Pandora 2: Death is not an Option

by McCrohan, Richard

  Sayonara, assholes, Paul thought. He then ran out and across the street to the 7-Eleven store. The rest of the group was already inside. As Paul joined them, Manny clapped him on the back and said, “Good work.”

  As it turned out, they didn’t have to break in. The door was already unlocked. Inside the store were three bodies. Two of them were teenagers, lying sprawled out near the entrance. Both were shot and still holding the cans and bags of chips and food they tried to take. The other was a middle-aged man who looked to be the owner or manager. He was lying on his back in a pool of blood. Four bullet holes were in him, and the gun lay at his side.

  Sean and Tommy were shaking their heads while Linda had her hand over her mouth and teary eyes.

  “Jesus,” Sean spat. “What a fucking shame.”

  Tommy nodded. “I bet there are scenes like this that were played out all over the world. Everybody killing each other for a couple bags of chips.”

  The three bodies had been there for a while. The darkened skin was already desiccated and shriveled.

  “Let’s collect any food or drink that we can find that’s edible and take it all into the back room. We’ll spend the night there,” Tommy told them.

  As Sean grabbed a case of Gatorade that was behind the counter, he looked down at the dead owner who was defending his turf. Reaching into his pocket, he stopped and threw a couple of dollars down on the body.

  “Here,” he mumbled. “I wouldn’t want you getting pissed and coming after me tonight.”

  Malik and Regina were sitting in her house at the dinner table. Both were eating soup out of the can.

  Malik looked up at Regina and said around a mouthful of lentils, “Mmmm, mmmm good.”

  Regina choked out a laugh, her noodle soup squirting out of her nose. “Hey,” she said, choking and smiling, “are you trying to make me choke to death? That would be just beautiful…Surviving zombies, pirates, and the whole apocalypse thing only to die from a can of chicken noodle soup. Just great!”

  They both laughed. It almost seemed homey in here, having dinner together at her dining-room table. Except for the cold soup, utter darkness, and the occasional moaning of zombies. Once they even heard a scream. So much for peace and tranquility.

  Mike and his group were in a wealthy, residential area. When night had fallen, they entered one of the large, lavish homes they were passing. This one had a little sign on the wall around it: “La Casa Verde.” Underneath was another plaque that read “The Sunderlands.” With all the abundant, lush foliage around it, it was indeed the green house. However, the Sunderlands were not at home. They did a complete sweep of the house and found it to be empty. Carol and Jack checked out the kitchen pantry and happily stated that they could probably whip up a pretty great meal from the leavings. Travis was sitting in the living room, nursing his broken arm. He found some aspirin and took three. Jamal and Mike were searching the rooms to see if there was anything they could use and take with them.

  “Damn,” Jamal said. “There sure are a lot of bedrooms in this house.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Mike. “Looks like we’re all going to have our own rooms tonight. Cozy.”

  “Yeah, cozy for you, you mean,” Jamal joked.

  “Now, now,” laughed Mike, “don’t be jealous.”

  Just then, they heard loud voices. Mike recognized one of them as Sue’s voice. He could hear her getting angry; then there was a crash, and Sue screamed.

  Mike dashed out of the room upstairs and ran down to the first floor. The noises were coming from the other wing of the house, and he ran down the hall with Jamal, Jack, and the rest right behind him. Bursting through the door and into the mansion’s game room, he saw Susan backed up against a pool table. Carlos was leaning over her with a dark expression on his face. She turned her head and yelled, “Mike!”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Mike shouted.

  Carlos jumped away from her as if electrified. “Nothing,” he shouted. “I did nothing.”

  Mike went storming up to him, furious. The others entered the room behind him. Though it was dark out, the full moon was shining through the huge windows in the room. Carlos backed away with his hands up defensively. His ever-present camera bag was around his shoulder.

  “It is okay, Señor Mike,” he said, smiling.

  Mike stopped right before him. Turning to Sue, he asked her, “What happened here, honey? What did he do?”

  Susan stood up, brushing herself off. Her expression vacillated between fear, anger, and bewilderment. “Carlos came in as I was looking around,” she started. “He said I was nice to him, and he liked me. He wanted to take me out in the back to show me something. It’s dark, and I didn’t want to go. I told him no. Then he got very angry and tried to grab me and take me out back. We fought.”

  Mike’s expression turned very dark and he turned back to Carlos.

  “It was all a mistake,” Carlos began.

  “You son of a bitch!” Mike screamed in his face. “I saved your life. I did. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead. I saved your fucking life and this is how you repay me?”

  “No, Señor Mike, it is nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Mike shouted, spit flying from his lips. “It’s nothing?”

  Mike drew his fist back and then drove it into Carlos’s face. The slight man fell back onto the floor. He had a stunned look on his face, as if he couldn’t understand why Mike had hit him. He was scrambling to his feet when Mike hit him again. This time it knocked him over a chair.

  “We’ve been nothing but nice to you, you little creep,” Mike said through clenched teeth.

  This time, when Carlos got up, he wasn’t making excuses.” Don’t you hit me again. I warn you.”

  “You fucking pervert…You warn me?” Mike said, dumbfounded.

  He grabbed Carlos by the collar with both hands and threw him across the room. “Get out,” he said. “I’m done with you.” As Carlos started to get up, Mike kicked him in the ass, sending him sprawling again.

  “Mike…” Sue started to say.

  Carlos sat up and pointed at Michael. “I warned you,” he shouted, wild-eyed. “You’re going to pay for this. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  Mike grabbed him again and half dragged him to the front door. Opening the door, Mike said, “Leave now before I kill you,” and threw Carlos bodily out the door. Carlos landed in a heap, his camera bag flying off his shoulder. Mike slammed the door closed.

  Rolling over and grabbing his precious bag, Carlos turned back to the now-closed door. In the dark, he smiled viciously. “You’ll wish you did.”

  Jack came over to Mike as he walked back to the large foyer.

  “I never trusted that little weasel,” he offered.

  “Yeah,” agreed Mike, “my bad.”

  Michael walked back into the game room. Sue was sitting and sniffing softly. Carol was consoling her. Mike went up and kneeled in front of her. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, obviously upset. “I didn’t know.”

  “I just thought he was a harmless, scared guy,” Sue said in anguish.

  “I know, me too,” agreed Mike.

  Carol stood up and said, “I’ll leave you two alone now. I’ll go back and finish making dinner.”

  Mike stood up and strode over to the rolling bar that was against the wall. He poured two cognacs for them and carried the crystal glasses over. They drank together as he held her.

  When dinner was ready, Mike brought the bottle in with him. The meal was quite good, even though everything had come out of a can. Canned veggies, SPAM, cranberry sauce, gourmet crackers, vintage wine, and cookies. After a couple bottles of wine, they went to work on the rest of the cognac.

  Having had a bit too much to drink, Mike and Sue went to bed early. They had already picked out the master bedroom as soon as they toured the house. Now, while they still could, they made love—twice, actually, before Mike passed out, sound asleep.

  Soon Carol, Jamal, Jack, and Travis
said good-night to each other too. They all were comforted by the alcohol and fell asleep quickly.

  The night was quiet. This area of large homes had very few zombies roaming about. Most of the undead were trapped inside their homes. In the beautiful house where the group slept, all was still. About 2:30 a.m., the front door slowly opened. A figure stealthily glided in. Creeping noiselessly across the foyer, it approached the staircase. Suddenly, a flashlight clicked on and shone directly on the crouching figure of Carlos Guzman.

  “Hey Carlos,” said the voice behind the light. “I thought you may come back.”

  The crouching figure stood up straight. Smiling, Carlos said, “Hello, Travis.” The light on Carlos’s face showed Travis the extent of Mike’s beating. His one eye was almost closed, and his upper lip was split and swollen.

  “I never liked you, you know,” Travis said. “There was always something sneaky about you. Like you were hiding something you didn’t want us to know.”

  Carlos just stood there, smiling.

  “You know, I was there, “Travis continued, “at that building where we found you.”

  “I remember,” said Carlos.

  Travis shook his head slightly, a quick smile touching the corners of his mouth briefly. “I always thought it was strange that the man we shot who was running out the door would come after us. Didn’t seem likely behavior for a sadist like that. But he was dead, and that was that. And that handcuff key lying so close to you. Why would he just leave it there like that?”

  Carlos just stood there, staring at him.

  Nodding his head, Travis took a step closer to him. “You sure had us fooled.”

  Carlos didn’t move. His hands were down at his sides. A strange light seemed to glow in his eyes. He tilted his head as he stared at Travis in much the same way a dog would.

  “Hector didn’t run off, did he?” asked Travis. “You killed him. Got him to go with you and then killed him.” He took another step toward Carlos. “Just like you tried to do with Susan.”

  He moved the flashlight that he was holding in his right hand into his left hand, which was pressed against his chest in a makeshift sling. Travis now moved his free hand down to his side arm.

  “And now,” Travis said, “I’m going to end you.”

  Moving so fast that Travis didn’t even have a chance to react, Carlos swung his hand in a short, sweeping arc. His hand moved in a blur. The last thing Travis saw was the light from his flashlight reflecting off a razor-sharp boning knife in Carlos’s hand as it slashed smoothly through his exposed throat.

  Mike awoke when Sue, who was still naked, slipped from the bed to go to the bathroom. He smiled at the retreating vision of her backside before she put down the candle she was holding and closed the door. The minute his head hit the pillow, he was instantly asleep again. Minutes later, he started snoring.

  A noise awoke Mike. What time is it? he thought. He felt the other side of the bed but it was empty. He looked around and saw the flickering light still in the bathroom. The room started to spin a bit, and he put his head down and closed his eyes. “Honey,” he mumbled, “you okay?” He immediately fell asleep again.

  The next noise that woke Mike was a hard pounding on his bedroom door.

  “Mike, Mike,” Jack yelled, “get out here. It’s Travis.”

  Mike jumped out of bed and grabbed his pants. The minute he stood, he thought he would throw up. His stomach did a morning-after flip-flop. Swallowing down the bile, he ran out the door, noticing in his peripheral vision that the bathroom door was still closed.

  As Mike threw open the door and ran into the hallway, Jack was already halfway down the stairs. Quickly following him down, Mike thought each step he pounded on would split his head open. Oh boy, he thought, never again.

  Reaching the bottom, he saw Jamal kneeling on the floor between the living room and the foyer. Jack was standing over him, holding Carol, who was crying. As he walked toward them, he could see the body of Travis Cassidy lying on his back. He was in a wide pool of drying blood. His throat was slit so deeply that the white of his spinal cord was visible. He stared at the body numbly.

  “What the hell happened?” he said, gagging softly.

  “Carlos,” said Jamal. “It had to be. Who else would come in here, do this, and then just leave.”

  Michael saw that the front door was ajar. From the light coming in, it seemed to be about seven in the morning.

  “Carlos,” he repeated. Slowly a thought and then an image formed in his addled brain.

  “No,” he said softly.

  Jack looked at him. “What did you say?”

  Mike looked at Jack with growing horror. “No,” he said again, louder.

  “Mike, what’s wrong?” Jack asked, alarmed.

  Mike turned to the stairs and looked up to the landing. His eyes suddenly growing as wide as saucers, he screamed, “Nooooo,” before running madly up the stairs.

  “Susan!” he screamed down the hall.

  Mike hurled himself through the bedroom and then ran up to the closed bathroom door. Hearing Jack and Carol racing up also, he opened it and ran inside. He saw the burned-out candle on the sink. The room was empty.

  “Sue?” he squeaked.

  Looking around, he saw the closed shower curtain. As his eyes traveled down, he gagged, as he could now see the spatters of blood on the floor.

  With a hand shaking as if palsied, Mike reached up and grasped the edge of the curtain. Swallowing down a mouthful of sour bile, he ripped away the plastic fabric. Behind him, Carol screamed.

  At first, Michael couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing. It just seemed to be a jumble of white and red. As he stared down with tears running down his face, the swirling images suddenly coalesced into a terrible, soul-searing image. Before the tears blurred his vision totally and unconsciousness overtook him, he knew what he was seeing.

  Susan Tolliver was lying in the bottom of the bathtub. Her eyes were wide open and staring dully. A towel was stuffed in her mouth. Her naked body was splayed open from throat to crotch. Every one of her organs had been carefully removed from her body cavity and placed on her curled-up legs. Drawn on the shower wall in Sue’s blood were the words:

  YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED.

  DR. DEATH

  14

  It was a changed world. For a good number of former nations, the apocalyptic events of the Pandora virus and its resultant sister, the Pandora 2 Mutation, foreshadowed a swift slide back into the Dark Ages. Communist China was thrown back, as if in a time machine, to an earlier period of warlords. The high proportion of government officials claimed by Pandora was the chief cause. Southeast Asia fared a little better. Though the entire continent had a very high death rate, small pockets of survivors continued to live as they always had in the past: living hand to mouth.

  Japan’s government remained intact. Every moment was spent destroying the undead. Everyone pitched in. Bodies were burned in huge pits. It was gruesome and ugly, but it was starting to work. North Korea attacked South Korea, but soon the fighting died down as both sides realized the zombies were the only ones winning. India was a no-man’s-land. Like in China, there were massive, devastating outbreaks of plague, cholera, dysentery, and SARS. The extremely squalid and cramped quarters the vast majority of the people lived in contributed to the outbreaks that were freely wreaking viral and bacterial havoc among the surviving population. They soon became too weak and too sick to defend themselves against the undead hordes. The zombies never tired, never weakened, and never stopped. They were relentless in their efforts to kill and spread the Pandora virus.

  Russia took the opposite strategy as China. Vladimir Putin decided to act on a scenario he previously just had dreamt about. Sending his vast (although not as vast as before) army of secret police out, in one fell swoop they raided, overtook, and assassinated every Russian Mafia member that they could find. They were getting much too powerful, and he knew that if he didn’t act soon, they would. The cit
y streets of Moscow, St. Petersburg, Odessa, and all the other big cities ran red with blood. When this was done, he then nationalized every single infrastructure that helped sustain the country. Any oligarch who protested was summarily shot. It seemed like a return to Stalinist Communism, but it was actually more like the rule of the tsars. Unfortunately for him, a severe Russian winter led to mass famine, and the disjointed and disgruntled military was not having the success he expected in combating the zombie problem. In short, zombies were winning.

  Eastern Europe was indeed in the Dark Ages. The Christians fought the Muslims, the nationalists fought the separatists, one country fought another, and everyone attacked the multitudes of refugees. The undead took them all. Western Europe was much more stable. Their ruling bodies remained relatively intact. Forsaking bombing the undead for fear of losing too much of their long-cherished culture and monuments, they were reduced to a house-by-house recapture of their cities. Hearing of Australia’s success, they tried luring the undead to the autobahns of Europe. Sound trucks drove down the highways, leading as many as they could. These zombies were destroyed by either napalm or flamethrowers. This way they didn’t completely have to rebuild all of their many highways.

  The Middle East almost ceased to exist. The extremist jihadists used Pandora as an excuse to try to destroy Israel. They knew when the United States and other Western powers withdrew forces from around the world that they wouldn’t or couldn’t stop them. However, they didn’t realize the extent of Israel’s resolve. When the first attack started against the Jewish nation (either from the Islamic countries themselves, such as Iran and Syria, or from government-sponsored terrorists armed with suitcase bombs), Israel understood that for them it was the beginning of the end. With what was left of the soldiers and citizens fighting against the slew of rampaging undead, they couldn’t fight the second war against all the attacking fundamentalists too. When a small, tactical nuclear weapon, possibly smuggled in, went off in Haifa, the Knesset saw the writing on the wall and unleashed Israel’s entire nuclear arsenal on its Arab neighbors. The ancient regions of shepherds and goat herders were reduced to just that.