Epidemic of the Undead: A Zombie Novel

by P. A. Douglas

  Two of the officers walked around taking the weapons from everyone who had them on their person. The other three men in blue walked past the large group toward the cots. Digging through everyone’s things, they began to gather up all of the firepower that anyone had brought with them.

  While they were doing that, Phillips said, “Look, I am not trying to be the bad guy here, okay? In a day or two when the extraction teams from the National Guard get here, we will gladly redistribute all of the weapons to their proper owners. But for right now, they are considered state property.”

  Brady glared at Officer Phillips and Father Clark. “These pricks are gonna get all of us killed!”

  “Look, if it makes everyone feel any better,” Father Clark said. “Tomorrow morning, if and when we hear from the National Guard, we can all sit together and listen in. No reason to hide anything here. The more informed we all are, the easier it will be to work together.” He looked to Officer Phillips for approval. The policeman seemed hesitant, but nodded his agreement. “I realize that none of you wishes to give up your right to bear arms, but this is all in the interest of survival and safety for us all. Hopefully, by morning we will have heard from them and we’ll be able to rest easy knowing that they are on their way.”

  The meeting ended shortly after that with a few more comments about Ms. Clouse still grieving in another part of the school. Garcia had asked that some of the women volunteer to go with him to console the lady through her loss. It took some coaxing, but a few ladies, including Nan, eventually did volunteer. With all of the firearms divided up between the policemen and a few of the civilians covering the fence line, Brady offered to stand guard. Chris guessed that the old man felt better about things if he at least had a weapon in his hands. A redneck’s way to beat the system so to speak.

  Chris kind of felt out of place; as if he didn’t belong. He wanted to contribute, but didn’t have any set of real skills. Maybe if they had gotten to the school in the van, he and Steve could do some musical entertaining of sorts. However, he wasn’t trained with guns and didn’t have any medical knowledge, so he just felt useless.

  He hated the restaurant gigs, but right about now, that would have at least made Chris feel like he had purpose. He wasn’t being too hard on himself though. He was aware that he had led the way through a lot of their trial and tribulations. And because of his bravery, him and his friends were safe. It was just that he felt out of place not being given a job to do like Brady or Nan.

  You know, if like ninety percent of the world dies from this thing, then my chances are pretty good. I could be the world’s greatest banjo player by default. The thought, although terrible, made Chris smile.

  * * *

  Chris didn’t think that it would have ever happened, but somehow here he was finally alone.

  Just Stephanie and him.

  Brady was dealing with his need to hold a weapon. Nan was tucked away in the far reaches of the school helping Father Clark and a few of the other ladies. And Steve was still healing from the brutal gunfight at the gas station. Chris was nervous. His palms were sweaty and it was past time for a touch of deodorant. Hoping it wasn’t noticeable, he let the thought pass as they both walked to the far side of the courtyard near the wishing well.

  “So, how much money would you guess is still sitting down there?” Chris said with his nervousness showing.

  “I don’t know,” Stephanie said. “You don’t think they would have gotten down there and cleaned it all out before building everything else around it?” She pointed around them at the school.

  Looking down into the practically collapsed well, Chris could hear the faint sounds of rushing water. It was too dark to see anything with rubble blocking his view, but he guessed that it had to be a good ways down. The water sounded far off.

  “Hello,” Chris called down into the well. His voice echoed back after a moment.

  “Ha,that’s cool.” Stephanie leaned up to do the same thing. As she leaned up to the well, or what was left of it, she called out.

  Chris reached up putting the palm of his hand on the small lower part of her back getting close to listen in. Her voice echoed back to them, just as his did. It made him feel warm inside to touch her, even if it was just a touch of her grungy unclean shirt. Maybe, he was being a little too ridiculous about it all; over thinking it even. It was possible that Steve was right about what he had said. He felt ridiculous. This was a middle school infatuation and it would pass. Though Chris didn’t think he wanted it to.

  “Dang, that has got to be some long drop.” Stephanie smiled, looking down at Chris’ arm wrapped around her, then back up at him. She didn’t pull away, but rather, went back to looking at the well.

  Chris fluttered with struggling thoughts, wanting to make them into words. “You want to explore the school a little?” That hadn’t been at all what he wanted to have come out, let alone what he expected.

  “Totally!”

  Making their way through a set of doors and through one of the other buildings across from where Steve was being treated, they walked the halls. The room was dark and silent. It smelled of rotting, molded wood. In a way, it kind of reminded Chris of his grandparent’s house, except his granny’s bedroom had a bit more mothball scent to go along with the mustiness and mold. Just like the medical hallway, at the end of this hall there was also a large window. However, this one wasn’t busted out. It was a stained glass portrait of Mary, the mother of Christ. The light from outside made its colors illuminate the far end of the hallway with reds and blues.

  “You think there’s a way to get on the roof?” Stephanie sounded excited.

  “I’m sure there is. Father Clark and a few of the others got up on the roof across the courtyard didn’t they? We wouldn’t have gotten in here, otherwise.”

  “Come on then, let’s go check it out.” Stephanie briskly walked ahead of him around the corner passed the stained glass Mary.

  Just as soon as Chris rounded the corner, he was caught off guard. For some reason, he expected the hallway to just keep on going, but it didn’t. His eyes met with a large staircase going up to the second floor, which he found rather odd. With the height of ceilings, he didn’t think there would be a second floor in any of the buildings. Stephanie raced to the top. His eyes grew wide and he felt his heart tighten. He enjoyed the way her skintight jeans made her firm, round ass look as she jogged up each step. He just stood there at the bottom step enjoying the view as she reached the top.

  “Are you coming or not?” She reached out taking hold of the door handle, swinging the door open.

  A shadowy figure leaped forward, startling both Chris and Stephanie, as it stepped toward her from the other side of the open door.

  “You scared the crap out of me!” Stephanie held her hand to her chest.

  It was Jesse, the big guy with all of the tribal tattoos. He looked funny without the baby in his arms. Instead, he cradled a rifle of some kind and a small bottle of water. As he brought the bottle to his lips, he said, “Fuck me. What do you mean; I scared you? How’s about the other way around, little girl? About gave me a heart attack. What the hell are you doing up here anyway?”

  “We just wanted to check out the roof,” Chris said, walking up the poorly lit steps.

  Jesse dropped his water, bringing the rifle up to bear down on Chris in one swift and fluid motion. His big tribal covered biceps flexed as he gripped the gun. “Shit! Don’t startle me like that, kid. I didn’t even see you down there!”

  Chris raised both hands in the air, meeting Stephanie and Jesse at the top step. “My bad, boss.” Chris chuckled. “You’re Jesse, right? I remember seeing you in the meeting. Didn’t you have a baby with you?”

  “Yep,” Jesse frowned. “One of the other ladies watches her while I’m posted on watch. Not even my kid, believe it or not. When the shit went south, I was in my car headed to work. Tattoo artist. The radio was saying some crazy shit, as you know. Before I even made it to the shop, the area
was swarming with those things. Figured, fuck the idea of going into work, and I stopped by the local grocery for some supplies before heading back to the house.” Jesse’s eyes glazed over with an odd expression.

  Jesse continued to tell Chris and Stephanie how he managed to get out of the major area of downtown and to the school. Before he had time to get back to his car after going in for supplies, the grocery store had quickly turned into a feeding frenzy of chaos. In the middle of the brutal carnage, he heard a baby crying. Its mother or father must have tucked it away to hide her from the dead. Jesse had found it in its stroller behind the counter with the cigarettes. Had the baby not been crying like a banshee, he would have never found it. From what Chris could tell, Jesse felt bad about snatching up someone’s kid like that, but what else could he do? Everyone around him was dead or dying. In the end, Chris couldn’t blame him and he reassured the brute that he had done the right thing. Although Jesse looked rough around the edges, Chris could tell that the big man had a heart of gold, as most people like him did. Sometimes a rough appearance was just a protective layer over a too-big heart.

  “Personally,” Jesse continued. “I don’t think those things can get in here. This place is like a fortress. I think Father Clark and that Phillips fellow have us on watch mostly to lookout for friendlies.”

  “You mean like the National Guard?” Chris asked.

  “Yeah, that and just other survivors, I suppose. Honestly, I don’t think anybody’s coming. They said we have been getting messages from the military, but I think it’s just a ploy to keep everyone from freaking the fuck out.” Jesse shrugged. “Here, I’ll take you to the roof.”

  “Wait, so you’re telling me you don’t think the National Guard is coming at all?” Chris’ eyes grew wide.

  “You were there for the meeting. I have been here since day one, which wasn’t really that long ago when you think about it. What has it been, two, three days? Anyhow, they are talking like they got communications set up, but I don’t believe them one bit. I’ve been here since things hit and I haven’t seen or physically heard any messages myself.”

  “Really?” Stephanie said.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to go off alarming you or anything. I’m just as stressed as the next guy, I suppose. So you wanted to check out the roof, right? The view is to die for, literally!” Jesse waved them through the large doorway and began to lead the way.

  The view was how Jesse had described it. He talked with them a bit longer before heading back downstairs to make his designated rounds. In that short time, Chris learned that Jesse loved to talk. He guessed that it must be the way of a tattoo artist. When you think about it, the profession does work best if you’re a people person. Jesse had laid out his life story so to speak. Divorced, no kids, three mortgages, and a two cats. He loved tattooing, but he wanted more than anything to get into real estate. He said that was what his old man had done before passing away.

  “He was nice, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” Stephanie agreed.

  Overlooking the parking lot, Chris could easily see past the fence. Countless zombies lingered about in the streets and along the fence wanting desperately to get into the school. He could hear their moans and in a way, he felt sorry for them. He could tell that most all of them were no longer fresh. It was hard to make out from up high, but Chris could have sworn he could see flies buzzing around out there amongst the dead. It made him wonder if the bugs could get infected from feasting on the undead remains. It kind of freaked him out. The thought of getting sucked on by the same mosquito that feasted on one of the creatures out there just didn’t seem like a good mix at all. If that happened, there would be no protection anywhere.

  The number of the undead made him feel uneasy. Just yesterday, there was only a hundred at best. Now, it looked to be more than a thousand. How many more would gather in a few days? Although, the fence did look solid, he doubted it would hold up against a million of those things pressing against it. And Phillips was talking about going out and doing a supplies run, forget about it. There was no way they were getting out. Well, getting out would be easy. There was no way they would ever get back in after the fact.

  If the National Guard is coming, they have to come in with a helicopter or something. The second those gates opened; this place would be a flood of carnage. Chris looked on, his hands resting against the edge of the rooftop ledge. The sight was unbelievable. He didn’t like the idea of sticking around any longer than he had to.

  Stephanie sighed and leaned in close to him, a cool breeze shifted in their direction.

  “You know, I was thinking…” Chris hesitated. “I…”

  “What is it, Chris?” Stephanie reached down and took his hand, looking him in the eyes. “You know you can tell me anything.”

  “Well…” He thought about his conversation with Nan at the gas station. What if that old lady was wrong and I just end up messing up a good thing? He breathed a deep sigh of frustration. “Well, I…I was just wondering. What are you going to do now? Do you have anybody that you want to get back to?”

  “Like a boyfriend or something?”

  “Ummm…well anyone really.” Chris said looking down at his shoes, his cheeks reddening. “You don’t have any other relatives in the area that you want to find? I was just thinking and wanted to know. Are you serious about helping me? I mean, helping Steve and me get back to Tennessee? It’s just that I really like having you around, I guess. I don’t know. I just feel like it’s my job to look after you and I…” he paused. What the hell are you trying to say, man? Just spit it out!

  “Yeah, I get it, Chris. I feel the same way. I really do.”

  “Really?” Chris’ eyes lit up. He reached out, taking her into his arms with one big, long satisfying hug.

  “We’re going to make it out of this, you know,” Stephanie said.

  Chris reached up, touching her soft cheek and brushing some of her golden hair away from her mouth. He looked deep into her eyes and sighed.

  Then, he kissed her.

  Stephanie instantly pulled back, shocked. “I…uh…I think I’m going to go check on Steve.” Flustered and confused, Stephanie stepped away from Chris, briskly walking her way out of the awkward situation.

  “Stephanie, wait…no…I’m sorry. I just thought that…shit.” It was too late. She was back inside and making her way downstairs.

  Thanks a lot, Nan.

  Frustrated, Chris stood on the rooftop alone, looking out onto a sea of the undead. If the dead outside made him want to get the hell out of town, then the awkwardness he just caused between him and the cutest girl he had ever seen, sure as hell made it a lot worse.

  Chris just wanted to go home.

  Chapter Nine

  Chris ended up spending a good portion of the afternoon alone on the roof of the old building just looking out at the dead. Trying to comprehend what his future would and should be. Trying to figure out what had just happened with Stephanie. He needed to know if his earlier suspicions true. The fact that she might like Steve rather than him eat away at his head. Nan had seemed so wise when she had told him just to go for it.

  Why do I feel so betrayed? Oh, God, I’m an ass, why can’t I figure this out? Chris thought.

  The festering undead creatures below all gathered in droves of matted and mangled heaps of rotting flesh. Beyond the fence line, their numbers grew over a thousand. With the age of the fence, it would have been no surprise if those things simply took it down with their sheer numbers. Chris watched as a small cluster of the dead had somehow gotten hold of a fleeing dog. It yelped in agony as the horde of ghouls ripped the poor animal to shreds and started gulping it down.

  God, they eat like starving wolves, Chris thought. Then he realized that wolves ate better, with more care.

  As he watched, he saw more than a few ghouls bite off their own fingertips in their haste to get a bite of dog down their throats. Chris fought off the urge to vomit. Quite a ways down the road, one z
ombie seemed to be fighting with the door of a van. It was as if the creature was trying to get inside. Perhaps, the dead thing planned to drive off and go somewhere. Chris wondered if the undead monsters have any bit of memory left. Is that creature trying to get into the van because he remembered something from before, or is it trying to get into the van, because something else was possibly trapped inside? He thought of Mark and felt sick all over again. If it came to it and he had his chance to get back on the road, he sure as hell planned on dropping in at The Beanery by that venue. He owed it to Mark to end his suffering at least. Assuming the dead suffered in life. He wondered if they could actually feel themselves decomposing, or feel the wounds they bore. He didn’t want to think about Mark and these things, but it was hard not to. Looking out at the streets, his mind flooded with it, even when he tried to block it out.

  With the cool afternoon breeze kicking into high gear as the sun began to set, Chris wished like hell that he had, of all things, his banjo with him. As much as the cool air felt nice, it kind of made him feel sick. It wasn’t really just the stench that did it; at least, he didn’t think so. Maybe it was the feeling that came along with the stench. The wind blew reality over him. He couldn’t deny what was going on outside with that smell washing over him. He felt it in his throat. In a way, he just wanted to throw up. Maybe that would make the feeling go away. However, he knew better. Hopelessness wasn’t something you could just vomit out. For a second, he thought of Steve and was at least thankful that his best friend would be getting better. For Christ’s sake, he could have been killed. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Then again, perhaps Steve would have been better off bleeding to death. Just a few inches to the left would have done him in. Surely, death wasn’t the worst thing. In a way, Chris kind of felt like Steve should have died. At least then, the guy would have been released from this putrid hell.