Season of the Dead

by Adams, Lucia

  She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled out a plump breast. She offered the nipple to the baby, which he latched onto with relish. “Hush little baby don’t say a word,” she began to sing. I was dumbstruck. She looked up and saw me standing there. She had a manic, wild look in her eyes, part ecstasy, part agony. She flinched as the baby suckled, I could see her milk mixed with blood flowing down her breast and his chin. “Paul’s going to live with us now,” she said to the baby.

  He is in his fucking shite.I didn’t say it out loud though. I pulled the axe from my belt.

  “We can do business later if you like,” she said to me, “I won’t even charge you. You can have it whenever you like for free.”

  “Eh…”

  “Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.”

  New plan. I ran outside. The trapped drug dealer in the playground looked up at me and snarled. He’d broken half his teeth on the fence since I’d last seen him, and a good part of the skin on his face had disintegrated.

  “Hey, Martin,” I yelled across the road. “Your kid has your eyes.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Omaha, Nebraska, USA

  Sharon

  Car alarms blared as smoke rose from the rubble of the I-80 bridge. Frantic people ran from buildings to cars, packing whatever belongings they could fit into their vehicles.

  Martial Law had been declared three weeks ago, a curfew was imposed, and armored personnel carriers had rumbled down city streets that had previously only seen harried commuters. But now those military vehicles were gone, even the local police were absent.

  We all knew what blowing the bridges meant—a retreat had been called, it was obvious to even the most casual observer. They had fallen back behind the electrified fences of Offutt, closed the blast proof doors of NORAD, and hunkered down in Texas and South Dakota. It was now every man for himself, those of a giving sort now found themselves ruthlessly concerned with only the welfare of loved ones.

  As I left the underground parking garage, the Mustang growled with impatience to go faster. I intended to give it ample opportunity, but for now I needed to be careful more than fast.

  Even after all that had happened, the population still thought it was best to head south. What they thought they would find down there, other than the sun baked sands of Mexico, was beyond me.

  An epidemic was spreading, a congregation of people was exactly what it needed, and exactly what I intended to avoid. Taking the back streets, I managed to get to the zoo in record time. Everyone was on the highways and interstates… something else I planned to avoid.

  I keyed in my access code; the paneled gate slowly opened, revealing the desolation of a once thriving wildlife preserve. As I drove along, I saw great gaping holes cut in the massive aviary. Someone had released the birds. The virus seemed to be contained to mammals, so we had not bothered to quarantine any of the other species. A flock of brightly colored parrots flew across my field of vision. With winter coming, I prayed they had the sense to fly south. Right about then, that was all I had to offer most things—prayer.

  The research facility was secured access with underground parking. Again, I entered my code; the door slowly rose. It was quiet and empty, save those vehicles the zoo owned. Everyone had left. I expected as much. Still, I grabbed my Glock and Parker’s hand—better safe than sorry.

  I had been allocated my own secured lab in order to work on the Hauksson virus. Of course I could not call it that without having to explain things I wasn’t supposed to talk about. So, I had dubbed it ‘Project Z’ and left it at that. For all they knew, I was working on a vicious new strain of rabies. Given my background, it fit perfectly, and very few people even bothered to take notice.

  With Parker in tow, I moved quickly to the lab, swiped my card, and made sure the door closed behind me. I had two laptops that I was using for the project. Each one was locked away at night in a safe to ensure that nothing was stolen.

  I zippered both of them inside a padded nylon case and set them aside. The lodge had an ancient desktop PC that we could use in case someone forgot their computer, or, in my case, when I dropped mine in the lake one summer. The old PC, when compared to the laptops, was like comparing a tricycle to a Ferrari.

  I found the steel case that I had been given and loaded it full of my samples, along with the iPad, my hand written notes and theorems, and latched the case closed.

  The Mustang’s trunk was getting full, but I had intentionally left room for my research. There was no way I was leaving it behind. I paused and looked at the microscope on the counter. It was state of the art, and I loved it, but it was big, unwieldy, and bolted to the counter. With a sigh I reminded myself that I knew I wouldn’t be able to take it. I wasn’t happy about it though.

  Reaching towards a cabinet above me, I found a wooden case. Inside it was an older, manual microscope. No fancy interfaces, no digital dial, just crank knobs. I had purchased it long ago, wistfully imaging all the hands that touched it and the things it must have seen. It was coming with me.

  The door hissed opened behind me. I didn’t even turn, just pointed the gun. “What the hell, Red!”

  I turned and met the rounded eyes of Jack. “What the hell, indeed,” I said. “It’s probably not the best time to be sneaking up on people, Jack.”

  “I wasn’t sneaking,” he grumbled.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, and went back to packing.

  “I figured this was the safest place. It’s secured; there is food and water,” he said. I had to admit, he was pretty accurate. Even still, I wasn’t staying.

  “You are the one that released the birds.”

  “Yes,” he said taking on a defensive tone.

  I held up a hand to forestall whatever explanation he was about to give. “Look, I would have done it too.” And I would have. I felt sorry for the marine animals locked in their tanks. There was nowhere to release them to. It bothered me that I could not help them. It was the same with the reptiles, but we had a lot of very dangerous snakes. I simply could not loose such things on the public. Besides, it was getting colder; they likely wouldn’t survive the winter anyway. Ruthlessly, I shoved the thoughts aside, forcing myself to realize that I couldn’t save everything. Best to just concentrate on what I could, which is what all the research was for.

  I found a small cart on wheels and loaded it up with the cases. With one last look around, I headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, following after me.

  “North,” I mumbled, swiping my card to open the door. Quickly, I made my way to the car and unlocked the trunk.

  “Hey, I didn’t know you had a kid,” he said, observantly noticing Parker.

  “I don’t.”

  “Then where did you get him?”

  “Wal-Mart,” I replied.

  “Okay. Is this your car?”

  “It is now,” I replied as I packed the truck with the cases. I had to move the MREs about and cram them between the cases, making sure nothing would slide around. I opened the door and told Parker to climb inside.

  “Take me with you,” Jack said in a rush.

  “What?” I paused to look at him with a frown on my face. “Why? I thought you were staying here.”

  He fidgeted for a moment and then blurted out, “I don’t want to be alone.” It was an honest answer and I had to give him credit for voicing it. The thought of being alone with Parker at the lodge was frightening. I had to admit that it would nice to have another adult around, even if it was just Jack.

  “Are you packed? Because, Jack, I am not waiting for you. I am leaving now, get your crap and get out here. One bag, bring only what you have to, and only your warmest clothes. It’s cold where we are going.”

  He beamed at me. “I’ll be back in five minutes!” And then he ran off. And God help, but if he took six minutes, I was leaving without him.

  A few minutes later, he ran out of the building like he was being chased. I unlocked the door, and he clim
bed inside. “I opened the cages,” he said.

  I knew there were several of the large cats that had not become sick. The remainder of the bears had proven to be healthy as well. I nodded and said nothing. To my amazement, he had only one small duffel bag.

  “Can you shoot?” I asked.

  “Yeah, my dad was a Marine. He wasn’t really happy when I decided to become ‘zookeeper’, as he called it.” Jack was actually an exotic animal veterinarian, and quite a skilled one at that.

  “That’s good, but listen to me, if you put me or the kid in danger, I’ll shoot you myself.” I knew I was being harsh and I didn’t care. The time for pleasantries had passed.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll pull my own weight. We can take turns driving.” I sighed and calmed down a bit. I’d have to think about the driving though. When running for my life, I preferred not to be a passenger. But for now, I needed to get gas. I suspected that most of the stations were being overrun with panicked travelers. Thankfully, the zoo had a few gas pumps for the work trucks and lawn mowers. I drove over to one and got out to fill up.

  “I’m gonna run inside the shop, get us some drinks, and snacks,” he said.

  “Jack, wait.” I walked around to the trunk and took out the .357. It was too big for my hand, but he was taller, over six feet. It would work better for him. “Just in case,” I said, handing him the weapon after I made sure it was loaded.

  He nodded and trotted off to the snack shop. I filled up the tank and climbed back in. Jack returned a minute later carrying a cooler and several canvas bags bearing the zoo’s logo.

  “I filled the cooler with soda, water, and juice for the little guy,” he said. I slid into the driver’s seat and put the cooler on the floor behind the passenger seat. It meant that Jack could not scoot his chair back but there wasn’t much I could do about it. The Mustang wasn’t a big car; we had to make use of what room we had.

  “I snagged as much as I could carry in the way of chips, candy and sandwiches. They were refrigerated still, so we should be safe eating them,” he said as he climbed in and slammed his door with the resounding thud that only Detroit steel had. Then he reached into a bag and pulled out a bunch of stuffed toy animals and handed them to Parker, who grinned and reached for the furry critters. For just a moment, that haunted look left his eyes.

  I turned towards Jack and smiled. He shrugged. “I figured he would like them.”

  “That was very nice…” My next words were cut off by a frantic scream. We both looked up to see a woman running towards us; she was being chased by two of the groundskeepers, who were now zombies.

  “Parker, lie down and cover up,” I said as I started the engine. There wasn’t a lot to do except pray that she got to us before they did. I didn’t want to accidentally run her over, so I kept the car still. Unless I planned to shoot through the windshield I couldn’t get a clear shot. They were right behind her, and I didn’t want to risk hitting her. Jack opened the door, jumped out and shouted at her to run faster.

  Panicked and not thinking clearly, she slowed down and looked behind her, giving them valuable seconds. She stumbled, but didn’t fall, sacrificing more seconds. She recovered, ran towards us as fast as she could, and flung herself on the hood of the car, her hands smacking against the metal.

  “Shit,” I whispered. Jack was reaching for her just as they grabbed her and dragged her off, ripping into her as they fell to the ground. “Get in!” I shouted at Jack. Putting the car in reverse I hit the gas before he even fully closed his door. I backed up about twenty feet, rolled the window down and aimed.

  She looked towards me for just a moment and blinked, long and slow. Then she nodded and closed her eyes. I took the shot and ended her misery. Swallowing down the taste of bile, I cranked the window back up and drove off. I suppose I should have shot the zombies also, but I didn’t want to waste the bullets.

  A flash of orange streaked across my rear-view mirror. It was Bruce, a massive Siberian tiger. He had been wild caught as a means to introduce a new bloodline into the captive breeding program. Bruce knew what it was to be free and hunt for his meals. I saw him scent the zombies, no doubt smelling the rot over the lure of fresh blood. He hissed, baring his teeth, and ran in the other direction, disappearing into the gloom of the surroundings woods.

  Nebraska was about to see its first Siberian winter.

  CHAPTER 18

  Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada

  Gerry

  Almost four weeks after leaving home, we found our first survivor. Well, sort of. I guess you could say his voice foundus.

  “… The kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; and said to the mountains and rocks, fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth upon the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb: For the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand? Revelation, six point one-five.”

  The voice coming over the boat’s radio droned on, broken sporadically by spikes of static. His tone, gravelly and thin, was mesmerizing. All the kids had come up to hear. Aside from its overall gloom and doom-type jabber, what made this signal different from the multitude of pleas and babbling we’d heard over the past three weeks of our journey was that it wasn’t a recording like the rest. The speaker was alive and well and living somewhere near Thunder Bay. We’d found a survivor.

  “Hello?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, like breaker-one-niner or whatever, so I removed my thumb from the mic and waited for him to answer.

  “Is there someone there, please?” the man said, then cleared his throat. “My name is Micah and I am the shepherd.”

  Kyle piped up: “Ask if he’s heard anything—you know, about all this stuff.”

  Several other boys joined in, all with their own questions, but I held up my hand. “Everybody shut up and relax, let me talk to this fella and see what’s what.”

  Static. “Are you there?”

  “Yes, Micah, we’re here. Are there any of those things where you are?”

  “Those things?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Infected people; you know.”

  “Ah, you mean the resurrected. No… we have none among our community.”

  “Community? Are you telling me you’re in a city or something?”

  Micah chuckled. “You could say that. We are The Coven of the Lamb; we have been chosen to usher in a new dawn.”

  I exchanged glances with the boys surrounding me. Their eyes mirrored my own feelings: this guy was a fucking lunatic.

  I keyed the mic, “Say, Micah, is there anyone else we could talk to, you know, someone who might give us directions to your, ah, community?”

  “I am the shepherd. It is my caste. Jonas hands down our assignments.”

  “I see. Can you give me a sec, Micah? I need to confer with my crew.”

  “Crew, you say? How many are your number? We will welcome you into the fold.”

  How many are your number? Was this guy for real? Who spoke like that, anyway? I didn’t answer him; he creeped me out.

  The boys were looking to me to make a decision here, but I had a bad feeling. Maybe it was because we’d been so long on the water without another soul around, or maybe I saw freaks and geeks where there was only safety.

  Kyle shrugged, “Well, what do you think?”

  The reality of the situation was that we were low on stores, fuel, and morale, and it was beginning to show. Everybody was edgy, but why shouldn’t they be? Everyone they’d ever known who wasn’t in this small radio room was dead. Yes, Micah seemed a little crazy—OK, a lot crazy—but it’s possible that religion was the crutch he used to make it through, to keep him alive in these mad times.

  “What I think doesn’t matter, Kyle. We need to vote on this. Do we go find this guy and his people, or do we keep on and try to find our way further on? I mean, you all heard him. He gives m
e the heebie-jeebies, but he says it’s safe where he is. Alright, a show of hands—who says we go find the creepy old guy?”

  The vote was unanimous.

  “Micah, are you still with me?”

  “I am.”

  “Whereabouts are you?” I said, smiling as the boys whooped with laughter. “We thought we might stop by for a visit.”

  “I can give you coordinates to a dock near our camp. There will be people sent to greet you upon arriving. How many are you in number?”

  “Six,” I said. It probably wasn’t best starting any relationship out with a lie, but his insistence on knowing our number bothered me.

  The rest of the kids all left the small room, off doing whatever teenaged hormone factories did when they were excited about something, but Kyle stayed behind.

  After I signed off with Micah, the old preacher returned to his sermon, “On the tide of dead, the chosen will rise above the swell, and the ignorant wail en mass under the might of Heavenly Judgement. Even as the final darkness blankets the sky and extinguishes the stars of Heaven, The Coven of the Lamb lights the way to the future. I am the shepherd, I am the way—”

  I didn’t know how Kyle felt about the preacher, but I was getting tired of hearing his voice. I switched off the radio and switched on the navigation system. I punched the coordinates into the boat’s computer. We could be there in under an hour.

  “Just think, Kyle, the next meal you eat could be at a real table, with real people.”

  Kyle nodded. “Sounds good to me. Say, why did you lie to that old guy? Seemed like a harmless coot to me. He even made me think of the pastor at my church. Are you some kind of atheist or something?”

  “Or something. But that’s not it. To be honest, I don’t know what it is.” I didn’t want to alarm Kyle for no reason, so I deflected his concern, “Don’t worry about it; it’s probably nothing. Why don’t you help the rest of those mongrels gear up with some bed rolls and supplies? I don’t want us showing up empty handed.”