“I don’t know babe, but we have to get out of here. It’s not safe anymore.”
Richard turned his head into an alley, peering cautiously to make sure all was clear, and save for a blood splattered dumpster and open doorway, all was. He could feel the thick layer of sweat holding his shirt firmly to his back and the heat from the summer concrete pressing up through the soles of his workboots. “Come on honey, let’s go.”
His words were dry, a fitting delivery from equally parched lips, only exacerbated by the unusually hot Arizona day.
“They got bill,” Kendra said, her words falling out in a daze.
“I know sweetheart,” he replied, trying his best to maintain a calm demeanor for the both of them. “That’s why we gotta go.”
They passed the open doorway and Richard slowed as he saw the drying footprints leading inside. “What are they?” she asked, her light blue eyes glued to her husband.
Richard saw the marks on the wooden door, deep gouges from multiple hands etched across the middle. He didn’t want to respond. The answer he knew without question, the reality of it however was almost impossible to bring himself to say. She had been oblivious to everything that had been happening, coming back from her mother’s house up north just two days prior. She hadn’t been there for the beginning of the sirens, or the bloodstains that grew dark along the city’s downtown sidewalk. She hadn’t had to run—yet. “They’re just sick sweetheart, that’s all.”
He lied.
He knew exactly what they were. He’d seen every zombie movie on the market, had countless books from Keene to Brooks and even had a bumper sticker on his car that read I’m prepared, with an image of two crossed blades and a headless zombie silhouette. He wasn’t prepared however. Neither were the other twenty thousand people trying desperately to escape their tiny town.
“Through here,” he said as they reached an alley that ran behind Baker’s drug store to the small community behind.
He heard a scream as they passed the store and his gaze shot through the large bay windows to see a young man in a camo backpack being tackled by four flesh tattered corpses. Richard’s mind flashed to the thought he had twenty minutes prior about raiding the store for first aid supplies and medicine.
“Hurry up babe,” he said, pulling his eyes away from what would have been him and his wife.
“What was that!?” she asked, fear growing with her pupils.
“Looters babe,” he said quickly.
The lies were coming easier now, though he knew he would eventually have to tell her the truth; that the dead were coming back to life. He knew she would inevitably find out. For now, it was best for both of them if she stayed hinged to her ignorance.
As they exited the alley he paused, allowing them both a moment to catch their breath. He could hear the symphony of chaos floating up above the rooftops, a cacophony of horror movie sounds; screaming and distant impacts from hundreds of cars all trying to leave at the same time, blaring horns and staccato gunshots all stitched together in a low rumble. He could see staggered trails of smoke beginning to rise in the air and smell the carnage as it wafted past his nose. A deep red curl had fallen in front of Kendra’s face.
‘God she’s beautiful,’ he thought as she reached up and pushed it back behind her ear.
The small community he was leading them to was adjacent to a series of dirt trails used by local ATV enthusiast’s and kids on their dirtbikes. He knew that one of the houses had to have an off-road vehicle still parked. His plan was to get transportation that didn’t require them to take main roads. His zombie survival training was beginning to come back into focus.
“We need water, canned food and enough gasoline to get us to the next city.”
“Where are we going?”
“There’s an island off the coast of Baja a half day from here; Tiburon Island. It’ll be safe there.”
“Why are we going to an island?” she asked, her eyes throwing panic at him.
“Look. It’s off the mainland, we can get there and wait it out. There’ll be shelter, we’ll have food and water, and if worse comes to worse we can start planting.” He paused. “Look babe, I know you’re scared, so am I, but if we stay here, we’re gonna end up just like Bob and Maria. We have to get out of town, and if it’s like this here, then it’s like this everywhere and the last thing we can do is head to a bigger city. It’d be suicide.”
He moved closer to her, taking her hand tightly. “You trust me right?”
She nodded silently, panic staring back at him through her eyes.
“Then please, we just have to get out of here.”
His gaze moved up as it caught movement behind them and what used to be a medical worker staggered into the alley. The EMT’s jacket was torn open, exposing tattered flesh and the ivory stripes of ribcage that showed through. The dark blue of its uniform had become purple from the waist down and its gaze was stuck blankly to the ground in front of it.
“That’s not sickness…” Kendra whispered as her eyes locked to the shambling death that slowly approached.
The creature’s gaze snapped up at her words, its gaze locking to Richards as its lips pulled back into a frenzied snarl.
“Run!” he shouted, grabbing his wife and nearly yanking her to the ground as he bolted towards the community.
He heard a loud shuffle behind them as the dead worker began shambling quickly in their direction, its viscous growls alerting others to a prospective feast.
When they reached the backyard of the private community Richard nearly threw his wife over the small chain-link fence and then leapt over it himself, turning his eyes back to the alley to see two more of the monsters enter and begin following after the other.
The smell of summer flowers blooming breezed unnoticeably past the couple as they charged through a perfectly manicured garden. The laziness of a summer swing flew past as they charged towards the HOA approved back door.
“Stay here,” Richard said as he slammed it behind him and closed the curtains.
He moved into the kitchen and took a large knife from its wooden, block holder that sat on the large island counter. He turned and motioned silently for Kendra to follow him.
His heart was beating heavy in his chest and he struggled to hold his breath as he listened for movement in the house.
“Hello?” he called out as he slowly made his way towards the living room. “We’re not here to attack you, we just need supplies. My wife is hurt and I need bandages.”
Kendra shot him an unapproving look as she approached. He knew she hated it when people lied—something that he would be addressing later if they managed to escape. He raised his finger to his lips, pausing to listen.
After a moment he turned to his wife and whispered, “Go to the kitchen, find a shopping bag and load up any canned food you can find. I’m gonna head to the garage and see what’s there. If anything, anything happens, you come to me immediately.”
“Rich—” she began, starting her please don’t leave me plea.
“Babe,” he said, moving close to pull her into a hug. “Please.”
She stayed quiet as he kissed her lightly on the forehead and pulled away, watching in silence as her protector moved out of sight into the living room. For the next three breaths she stayed motionless, and then forced herself to turn her focus back to the kitchen and the spotless cupboards above.
As Richard moved though the house he looked for signs of struggle. Everything was immaculate with nothing disturbed. There was no blood, no bodies lying in hallways, no dismembered corpses. He felt the cold chill of relief flicker through him. He crossed the living room and started down the main hallway to a door at the end that had a small shoe rack next to it.
‘Gotta be it.’
He reached out and turned the handle.
The room inside was filled with the typical things you’d find in an everyday household garage. There were boxes along the back wall, three bicycles hanging on hooks; two adult’s and one little girl
s. There was camping and recreation equipment lining another wall and a large tool chest with a neatly laid out display of wrenches and sockets.
“Shit…” he whispered to himself as his eyes came to rest on two oil stains left where cars had been parking for years.
No longer than the curse had left his lips then his skin tightened around his muscles, the sound of his high school sweetheart’s screaming filled his ears.
He turned and ran full speed down the hallway, the knife in his hands held beneath a white-knuckled grip.
“Kendra!” he shouted as he hit the living room.
He turned the corner and the pair ran full force into each other.
He watched as her pupil’s dilated and the color drained from her cheeks.
“Babe…” he whispered as he felt a warm wetness slowly moving across his fingers.
She stared into his eyes, sorrow and pain flooding between them. Slowly he dropped his gaze down to see the handle of the knife sticking out from just right of her stomach.
“No—no no no no no….” he begged as his hand slowly moved away and hers replaced the sweat across the wooden handle. “Oh God, No. Please, Sweetheart…”
She looked up slowly as her legs began to quiver out from beneath her.
Richard caught her, the entire world around him blocked out as her weight landed lightly in his arms, the tears starting to form in his wife’s eyes the only thing that registered in him. He didn’t hear the shattering of glass, or the vacant moans of corpses as they began to fall through the empty space the fallen pane had filled beneath the back door. He didn’t hear the crunch of broken shards as each one rose to its feet, one by one and began to make their way towards the living room. All he heard was the hitching breath of the woman he loved, and his quiet sobs as he felt her body slowly growing limp in his grasp.
Kendra stayed quiet as her husband sobbed into her chest. Even as the first set of hands ripped her head back and jagged teeth locked into her neck. She held her silence as the life slowly drained from her on the floor while she watched her husband getting torn apart, screaming in agony as chunk after chunk of flesh was violently removed from him, large spraying gashes opening along his sides.
Richard’s wife lay on the floor, her body jerking as the monsters atop her tore mouthfuls of flesh away, her fingers twitching as the last electrical impulses ran through her brain. As everything faded to white, a single tear worked its way towards the floor.
Day 15
“GO!! God Damnit!”
John slammed his palms against the steering wheel of his Civic, the small car rocking from his outburst. He was used to sitting in traffic, the 405 being his only direct route on his daily commute from Sherman Oaks to Torrance. But today was worse than usual. It was 10:05 in the morning and the lanes were at a standstill and had been for the fifteen three minutes.
“For fucks sake! Drive your car!”
He slammed his hand on the silver logo in the middle of the wheel, his car blaring out in pain as he did to the driver parked in front of him. There was a momentary pause, followed by a stiff one finger salute.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”
John picked up his phone and held the voice command button down until a peaceful chime echoed out. He knew he should have exited when he saw the traffic backing up, but he figured it would have cleared by now, that whatever had blocked the road would have been pulled or pushed to the shoulder.
“Call Raquel,” he said, still fuming from the lack of forward momentum. “Fuckin’ traffic,” he mumbled.
“Hello?” a soft voice replied from the other end.
“Look sweetheart,” John said, his hand slamming the horn again. “I’m not sure when I’m gonna be home.” His eyes moved up to the three helicopters that had arrived and were swarming overhead a mile or so up the freeway. “Meeting went as planned, but there’s a complete jam on the freeway. Must be a pretty bad accident.”
“The news is saying that someone ran out into traffic on the freeway. They think it’s a suicide.”
“Great,” John replied, his eyes moving up as another chopper flew overhead. “Some asshole just had to off himself on the day I’m trying to leave early to go fishing…” He scoffed.
“John…” the voice replied, a sting in her words. “Have some respect. A man died.”
Another scoff.
“Look,” he continued, watching as the people ahead of him began to step out of their cars. “If Rick shows up, just tell him to hang out. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Ok honey,” the voice replied. “Love you.”
“Yeah,” he replied flatly as he pulled the phone away and hit the crimson button to disconnect.
John rubbed his face and stretched, reaching out to turn off his ignition and step out. He was three lanes in and nothing short of using his car as a battering ram was going to get him off the freeway, and his new civic wasn’t going to have much luck against the semi parked on his right of endless line in that stretched forward into the distance.
The hot summer air blasted against him the moment he was free of the air-conditioned interior, the Los Angeles heat hitting him, magnified by the steaming asphalt and running engines around him.
“Any idea what’s going on?” a voice said from behind him, causing him to turn his head quickly.
“Wife says some guy threw himself into traffic,” he said to the young couple standing next to their burnt orange Subaru.
“Oh…” the young girl replied.
“Guess we’re gonna be here till they scrape him off the road.”
“Jesus…” the man replied, shooting him a disgusted look before nodding to his girl to get back in the car.
John turned his head back to the flock of helicopters, his mind replaying the morning news he had heard while on the way to his eight o’clock meeting; a report about some viral outbreak that was causing an increase in violent attacks and killings.
The guy in the car in front of him stepped out and shot him a dirty look.
“Guess your horn didn’t help clear the traffic, did it?” He paused, turning his head back to the scene in the distance. “Asshole…”
John took a deep breath and let his gaze fall to the ground for a moment.
He was about to step back into his car when movement caught his eye. He squinted, raising his hand up to shield the blasting sun.
“What the—” he whispered to himself as he watched what looked like dozens of people coming towards him quickly from down the freeway.
John turned around, glancing behind him. There were already dozens of others standing outside their cars, and a group of three men playing poker on a hood three cars back. He turned back around and could see that the group was getting nearer, and they were running.
“Oh you gotta be shitting me…” he said as he slowly reached out for the handle on his door. He watched as two of the helicopters broke off and started quickly in the direction of Downtown, and then he started to hear the shouting.
He stopped, his hand frozen on the door handle and watched as a hysterical crowd quickly approached him. He could see that they weren’t just running, they were running from something.
‘Like rats from a fire,’ he thought, the look on the first people’s face breaking his hold.
He grabbed his door handle and yanked it open quickly, nearly diving inside as he pressed his finger on the door lock button.
The first of the crowd rushed by.
“Call Raquel,” he said, his phone gripped tightly to his ear as he watched person after person go screaming by.
“What’s happening John?” his wife asked, fear in her words as she answered.
“I don’t know Roc,” he replied, flinching to his right as someone slapped his side mirror against his window as they hit it going past. “People are running.” He paused. “I think something happened.”
The line was quiet for a moment. Then his wife spoke softly. The tone in her voice made his skin turn to
gooseflesh. “John… People are killing each other.” There was another pause as he watched the next group run past. “It’s on the news. They’re ripping each other apart.”
He stayed quiet for a moment, the commotion fleeing past, shaking his car as they occasionally slammed into it.
“Sweetheart, you need to get out of there.”
John watched as the last of the people running flew past. The next group was still a ways off, but they were moving much slower. He could see them stopping occasionally, appearing to talk to others that had waited in their car. He could make out what appeared to be a police officer making his way towards him.
“It’s okay Roc,” he said, his hand moving to the door lock. “It looks like the police are talking to people.”
“John,” his wife replied from the other end as he unlocked the door. “Please, there’s something wrong.”
“It’s going to be fine,” he replied as he reached for the door handle, watching as the police officer slowly approached, leading a group of people that looked like they had just been part of the attack. “Just tell Rick to wait all right.”
He hung up the phone and opened the door, stepping out into the heat again.
“What’s going on officer?” he asked, his hand still on the door that stood between him and the approaching crowd.
The police officer paused, twitching slightly as his eyes slowly moved to John. He could see that there was something wrong. The officer’s eyes were glazed; blank and lifeless. Then he noticed the blood. It was hard to see at first against the black L.A.P.D. uniform. Then he saw the wound. At the base of the officer’s neck was a massive gash, a hole where it looked like an animal had torn at the man’s throat and shredded it away.
“What the—” he began, his foot slowly moving back into the car.
There was no sound, no moaning—no reply. The officer pulled his lips back exposing his teeth and started towards him, his pace increasing from a staggering walk to fast paced shuffle with a silent cry that escaped the gaping wound in his neck with a spattering hiss.
John held his position and then saw that three others had taken notice and were starting towards him as well.
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