He walked around the massive vehicle and then down the street until he came to an intersection. To the right of him was a brand new hospital and roads leading into neighborhoods. To the left was an overpass that would take him over the freeway and to the beach and barracks. Straight ahead was the commissary, restaurants, and the PX.
Looking again to his right, Mike decided to try the hospital since it was closest to him. Years ago, when he had been stationed there, the Naval Hospital had been in a different location. It was further inland, more centralized. Mike admired the new building as he walked towards it.
Above, the alien spacecraft continued to hover, bathing everything in dark shadow. He stared at the craft for a bit. There were no lights, no appearance of windows, just a solid dark gray mass. It appeared to be made of steel. However, since it was alien, who the hell knew what it was made out of. So far, everything on base was eerily quiet. No one was around, and it bothered him. If the virus had wiped out the entire military, what chance did they have of surviving an alien invasion? He didn’t like the odds.
Hiking up the road leading to the hospital parking lot, Mike tried to force the feeling of doom and gloom from his mind. Abandoned cars and trucks lined the road. He knew negative thoughts wouldn’t do him any good. Right now, he was on a mission to find other people still alive. The more people he could find that’d survived the infection, the better. They’d have more of a chance of survival in numbers. Together, they could help each other. Devise a plan. Fight, if the need arises.
The walk to the hospital was taking a lot longer than expected. There was a tingle between his shoulder blades as if every move he was making was being watched. Once he reached the parking lot, near the hospital entrance, he stood still and observed his surroundings. The entire lot was full. Vehicles were even double parked. There were dead bodies strewn up and down the stairs at the front of the hospital in different stages of decay. The smell was growing stronger the closer he got to the carnage, and the buzzing of flies grew louder.
Mike peered into the cars on his way to the hospital entrance. He’d come across a couple that were not empty. Their dead owners inhabited them. It was easy to see that they’d died of infection due to their distorted facial features. He was peering into a sporty Camaro that had been all pimped out when he noticed a man inside. The Camaro wasn’t in a parking spot. It was as if the driver had just decided to park in the middle of the street. He could see that the man was dressed in cammies and his forehead was resting on the steering wheel. The windows were tinted, and the darkness of the shadow cast from the spaceship made it hard to see inside. Mike couldn’t tell if the man was alive or not. He tapped on the window with his knuckle. No movement. He rapped on it a bit harder. The man’s head lifted.
“Hey!” Mike said, surprised to see movement. “You all right in there?”
The man’s head turned. Mike could barely make him out through the dark glass. He tugged at the door handle. The door opened. The man was in a daze.
“You okay?”
The man looked at Mike, blinking hard. “Yeah, headache.”
Mike was happy to see the blue of the man’s eyes. The infected had yellow eyes. There was no distortion to the man’s facial features as well.
“How long have you been here?”
The Marine glanced around. He seemed confused. “I don’t know… everyone was getting sick. Aghhh!” he groaned. “My leg!”
Mike looked into the car and noticed the man’s cammies soaked with blood. He had a belt tightened around the top of his thigh being used as a tourniquet. “Let’s get you out of there.” Mike leaned into the car and helped heave the man to his feet. The Marine almost toppled
over. Mike was surprised that the man was alive. He appeared to be suffering from a combination of blood loss and dehydration. “We’ll see if anyone in the hospital can…”
“No,” the man said. “No one’s alive. I’m trying to leave… Antibiotics and bandages are on the seat.”
Mike positioned the man so that he could lean against the car. He reached in and grabbed hold of a few bottles of pills and packages of bandages from the passenger seat.
“What happened to your leg?”
“Accident at work… I was being stitched up. I was out of it. When I awoke, the place was a madhouse. People began attacking each other. Crazy ass shit goin’ on! I actually left the hospital, fought with my battalion… everyone’s gone, man. Everyone. There were a bunch of us. We were told to stay put. The last of us got sick a few days ago. My buddy attacked me. Went all crazy and shit! He frickin’ stabbed me! I had to…” The man’s voice caught in his throat. “I had to put him down.”
“When did this happen?”
“Hell, I don’t know exactly. We’ve been the last ones holding down the base. Been a few days at least.”
“What about the neighborhoods? Anyone?”
“We started doin’ rounds. Going up and down streets. Looking for survivors. We found a few. This base is frickin’ huge! Gotta be more. Gotta be.”
“The ones you found… You think they’re still alive?”
The Marine shrugged. “Dunno.”
Mike put his arm around the man to help him walk. The Marine’s story and timeline didn’t seem to add up, but the man was injured, and his eyes were clear. He didn’t appear to be infected. He’d question him more later. “Let’s get you out of here. Get you patched up and we’ll come back tomorrow. Look for survivors. By the way, I’m Mike Wilson.”
The Marine grunted as he leaned into Mike, letting him lead him away from the hospital. “Sgt. Cooper,” he said through clenched teeth. “Sgt. Bradly Cooper. Where are we going?”
Fatal Reaction, Survival Page 3
