Zombie Factor

by Timothy Stelly Sr

  Jayson deleted the message, dialed Graham’s number, and it was all he could do to keep from telling his boss to go fuck himself. Instead he held his tongue and told him he had a prior lunch engagement. Graham was stunned and Jayson thought the older man sounded peeved when he hang up the phone with, “Hey, it’s your future.”

  Jayson hung up, sat down at his computer and spent the rest of the day sending out his résumé to several different banks and financial institutions. In the background played Joe Samples, Voices In The Rain CD, in synchronized accompaniment with the precipitation that tapped against his window.

  T W E N T Y – S E V E N

  5:11 p.m.

  All eyes were on Cash as he spoke. Valerie and Grace sat on the sofa with the kids. Roy and Tanisha were on the floor. The guns were laid out—both pistols, the saw and shotgun that belonged to Goodman’s house, the machete Duke and Noodles had left behind, and Valerie’s hatchet and knives. Next to the sofa were two large trunks, one stuffed with as many of the kids’ clothes as it could hold, and the other stuffed with several days worth of clothes belonging to Roy (who had a change of clothes at his sister’s), Grace and Valerie.

  “I have to go get a few of my things,” Cash announced. “Once I get back we’re outta of here, that’s it and that’s all.”

  “They ain’t letting anything in or out,” Tanisha grumbled.

  “I’m going to get a mail truck.”

  Roy rolled his eyes. “Bro, do you need some sleep, or what? Stealing a mail truck is a federal crime, as if we don’t have enough troubles.”

  “I’m not going to steal it. I’m going to buy it.”

  Roy threw up his hands, exasperated. “I ain’t feeling you, cutty.”

  “Don’t trip. I got that under control,” Cash said confidently. “I need you all to hold down the fort until I get back.”

  “I want to go with you,” Valerie said.

  “No, I’m better off doing this solo. Trust me, I’ll be back before nine.”

  “Why so long?” Tanisha asked.

  “I might have to wait ‘til night fall.”

  “What about Claudia?” Roy asked.

  “She gave me the boot,” he answered with a sigh. “Anyway, be ready to get outta here. If everything goes as planned we’ll hole up in Oakland tonight and after that, the trip gets crazy.”

  “Nothing can be crazier than last night, and in case you didn’t notice, it’s sprinkling outside,” Grace said.

  “All the better.” Cash slipped his gun into his waistband and opened the front door.

  “What if the Guard stops you?” Roy asked.

  “I’ll tell ‘em I’m on the way home and was afraid to walk the streets without a gun. Hopefully, they won’t make much of it. If they do, all bets are off.”

  When he stepped into the cold air, misty rain fell onto his face. He needed to work fast, so he took a shortcut by going over the back fence. There was a damp, grassy slope to contend with. Cash made like he was surfing and rode the moist foliage to the sidewalk below. As he made his way down the street he spotted an abandoned police vehicle.

  He increased his gait, as he did not want to be in the vicinity if and when the Guard came snooping. More important he did not want them asking about, or confiscating the five thousand dollars he was carrying. Cash took a shortcut through a broken wooden fence, across a vacant lot and started to jog. He shifted his eyes from side-to-side in the event of a surprise attacked by one of the flesh eaters.

  What the hell could have caused all of this… That train wreck had something to do with this aberration of death, and the military has its hand in this shit. What happens if it spreads? Will they round us up and march us to the top of a hill and execute us like in that scene from ‘The Great Escape’? No one will ever know what happened to us. The Government will cover things up and declare the entire city a Superfund site and close it off to the world, like the infamous Area 51, or what the Russians did with Chernobyl.

  His throat became so dry it was hard to swallow. Cash shook the macabre thoughts from his head, and his long stride took him past two competing bars. Broken beer bottles littered the parking lots of both establishments and riotous shouting and laughter could be heard coming from inside both joints.

  Just because things aren’t cozy as we’re accustomed to is no reason to accelerate down the path to hell.

  Three blocks away from Claudia’s, he slowed to a walk and wondered what argument she would hit him with, assuming she was home or even alive. If she was at home, he knew to expect a huge blowout in front of the neighbors. She would wish him ill and then slam the door in his face.

  As he neared the house the neighborhood was eerily quiet. Goose bumps formed on his arms as he looked around and saw no one outside on their porches. Cars were parked in driveways as always, but the window shades and curtains of every home were drawn.

  They’re all inside, not relaxing, not conversing around the dinner table, not watching the news, knitting or even having a beer. They’re hiding from the unknown.

  Two houses away from Claudia’s, he saw the blinds move on Old Lady Jenkins’ house. Come hell or high water, that nosy old woman’s going to be spying out her window.

  At the house next to Claudia’s, a tricycle was turned on its side. The couple who lived there had four kids, the oldest of whom was six. They were constantly yelling and cussing at the children, who made devilment their stock-in-trade. Today, for the first time since he’d moved in with Claudia ten months earlier, the house was silent.

  He jogged up the steps to Claudia’s, opened the screen, inserted his key in the lock and pushed the door open with a bang. He waited and began a silent count…One thousand one… one thousand two… one thousand three… one thousand four…one thousand five…

  “Claudia!”

  He received no reply. Cash tip-toed into the foyer and moved warily through the living room…then the dining room…nothing appeared to be out of place.

  “Claudia!”

  Still no answer.

  He eased down the hallway to the bedroom. As he passed the bathroom, he took a peek inside and found no one there. The bedroom door was wide open and the bed was made like always. His duffel bag was on the floor next to it, and as he bent over to inspect it, he saw that his clothes were stuffed inside, including the only two suits he owned. His shoes were strewn about the room, but he decided the contents of the duffel bag would be enough.

  There was a piece of paper on the bed. Cash moved closer, picked it up and began to read.

  Cash—

  When you get here, I’ll be gone. I will return in a few days. When I return I expect to find you and your things gone. Do NOT come back. Leave my key on the coffee table.

  He took a deep breath and as he turned there was a loud crash that came from the kitchen. Cash whipped out his pistol and bent the corner back into the hallway and then the dining room.

  “Claudia!”

  He stepped toward the kitchen. The window above the sink was open and he saw a fat, yellow cat staring back at him. An overturned coffee maker was on the floor and the glass pot broken into several large shards. He froze as he took sight of large blotches of blood near the pantry. The cat also appeared reluctant to move. As Cash stepped deeper into the kitchen he made sure to keep his back against the table. He looked down and saw a severed gray hand with two missing digits, but on one of the remaining fingers was a sapphire ring that Cash recognized as one he’d given Claudia. It was purchased with money he and Roy got in the robbery of a pushcart ice cream vendor.

  Cash took a quick look over his shoulder and then crept closer. The floor was caked with dried blod.

  “Looks like you got your wish, girlie.”

  As Cash threw his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door there was a loud crash at the back door, like it was being hit with a battering ram. The front screen door blew open with a bang and on the porch before him were two men with hollow-eyed expressions. Their skin was gray, and
thick white foam dripped from their lips. Cash fired four shots, knocking both men backward, then he made a mad dash onto the porch, He leapt as far as he could in the manner of an Olympic long jumper.

  After he came down, he literally hit the ground running and sprinted three blocks to the main road. There was no traffic, but as he hit the next corner he found a trio of stumbling, staggering ghouls in his wake. He turned right, but rather than going the way he came, headed in the direction of the Post Office.

  Cash needed reassuring and tapped the handle of the gun underneath his shirt. He remembered that there were but five shots left in the clip. He walked to the truck dispatch area and watched as three vehicles departed, all with older, white drivers. He waited ten minutes before another truck rolled up to the gate. He was relieved to see it was driven by a black man.

  Cash recognized him from his days as a high school basketball player and called to him.

  “Tyrone Mack!”

  The driver slowed, looked in his rear-view mirror and saw a grinning Cash approach. Tyrone pulled his truck over, got out of the truck and the two met in the middle of the street. They gave one another a hearty handshake.

  “Cash Parker, man what’s it been, five years?”

  “About that.”

  “So what are you doing now?”

  “Trying to escape these undead folks.” Cash put his hand on Tyrone’s shoulder. “So I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  “I don’t want to get involved in any criminal shit,” Tyrone said. His eyes and words were overloaded with trepidation.

  “Consider this an act of giving. There’s five thousand dollars in it for you.”

  Tyrone saw the bulge under Cash’s shirt, wiped his mouth and lowered his voice as he asked, “What’s on your mind?”

  Cash reached into his pocket and pulled out a knot of $100 bills. “I’ve walked past this place enough at night to know the mail run to Oakland leaves out of here at ten.”

  “Been that way for years, so what?”

  “I need to be on that truck. Me and three other adults, plus four kids. On top of that, we have a couple of large trunks and two duffel bags.”

  “Shit, good luck,” Tyrone said shaking his head. “You know we can’t allow civilian passengers. I could lose my job.”

  “The way things are going, the government might shit can your job. If this madness continues, how much mail do you think you’ll be taking out of the area?”

  Tyrone stroked his chin and mulled it over. “Okay, I see your point, but the roads are covered by the National Guard. How am I gonna explain civilian passengers?

  “You won’t have to. We’ll be hidden by mail bags, large boxes and our trunks.”

  “They’ll stop us and want to take a look at what we’re carrying.”

  “I don’t think so. Federal and county vehicles will probably receive nothing more than a quick look-see.”

  “Where you trying to get to?”

  “To a rapid transit station just outside of Oakland.”

  “Thing is, I don’t do that ten o’clock run,” Tyrone said. “But I can hook you up.”

  “Another brotha?”

  Tyrone shook his head. “Naw, a wannabe.”

  “Give me the run down on him.”

  “He’s the only person I know who’d be down for something like this. The other cats are old brothas, and you know how they can be. If you break me off the five g’s, I can hook him up on five hundred or so.”

  “Will that be enough?”

  “Man, this white boy thinks he’s black. He’d be down because the silly bastard wants to come off as a thug.”

  “Okay, this cat will need to come to the Low to pick up me and my folks.”

  “Ten o’clock?”

  “Yeah.” Cash counted out the money. “He needs to pick us up at the East end parking lot, meaning he’s going to have to come off Jenkins Street.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  “I appreciate it,” Cash said. “I’m counting on you. I don’t want to have to come back.”

  He made hard eye contact with Tyrone before he placed the bills in his hand. As Cash started to walk away, Tyrone called to him.

  “Yo, Cash. If you get out of here, go online and let the world know what’s going on. Phone and internet service has been shut down, at least in these parts.”

  “I suspect it’s that way all over the state, maybe the country. If not, I’ll do that.”

  As Cash broke into a sprint, he saw one of the zombies veer toward him. He unleashed two shots, one which missed and one that lodged in the legs, but it was enough to slow it the attacker. Cash then sprinted for the Low.

  T W E N T Y – E I G H T

  6:07 p.m.

  The room was dark, spinning and cold. Ned slid off the side of the bed and hit his arm on the nightstand before landing face down. The taste of blood was in his mouth and he felt a gap in his mouth where his right front tooth was. He had no recollection of his whereabouts and for several minutes lie still, too afraid to move. After nearly a half hour of lying dazed in the dark he was able to recall the beasts from the previous night. He feared he’d been spirited away to a dark locale and they would be back to feast on him.

  After praying, Ned worked up the courage to rise to his knees. His head pounded and lethargy filled his muscles. It took every once of strength he had to push himself up on the bed. He continued to float between a fog-shrouded state and his fear-inducing reality.

  Another half-hour passed before he stumbled to the door and turned on the light. Along the way he heard something fall from the desk and hit his foot. He looked down saw the empty Meyer’s bottle and knew that a mere pint would not have been enough to leave him feeling numb and confused.

  He wondered, Was Valerie here?

  ***

  8:23 p.m.

  …Ned failed to recall when he’d gone back to sleep, nor did he have any idea as to how long he’d been out. This time when he wakened on the floor he recognized the motel room. He sat on the edge of the bed, caught the faint hint of perfume and a face floated in his memory….

  A pretty brown-skinned girl with nice gams…

  He wondered if he’d been drinking with the woman. He quickly reached for his wallet and was relieved to feel the familiar bulge. The room was humid and stuffy. His neck suddenly felt hot and Ned desired fresh air. Despite the uncoordinated manner of his gait, he willed himself to the door, opened it and took a deep breath. The woman’s face came back to him, as did Valerie’s, but he blinked them away. He leaned on the door and heard voices nearby, so he swayed onto the balcony.

  The scene was bathed in the cool green glow of the streetlamps. The streets below were empty and quiet except for an occasional passing car. Rain fell in a steady mist and the cold moisture sharpened his senses. A man came out of the room next door and stared him down.

  Ned ignored him and continued to take deep breaths of the cold air, which helped clear his head. Soon it came back to him what he wanted to do, which was get out of town, away from something horrible. He went back inside and searched for his car keys. After five minutes he realized they were in his front pants pocket. After he grabbed his belongings and turned to leave, he saw the man standing near his door.

  Ned steeled himself and made his way past him. The man mean-mugged him and let out a derisive grunt. Ned walked downstairs and put his belongings in the trunk of his car. He saw that his shotgun and a box of ammo were placed on the right side of the trunk between the spare tire and his tool box. After he closed the trunk he leaned on the vehicle.

  I could have swore that I purchased food and a cooler…

  He re-climbed the stairs and ignored the man who continued to stare him down. Ned looked around the room, and then it occurred to him to step inside, close the door behind him and check his wallet. He was stunned to find it empty. He closed his eyes and thought hard. All he could conjure up was the face of the woman, whose name he couldn’t recall.

  He wen
t back outside, where his neighbor stood. Playing a hunch, Ned asked, “’Scuse me, young buck, but have you seen the brown-skinned lady who was here earlier?”

  “I don’t know shit about no woman, homey,” the man said scowling. “Take your drunk ass back in your room.”

  “Brotha man, with all due respect, I know there was a woman here earlier…”

  It came flooding back to him. The woman was no figment of his imagination. He’d been ripped off, plain ands simple. Of course the man wouldn’t know anything since he was probably in on the robbery.

  “Never mind.”

  Ned considered taking the shotgun out of his trunk and getting answers old west style. He jogged down the steps and watched as the man turned his back to him. A smile creased his thin lips as he popped the trunk of his car, took out the shotgun and placed it on the front seat. He climbed behind the wheel, started the engine and rolled down the passenger side window. He put the car in reverse and balanced the gun on the door frame of the window.

  That’s the way you want it, fine…

  The man on the balcony paid no mind as a scowling Ned pulled forward until he was in front of the neighbor’s room, and then leaned on the horn until the man turned around and the silhouette of another man appeared in the doorway.

  Ned put his left hand on top of the gun and squeezed the trigger. He saw the man leaning on the rail fall. The other man backpedaled into the room. As he barreled out of the parking lot, he sideswiped the motel manager, who’d come out to see what was going on. Ned burned rubber as he whipped his car down Main Street. Traffic was light, so he ran several stoplights. He roared past three men in a Jeep headed the opposite direction before pulling into an alley behind a mom and pop grocery.

  Ned leaned back, closed his eyes and reflected on his deed. At that moment he realized he’d stepped from law-abiding everyman to a desperado; and while prison was an unappealing possibility, living in a world of zombies would be worse. Fear and shame sank into his bones.