by Kypers, Ryan
DR. YLSRUS3390: Oh please, you’re too young to drink.
RRDRAGN99: Then let the government officials monitoring this conversation come arrest me.
RRDRAGN99: No knocking on my door. I think I’ll be okay.
DR. YLSRUS3390: ha. Ha.
DR. YLSRUS3390: Have you heard any news?
RRDRAGN99: Yeah. The president is telling us to stay in our homes and be safe.
RRDRAGN99: I hear it whenever I turn on the TV.
DR. YLSRUS3390: Same.
DR. YLSRUS3390: How about any real news?
RRDRAGN99: Well, I found a video in the newest uploads section of YouTube, but it’s kinda…
RRDRAGN99: gory.
DR. YLSRUS3390: Gore? Really? I’ve been on the internet for a while now. Try harder.
RRDRAGN99: no man, this isn’t anything that you’ve seen before. Guaranteed.
DR. YLSRUS3390: try me.
RRDRAGN99: Okay, but if the feds come for me after this one
DR. YLSRUS3390: Just give me the link.
RRDRAGN99: www.youtube.com/watch?vm=66gCyK&track412
DR. YLSRUS3390: Okay I’m gonna watch so brb
RRDRAGN99: You just used shorthand…
But before I could read more, I clicked on the link. It is still kind of amazing, the internet, even in its barren state it is probably the most effective way to relay information across the world, especially in such dire situations. I could not call anyone, could not text anyone, but chatting online was easy as day. God bless the free internet.
The webpage loaded, my chrome loading circle rapidly circling itself. The flash player was starting (thank god for no more of the flash update notices when I booted up), followed by the side videos and automatic advertisements starting up. It almost surprised me when the video started without any ads interrupting my viewing experience.
It started with the famed and horrendously vomit inducing shaky cam experience. I noticed it to be more of a fluke as the camera man’s hand was just probably crap for holding a digital recording device. The camera was erupting across a ground of flat brown and green grass yard. It finally stopped moving as the camera man was noticeable in the background, heavily breathing. It took the camera a minute to adjust to the light of the sun, as the inexperienced camera man did not understand to hold the camera away from the light, not towards it.
Once adjusted and in view, a little boy was walking across the yard of the man’s property, or what seemed like his property. His movements were sluggish but quick, though he dragged his feet. After that fast image, the cameraman whirled the camera to his left, showing a tall man with a heavy build standing behind a tree, fire axe in hand. The camera shifted to his other side, showing another man, still tall but with a thinner build and a mullet behind a garbage can, his hands wielding a sledge hammer.
The camera focused back on the little boy. It was then that I noticed that he boy wasn’t dragging his feet, but he was literally dragging his feet. There was a sharp incision where the leg met the foot, letting the foot of the boy bend in an awkward position where his Achilles tendon was the only thing holding his foot to the body. No blood dripped behind the boy’s open wound. Every step stretched the skin leading into the foot.
The camera readjusted to a closer zoom. The noise of the zoom must have startled the boy, as his head turned immediately to the cameraman. The camera showed a full high definition viewing of what the contaminated would look like to anyone wondering.
On a normal, uncontaminated day, the boy would have had sandy blonde hair in a mushroom cut. On a normal and uncontaminated day, the boy would have had deep blue eyes and a chocolate stain on his superhero shirt from eating the snack in his lunchbox on the way to school. On a normal day, the boy would not have hissed at the cameraman, bearing blood red teeth for the six other people on the forum to view in stunning high definition.
But this was no normal day.
The boy was a pale color, as if the blood was all but drained from his body. His eyes were not a deep blue, but instead a piss yellow with no noticeable pupil. His arms were scratched up. No blood was drawn, but the scabs were still in place. He did not have a lunchbox, but was carrying a finger in his left hand, though he seemed to have all ten of his own.
Suddenly there was a hoot from one of the men as the fatter of the two companions charged forward, flailing fire axe in hand. He stopped in front of the boy, who hissed at him, but the man did not seem to care. He lifted his leg so that his boot was resting gently on the boy’s chest, then thrust it forward with enough force to throw the boy five feet backwards.
“You see, Earl?” the man said. “They ain’t nuttin but a bunch ‘o mindless freaks!” he walked forward to where the contaminated boy was, back on his feet. The man kicked the boy again, square in the face. “Nuttin!” he said
“Jimmy, just finish the job!” I heard Earl say from the side of the cameraman. “No reason to squander around playing with these freaks.”
Jimmy turned around, glaring at Earl. “I think I earned my play, Earl. My family ain’t ‘round anymore for me. Gotta find my fun some other way! S’not like Imma get to see my Sunday football, am I?”
“JIMMY!” Earl yelled.
Suddenly Earl emerged from the sides of the camera just as the boy leapt forward at Jimmy. Earl reached out and pushed the boy away, but not without the contaminated boy’s teeth marks tearing along his arm. “SONOFABITCH!” he yelled. Earl quickly raised the sledge hammer and smashed the boy’s face in. The contaminated child suddenly went limper than a teenage boy walking in on his parents.
Earl whipped his arm about, flicking blood all over the street. “Fucker got me!” he yelled.
Jimmy reached up and grabbed his arm, “You saved me, Earl. Thanks.”
“Thanks my ass! You were foolin ‘round and should be dead by now. My dumbass decided to jump in.” He looked up at Jimmy, “You’re welcome, cuz.”
Jimmy smiled in response, “You’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s go find you some help with that arm.”
Earl nodded and began to walk towards the camera. As he did so, Jimmy’s fire axe rose above his head and landed hard on Earl’s, splitting the skull in a bloody mess. “WOO!” Jimmy yelled. “Did you see that?! His head fuckin ‘sploded!”
Jimmy danced and laughed around his cousin’s dead body, blood seeping out of the hole in his head as the video cut off.
DR. YLSRUS3390: Shit man.
RRDRAGN99: You watch it all?
DR. YLSRUS3390: Yeah. Pretty brutal. Hit close to home.
RRDRAGN99: You knew someone killed in the confusion?
DR. YLSRUS3390: No, well, not yet.
RRDRAGN99: ?
DR. YLSRUS3390: Chelsea, DEDLOVER, got bit today by one of the CRU.
RRDRAGN99: Shit.
Chapter 3
Engines roared to a stop as the military convoy trucks appeared on my street. We heard over the television broadcast to have a flag posted outside of your house to wave the military trucks down with. They would be stopping wherever there was a flag, regardless of what was waived. There were American flags, white flags, bed sheets, and I even saw one flag made of someone’s boxers, hopefully unused, flying on a pole.
The convoy finally made it to my house, a sigh of relief coursing through my body. Chelsea was standing next to me, “Grandma!” I called into her apartment side of the house. “Grandma, the military dudes are here!”
“Okay, Daryl,” I heard grandma call from the other room. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I looked to Chelsea, “I guess we’re out of here then,” I said.
She smiled, “Yeah, I guess so. Though to be brutally honest, it really hasn’t been very dangerous. Everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off, all afraid of the contaminated coming to hunt them down, and we haven’t even seen a single one! It’s probably just some government hoax.”
“Yeah, that’s why the government would use all of this time and money that they don’t ha
ve,” I replied. I put my arm around her shoulder, “Besides, there’s no reason that we can’t be careful, just in case it is not a hoax.”
“Daryl,” I heard my grandmother call. “Can you get my suitcase, please?”
I sighed, looking at Chelsea, “Of course, grandma!” I smiled and went into my grandmother’s side of the house. Her suitcase was stationed between her plaid couches, one on opposite walls, with a glossy wooden table in between. The suitcase was a deep grey and black mixture of triangular designs, something that a grandmother would buy.
I wrapped my hands around the handle and hoisted it into the air. It was heavy, like really heavy. It must have been somewhere near fifty pounds. Only grandma could have a worldwide crisis laid in front of her and still be able to overfill a suitcase.
“I’ll meet you outside, grandma,” I said as I went to the front door, conveniently held open by Chelsea. “Thank you, m’dear,” I did my best impression of a forties detective, which was not very good. She smiled, pushing me out the door, a duffle bag wrapped around her shoulder.
We made it to the end of the driveway. Men in military equipment were running up and down the street, trying to organize everyone. There were eight trucks in all, each must have been equipped with six members of the marines, who were all equipped with various weapons designed to kill anything that it was pointed at. The oddest thing about the situation was the quietness that they moved in. There was such little noise moving down the street that I swear I heard a man having a coughing fit a few houses down.
A tall and thin man walked up to us with a tablet computer in his hands, “Name,” he said without any greeting.
“Uh, Daryl Willows,” I replied instinctively.
The man moved his finger across the screen a few times, “Willows? W-i-l-l-o-w-s, correct?” I nodded. “Congratulations. You can collect your things and place them over there,” He pointed to a transport truck. “Only what you can carry comes with you. It sits in front of you or on your lap. One pet allowed per person if accompanied by a cage.” I was happy to hear that. My cat needed to come along or I would have to stuff her in my backpack. I noticed the United States Marine symbol of an eagle standing on top of the world with an anchor through it. “The marines? Where is the National Guard?”
“You complaining, kid?” He said with extra emphasis on ‘kid.’
I sighed, “Not complaining, just curious.
The marine furrowed his brow, “Don’t know if you haven’t noticed, but we’re in a pile of shit right now. The President says that anyone who can assist will, including the marines. Maybe your sucky National Guard boys are in a town or seven over, maybe not. Marines and National Guard don’t try to associate too often. Is that the end of question time?”
Defeated, I nodded and looked at the ground. The marine tapped his tablet again a few more times. “Name,” he said as he turned to Chelsea.
“Chelsea Parker,” She said. He flicked his finger around the screen a few more times before nodding and prodding the screen. “All set?” Chelsea asked.
He nodded, “All set. Same as him, carry what you can only. We can’t overcrowd these things. Have a good day,” he began to walk away but I caught him.
“Oh, sir, one more person is with us,” I said as my grandmother appeared from the side of the house. I pointed and he acknowledged. The marine guardsman walked over to my grandmother and gave her his arm. “Suck up,” I whispered. Chelsea laughed.
“Now, ma’am, can you please tell me your name,” he said, far nicer than he did to us.
“Grandma Katz,” She replied. He laughed a little bit to himself before finding her name on the tablet he poked a couple of times then nodded the okay.
“If you could just wait with your grandkids until we are ready to load everyone onto the trucks, that would be great,” he said with a full smile. This guy was good with the elderly.
She thanked the nice military man and stood next to us as we waited for the loading set. I remembered that my stuff was still inside the house, “I’ll be right back,” I said as I made my way back into the house. My duffel bag was sitting on the couch, waiting for me. Right next to it was the cat’s cage, but no cat.
“Coal!” I yelled through the house. I made squeaking noises and little kisses into the air, trying to get her attention, but to no avail. “Probably sleeping,” I said to myself. I checked all of her usual places: behind the television, under the couch, in the window, on my bed, under my bed, but she was not there. there was one more spot that I had ready, above the refrigerator. She would jump up onto the kitchen table, and from there onto the top of the fridge. I do not know why, but she loved the spot. I got on the tops of my toes and looked over, but she still was not there. I decided that it was time to play dirty.
I reached into the cabinet and took out her cat treats, shaking the bag for the sound to ring out through the house. I instantly heard a shuffling and a light meow. I looked up and saw her head poking out from above the cabinets atop the refrigerator. “That’s new,” I said to her as she jumped down. “Get over here,” I said as I grabbed her around the belly. I hoisted her into the air and around my arm as I made my way into the living room with all of our stuff.
“How can you just leave us here?” I heard coming from the street, the sound of a stressed woman. “I have children!”
I put the cat into her cage and locked it, throwing a few treats in to keep her occupied. I snatched up my duffel bag, but left the cat there for now. I did not want to take her until we were about to leave. She scared of the outdoors easily.
I made it outside to see Mrs. Figgins, our neighbor, talking to the marine guardsman with her two children next to her, Sam and Timothy. They were nice people. I had helped with the kids in the mornings, walking them to school since Mrs. Figgins worked in the morning and Mr. Figgins was on a business trip over in Japan. I did not mind and they even paid me, though I would have done it for free, but they insisted.
I walked down the driveway, duffel bag on my shoulder, and dropped it next to the pile of our things, “What’s up?” I whispered to Chelsea. She merely pointed with her face, a dismal look in her eyes.
“You can’t leave us!” Mrs. Figgins yelled again.
The marine shook his head, the look he gave off was one of pity and sorrow, “I’m truly sorry, miss, but we’re full. There isn’t any room for more passengers. We are under strict orders. There’s no point in a rescue mission if the entire mission is endangered by not following already bent protocol. If there was a way, then I would certainly allow it, but right now there is not. I’m sorry,” he looked down as he said it, flicking through his tablet. “We’ll be back in three days. So if you could just sit tight-“
“Sit tight?!” Mrs. Figgins yelled. I had always known her as a mild mannered woman, and very pleasant to be around. She must have been desperate if she was in this condition. “Sit tight with murderous things running around? And with two children at home? That’ll be a death warrant!”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but there is nothing that I can do,” he said.
I hated these situations. There was no way that she could keep those kids calm for three days while waiting for the military to show up. That was not fair, to leave the children alone with a mother whose husband was away and may not have even contacted her since the crisis started. She was borderline in tears, her eyes red and furious.
I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again, then closed it. I finally worked up the courage and opened it for good, “Three days?” I asked the marine.
He looked at me, nodding. “Three short days is all.”
Mrs. Figgins looked as if she was going to tear his face off. I let out a huge breath, “Okay. Give them my spot.”
“Daryl!” Mrs. Figgins said, looking me in the eye. “You need that spot just as much as anyone.”
I shook my head, “I’ll have an easier time being in the house. The very least I could do is make sure you and the kids get a spot, though it might be a
bit cramped. I can last three easy days.”
“Me too,” I heard Chelsea pipe up. “I’ll make room for you guys. This way Daryl doesn’t have to stay home all by his lonesome.”
“I’ll have the cat.”
“Shut up.”
Mrs. Figgins was slightly tearing now, a huge smile stricken across her face, “I can’t thank you enough, the both of you!” she said, pulling us both in for a hug.
I turned to the marine guardsman, “This is okay, right?”
He nodded, “Very noble of you, son. You’d make one fine looking marine.”
I smiled a dumb look and waived him off, “My mother would kill me.”
Mrs. Figgins thanked us again as they loaded onto the convoy truck. I turned to grandma.
“You be careful, Daryl!” My grandmother said to me right before she was about to step into the military convoy truck. The marine vehicle was painted in a forest camouflage pattern. Its wheels alone were larger the eighty year old polish grandmother waiting to board.
“These nice soldiers said that another truck would be running through here in three days, so be safe,” she kissed me on the cheek, quickly blessing Chelsea with one too. “And take care of your delightful girlfriend. You two will be all alone in your old house,” Grandma squeezed my hand. “And remember, Jesus is always watching!” She exclaimed with her index finger pointing to the heavens.
“Oh grandma, the cat will be home the whole time,” I replied.
She chuckled a small bit, and with her finger still raised in the air in warning of Jesus’ vision, she walked towards the convoy. A stocky marine met her, taking her arm to help my grandmother up the high stairs leading into the back of the military truck. My last vision of her was her walking to the interior of the truck, quickly hidden behind the steel exterior siding. Little did I know that would be the last time that I would ever see my grandmother.
