Early flight or not Ron drags us to the resort bar determined to find those elusive Swedes. They were pretty spectacular.
What do you tip the maids when you stay at an all inclusive? I settle on a dollar a day.
December 24th
The airport is in chaos. A few flights departed but most are now canceled. The planes sitting idle at the gates. There is no one at our airline desk. No one knows what’s going on. Dave is pissed but it's hardly my fault. I promised he’d make it home to his wife and child so I do feel bad.
Even though we are in rough shape from the night before, there is nothing else to do but wait so I buy the first round with my last few pesos and talk about just how upset our families are going to be for not making it home for Christmas. Sitting in the bar, we watch the thousand or so stranded people, angry, sleeping wherever there is a space. It’s not a good scene, getting home tonight does not look promising.
Even for an airport, security is noticeably heightened. Guards patrolling in groups of three plus a dog. The guards are wearing gas masks. Ron made a few burrito fart jokes as we sipped our beer. The bartender turned the channel to the news. The G-20 riots were totally out of control. The footage is worse than last night. The Black Bloc burning police cars foolishly left unguarded, smashing windows of banks and fast food chains. It even looks like the protesters turned on each other. A group ganged up on a girl with pig tails, pulling and shoving her. A squad of mounted police charged the group around the girl but the protestors didn’t flee, in fact they pulled an officer off his horse. Another officer’s mount crow-hopped, before rearing on its hind legs kicking wildly with its front hooves hitting a protester in the head before he turned his horse and fled. Regular riot police used their shields to push the mob away, wildly swinging their batons to little effect. They rushed in grabbed both the fallen officer and the girl, dashing back to a make shift barricade, of metal fences and patrol cars as the water cannon mounted high on a truck kept the crowd back with a powerful jet of water.
The news report ended when the mob spotted the new crew and charged. The cameraman tried to run while keeping the camera on the wild crowd before dropping the camera altogether. It fell on its side as the protestors rushed past. We all saw what happened. The teeth, the hands ripping, the screams and then the static as the feed was cut off. The channel cut to a helicopter view showing the crowd surge at the police, black smoke from fires, and the destruction in the streets of Mexico City. You didn't have to speak Spanish to know it was utter chaos.
On our second over-priced airport beer, we heard a commotion behind us that tore our attention from the TV. Ron bumped my arm, spilling the rest of my drink down the front of my shirt as he turned to see people at the luggage carousel. Instead of loading our luggage the airport staff had done just the opposite and put it back on the belt. We joined the fray in search of our bags, having checked our bags to get the machetes and tequila home. The soldiers alertly stood watching as people fought over the bags but took no action. The officers looking at one another before backing up a few feet. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little guy in a red Hawaiian shirt grab my backpack and disappear in the crowd. The bugger was quick but Ron cut off the thief blocking his escape. The looter slowly dropped my bag as he backed into Dave and me.
“You little prick,” I said grabbing my backpack from the floor.
He put his hands up and smiled, “Hey gringo, it's all gone to shit, have to get what I can.”
All four of us watched as the soldiers jogged past paying no attention to us as they jump into the back of a black truck driving off.
With no security in the airport the luggage carrousel was a scene of panic. One or two people in the crowd were grabbing at anyone within their reach. The crowd pushed and shoved, some to get out of the way and some to attack the aggressive people. Fights were breaking out. It was time to leave.
“You got a way out of here?” I asked. He nodded and we followed him to his taxi.
His name was Cristobal, never did catch his last name but it didn't matter, my would-be robber had a way out of the airport.
Speeding away, Dave kept looking back as if there were planes taking off and people going home. Wishful thinking, buddy.
The radio announcer was talking even faster Spanish than usual. Cristobal translated what he could.
“He says people are biting people and scratching each other. Like animals, like jaguars. They says it started in Mexico City a few days ago with one girl getting sick. No one knows why. No one knows much of anything.”
I notice the statue of Santa Muerte on his dash. “She might be our only hope,” Cris said with a half smile. I pull my Santa Muerte charm from my back pack, and nod.
“Where to?”
We never thought about it, just getting out of that airport was enough, we can’t go back to the resort, low on funds and it is far from the airport. We want to be close when flights start again.
“A cheap hotel,” Ron calls out from the back seat.
“A reasonably priced but safe hotel,” Dave corrects.
“With internet,” I add, planning to check for other flights and email home explaining our delay. The city looks normal, tourists shopping, people going to work; nothing like the airport or what we’ve seen on T.V.
He dropped us off at a hotel in downtown Cancun, the cheeky bastard even tried to charge us for the ride but smiled and joked it off when he noticed our machetes.
December 24 continued
We’ve been in the hotel for a few hours and looking out the window. It’s here. The riots have hit the streets around our hotel. Things seemed to peak with crowds of people fleeing, later it was a trickle of people, groups of three or four, as the hours past we would see fewer and fewer people on the streets. We haven’t seen anyone for a couple hours. We don’t know what the hell is going on but I know I’m not going out there. No way in hell.
December 25th
Merry Christmas, it's just not merry down here.
No snow, no tree, no turkey, and no gifts. A body is lying in the street. No one saw when it happened. We just woke up and there it was. So far no one has come to remove it. No one has come at all.
We’re locked in our room, just a pissed off Dave and a very drunk Ron. He’s been drinking most of the day. We’ve all had a few.
Dave used the phone first to call the wife, while Ron and I watched the news. News clips from all over the world showed similar scenes of panic, rioting, looting and attacks.
December 26
The lights flickered but came back after a second.
We sit silently not knowing what to do. The phone is dead. Dave finally got through when the line went dead. His wife is fine and she says nothing had happened back home. All we have is the alcohol we were bringing back home, the snacks for the flight we ate last night. Ron passes me a bottle. Tequila. No thanks. That night where I had too much still makes me nauseous at the smell of it. We’re hungry. We need food. We’re going to have to go out to get it. The bottle makes it around again this time I manage a drink. It takes a few more times around before we find enough courage.
When we go down to the hotel restaurant we discovered an abandoned hotel. There is no staff to be found, just a mess of things they dropped while looting everything they could get their hands on.
With machetes strapped to our belts (there is no way we are going unarmed) we hit the streets looking for food. The body is still there. It's quiet.
We found a restaurant still open and order tacos to go. Outside we ran into the mariachi band from our first night. They aren’t the friendly musicians looking for tips, now they are covered in blood, looking pale, dark circles under their menacing red eyes. Their clothing is torn, and they walk with shambling steps, mouths open, one’s lips dangles like a plump worm. Before we can comprehend what we are seeing they rush towards us. Just as we get back to the safety of the restaurant I heard the click as the owner locked the door. Bastard. Locking us and the band out toget
her. I threw my bag of tacos at the band as we made a run for it. We don't know this city, not sober anyway, Ron leads us into an alley.
“Move your ass, Dave!” I yelled giving a quick look over my shoulder to see how far he was trailing. When properly motivated he moves pretty fast for a big guy. The alley turned into a dead end. Good job Ron. With no choice we turned to face the band. I toss what pesos I have. The coins hit them and bounce off the asphalt. They kept coming. I don’t know what they wanted but they didn’t want money. We're trapped.
Dave took out his machete, Ron and I quickly follow suit waving them in the air menacingly. Still they advanced at their steady lumbering pace.
December 27
With nowhere to go we’re back in the hotel room, the door barricaded. We hacked our way out of the alley. To do what we did to another human being will haunt me for the rest of my days. We hacked their arms until they fell off or hung uselessly limp and still they came. I struck a lucky blow to the bass player’s neck and nearly severed it. A flap of skin kept his head on. He dropped and didn't get up. We did the same to the other three. There was surprisingly little blood. No one is talking about it. No one talks at all. Ron breaks out his rum from his bag and a bottle of coke from the hotel mini-bar. Will the cops arrest us for what we just did? I don’t want to go to a Mexican jail.
There are no more TV broadcasts, they stopped around noon, just static now. One channel has an emergency screen and tone but we don’t know what the ticker tape says at the bottom, just Spanish scrolling over and over. “los muertos están de vuelta con vida.” As speculative and often contradicting the news was it was somehow comforting knowing others were going through the same thing or worse. Now it's just static.
It’s hours later now. The wireless in the hotel just went down. I'm not sure if it's down everywhere but it was our only link to the outside world. Before it went down I managed to push Dave off to quickly email home. No reply, any mail was from before all this happened; asking if I arrived late, if I was having fun, when to pick me up at the airport. Shit, I wonder if they drove there waiting for me? If they still have the internet back home they will know I am okay for the time being.
As we took turns emailing, we opened other windows and just searched anything that came up, left the pages open with news videos loading as we went back to emailing. After the net went down we went through all the open pages.
Stumbled upon some Twitter chatter;
Jill Hillborne @jillyjill Shots fired in the food court North Valley mall. WTF the undead aren’t even here. #WTF #scary #northvalleymall
Joe beausoleil @jjbeausoleil Anyone know what the hell is going on at the mall? Crowd being rowdy. A sale? #northvalleymall #sale
Jill Hillborne @jillyjill Hiding in the washroom at the North Valley mall. Someone send the cops.#911 #undead #northvalleymall
Crackagansta @ crackagangsta Looting and crazy shit. Got a 50 inch flat screen! #lootingisawesome #crimespreesarefun
Steve69 @steve69 @ crackagangsta Hey Terry saw you on the news stealing shit. Save some for me. On my way. #lootingisawesome #crimespreesarefun
Crackagansta @ crackagangsta Jesus Steve don’t use my name. #lootingisfun #steveisanidiot #wtf
Steve69 @steve69 yo it’s crazy here. Terry where you at? #lootingisfun #steveisanidiot #wtf
Jill Hillborne @jillyjill Undead here now. The noise brought them. Great job looters. #thanksfornothing #northvalleymall
Crackagansta @ crackagangsta Steve don’t come it’s turned wrong. Crowd chasing us now. #lootingisfun #steveisanidiot #wtf
Jill Hillborne @jillyjill Five of us hiding in the washrooms near food court. Send help. It’s crazy out there. #thanksfornothing #northvalleymall
Joe beausoleil @jjbeausoleil Any news on when the cops will get here. Food court under siege #thanksfornothingassholes #northvalleymall #iwantmymommy #911 #sendpolice
Crackagansta @ crackagangsta Got the roll shutters down at dairy queen in food court. They’ve been banging for hours. Steve don’t come although one looked a bit like you. #lootingisfun #steveisanidiot #wtf
Joe beausoleil @jjbeausoleil Trapped with jackasses in a dairy queen. Even with these things trying to get in they are looting the soft serve. #thanksfornothingassholes #northvalleymall #iwantmymommy #911 #sendpolice
Jill Hillborne @jillyjill 12 hrs hiding. Drinking out of the toilet tank. That’s how thirsty we are. Any help on the way? #thinkimfucked #northvalleymall #sendpolice #911
No one knows what caused this or what the hell is going on but it spread nearly everywhere and it spread quickly. I don’t even know where that mall is with those poor buggers hiding. It hit big cities hard and fast and spread from there. Because ground zero is thought to be Mexico City the media dubbed it the Mayan prophecy, or Mayan curse. The broadcasts stopped before one name won out over the other. From Mexico it spread like wildfire to Los Angeles, Sao Paulo, Santiago, Dallas, New York, Toronto, and then about eight to twelve hours later the first cases were reported across the ocean. I guess that’s why they stopped the flights out of Mexico, in hopes of containing it. Obviously that didn’t work. Lots of riots and looting, that’s how it was first reported it, just riots and protests. A worldwide protest spreading from city to city. The truth was that in that chaos, of crowds, the infected mixed in, fueled the violence and eventually took over. Everything is out of control.
Dave tried to reconnect for a few more minutes before slamming his hands on the keyboard, he’d already tore the phone out of the wall when that died earlier. Ron and I never got through to anyone. Dave monopolized all the dialing attempts. Not that it mattered. He got through once but after that the lines were busy.
“Bullshit, what do we do now?” Dave asked hoping we had an answer.
“We can't stay here.” Ron said busy looking out the window.
“And why not?” I asked, “I’m not going out there.”
“We’re out of food, and the toilet doesn’t even flush.” Ron answered,
“Besides I haven't seen a soul out there in hours, not even many of them.”
Dave chimed in, “You can hear the machine guns but in the distance. Now the violence isn’t so bad. Everything is under control. This could be our chance.”
I look out the window. The street is empty. That body is still there. I hear a truck…
It doesn't help that we can't understand the language. An army truck drove around saying something over a megaphone. We were about to leave the room and make a rush for it when a hoard of them converge on the truck. Did they follow the sound? They weren’t there just seconds ago. The soldiers simply gunned the engine knocking them over like bowling pins before driving away. Most got back up. A doorway from across the street opened as five people made a run for the truck but it sped off leaving the crowd to close in on those poor people. I can still hear the screams as they were torn apart. I’m not going out there. We’ve piled more furniture in front of the door just in case. Yeah right Dave, this is our chance. I don’t think so.
What we learned from TV was more rumour than fact, it seemed the story spread too fast for TV; it was the internet that had a better time keeping up with developments. From the open news pages we learnt that places like Cuba, Iceland, New Zealand, are faring well. In Japan, the main and highly populated island has been overrun while both Shikoku and Hokkaido are holding their own. All these places have two things in common, they are islands and they quarantined themselves early. They wouldn’t allow any flights to land. Rumour has it that the Japanese navy went so far as to torpedo a ferry of Korean refuges. The South Koreans were dealing with things well enough until the North breached the DMZ with a million men. The South Korean and American troops exhausted by the thirty-three hour battle, were taken off guard when the next wave charging over was 5 million undead. In a desperate bid to escape the North chose a suicide mission, ensuring mutual destruction of the Korean peninsula. The Korean War ended today, 1950 - December 26 2012, there were no victors and few survivors.
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br /> All the stations had slick and flashy graphics leading up to the special reports. The reports were short and rough. They were also bleak. At the start of more and more stories, the anchor would solemnly tell the viewer that the reporter and camera crew gave their life for the story we were about the see. On the other hand Youtube stories had no one to warn you what you were about to see. The footage was raw and graphic. One of the first posts was the parents of a ten year old who filmed their daughter changing instead of taking her to a hospital. Being the first video of its kind it went viral. Hours later there were dozens of others similar and then footage of them on the streets attacking. Everything went to hell so fast. Can you believe they posted that? You could see the eyes change, the intelligence fade away replaced by rage. The whites of her eyes slowly blossoming red, her straining against the home made restrains, snapping her teeth at her mother who tried to comfort her with a cool facecloth. Her mother pulling her arm back once her daughter bit her.
Cuba is the closest safest place we heard about. Do we try to find a way to Cuba? We aren't sailors but 200 km doesn't seem too far. Do we travel the 4274 KM home? 4247 km of the unknown and the undead. We googled it, it felt important at the time when didn't know the net would go down. I should have emailed more friends and family.
Tomahawks & Zombies Page 2
