by N. C. Reed
We were about half-way down the second floor when my phone buzzed gently in my pocket. I almost ignored it, but decided to check since it might be important. My house alarm sent an alert to my phone when it activated after all.
It wasn't my alarm.
I had set several e-mail alerts for key words and phrases to monitor from news sources. I had gotten a hit. I pulled Connie over to the side, finding a place in the open doorway of a Dillards that kept the crush of people off of us, and opened the alert.
One of the 'isolated' villages in Europe, this one in Germany, had been filmed by an enterprising news crew that had apparently gotten wind that something was wrong in Denmark. Well, Germany. I already used that pun didn't I? Sorry.
Anyway, they had hiked in after getting close on snowmobiles, and set up on a ridge overlooking the town. I can't recall the name of the place, but it looked like a permanent Oktoberfest kind of place, you know?
Well, it had, anyway. Connie and I huddled around the small screen of my phone and watched the video. Apparently this had been a real news team, because the video was clean and clear and the narration was pretty good. Not that we needed it after they finally got the camera on the town center.
It was like that video from Spain all over again, writ larger. This German town was pretty good sized, maybe ten, fifteen thousand people, and it looked like most of them were sick. Or whatever this was. I really didn't know, to be honest. Whatever they were, the town was wrecked. Several fires were burning across the town's skyline. And despite the official statement that utilities had been interrupted by the rock slide/avalanche/freak ice storm/whatever else the powers that be had come up with, the lights were definitely still on in this town.
As the video played we could see flashes below, and the camera operator zoomed in on those. After some movement to search the area, the camera steadied up on three uniformed figures dressed in military gear and carrying what looked like GS-3 rifles, at one time the preferred rifle of the West German forces and later the reunified German Wehrmacht. They were a little long on tooth for modern times but were likely still in use in their reserves, and civilian models were probably available.
Whoever they were, and wherever they had gotten the rifles, the three people were on a shooting spree in the town center. Two shooting and one loading all the time made me think they weren't just your average Germans, either. That was good training, and it was holding despite the fact that the trio was surrounded by villagers who were probably trying to eat them. Okay, that was an assumption, but hey, all I had to go one was movies and books, you know?
As we watched, one of the shooters must have run dry. He fixed a bayonet and took up a defensive stance, using a fence at his back for security. He tried to guard the backs of the two still shooting, but forgot to watch his own. Connie and I watched without comment as he was pulled over the fence and into the waiting arms of at least three 'people'. I really, even then, didn't want to use the z-word.
That left two. They lasted maybe another minute until both ran dry at the same time. In seconds they were overrun. As I watched their attackers pile on, I didn't even want to imagine what was happening at the bottom of that pile.
The news crew made a few comments as they panned the village a few more time, but found nothing else of interest. Having done what they came to do, they wisely beat feet, humping back the way they had come, camera still recording along with their sound system. They didn't shut them down even once they mounted their snow mobiles and took off, running for safety. As the video ended, I shut off the program and looked at Connie. She was white-faced and I was sure her hand was shaking.
“That 'll do it, probably,” I told her softly. “Once this starts making the rounds, someone is gonna have to own this or the riots and demonstrations will be hard to deal with.” She nodded.
“What should we do?” she asked, looking around us as if we could expect zombie hordes at any moment. I thought about it a minute, but the truth was there was nothing else we could do. We'd made all the preparations we could. Only time would tell if they were enough.
“We should have a good time,” I told her calmly. “By tomorrow, this is going to be everywhere. And there's no telling what will happen then. We might as well enjoy what will probably be the last normal night in this town for quite a while.” She looked surprised at first, but as my words sank in she smiled.
“We might as well at that,” she said after a minute. “I'm glad you're with me, Drake,” she said softly. “I really am. Despite everything, I'm actually having a good time.”
“I'll take that as a compliment since I desperately want one from you,” I winked and she laughed, which was what I was hoping for. Then, arm-in-arm, we continued our night at the mall.
I was sure that tomorrow would be full of panic and speculation. We were already as prepared as we could be. All we could do now was wait and I preferred waiting in the mall in the company of the most beautiful woman I'd ever known.
Even with the end-of-the-world maybe approaching, I was having a pretty good night. And who knew? It might get better still.
CHAPTER SIX
I had been right.
Connie and I finished up our impromptu date night with desert at the food court and decided to catch a late movie at the theater across the parking lot. I purposely ignored the phone after that, refusing to let my curiosity ruin my evening. I endured a chic flick with Connie, something she wanted to see that I can't for the life of me remember the name of and I don't care really. I would have sat through a speech by Hillary Clinton if Connie Kane had asked me to. There was no danger of that of course since my wonderfully gorgeous doctor roommate was thoroughly conservative.
Anyway, we got home late, almost midnight. Both of us were exhausted as it had been a very long day. Connie actually kissed me on the cheek as she headed for her room.
“I had a really nice time, Drake,” she said softly, and I will always believe that her eyes were shining a little despite how tired she was. “Thank you.”
“It was absolutely my pleasure,” I assured her. “Sleep well.”
I hit the shower, cold this time (shut up), and then racked out. I think I was asleep when I hit the pillow, the work of the day catching up to me at last.
As usual I was up right before dawn. Still tired but like I said before, once I'm up, that's it. I ran through the shower one more time just to help me get fully awake and then headed for the living room, stopping in the kitchen long enough to put on some coffee.
I fired up my computer, wondering what I would see after last night's video. I fully expected to see dramatic headlines sporting titles like 'Government officials deny any knowledge of zombie horde sweeping through Europe'.
Well, it wasn't that bad, but I wasn't disappointed.
Believe it or not there was still an attempt at denial even in the face of the video from the night before. Stuffed suits making the rounds were intercepted by reporters demanding to know what was going on only to be told that the 'incident' was under investigation and comment would be 'inappropriate' until all the facts were 'in'. Usually that would have bought them a day, give or take twelve hours. Not today.
Reporters increased their demands to the point that officials stopped talking to them altogether, depending on security services to screen them from the press. Incensed, reporters then turned to looking for people who might have first hand knowledge of just what the hell was going on in all these isolated towns. Some of the people they interviewed were complete frauds of course and it was easy to tell who they were. Others were much more convincing. One in particular caught my eye. Well one aside from the interview with the crew that had provided the video we had seen last night.
A Spanish news wire broke the story first. A man had come forward with a video. I don't think I ever did learn his name, but the video was what mattered. It was the same video that had first caught my attention.
I listened to his interview, reading the subtitles as they scrolled ac
ross the screen. He had been working in a small butcher shop when a woman had stumbled into the front, bleeding from a wound on her shoulder. The owner of the shop had hurried forward to assist the woman, calling for his wife to summon the authorities. Even as the wife was dialing emergency services the owner screamed in pain.
The man had run from the kitchen at the commotion and was standing in the doorway when the woman had sank her teeth into the owner's neck. As he watched, she shook her head violently, ripping and tearing flesh from her victim. The man had hesitated only a second before grabbing the screaming wife and pulling her toward the back. As he made his way toward the back door the woman had ripped away from his grasp and ran back toward the shop front.
The man paused for a second, lips trembling, and I felt sorry for him. He was obviously smarting over his failure to keep her from going back to her husband, but I just didn't see that it was his fault. I mean, it was her husband man. Love makes you do crazy shit, that's just a fact.
Like running into the maw of a zombie horde.
He went on as the video began playing, describing what he had seen as he was running for his life, trying to record everything he could on his phone. That had confirmed my own suspicions about the video quality. He had made his way through town on foot, not owning a car. He'd never needed one, he said, always living right there in his home town just a few blocks from where he worked. When he wanted to go somewhere he took the bus.
The same bus that had saved his life that day. The driver had realized that something bad was happening though he hadn't a clue what it was. He had held the bus, door open, for as long as he dared, allowing as many people as possible to cram aboard including this man now speaking on the television. When 'they' started coming into view the driver had closed the door of the overloaded bus and stepped on the gas, speeding toward the next city and help.
They had met a number of police cars along the way and the man from the butcher shop had asked to be let off the bus long before the next town. The driver hadn't questioned him, probably because the bus was so crowded. The man had headed across country to his cousin's, where he had spent the night telling and re-telling his story. He hadn't known for almost a full day that his sudden urge to visit family might well have saved him, since that bus had not been seen or heard from again.
I admit that I stopped listening after that, leaning back in my chair. The bus hadn't been heard from again? How the hell did that happen? As soon as the question formed in my mind I knew the answer. Someone, somewhere, had decided that it was in their best interest that the people who had escaped from that hellish scene not be allowed to speak to anyone about it. This guy had gotten lucky on a grand scale, twice in the same day.
He should buy a lottery ticket.
I went back to the interview just as it was wrapping up, with the man stating that one reason he had agreed to come forward and tell his story was that he feared something had been 'done' with the bus and passengers and that he was afraid that if it was discovered he had been aboard he might disappear too, along with his extended family who had taken him in. He hoped that being in the public eye would prevent that, or at least make it less likely to happen.
Smart man, I nodded. Clearly this guy was smarter than the average politician. Or reporter.
The newsman conducting the interview then launched into a string of questions that this poor man had no way of answering; What was to blame for the behavior evident in the video? Had any of the townspeople been seen or heard from since? Why had the bus left before ensuring that everyone was safe? Did he feel guilty about leaving so many behind as he fled to safety?
What? Seriously? This man was running for his life from an unknown threat and this jackass reporter was asking him shit like this? Hadn't he already said the bus driver waited as long as possible before leaving? That the bus was dangerously overloaded? Had the reporter missed the part about people being dragged down in the street and. . .dined on? What a jackass!
The man never turned a hair at the reporter's attitude, waiting until the tirade was over before calmly explaining that he had no way to lend assistance to anyone. Strict and severe gun control laws in Europe had meant that he had no way to defend himself, let alone assist others. He had no skill in unarmed combat, no military training, no background that would lend itself to helping him or allowing him to help others. So he had fled for his life.
Just like everyone else was doing.
The reporter seemed to be taken aback by this calm reply and decided to change his tactic by asking yet another series of questions that this man couldn't possibly answer; What was the cause of this event? How had people been affected in the first place? Was it contagious and if so how was it spread? Did he have any advice for others who might find themselves in his situation? That last one the man answered. He looked directly into the camera and spoke three words.
“Run. And pray.”
I ignored the rest of the crap from the reporter, dropping the site and looking at several web pages of written news reports. As I had predicted, people were up in arms this morning with demonstration in every nation where one of the 'isolated' towns was located. Police and in some cases military were being used to contain the protests, but in at least two places, one in Germany and the other in France, the police and military appeared to be siding firmly with the protesters. That was going to get interesting and quick.
An alert caught my eye and I pulled it up. “White House to make statement on European disturbance at noon, EST.”
Well. That I hadn't seen coming. Since there were no reported problems in the States I guess I had assumed that there wouldn't be anything from our own government just yet. Which automatically made me wonder why there was going to be something from our own government.
Which made me question whether or not something had happened in the States and we just hadn't heard about it yet. Shit. Dammit. I had screwed up trusting that this was strictly a European problem for the present.
I knew better. Got no excuse except that I was so busy with other stuff. You know, like getting ready for the zombie apocalypse and shit like that. And we were ready I reminded myself before I started preparing for ritual suicide to atone for my failure. While I might have missed something happening here in the USA by ignoring the news last night, I took comfort in knowing that there wasn't a single thing I could have done that I hadn't already accomplished.
We were as ready as we could possibly be under the circumstances. Satisfied with that, I headed for the kitchen to start breakfast. This might be a long day.
By the time Connie came strolling into the kitchen I had a good breakfast ready. She smiled brightly despite her sleepy look, taking her seat and fixing a plate. As we ate I filled her in (yes, I know what I said) on what I'd learned already from the news.
“Noon, huh?” she mused from behind a piece of toast. “Wonder why noon? Think they're going to have a solution by then?”
“I doubt it,” I told her with a snort. “No, it's probably so they can get their story straight. There's also the possibility that we've already had some trouble here in the States and they want to make sure that's under control before they talk about it. Other than that? Lunch time for those working today. People who are out and about may miss it all together if they're DGIs.” Don't Get Its. People who simply cannot conceive of a world where the 'gubermint' would lie. Or even mislead if they thought it was in their, I mean the country's, best interest. Yeah, that's sarcasm.
“Well, I can't think of a thing we can do differently, can you?” she asked. I shook my head. I really couldn't. We had probably missed something, but neither of us had been able to find it.
“Then let's head into town, grab a few last minute things like paper goods and what have you, then plan to be back here for the big new conference,” Connie said.
“Works for me,” I nodded. I began gathering up the dishes while she went to get ready. By the time I was done she was back, and oh, man was she a picture.
T-Shirt, jean shorts that showed off a wonderful set of legs, hair pulled into a pony-tail. I stared a little too long I guess and she laughed at me.
“What?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “You have to know the effect you have on me,” I all but blurted out. She smiled brightly at that.
“I'm glad to hear that,” she told me and kissed my cheek again. “And I don't think I'll get tired of hearing it.” With that she was out the door, a large bag over her shoulder. I admired the view for a few steps before I followed.
Zombies or not, my life was improving by the day.
*****
Town was a madhouse. Part of that was just because it was Saturday you know, but. . .some of it wasn't.
We drove through town once before we stopped anywhere. We decided to avoid the box marts for several reason, one being the huge crowds. We decided to visit the smaller chain stores and the locally owned places. The variety might be less and the prices a bit more but it was a tradeoff we were willing to pay for.
Connie stocked up on um. . .well, girl stuff. You know. I added many many rolls of toilet paper to the van, along with paper towels and some thicker more sturdy shop towels. Paper plates and plastic utensils made the buggy as well. Lighters, fluid, and matches. Scented candles. Just odd and end, world may be ending kind of stuff, you know.
We got canned soda and a lot of chips and junk food that were sealed in foil. A few favorite cookies and what not packaged the same way. Comfort food mostly. Might get a little stale over time, but spread out over a long period of time it might help fight food fatigue. You can get seriously sick of the same stuff day in and day out. Well, unless it's a Jack's Cheeseburger. Double Big Jack. Mustard, pickles, onions, lettuce. Fries but none of that cheese salt crap they use. I hate that stuff. Still the burgers more than make up for it.
We kept an eye on the time as we went, wanting to make sure we made it back in time for the 'noos'. We didn't take all of anything from anywhere we went. I hate people who do that, you know? Also it attracts attention. I had noted a few people giving us the eye, but they were guys and Connie looked good enough to eat (oh, I am so going to hell for that) so I cautiously wrote it off to them ogling her and not our stuff. Besides it wasn't like we had pallets of food or anything. To most people we should have looked just like any other two people shopping on a Saturday. Which we kinda were.
