Infected, Zombi The City of the Zol

by Hernández, Claudio

  The garage was now less that ten feet away from them, and Antonio and his brothers were now both sweaty and tired. They made their way up the narrow street that was almost vertical and when they finally reached the garage door, José pressed the button on his remote that hung from the Ford’s keychain.

  The door opened with its characteristic buzz of the engine located on the top of the garage.

  Immediately, the entire garage began to blink with fluorescent lighting. All of the cars were fine, there didn’t seem to be and discernible noise in there. No one was at the entrance, so they entered with their bodies hunched in search of their two cars that were at the very end of the garage. They were two Ford cars, one red and the other a metallic grey.

  There they were, as pristine as a freshly scrubbed plate, sans zombies.

  They approached their cars and immediately entered. It was already ten in the evening, and the first phase of their plan was now complete.

  The moon was shining with a white face upon the night of the carnival, full of ignorant people and the zombies. The night was very long.

  Too long.

  CXL

  ‘At dawn, we shall enter the castle,’ Father Martín said from the tabernacle.

  Both Father Guillermo and Father Isidoro looked at him with a sense of relief on their faces.

  ‘Very well,’ Father Guillermo said, nodding his head. Though, he did not smile. Nor did he have any expression on his now blue face.

  ‘I’ll find us the formula to the second serum of eternal life so that we may live forever,’ Father Martín exclaimed in his increasingly harsh voice. He was unaware of the fact that his vocal chords were starting to break down as well. ‘We will be safe from rot.’

  Now, Father Isidoro was sporting an insidious and creepy smile, a wicked grin. He joined his hands and crossed his fingers. As he moved, a green ooze began to secrete from his lower extremities, forming a small, sticky puddle on the ground.

  They didn’t have much time.

  There wasn’t much time left.

  CXLI

  Back in the Geraneos district, Akira was leading the attack with various other infected, jumping fences, breaking down doors, and banging against windows, which began to cede under the weight of the zombies, breaking n deafening roars and a rain of glass shards, shining under the street torches.

  The tourists, the majority of them English, took to the streets in their pants, completely barefoot, cutting themselves over the shards of glass and causing them to bleed. The blood spilt on the ground and the zombies crouched down to lick it up like dogs.

  The screaming was scandalous, though no one knew what was happening. There were screames, alarms sounding in the houses, all causing an uncontrolled chain reaction. Many, unfortunately, screamed to the excrutiating pain of bites.

  The infected, which were much faster, jumped on the living and chewed off their necks and faces, leaving the remained to the slower zombies.

  Although the parade music from the carnival was far away, it still reached the Geraneos district via its surround sound system. Though, obviously, the moans and belching of the zombies was clearly more audible. The only thing missing was a captain to lead the attack from the first wave, with widened eyes, giving orders.

  The one known as Akira Hins, with lips and nails painted black, jumped over a tall man who was grossly obese. The man was hardly able to move, much less get rid of such a zombie of small yet nimble proportions. She cut the jugular in such a precise way that caused the blood to spurt out in a steady stream, with a sweet smell that smelled of copper, filling the pavement and the asphalt unde the flickering light of the street torch that reach up to three stories high.

  The man didn’t scream, he only held his hands to his neck and dreadfully opened his eyes. He could see a large amount of blood mixed with greater amounts of fat around him. Looking down at his hands, they were also covered in blood. He also felt his blood running down his back and into his exposed arse crack.

  Akira Hins chewed on a piece of flesh that had been ripped out with her sharp teeth, and her eyes were already on a new victim. The fat man began to convulse, his hands moving in a strange manner.

  He was transforming.

  No one knew, however, if he would convert into an infected or a zombie.

  Though, it mattered not.

  No one knew, anyway.

  In the meantime, tourists were still out on the streets running in a panic, though not necessarily knowing what was happening. They simply ran out shirtless and shoeless to get a glimpse of the situation.

  The horde of the undead fell upon them too.

  CXLII

  The young man tried to help the old woman that had fallen from the float, but she was as rigid as a tree trunk, looking at him with very different eyes. He pulled away from her, under the rumble of the music, while others were still dancing, ignorant to the situation currently unfolding in front of them.

  ‘What the Hell, you cunt?!’ The young man exclaimed, waking up from his drunken stupor, as if being placed in a tub of ice-cold water.

  The old woman began to head towards him.

  The young man began to step backwards with eyes wide open, fixated upon the old woman.

  Then, he tripped.

  He had stumbled across the convulsing body of another old woman, who was on the ground while her companions laughed at her and pointed. The young man fell back, his head colliding with the pavement in such a way that he instantly began seeing black spots. It was a strange sensation that ended with a strong headache and a tingling sensation.

  ‘Martín, get up from the ground!’ One of his float companions shouted. His face had a large smile drawn across it, with a head wrapping that highlighted his stupid face.

  The young man saw the body of another elderly woman, who was still on the ground, and looked into her eyes. It was the same look that the other old woman had.

  It looked as if their eyeballs had been hardboiled in a pressure cooker.

  He tried pushing the old woman away with his feet, but was unsuccessful. The very fat woman weighed a lot and his legs were trembling.

  The old woman bent down towards the young man and gave him a furious look. Her eyes oozed a clear, watery liquid. They were like tears, only stickier.

  The music continued beating in his ears as if his head were directly stuck in the speakers.

  The young man slid on the ground, scratching his back. There was a smell of fresh blood in the air, made stale by alcohol.

  The old woman extended her arms.

  The young man sat on the ground. His head hurt too much and it was as though a giant hammer were hitting the inside of his head. He put his hand behind his head and felt the silky blood coming out.

  The zombie fell over him and opened its mouth.

  CXLIII

  ‘Now, we shall pray for them,’ Father Martín said from the tabernacle. His eyes began to shine as they had the previous day. He had evaded an internal rebellion for the time being. ‘Tomorrow, we will make our way to the castle and we will force that old man to give us the book, or the recipe to the second formula of the serum of life.’

  ‘What old man?’ Father Guillermo asked, his everlasting smile on his face as if it were a natural characteristic of his.

  ‘Sebastián,’ Father Martín replied. Father Martín already knew who Sebastián was. He had known him for a long time, having read about him when he was the architect of the city hall, knowing that he had studied Hina A-Akila and his formulas to bringing the dead back to life, or something even more terrifying, an army.

  Father Guillermo and Father Isidoro shrugged, understanding nothing.

  But that night, the three of them prayed to the Lord in the Church of Carmen.

  The sun would be out in about ten hours.

  CXLIV

  ‘It’s a good thing that we left Tara at home,’ Antonio noted from the front seat of the metallic grey Ford driven b
y José. ‘She would have gone mad here.’

  ‘In addition, we wouldn’t know if she could be affected by biting one of these creatures… ’ Mario considered from the back seat of the car.

  ‘Indeed, you are correct. The poor creature.’

  Driving behind them was Jesús in the red Ford. He didn’t have a driver’s permit, but that didn’t matter now anyway.

  They had originally planned to have their brother Ángel join them. Though, being older than Jesús, they thought it necessary to keep him at home, in charge of the rest of the family. So, with that, four brothers left for the cars instead of five. A change of plans.

  The metallic grey ford’s horn wouldn’t stop sounding, and the people wandering around in costume could hear it. Though, it was fine, as it was necessary to avoiding them. With the intense lights of the car, their faces were much more terrifying, deeper, but without any underlying message to them. Just an incomprehensible ire in them.

  The car engine purred along Juan Carlos I Avenue, the same direction from which a horde of zombies, mostly naked, were traversing. Among them was the old, rickety, wheel chair bound man that was now dragging his feet with snapping jaws.

  The two cars tried avoiding them, but there were too many, and they came in droves.

  José braked and stopped the car.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Antonio uttered, not wearing a seat belt. His eyes widened for a moment.

  ‘These crowd of zombies won’t move.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter, run them over.’

  ‘That could ruin the car.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter, screw the zombies, we need to protect ourselves.’ While they discussed their situation, two zombies appeared in front of the car.

  Jesús sounded his horn behind them.

  Three zombies appeared, with torn and dirty funerary shrouds, surrounding the metallic grey Ford, trying to open the car windows.

  ‘So, what are you waiting for?’

  José engaged the car and accelerated sharply. Two of the zombies were trapped under the nose of the car and disappeared right in front of them. The car took a moment to pass over them, then there was a loud thud as all four wheels returned to the asphalt.

  A few long fingernails scratched against the car windows.

  José stepped on the accelerator and the Ford roared nthe middle of the night.

  A woman, or what was left of her at least, climbed the hood of the car and showed off her ugly, blackened teeth and violet chin stained with blood. She didn’t speak, but her eyes told all, with emitted a thick, white matter. It was pus.

  Those who were in costume finally began to realise that something was amiss, and began to fear. Like birds, they scattered in panic, if not for the zombies, then for the two cars that were running them over.

  ‘Where the Hell are the police?!’ One man with a scraggly beard asked to the side of a smaller woman.

  No one answered, of course, and continued running. At least running they couldn’t be caught by the zombies.

  The Ford bellowed and floored with its two front tyres over th head of a zombie, which exploded like a balloon, spreading brained, blood, and pus all over the asphalt, staining parked cars.

  A woman covered her eyes with her hands, and immediately afterwards, received a bite on one of her hands. The woman started to scream and her eyes erupted in head under the street torches.

  The zombie that was on the hood of José’s car scratched the front. José activated the windscreen wiper to brush her off. The fingers of the zombie retreated with unusual wonder. Its eyes followed the movement of the wipers.

  The car skidded on the asphalt, accelerated, then pulled the brakes.

  The zombie shot forward and the Ford kicked back into gear.

  The zombie’s bones cracked under the wheels of the car, which gave an ugly jump as if running over a brick.

  It was now eleven at night, and the infection had now spread to over three quarters of the city of Águilas.

  It would soon get worse.

  Very soon.

  How soon is now?

  CXLV

  Deportes, Ramón y Cajal, and Doctor Fleming Streets were all flooded with hordes of zombies, slow and clumsy, barefoot, leaving a gelatinous mass behind them as they shuffled. The building was surrounded, and several of them had already entered.

  Tomás and Sara heard them from upstairs. Their footsteps, that sounded oozy, gave them away. Slowly, they climbed the stairs.

  Tomás and Sara, with the childen, sat on the floor, and had no other choice than to stay on the top floor. Above them was the outdoor terrace, but the metal door was locked. Tomás only had two bullets left.

  ‘We have to find a way to hide out scent,’ Tomás said, brandishing his gun.

  Sara was behind him with the little ones hanging off of her skirt. Daniel and Rosa were whimpering, eyes wide with terror, showing real concern. They couldn’t understand what was happening, but they knew that whatever it was caused Tomás to put a bullet in Fátima’s head, as well as the woman with the red panties that went to piddle in the Tápena warehouse. They perhaps knew that something was wrong, though it was something outside of their line of reasoning.

  ‘There are too many of them,’ Sara responded, hearing many footsteps.

  ‘I only have two bullets,’ Tomás said, baring his teeth in an instinctive act.

  ‘If you had more?’

  ‘Then I would strike with something more.’

  ‘What else is left?’

  ‘I could use a brick,’ Tomás said in a strong voice. ‘It is blunt, strong, and would wrech their heads. That seems to stop them.’ Tomás squeezed his fist, his knuckles going white. He pressed with force and hurt.

  Tomás returned back to the room with the freshly plastered walls, wanting to make sure that they were safe. Sara followed him, brushing her shoulder against the wall.

  ‘Do they smell our perspiration?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  Though, it was not the rancid smell of sweat, but rather the sweet smell of blood that emanated from the many pores of the human body. The real liquid of life.

  They entered into another floor. The stairs, which were now spongier, made less noise, as if they were sliding on some sort of sticky matter.

  ‘They are here,’ Tomás whispered, lifting up his gun.

  But there was no one.

  That wouldn’t last long, though.

  Suddenly, an amorphous face peered out from the door. It was a swollen face, coloured violet, and its eyes were white, emitting an opaque liquid.

  It smelled disgustingly evil and the stench was unbearable. It was like a string of farts, like someone who needs to release a stool that they had been holding for more than a year.

  The zombies also smelled their blood.

  A bang echoed in the four walls of the room, where the smaller children had to cover their ears. In the darkness, the coagulated blood spattered the walls with mucus and blood, including grey matter.

  After that the smoke and the smell of gunpowder had settled.

  ‘It’s dead,’ Tomás said. But it didn’t matter, they only had one bullet left, and he knew it. His face grew pale and he began to sweat more. The steps were quieter, but still audible. There was nowhere left to hide.

  They had arrived there from the cemetery.

  The little ones were crying, and Sara stroked Rosa’s frizzy hair. Her own tears began to surface in her eyes, and soon she was crying as well. Her particular way of seeing the world would soon change radically.

  They moved toward the corner of the room, like rats cornered by a herd of cats, with sharp teeth and nails.

  The last shot reverberated in the room with an explosion, painful to the ears. The zombie fell to the ground, producing a noise like a splat.

  Tomás began to sweat more and more. Outside of the door, two more were waiting with furious looks on their faces. With open mouths, Tomás thoug
ht about tossing aside the revolver. It was now a useless piece of shit piece of metal.

  But perhaps he could bash their skulls with the pistol, breaking into their brains, he instinctively though.

  There were no bricks, no hammers, no shovels, no picks anywhere. Everything was at the top of the crane in a metal box suspended at the top, where only the gulls could reach.

  They began to approach, with their oozing feet emitting a greenish liquid. The zombie that had been shot rested in its own puddle of greenish liquid, with some blood mixed into it, forming a very dark violet colour.

  Tomás’ hands started to shake. He saw its face. It was as swollen as the previous zombie, but it lacked a tongue. A maggot slipped from its mouth. Daniel and Rose closed their eyes, but they didn’t leave Sara. They were all beginning to tremble.

  Two zombies moved towards them.

  There was a light, enough light to see them clearly. The light bulb hanging inertly from the roof under a pair of wires of different colours worked. One of the zombies raised its arms, like in the movies, and Tomás, still trembling, moved towards it. His giant belly vibrated with each new step. It was the anxiety.

  He turned the gun in his hand and raised it over his head.

  A moment later, it fell with the full force of his fist over the zombie’s skull, breaking it. Tomás smiled and showed off his teeth, bright and mad. He hit it against, but this time, felt a stabbing pain in his hand.

  A piece of the zombie’s skull had pierced his hand.

  Tomás looked down at his bleeding hand, while another zombie entered, extending its hands.

  ‘Sara!’ He cried out, and the smaller ones turned to the wall, counting the seconds.

  It was too late; his eyes began to suddenly change and he began to seize.

  More steps could be heard approaching.

  Tomás was no longer the same.

  He let the gun fall to the ground with a strange metallic noise that splashed with the viscous fluids on the floor from the zombies.