Fatal Reaction, Survival

by M A Hollstein

  On the other side of the street, Ellie walked past an abandoned Japanese Steak House. She glanced at the tinted windows and wondered if anyone was alive and taking refuge within the restaurant. With the dark glass, no one would ever be able to tell if someone was hiding inside. Someone could easily live in there undetected.

  In front of the restaurant, there was a cement Koi pond with a green wooden bridge. Feeling curious, Ellie decided to check it out. Koi were her favorite fish and she’d always dreamed of owning a house with an immaculately landscaped yard, beautiful trees, a lot of lush green grass, and a Koi pond. Ellie thought of how much her dreams have changed. Now she dreamed of having a safe place to live away from the infected and alien ships. She’d do anything to have her normal, mundane life back of always working, and worrying about how she’d pay her bills. Those problems seemed so minuscule in comparison.

  The water in the pond was green with algae, but she was happy to see it filled with brightly colored Koi. There was a quarter machine next to the pond filled with pellet fish food. She imagined the fish were probably starving to death and the larger fish were more than likely resorting to eating the smaller fish to stay alive. Even though she knew this was the last thing in the world that she needed to worry about, she made a mental note to come back later to feed the fish. In the meantime, Ellie cupped her hand beneath the opening of the little machine, and with her other hand, she lifted the metal flap. She swept out some of the loose pellets and tossed them into the water. The fish swarmed the spot where the fish food landed. She tried turning the little knob, but without a quarter, it refused to budge. Then she shook the machine. A few more pellets tumbled down. She tossed them into the water.

  Ellie crossed her arms over her chest. She was suddenly feeling vulnerable, standing on the little bridge where anyone could see her staring at the fish.

  What the hell is wrong with me? she wondered. She shouldn’t be admiring fish, planning on how to save them when the world was falling apart around her. With recent events, Ellie was feeling more connected than ever to all of Earth’s creatures. They were all in this together against the alien threat.

  Ellie knew she was putting herself in danger, standing out in the open like a dummy, when she should be on the move, looking for that boy she saw on TV. If she were dead, she’d be no good to that kid, to the fish, or her dog trapped in the SUV.

  Feeling as if someone from within the restaurant was watching her, even though it was probably a figment of her imagination, Ellie scurried off the little bridge and hurried past the building. Not being able to see into the tinted windows bothered her. And the thought of being observed creeped her out.

  Ellie scurried down the street towards the flames and tried to stifle the sound of her coughing by keeping the crook of her arm over her mouth as she coughed. She stayed on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. If she remembered correctly, the clinic was a block or two further down the road. Ellie lifted up the neck of her shirt and covered her nose with the cotton material trying to ventilate the smoke from the air. Her throat burned something fierce. Tears collected in her stinging eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Hurrying past, she kept her eye on the burning buildings. There were no signs of people. She then looked up ahead and could see the clinic. Three bodies, lying in pools of blood, were in front of the building.

  Glancing around her first, making sure no Crusaders were lurking about, Ellie crossed the street. She stopped far enough away from the bodies to get a good look at them without being too close. She recognized the hospital gown that the infected woman had been wearing in the video. It was soaked in blood. The woman’s face had been bashed in so badly that without the gown, Ellie wouldn’t have recognized her. The other body had on what looked to be a lab coat. He was probably a doctor at the clinic. His head had been demolished. Pieces of his skull and splattered brains were on the pavement and the brick wall. The only body with a face still intact was wearing black leather. Ellie took a few steps closer to get a better look at him. The man was wearing a blue bandana tied around his head. He had a straggly, salt and pepper beard and crystal blue eyes that were staring into oblivion. There was a nasty gash to his throat where he’d bled out. His hands were stained red with blood from gripping hold of his neck in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.

  Frowning, Ellie wondered what she should do next. She hadn’t a clue where to begin her search for the boy. Feeling queasy from both the carnage and the smoke, she turned her back to the bodies and scanned the streets. Heading home would be the smart thing to do, but she wasn’t ready yet. She prayed for some sort of sign as to what to do next.

  “Hey! Hey, you!”

  Ellie nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a man’s voice. She looked in his direction. Two men wearing black leather jackets were strutting down the street.

  “Oh my God. Crusaders!” she whispered, and then took off running.

  ***

  Frustrated, Mike smacked the steering wheel of the Corvette. “Where the hell is she?” He’d driven up and down Mission Avenue, keeping his eyes peeled. He’d tried several of the closest stores, scanning the parking lots, looking for any signs of life.

  Mike pulled into the parking lot of a small chain of buildings. He slowed down in front of an emergency medical clinic at the far corner of the lot. He was about five miles away from home and doubted Ellie would’ve walked this far to seek medical attention unless she’d taken the SUV. Mike kept picturing the worst. He feared that Mrs. Marshall had bitten Ellie. What if she was bleeding profusely and fighting the sickness of whatever-the-hell this goddam virus was? Mike groaned. Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight and searching in all the wrong places. Maybe Ellie hadn’t gone far. Maybe Ellie was still at the complex, somewhere on the grounds, too sick to make it back to the condo. What if she’d changed? What if she was amongst the infected? Or dead?

  Mike shook his head. He didn’t want to think like that. Ellie was okay. He just needed to find her. That was all. Hopping out of the car, he left it running in the parking lot and jaunted up to the clinic. He tried the door. It was locked. Mike cupped his hands and peered into the window. The inside of the building had been thrashed. The lights were on. Bodies were lying on the floor, and dried blood was on the walls. All signs that the infection had gotten out of control. Unfortunately, scenes like this were the norm.

  He didn’t know why he bothered, but he tried jiggling the door handle again. His mind raced as he thought of where to look next. He’d probably head back to the condo and try to retrace Ellie’s steps. In fact, that’s what he should’ve done in the first place. His mind had been so preoccupied with planning their survival, and then the stress of the looming spaceship, that he wasn’t thinking straight. The appearance of the ship only made him feel even less in control of his life. He had no idea of what to expect and what to prepare for next. Everything was out of his control, and he didn’t like it. There was no way to know what they were up against until something happened. Even though by nature, Mike wasn’t a negative person, his mind had been preparing for the worst. He couldn’t help it. No matter how strong his faith was, he couldn’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling of impending doom.

  The sound of a car door slamming shut caught Mike’s attention. He spun around just as the Corvette’s engine revved. Someone was in the driver’s seat.

  “Hey!” Mike bellowed, running towards the car. But before he could reach it, the Corvette sped forward, screeching, as the driver slammed on the brakes, and then turned sharply to the right. The driver revved the engine again, and then floored the accelerator.

  “Thanks for the wheels!” a young man with dark hair hollered out the window while waving at him.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Mike chased after the car and stopped running once the car squealed out of the parking lot and took off down the street. “I can’t fucking believe this!”

  With most of the population dead, and those that were still alive hiding from the virus an
d the ship, the last thing he’d expected was for someone to steal his car. Cussing up a storm, Mike decided to walk in the direction of home. He hoped to get lucky and find a new ride, even though he knew that trying to find a car without a dead battery, and a set of car keys, would be slim to none.

  Staring upwards, Mike eyed the ship. The little white light was still blinking, taunting him. He wondered if he was being watched. He knew he needed to devise some sort of plan. But what and how? What did the aliens want? And why were they hovering? What could they possibly be waiting for?

  Beyond pissed off, Mike yelled at the ship, shaking his fist in the air like a madman as he marched down the street. “What the fuck do you want with us? Get it over with already! I’m tired of waiting!”

  Just then, Mike heard the familiar roar of an engine. He looked over his shoulder as the yellow Corvette went roaring past him. The dark-haired young man in the driver’s seat yipped and hollered gleefully out the window enjoying his new ride.

  “Go to fucking hell, asshole!” Mike yelled at him.

  Normally, Mike wasn’t one to lose his temper, but at that very moment, he felt like he was losing his mind. He was a very calm, and collected person, which made him a good sheriff. He’d always been able to keep his calm and think through things under pressure. But at the moment, something in him snapped. If he got his hands on the guy that stole his car, he’d beat him to a bloody pulp.

  The Corvette suddenly screeched to a halt and skidded sideways. Smoke came up from the tires, and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air. Mike marched in the direction of his car. He reached for his gun and realized he didn’t have it. He’d left it in the car.

  “Hey!” the guy called out the rolled down window and waved at Mike. “You need a lift?”

  Mike wasn’t sure if the guy was toying with him or being serious. As he approached the car, he realized the man was young, possibly late teens, and appeared to be Hispanic. “Get in,” he said to Mike.

  Cautiously, Mike walked to the passenger side door and gripped the handle. He opened the door and glanced at the seat where he’d left his gun. It was no longer there. The young man was holding it, aiming it at him. “Looking for this?”

  Mike narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to get in.”

  Mike glared at him. He wondered if the kid had the balls to shoot him. He doubted it. Deciding he had nothing to lose, Mike got into the car. The boy took off before Mike could even close the door.

  “Hey! Slow down!” Mike said, slamming the door shut and then strapping on his seatbelt.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s dangerous!”

  “Yeah, okay, homie,” he said, swerving around several abandoned vehicles. “Most of Mission is clear,” he laughed. “And no cops.”

  “I’m a cop,” Mike said.

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “I’m afraid not. So slow the fuck down before you get us both killed!”

  To Mike’s surprise, the Corvette slowed down. The young man waved the gun at Mike. “Sweet ride.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Mike agreed.

  “What else you got?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What else you got?”

  “Same as anyone else.”

  “I ain’t got shit,” the young man said. “I’ve been acquiring things.”

  “Haven’t we all,” Mike said, placing one hand on the dashboard, bracing himself.

  “Do you have others?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A group of you… are there others of you?”

  “Are there others of you?” Mike asked, returning the question.

  “I asked you first, homie.”

  Mike shook his head. “I’m not your homie.”

  “Take me to where you live.”

  Mike chuckled. “Kid, I’m not taking you anywhere. You need to go home to your family. In fact, I should have a talk with your parents.”

  The young man pursed his lips together and then jutted out his chin. “I’m not a kid. And you will take me to your home. I’m in charge. I’ve got the gun.”

  Not able to help himself, Mike began to laugh hysterically. He knew the situation wasn’t funny, but at the same time, with the spread of the infection, most of the population dead and the spaceship looming above them, he found his plight quite humorous. Everything seemed so surreal; nothing was real anymore.

  “Stop laughing!” the young man yelled while slamming on the brakes. The car slid sideways as it screeched to a halt.

  Still laughing, Mike wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hands. “Kid, I needed a good laugh.”

  “Stop it! Stop laughing!”

  Mike looked at the young man and snatched the gun from his hand. Quickly, he unlatched the safety and aimed the gun. “You had the safety on, kid.” Mike shook his head. “Now be straightforward with me. What is it you want?”

  The young man glared at him tight-lipped.

  “Okay,” Mike said. “Let’s start with your name.”

  After a few seconds of stubborn silence, the young man said, “Jorge.”

  “I’m Mike. Sheriff Michael Wilson,” he introduced and waved the gun a bit.

  “Crap!” Jorge groaned. “I really stole a car from a cop?”

  “Yeah,” Mike said. “You did.” He paused for a moment and then asked, “Jorge, do you mind telling me what your plans were? I don’t take being held at gunpoint lightly.”

  “It’s my sister…” He stopped speaking and looked out the windshield. “It’s just us. Trying to find a family. You know, somewhere safe for us.” Jorge looked upwards at the spaceship.

  “And you thought that stealing my car, and then threatening me with my gun would gain my trust?”

  Jorge didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on the spacecraft.

  “Where’s your sister?”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “So we can go pick her up.”

  Jorge stared at Mike for a second, unsure of his intentions.

  Mike put down his gun. “There’s safety in numbers.” He glanced up at the ship. “And being that you’re a dumb kid, you’re gonna need my help. If we’re going to survive, we need to stick together.”

  Jorge followed his gaze upwards and then nodded in agreement.

  ***

  Sgt. Brad Cooper, sat down and leaned his head back on the couch. The room was spinning out of control. He was hot as hell and a sharp pain shot through his gut. Brad covered his mouth with his hand and fought the urge to throw up. He felt another sharp pain in his stomach which caused him to double over. The room spun even quicker. Dizzy, he jumped to his feet anyway and stumbled to the bathroom in the hallway. Unable to reach the toilet in time, he leaned over the sink, vomit was spewing out of him with such force that it splashed all over the mirror and floor.

  Unable to stand the smell, his stomach clenched and tried again to empty the contents. Brad switched on the tap and splashed the cold water onto his face. He did his best to wash as much puke as he could down the drain. Fortunately, he hadn’t eaten much lately, and it consisted of mostly fluids.

  Hotter than he’d ever been in his life, he stripped off the clothing that Mike had given him to wear, tossed them on the floor and turned on the shower. Cold water met his skin with a burning sensation. He hated that familiar feeling of fever swirling beneath his skin. It had been a long time since he’d been afflicted with the flu. Brad looked down at his leg. The fresh bandage he’d applied was peeling off. Examining his wound, he grimaced at the swollen, puss-filled area where infection had kicked in. He could still see where the teeth had dug into his skin and removed a chunk of his flesh. Since he’d gone so long without contracting the virus after being bit, he’d thought that maybe he was somehow immune. He hoped the fever he was experiencing was due to a normal infection that had set in and the antibiotics would soon clear it up.

  Another sharp pain jabbed him in the gut. Clutc
hing his stomach, Brad began to dry heave in the shower. Unable to stand the cold water, feeling like it was burning through his skin, he managed to switch off the tap and stumble out of the tub. Standing there naked, clutching the counter with both hands to steady himself, Brad looked at his reflection in the mirror. He had white welts forming beneath his eyes, and his lips were swelling. He leaned in a little closer and could see his eyes beginning to turn yellow.

  “Fucking hell!” he swore, grabbing one of the pill bottles he’d swiped from the hospital. He took two pills out of the bottle and forced himself to swallow them. He could feel the antibiotics burning his esophagus on the way down. He also opened the other two pill bottles and took two Vicodin and two antihistamines. He forced himself to sip some water from the tap. The water only seemed to upset his stomach more. He hoped that if he could keep the pills down, he’d be able to heal himself.

  It was too hot even to fathom putting clothes back on. Naked, Brad stumbled to the kitchen and searched for food. He found a box of cheese crackers and tossed a couple into his mouth. While chewing, his stomach lurched. He opened all the cupboards in the kitchen and rummaged through them, tossing everything onto the counter.

  I can do this, he told himself. I can beat this thing.

  Brad’s stomach was doing all sorts of crazy flip-flops. Like a madman, he ripped open whatever he could, and took a bite, and then tossed it to the ground. Nothing was agreeing with him. He then wrenched open the refrigerator and stared inside, disappointed. There wasn’t much to choose from.

  Another sharp pain caused his gut to feel like it was about to explode. Brad fell to his knees, crying out in agony. Sweat dripped from his brow onto the floor. On all fours, he noticed the skin of his hands were white, puffy and painful. He then closed his eyes and pressed his burning hot cheek to the cold tiles of the floor. The coolness felt good even though it seemed to sting his skin.