Eves of the Outbreak

by Lilith Assisi

  I laughed to myself as I thought how funny it is that your stomach floats when you first start a relationship, and plummets when you get near to ending one. If anything I was just mad that this hint of nausea made me want to skip breakfast when I could have made something tasty like pancakes or a tofu scramble.

  I stopped by the downstairs bathroom and poured myself a glass of water. Looking in the mirror at myself was something I at no time enjoyed, but I compelled myself to take a long hard gaze. My blonde hair was at the level of my shoulders, and it was a mess of tangles this early in the morning. The bags under my eyes had become much more pronounced. But as I turned to the side and patted my stomach I felt like that same stress that gave me bags and an older face seemed to have helped keep my waistline more thin. As I turned back to the mirror and looked at myself one more time I couldn’t help but smile and start making faces at myself, then burst out laughing. River came running up to my feet, her fear of missing out overpowering her.

  Seemed like a perfect time to play chase, and River happily obliged.

  An hour later I had kept some food down. I had also called in to the hospital to check in on my patients from yesterday. The Great Dane hadn’t made it, but the others were doing great and on their way home.

  With the entire day ahead of us, I decided it would be time to use some of the hiking gear my best friend had given me for my birthday the year before. River became besieged with delight as she saw me start packing our day bag.

  Chapter 12

  It’s astonishing how much can change in less than a week. A week ago I couldn’t say a single positive thing about my relationship with Peter. And then after a prodigious day of hiking in the woods with River I had come home to Peter, a bouquet of flowers, and Thai take out. He had even remembered to ask for my dish to be without fish sauce.

  Our make up sex had also been incredible. Well, pretty good at least. Truthfully, just not bad.

  And with a big grant proposal about to be handed in he was not dismayed that I had to work the upcoming weekend again, saying that he could get a lot of work accomplished at the office with his top student.

  Today was another random Thursday off before I was scheduled to work Friday through Monday. I glanced at the clock, fully lit from the sunlight outside and felt glorious having slept in until nine.

  Rolling out of bed, I threw a tee shirt on and started picking up the various items of clothes that Peter and I had flung all over the bedroom after having another luxurious night together. I was glad I had paused before breaking up with Peter in the heat of one of our arguments. Maybe this would end up working out after all.

  I walked towards the bathroom and was surprised to hear the TV on downstairs, as well as the creaking of floorboards. River was still lounging on the floor in the bedroom, so Peter must not have made it out the door yet.

  I slipped on some slippers and started finding the various parts of my pajamas strewn about the floor. Grabbing a sweatshirt from the dresser, I heard River jump up behind me and suddenly found all the hairs on my arm standing on end. There was this brief moment of fear that blazed through me, a perception that all was not right. What if the creaking floorboards below weren’t from Peter’s footsteps afterall, but an intruder? It was intangible, but in that brief moment I knew something was dreadfully wrong, I just didn’t know what that something was. I was missing some important piece of the puzzle, and worried that it would all come crashing down on me soon. The chill passed through me and I rushed to pull the sweatshirt over my head, hoping that the cold wasn’t a manifestation of this impending fear, but just that it was getting chiller.

  When I got downstairs I sighed in relief as I spotted Peter in front of the TV.

  He seemed glued to the TV and startled when I placed my hand on his shoulder.

  “Jesus, you scared me!” he shouted.

  So it wasn’t just me that found this fear palpable.

  “Ugh, this is really getting crazy in California. Have you heard about this? The riots are out of control since the outbreak there. They are quarantining more major cities.”

  “Outbreak?” I asked.

  “Seriously Di, don’t you pay attention to the news? That outbreak from the Philippines has made it to California and it’s like an excuse for everyone to go ape shit. The National Guard has been sent in to help. Major parts of LA and San Francisco have been burned or looted,” he told me. I could see images of burning shopping carts, screaming civilians, and police in riot gear on the screen behind him.

  Before I knew it, I too was glued to the TV, the scenes of pandemonium being infectious. But a phone ringing forced me to look over before I became too immersed in the story. Peter picked up his cell and answered it.

  “Martha? What’s up?”

  Who was Martha? I thought. I turned to look at Peter as his facial expression turned to concern.

  “Did you call the cops? Good. Yes. Oh my god. Yes. I can come head that way as well,” he continued.

  “I know Martha, I will try to get there as soon as I can,” he glanced at me with this statement.

  “What was that about?” I asked as he ended the call. “Who’s Martha?”

  “Di, hun,” Peter looked unusually guilty as he turned towards me and stood up, pocketing his phone. “Martha’s my top student, the one that is working on the grant proposal with me.”

  I was a little shocked as I had been picturing some nerdy male student the whole time when he described his top student, but I had never asked details like his name or appearance. I should be happy a woman held the title, and was slightly ashamed of my prior assumptions for a brief moment. Then Peter continued.

  “There’s a strange man on her doorstep that won’t stop banging on the door. She thinks he’s a homeless man. She’s called the cops but they haven’t shown up. She was calling to ask me if I could come over and get the man to move on, or at least give her some more protection until the police arrive.”

  “Just some random stranger? That’s bizarre. You sure you shouldn’t wait for the cops? Do you need me to come with you?” I asked, realizing this situation was very offbeat, and I could feel that creeping, prickling sensation returning to my arms.

  “No darling. I will be fine, it will just be a quick trip.” Peter turned his attention back to the phone. He was heading towards the hall and grabbing his coat.

  “So Martha and you are on first name basis? She has your phone number?” I continued, following him as he walked towards the kitchen to retrieve his wallet and keys.

  “Of course, she and I have a major grant proposal deadline this week. Do I sense jealousy?” Peter chided me.

  “No,” I stated out loud and in my head at the same time. Meanwhile my mind had started forming some random image of a sexy student working head to head with him. Maybe it was my fault for not asking more, but I had been avoiding the topic since it might involve bringing up animal rights and our differing views on that subject.

  Peter turned to me as he had all his possessions in tow for a normal workday.

  “I’m flattered by your jealousy. Now I am just going to pop on over to Martha’s, make sure she is safe, then I will head to the office for some work and to prepare for class this afternoon. I’ll be home by 6,” he smiled at me as he told me this, and I tried to make myself feel better by squeezing myself tighter.

  I smiled back, trying to suppress my racing mind.

  He went in to give me a quick kiss, our normal routine since our make up.

  Just as our lips touched I jumped in shock as I heard a loud knock from the front door.

  Chapter 13

  It wasn’t really a knock as much as it was a thud. A loud, fistful thud, followed by a slow rubbing sound. Looking down the hallway towards the front door I saw River step out in line with the door, her hackles up as she emitted a low growl.

  Another thud was heard from behind the door, and River’s growl grew louder.

  “Honestly, your dog is not the best at greeting guests.
Though I wonder who that could be at the door on a Thursday morning?” Peter headed towards the door. I reflexively reached out and grabbed him by the arm.

  Another ominous thud followed by more of a scraping this time.

  Peter turned around, looking astounded by my action.

  “What are you doing?!” Peter exclaimed, trying to tug away from me.

  Thinking I thought, without saying it. It should have been obvious.

  A paralyzing fear had started to enter all of my muscles. The thud returned, and what I thought sounded like a soft grunt.

  Peter still looked aghast from my grip on his arm when he jerked away and started heading in the direction of the door. River turned towards him, growling and trying to block the way.

  “What the hell? Get out of here you dumb dog!” He seemed really pissed, but I was still listening as quietly as I could to the door, otherwise I would have yelled at him for saying something so rude to River. Maybe if I could hear more, I could understand what was happening better. I watched Peter push River out of the way with his leg and continue for the door.

  River turned her attention back to the door, her growling ever increasing as she backed towards me.

  Peter was reaching for the handle when another thud repeated itself, and just then something clicked on in my mind. This was not the time for contemplation, but for action, and my body obeyed.

  The handle clicked open, the door started to swing open, and I was running down the hallway towards Peter.

  I couldn’t see Peter’s face, but was sure it was awash with a look of shock as the man wearing tattered clothes with a grey-tone to his skin, blue lips, and horrifying, lifeless eyes groaned, lunging through the doorway at him. Peter was knocked to the floor as the man fell on top of him, teeth chomping in what seemed like slow motion at Peter’s neck. Peter was able to get an arm up just in time and shoved the man off of him.

  He hadn’t noticed that River had slowed the man’s progress by attaching herself to his pant leg. The terrier was too small to drag the body backwards, but seemed to be stopping it from moving forward any further.

  Thank god for my dog I thought.

  Peter scrambled to his feet, but the man continued to body flop his way towards him, teeth crunching and leading the way while his body seemed uncoordinated and unable to stand. River continued to bite at the man’s leg while his limb was only able to twitch in response rather than kick her away.

  Peter had pulled himself up against the wall in the hallway, a look beyond disgust and horror still adorning his face. His eyes were glued to the man’s face when suddenly- THWAP!

  A baseball bat was now embedded in the man’s crushed skull and his leg let out one last twitch as River let go of it and backed away.

  Peter’s gaze followed its way up the baseball bat and ended on my arms, my whole body shaking but my arms were the worst as I gripped the handle of the bat. Even I didn’t really realize how that had all happened.

  As I pulled the bat away from its victim I could feel, and hear, small bits of skull crunch under the wood. It hadn’t felt like anything going in to its skull, but I think I had zoned out in those moments.

  “Oh my god,” Peter said.

  “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” he continued to stutter.

  “Are you ok? Were you hurt?” I slurred out. Was I ok? Was I hurt? My head was pounding, throbbing, but I don’t think I was hurt.

  “Oh my god. Oh my god! You just killed a man!” he exclaimed suddenly, finally making eye contact with me. It was not the response I had been expecting.

  “Are you kidding me? That thing wasn’t a man! I just saved our lives!” I shouted. I rolled my eyes so hard I’m lucky they hadn’t rolled to the back of my brain.

  “What do you mean that wasn’t a man?! He must be sick, mentally handicapped or homeless or maybe tripping on drugs, but you just killed him!”

  “Take a deep breath and calm down. Peter, we need to get out of here, or have some sort of plan of action. We need to figure out if there are more of these things wandering around.” I wanted to giggle, scream, and laugh all at once, but I stayed calm, or at least I thought I did. I felt this same sense of tranquility many times before, one when you realized that you weren’t the deciding factor of whether or not a patient lived or died, when you comprehended that there were other deciding factors in life. It made moving forward incredibly easy. In fact, the only wrong option was doing nothing at all. It was those moments that I felt most liberating, knowing that any decision was better than none.

  Plus something was igniting inside me, and unexpectedly my years of reading science fiction novels and volunteering for local disaster relief groups was all clicking in to place. I hadn’t said it out loud yet, but I knew what that man had been. He was a zombie. Or had been. No doubt about it.

  Peter again looked at me with astonishment. “M-m-more of them?” he stuttered in disbelief. “Oh my god, more of them. Martha. Martha! What if? Oh my god.” He finally started to have some signs of recognition wash over his face, though his ranting about Martha the student stabbed at me. The fact that I didn’t sarcastically respond Martha, Martha, Martha just goes to show I have some epic self control.

  “Would you please stop saying Oh my god?!” I sighed. I was trying to think. And listening and watching Peter was just making me want to slap him. What was our next step? Call the cops? See if any other situations like this had been reported? Or maybe get supplies. I had often contemplated this scenario in the past: what’s the best move in a zombie outbreak? Head towards civilization or the countryside? We definitely needed weapons. And it would be a good idea to find other survivors to join us, or us to join them.

  While I might not have a definitive plan of action, I knew one thing with certainty: it would be a very bad idea to stay put though. Our house would not hold up well. It was not fortified in any way, and was isolated from other survivors, but close enough to populations of students that it would be passed repeatedly. In the span of about thirty seconds I felt like I had developed a hundred questions for this possible scenario unfolding in front of us, and no answers.

  “Oh my god, we need to help Martha,” Peter said, looking at me with horror.

  Really? The twat that was my boyfriend next to me was still on Martha?

  If anything I was more surprised that Peter was not talking about the police. Peter was always a fan of law enforcement, and I reckoned he would be trying to call the police about our assault and my “murder” the moment it had happened. Then again, maybe I had improperly judged him. Maybe he did understand what was going on and I should give the guy a little more credit even though I’d been so frustrated with him as of late. Maybe we were on the same page, maybe he knew that we were up against zombies, and that meant waiting for the police to come and investigate might be a fatal error.

  “Yes Peter, we do. And we need to help others. But let’s get ourselves together and safe first. Before we leave, let’s get supplies from the house in case we can’t come back here,” I said.

  I thought I heard a distant moan carried on the wind, but that could just be the wind. Still, it was no time to hesitate. My sense of urgency continued to build.

  “Give me two minutes. Call the cops if you want, just give me two minutes,” I pleaded with him. He was trembling. I was glad I kept my vexations internalized and felt a brief pang of sorrow for him. But this was no time for consoling, it was a time for action.

  I ran to the closet, grabbed an empty hiking pack, and then rushed back to the kitchen. What was important? Time. Time was important, and I was really wishing I had more of it. It would be nice to pack my bag in a systemic, thought out way, but I knew we didn’t have the time for that. So instead I filled the bag using my gut feelings, no pun intended.

  Canned goods. A can-opener. (Pretty proud I remembered that). Medications from the cabinet like ibuprofen. Some utensils. I’d be lying if I told you I remembered everything. If I had packed on my own, with more preparation, I
probably would have had more essential stuff. That being said, packing would be hard in general. Add the sense of urgency and the fact that this might be my last time with my house’s collections and memories, and I almost felt panicked enough to pause.

  Once I was done in the kitchen I rushed upstairs to continue filling the bag, rushing past Peter and telling him to close the door as I passed. He was staring off and out the door, silent. So much for pausing, that sight was terrifying enough to make me move even faster.

  River followed on my heels the whole time. I raided the other medicine cabinet, having some antibiotics and pain medications there leftover from a knee surgery a couple years previously. I also stocked up on my veterinary medications, knowing many of the drugs I had in the household for River could be used for humans as well. In the bedroom, I put in some basic clothes for Peter and I. If the circumstances had changed, I would have been proud and pointed out that this was the most effective packing job I’d ever achieved. I could easily be one of those women that packed three times as much as I needed when I couldn’t decide what to bring, but I didn’t let that paralyzing thought that I was missing something bother me now. I knew I was missing something, lots of things. And agonizing over it could cost me a life that wasn’t worth it.

  There were some other essentials I remembered at the last minute, pleased with my thoroughness. Batteries were a smart idea, and I tried to get a couple of each size in my pack. Basic toiletries were easy, since I always had a pack full under the sink for traveling or for when I ended up at the clinic working an overnight.

  I also threw some keepsakes in the pack. I didn’t know how serious this situation was or would be. Maybe I’d be back here tonight, amused at my psychotic reactions to this made up zombie apocalypse. Perhaps I’d be in jail for killing a man. But something told me to put these important items in the bag. My intuition told me for better or for worse I’d never see this place again.