‘What the hell?’ he thought to himself.
Last time he had seen anything like this was when the Giants won the World Series in 14’.
He made his way through the parking lot and into the building, saying hello to the security guard in his usual fashion and then making his way to the elevator.
“I’m guessing you’ve heard?”
Jim turned his head to see Jenna Clark; one of the morning news anchors.
He shook his head and looked to the floor for a moment. “A half an hour ago, I was packing my tent and last of my gear. I was five hours away from peace, solitude, and redwood trees for then next week and a half.” He paused, his face scrunching together. “Gotta text from Bill, said to get my ass down here… That’s about all I’ve heard.”
The elevator chimed, the small red arrow pointing up flashing twice before the doors slowly opened with a mechanical hiss.
“This is big Jim,” Jenna said, stepping into the elevator and hitting 12. “We’ve got some kind of outbreak. City’s going to hell.” She paused, her eyes locking to his. “People are dying Jim, and nobody knows shit.”
He took a deep breath. Now things were serious. “When did it start?”
“Nobody knows. CDC won’t respond to our calls, local hospitals have no idea, we’re in the dark here.”
“Damn…”
The towering redwoods backdropped by an azure sky flickered through his thoughts. ‘If I’d have just left yesterday morning like I wanted to… Damn…’
Twelfth floor
The calm female voice of the elevator alerting them to their arrival pulled Jim’s mind away from his vacation.
“Come on,” Jenna said, stepping out of the elevator into the bustling hallway. “I’ll fill you in on the way.”
Jim caught up to her, stepping quickly around an assistant as they hurried by, a large stack of papers in one hand, a steaming cup of coffee in the other.
“Reports have been coming in since yesterday. At first, they just thought it was a sporadic increase in violent attacks. We get that all the time in the summer, so we didn’t think too much about it. But then the videos started coming in.”
She stopped in the hallway, turning to Jim as people made their way quickly around them. She leaned close. “Whatever the hell is happening out there. It’s straight out of a horror movie. People are literally tearing each other apart.”
“What the fu—“
A younger man rushing through the hall knocked into Jim, cutting his sentence short. “Sorry man,” the kid said, almost immediately tuning to make his way onwards.
“Come on,” Jenna said, “they’re waiting.”
Jim felt his heartbeat quickening. Now the energy in the building began to make more sense. Some kind of epidemic was breaking loose, and from what he could gather, they were at ground zero. He quickened his pace to catch up with Jenna who had pulled a few steps ahead. Two minutes later they were entering the station manager’s office.
“Have a seat,” he said as they made their way in.
Jim glanced between the people in the room. There were two of the four morning anchors and one of his co-anchors from the night desk.
“I’m sorry to have had to call you in Jim,” Bill said as he took his seat. “I know how you look forward to your vacation, and you know that I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t important.”
Jim nodded. “I know Bill. What’s the situation?”
“As most of you know,” Bill began, still standing behind his thick mahogany desk. “We started receiving reports about violent outbreaks two days ago. There were a couple that came from sources we have in the Midwest and a few from back east. We chalked it up to another heatwave, or bath salts incident.” He paused, taking a deep breath as he turned around to close the blinds. “Then we received this.”
Jim watched as Bill turned his computer monitor around and hit the space bar on his keyboard. The screen came to life with the shaky image of a person running with a cell phone camera.
“Oh my god…” the voice from the monitor said as the camera showed the ground rushing past. “What the fuck, what the fuck!?”
Jim watched as the camera continued to trace the dirty concrete. Then the person holding the camera turned it up and their face peered at them through the lens. The boy speaking was roughly 20 years old, clean cut African American boy wearing a light blue polo shirt. Jim immediately noticed what appeared to be blood splatter on his collar.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but people are going crazy. They’re killing each other. There’s dozens. It’s like everybody just snapped.”
The boy’s eyes kept looking up past the camera. Ten seconds crept by as the boy stood, taking labored breaths, fear flooded across his face as a thin bead of sweat worked its way downwards. Then his gaze locked to the camera.
“They’re eating them…”
Jim shifted in his seat. In the last twenty years as a reporter he had gotten pretty good at sniffing out hoaxes. His stomach twisted, telling him that what he was watching, was not one of them.
“Where is this?” Jim asked, breaking the sheet of silence hanging in the air.
“Keep watching,” Bill reply with a snap.
“Philly,” Jenna said, leaning closer.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but…”
The boys eyes looked up from the camera and fear flooded into his words, his comment falling as a plea. “Stay away!”
Jim watched as the camera focused back on the ground below.
“Get away from me!”
Jim stared at the monitor, a tremble working its way across his skin.
The camera began to shake violently as the sound of struggle came from the monitor. Then the phone dropped to the ground and the camera showed a two sets of legs entangled in a rhythmless dance. Then the tango ended as the pair of skinny blue jeans buckled backwards as the young boy fell flat on his back, the hulking figure of a middle aged man landing heavily on top.
The boy screamed.
Jim sat in silence as the camera showed a scene of carnage and violence the like he had never had the displeasure of watching. The man on top was biting and clawing at the young boy who screamed like a rabbit caught in a snare as pieces of clothing were torn away and burgundy began to dye the light blue shirt purple. Jim’s skin crawled as the boy pleaded through anguished cries for someone to help, and his stomach tightened as the scream became a gurgled gasp as the man on top tore into the boy’s windpipe, opening a hole that gushed blood, spritzes of fluid spraying across the concrete alley towards the camera.
Bill reached out and hit the space bar on the computer, turning to open the shades. The room was silent. “This is happening,” he whispered, his gaze wandering between the group. “This, is real…”
Jim stayed quiet. He had seen many things in his career; car crashes, people burned alive in buildings, but what he just watched... He had just witnessed death on a level only imagined in film. He felt his stomach lurch and forced himself to take a deep breath.
“What are we doing here Bill?” he asked, breaking the quiet fog hanging languidly in the room.
“We need to get this out,” Bill replied, his eyes locking to Jim’s. “We need to warn people.”
Jim and the others didn’t hear the gunshots from twelve floors below. They didn’t hear the screams as the first of the creatures shattered their way through the glass doors of the lobby. They didn’t hear the cars slamming into each other in the street below, or the smashing metal of those trying to escape the parking lot. Upstairs the group was formulating a way to warn the people of San Francisco. Upstairs, they were trying to find a way to break the news that there was an outbreak occurring and that their viewers should take all the precautionary steps to ensure their safety. Stay inside and lock your doors. Downstairs however, the image on the monitor began repeating itself, and the ivory paint of the hallways began to take on a different hue.
Day 10
“Come on babe, we gotta keep going.”
Donny looked back to his girlfriend; Debbie, and smiled. He was proud of how well she was taking everything that was happening around them and loved how strong she was. He had told her from the beginning of the reports that something was happening and that they needed to prepare. Three days prior they had gone to a local orchard supply store and purchased a hundred dollars’ worth of vegetable and fruit seeds; enough that once planted they wouldn’t have to worry about food. They had packed up their forty pound backpacks and loaded them with enough canned food and supplies to last them two months if they rationed, which he knew they would. Two days prior the infection had erupted all around them. “We’ll just stick to the river and it’ll lead us straight through the valley. Once we reach the end, then we just have to make it through the grapevine and it’ll be nothing but fields all the way north.” He paused, glancing behind him to see Frankie; their black and white pitbull trotting behind them, smile on its face and tail bouncing in step, oblivious to the scene playing out around them. “We just need to make it out of the city.”
He adjusted the strap on the three foot sword slung across the backpack, the one he had joked about with his girlfriend when purchasing. Gotta be ready in case of zombies he had said with a smile. That smile had faded during the week prior.
“And why do I have to carry this stupid BB gun again?” Debbie asked from a few steps behind.
Donny took a deep breath. “Like I said babe, it’s lighter than a real gun, and we can carry five thousand rounds of ammunition in something the size of a water bottle. We’re not using it to defend ourselves, but if you don’t mind squirrel and rabbits for dinner, then that’s thirty-five hundred meals you’re carrying.”
“Hmph,” she replied with her friendly sarcasm.
Donny stopped and turned around. As she stepped up he looked her in the eyes. “Sweetheart, I know this crazy. It’s nuts. I always joked about being ready for the zombie apocalypse, and saying that maybe it’s what the human race needs; a good reset. But it’s real, and we can’t stay here. It’s not gonna get better, the military isn’t going to come save us, there’s nothing we can do now but run and try to survive.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “We need to get somewhere safe. Somewhere we can set up a perimeter, start gardening immediately, so that hopefully, by next spring, the plants are big enough to begin harvesting. We need to find a place with good elevation so we can see what’s coming and start putting together a security system. Cans on strings, or anything like that.” He paused, leaning slightly closer. “You trust me right?”
Debbie nodded.
“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
For the next three hours they followed the cement walled L.A. River through the valley. They passed Van Nuys and Chatsworth, the occasional gunshots or explosions in the distance shooting a wave of ice through their veins and putting Frankie on edge.
As they neared the end of the river path Donny paused. “Stay here,” he whispered. “Keep Frankie quiet and I’ll go check it out.”
Debbie called Frankie over and clipped his leash on, kneeling down next to him and patting his side as Donny turned and made his way up the embankment, stopping to peer over the edge as he reached the top.
A hundred yards away was a gas station, beyond that a few houses and then the 5 freeway. He planned to take the freeway through the grapevine as traffic was no longer moving and all the cars were parked and abandoned. He knew it was a risk, but he wasn’t sure if they’d be able to make it over the mountain on foot. Especially with the heavy packs on their backs.
He waited for a few minutes, watching for movement, and when he was satisfied that the coast was clear, signaled down to his girlfriend to come up. Moments later she was standing next to him, Frankie’s bright red leash in her hand. “All right,” he said, his eyes moving to the Arco station. “Let’s hit the gas station. One last grab before we’re out.” He turned to look at her. “Grab some Snickers bars if they have any and look for those little packages of Ibuprofen and Aspirin. We have a lot, but the more we have the better. I’ll keep watch out here.”
Debbie nodded, her eyes moving scared to the abandoned structure.
“Oh,” he added, turning to her with a smile. “And grab some condoms if they have em’.”
“Of course,” she replied with a smile and a shake of her head. She rolled her eyes and handed the leash off as she made her way inside the station. Donny stayed outside, his gaze moving cautiously through the surroundings. Four minutes later she emerged from the gas station snapping the strap across her chest back into place.
“Get anything good?” he asked as she walked up, his eyes moving towards the freeway ahead.
“Yeah actually,” she replied, tapping her bag behind her. “Looks like everyone skipped this one.”
“Probably cause it’s right next to the road out of town, people just wanted to get out.”
“Don…” Debbie said, tendrils of fear working their way across her words.
He turned his head to see what used to be the gas station attendant coming from around the side of the building.
“Get behind me,” he said as Frankie began to growl, low and deep. Then he barked, and the attendant’s eyes snapped to the three of them.
Donny pulled the sword from his sheath, a solid, tang to hilt blade that looked like a three foot chef knife. The zombie’s pace quickened and its mouth began to open and close in anticipation.
He stepped back and took a solid stance, the blade held like a baseball bat read to swing. As the dead man approached, arms reaching out in front of staggered, mechanical steps, he stepped to the side and swung as hard as he could. The blade landed solid across the creature’s forehead, slicing nearly all the way through the skull.
He held on as the weight of the falling attendant threatened to yank the sword from his hand. He used the momentum to swing the undead man to the ground and put his foot on the creature’s throat as he yanked the blade free. He took a deep breath and stepped back. Frankie finally stopped barking, settling instead into a series of uncomfortable grunts.
“We gotta go,” he said, looking at Debbie, his eyes glancing at the freeway a short ways off. “Numbnuts here’s gonna bring more our way.”
They started towards the silent stretch of road leading away from the San Fernando Valley.
As the pair made their way up the silent freeway the front cover of the local newspaper flittered on a breeze through the parking lot. As it blew against the draining corpse it wrapped itself around its face. The front cover read, Unknown epidemic ripping through the U.S. Could this be the end?
Day 11
“Fall back! FALL BACK!”
Private Connors struggled to follow the orders the Lieutenant was screaming as a volley of M1 gunfire erupted around him. “Get to the parking structure, NOW!”
The orders had been clear; get to the Aventura Mall and disperse the looters. Nothing in the wire said anything about zombies.
Bullets ricochet off a car door to his left and he ducked down, dropping an empty clip and replacing it with practiced speed. As another pinged near his feet he stood up and took aim at the first infected ten yards down the alley. A quick squeeze of the finger and the back of its head exploded outwards in a shower of bone and glistening flesh.
“MOVE!”
Connors dropped another one and turned to follow the rest of his squad as they charged full speed to the opposite end of the walkway leading from the back of the JC Penny to Abigail Road.
“What in the fuck was that!?”
Connors glanced at the other private; a panicked looking black kid in his early twenties, just like himself that was running next to him. “I don’t know man,” he replied in a shout, turning his head quickly to see the small crowd beginning to fill the spot in the alley they had just held. “It’s like fuckin’ zombies.”
“No way man!” the frightened soldier replied. “They ain’t real. Zombies ain’t real ma
n.”
“Then how in the hell do you explain what we just saw?”
Connors watched as the Lieutenant stopped ahead of them, his head darting back and forth for a moment before turning to shout at the remaining seven soldiers that had made it out.
“This way! Get those god damn feet moving!” Then he turned and disappeared around a corner, the others that were on his heels following quickly.
“Man I didn’t sign up for this shit!” the guy with Connors shouted, glancing behind him, eyes wide and alert.
Connors hadn’t either. He’d signed up for the National Guard because he didn’t want to dedicate himself to the armed forces. His father had been a marine, and his grandfather in the army. He’d enlisted with the guard to fill time until he figured out what he wanted to do, and to help with paying his way through college. Now here he was, one of the last in a squad that had started with thirty, running from a mass of mindless creatures that by no means should even exist, firing round after round into things that until twenty minutes prior had only existed in film and comics.
“I can’t go out like them!” the other kid yelled, a flash of the other soldiers being ripped apart, their flesh torn from bone and blood spraying out in arterial bursts accompanying the shout. “Just keep moving,” Connors replied, scanning the corridor as they flew around the corner. “Hurry,” he shouted, rushing towards the stairwell leading upwards that the last of the men was moving into.
“Why are we going up?” the soldier just behind him asked, apprehension pushing his words forward. “We’re gonna be fuckin’ trapped.”
Connors didn’t reply, the thought of a chopper lifting them from the roof pinging hopefully in the back of his mind.
As they hit the stairwell he could see more zombies piling into the alley from the other direction, their quickly paced, drunken stagger reeling them forward in mindless relent. Connors found himself taking the stairs two and three at a time. His lungs burned from running, and the heat from his flak jacket and gear was quickly dehydrating him from the sweat pouring out of his skin, but he didn’t stop. Fear of death, and worse, was the only motivation he needed to keep burning past his limit.
The Last 21 Page 4
