“Let me in! It’s begun! It’s begun!”
Father McCann looked shocked as the man rushed by him into the hallway. He stuck his head out the door and looked both ways. He could see the distant glow of a large fire but nothing else. He could hear sirens and horns in the background, and then he caught the faint sound of screaming voices floating on a breeze, like the intermittent cries of a drowning mass of people.
He turned quickly and went back inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. He turned to face the stranger. “What in the name of God is going on? What do you mean it’s begun?”
Father McCann looked at the man closely. He was older, almost as old as he was, with a five-day stubble, shabby clothes, and emanating a scent that suggested he hadn’t bathed in days. He recognized him. “You come and pray in the back of church at night. I’ve seen you.” He moved forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What is it that you fear? What is it that has happened?”
The old man looked back at him with an expression of deep sorrow, and Father McCann could see the stain of transgression in his eyes. He had the tragic look of someone stuck in a moment, unable to move on.
“I fear what is to come, both here and in eternity, for what I have done is beyond redemption. But what I have come here for is to give you possible salvation.”
He began to get panicky again as he fumbled through an old canvas bag. He finally pulled out a small, sealed wooden box. His eyes looked a little wild as he handed it to Father McCann.
“Inside this is a secret. Inside this, some could be saved. It’s all I have left to give. I have searched for you for quite some time, Jack. You are the only one in America I can trust.”
Father McCann looked at him closely, his mind reeling and flipping through his memory like pages in a picture book, finally settling on the image of a much younger and innocent looking man. He took a step back in confusion and surprise.
“Tomas Maria? Is this really you? What are you doing here?”
Father McCann had met him in Cuba during Castro’s rise to power, Cuba being his first missionary post after leaving the seminary. They had become fast and deep friends, until Castro had ordered the removal of all priests from his Country. At first, Tomas had helped hide his friend so he could continue his missionary work, until Castro’s Secret Police had used Tomas’ physician skills to inspect the victims of a new biological weapon in development. Shortly after, Tomas had demanded his friend leave, providing safe passage out of the Country.
“I have done something horrible my friend. I tried to rectify it but nobody would listen. I have become just like a shadow.”
Father McCann reached forward and held his old friend’s face in his hands, studying his eyes, looking at every line on his face, and every wrinkle. Finally, he embraced him as a tear fell silently down his cheek. He pulled back and stared at him sadly. “It’s been over fifty years, Tomas. What has happened to you? What is it that you think you have done?”
Tomas Maria Morales pulled back from his embrace. “I am beyond forgiveness, Father. I only have one thing left to give.”
Father McCann looked at him sadly and shook his head. “There is nothing that cannot be forgiven. All you need is to seek it.”
Tomas shook his head. “Not for what I have done. It is only fitting that it begins here, so that I may be one of the first to suffer.”
Father McCann looked at him quizzically. “What is it that you speak about? What is it you have done?”
“A toxin has been released. I am alone responsible. I tried to stop it, but no one would listen. Your Country’s arrogance is its downfall. They refuse to believe there is anything beyond their own control.”
Father McCann ushered him upstairs as Tomas continued to talk, needing to confess all. “They tortured me, Jack. After you left Cuba, they tortured me. They forced me to work for Castro. They were doing experiments on prisoners. Horrible things. They developed this toxin. After witnessing what it could do, I stole some to make an antidote. They had their suspicions, so they did things to me. Things I can’t discuss.”
Tomas grew quiet for a moment, staring at the floor.
Father McCann placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Why are you here, Tomas. What can I do to help?”
Tomas raised his eyes, which were now wet with tears. “I never gave up my secret: Not to them. They never found what I’d done with it. I held onto my secret for years.”
Father McCann began to piece together the puzzle. “This toxin you speak about. It is the one you say is released now?”
“Yes, but now it is stronger. No, much stronger. They did things to it.” Tomas put his hands on his head. “I don’t know. I was a physician, once, you remember? I saved lives.”
Father McCann gently grabbed his friend’s face. “What else? What else do I need to know?”
“Many will die. After I saw the living conditions of the prisoners at Guantanamo I was so angry. I thought I was doing the right thing. I sold it to this organization. They offered a big price. I knew I had the antidote and thought I could control it.” He voiced raised as he tried to explain his actions. “All I thought about was the good the money could do for my people. I never thought about what would come next.”
They could hear a commotion from outside as people ran by yelling and a storefront window was smashed. Father McCann shook his head in dismay. He’d served in the Tenderloin for close to thirteen years now. He’d served his last official assignment here and had asked to be kept on in a semi-retired capacity. He’d seen so many youths on the verge of ruining their lives and had found his real passion was reaching out to those who would otherwise be lost. He loved this community and wasn’t sure what was happening, but couldn’t bear the thought of it being destroyed.
They could hear more yelling, only this time it sounded louder and larger in volume, as if a mass protest was taking place. Curious, Father McCann walked to his window while Tomas sank into a corner, covering his face with his hands, weeping.
As Father McCann looked out the window, what he saw made him tremble and he reached for the cross around his neck. In the near darkness, he could see their eyes, almost as if they were glowing, and their faces looked up at him with twisted, horrid expressions of tortured misery. There were hundreds of them, and they all stopped moving when he came to the window. He could hear their moans through the glass, and he could almost feel their afflictions.
He continued to tremble as he looked out over them, not sure what they wanted of him or even what they were. As he continued to stand there he felt as if he was on the edge of a precipice, and what lay below was endless and dark, and if he continued to stand there, he’d fall into the void.
His heart started rapping against his chest as the eerie silence continued. They stared at him with an inhuman glare, and he felt like he was being violated somehow, so he nervously took off his crucifix and held it against the window, praying for strength.
He could see their faces change immediately and in unison their mouths opened wide and they raised their arms towards him, pointing at him with gnarled bloody fingers, while an ungodly low shriek emanated from their throats. Father McCann staggered back in shock, stunned by the pure evil before him.
He could hear them rush the rectory door and they slammed against it violently, splintering it, breaking it, until they were inside and coming up the stairs for him.
He grabbed the lone chair in the room and positioned it under the attic door. He turned towards Tomas, who was still curled up in the corner of the room. “Tomas, come quick! We’ve got to climb into the attic!” With a tremble in his voice, he looked up and said, “I was just joking about coming home, Lord. Maybe a fuckin’ vacation was all I needed.”
He climbed on the chair and pushed open the attic door, yelling at Tomas once more to come. Tomas climbed to his feet and smiled weakly. “I will follow you, Father Jack. I will follow you.”
Father McCann nodded and reached his arms into the a
ttic, pushing off his elbows and climbing as fast as his eighty-four year old body could move. He moved as if a force were assisting him, as if it shouldn’t be this easy. As he slid his legs up into the attic opening, they were at the door, and he stuck his head back out and waved to Tomas to hurry.
Tomas still stood there with a weak smile, and spoke. “What I gave you is the antidote for the original toxin. I don’t know if it will work. There is only one way to find out. I have injected myself. We shall find out shortly.”
Father McCann looked at him in shock. “Please, Tomas. Come with me. We shall find out together.”
Tomas shook his head slowly and said, “I can’t” as he turned and faced the door, opening his arms wide and putting his head back, eyes closed, saying one final prayer: “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Father McCann thought about climbing back down, but was already worn out from the first effort and knew they would be breaking through any second.
“Tomas! No!”
The door shattered open and they rushed through like a legion of demons, shrieking and ripping at Tomas’s body, breaking him apart in a frenzied, mindless rage. Father McCann watched in horror as they ripped into his friend’s flesh and heard Tomas scream in agony.
Shaking with fear and sorrow, he quietly covered all but an inch of the attic hatch, watching as his friend’s last moments of life lay uninterrupted by the scourge of the toxin. As Thomas closed his eyes in death, Father McCann sat back in the darkness of the attic and wept as the screams of the legion pierced the rectory walls like nails to the cross.
Chapter 8
Jason Brenner was hiding in the crawlspace under his house, trying to stop crying, feeling completely helpless. His Grandmother’s screaming was all he could hear as the infected attacked. Watching as the monsters ran crazily through the streets, he couldn’t believe he had survived the initial attack. He had jumped out his window as they ran into his bedroom and headed right to the small grate that led under the house, opening it and shutting it behind him. In the dark, confined space, he was covered in webs. He felt spider legs crawling all over him. He didn’t move.
The monsters crashed right through windows or broke through doors, and he could hear agonizing screaming in houses all around the neighborhood. He watched dumbfounded as across the street his friend David ran out his open front door and was immediately attacked. David twitched wildly on the ground, vomiting in all directions before suddenly rising up. He was David no longer.
Jason was convinced it was an alien invasion of body snatchers, and in his terror he tried to remember what the heroes did to beat them.
“Silver bullet, stake in the heart, stomp on the pod...”
He couldn’t remember any more and wished Mace was there. Mace would know what to do. He also knew that if he could just stay put, Mace would eventually rescue him.
An explosion blew out a window down the street and bright gold flames shot out the window. The fire lit up the night, and his neighborhood transformed into a living, breathing video game nightmare with friends and neighbors running out of their houses, no longer human, but something else entirely. Something Other-Worldy. Something Evil.
A leg appeared directly in front of the grate, covered in a nightgown, and he recognized it as his Grandmother’s.
“No, no, no...” He covered his mouth to stifle his cries as the blood slowly oozed down the gown. Strange gurgling came from her throat. She had been taken over. Jason, terrified, moved as far back as he could in the crawl space.
A long, loud, painful shriek racked her whole body as she screamed into the night, defiant and enraged. Jason pulled himself into a ball and covered his ears, sobbing as he tried to block out the sound. She suddenly took off at a racing pace, screaming in horror.
Jason slowly crawled forward, hesitating several times, to peer through the grate once more, stifling his sobbing with his shaking hand clutched tightly over his mouth. His friend, David, ran in front of the gate. A sob pierced the air as Jason jumped in surprise.
Chapter 9
News helicopters hovered overhead as regularly scheduled programs around the World were interrupted to show the infection’s rapid progress. In order to contain the spread of the infection, bay area bridges were being secured. Caltrans crews from Oakland and Marin were hastily erecting barbed wire barriers to keep all people, knowingly infected or not, from making their way across the Golden Gate or Bay Bridges until a more secure barrier could be erected. The whole San Francisco region would have to be isolated, quarantined, until CDC scientists were able to determine how the infection was transmitted.
CHP officers and National Guard troops were being deployed in full biohazard gear and ordered to shoot all who attempted to breach the barrier. All traffic had to be halted, and anyone who had not cleared the span would be considered an infection risk. The mass confusion and faction fighting that would eventually plague the attempt to control the infection was nowhere to be seen at these beginning hours.
The news helicopters caught the ensuing skirmish on tape, as innocent motorists clashed with work crews and national guardsman as they erected the barrier that would mean almost certain death for those caught on the wrong side of the structure. Shots rang out as desperate motorists attempted to ram through the barrier or climb over it.
As the news helicopters watched, the infected made their way across the bridges, attacking all in their way and increasing the infection. When they made their way to the barriers, they flung themselves on the barbed wire, gnashing their teeth at the forceful resistance. Neither the wire nor the gunfire could stop them and soon they scaled the fences, overwhelming the Caltrans and National Guard troops on the other side. Writhing in agony from the needles that dug in their brain, the newest victims quickly rose to join the ranks. The dark night was growing in intensity, and soon it would overflow into madness.
Eight hours after the initial attack, like an obedient army of red ants, dark figures carrying symbolic red balloons with Arabic swords emerged from their lurking holes across every major city in America. Long dormant terrorist cells that had secretly integrated into American society had been activated, and hundreds of other terrorists who had illegally entered through the Mexican border or Canada snaked their way to their prospective targets and were now in motion. None were aware of the magnitude of the attack, ensuring that if any were caught the plot could safely continue.
Like scattered wildfires that eventually converge and congeal into a massive firestorm, the attacks began occurring simultaneously, stifling any attempt at containment or control. The last grains of sand now sifted through the demented hourglass of horror. The dance with the undead had officially arrived.
Chapter 10
In Overland Park, Kansas, Sarah Thompson woke abruptly to the sound of breaking glass downstairs. Her heart started pumping immediately as she tried to get her bearings. She turned to nudge her husband, Bo, but he was already sitting upright, listening closely for any further sounds. He flicked on the lamp by the bed and looked at her. “Did you hear that?”
Her heart started pounding as she could hear heavy footsteps crossing the kitchen floor and jumped when she heard a second crash somewhere in the house. “Oh my God, what do we do?”
Bo reached into the nightstand and pulled out a 357-magnum pistol, quickly grabbing the box of ammunition under it and fumbling to pull out the bullets and load the gun.
“Call 911,” he said as he finished loading the gun and climbed out of bed, rushing to the closet to throw on his robe and throw Sarah hers. He headed towards the open bedroom door with the gun out in front of him.
“Bo, no! Don’t go out there!” Sarah pleaded as she punched 911 on the cordless phone next to the bed. The heavy footsteps hit the stairs and they could hear them rushing up loudly. Sarah felt a rush of panic. “Bo! Lock the door!” She got a busy signal from the phone, and gasped as she hung it up and dialed again.
Bo stood frozen for a second, not su
re what to do. He was halfway to the door, but wasn’t sure who would get there first. He was a large man with a barrel chest, wide shoulders and powerful arms, and the gun in his hand trembled.
From right outside the door there came a blood-curdling shriek, as loud and awful as anything they had ever heard, and millions of chilled needles covered their bodies and rushed to their heads as they waited for what would happen next. Sarah was close to having a panic attack and could barely breathe as the phone kept emitting the repetitive drone of a busy signal. It seemed to shout in her ear as she froze on the bed, terrified to move or make any sound.
From through the door rushed a figure, covered in blood with a horrible twisted face and blood red eyes. Sarah’s fear exploded as she screamed and Bo yelled in panic as he fired two shots directly at the figure. The force of the bullets flung the creature against the bedroom wall, but it shrieked and came at them again, and he fired three more shots into it, sending it slamming against the open bedroom door where it fell into the hallway, disappearing as it collapsed on the floor.
From out in the hallway there erupted more blood curdling shrieks, as more creatures climbed the stairs toward the bedroom. Bo rushed the bedroom door, slamming it and locking it as the figures came crashing against it, pounding furiously. Sarah, who was shaking uncontrollably, eyed him wildly, screaming, “What do we do!”
Bo ran to the bedroom window and flung it open, and the sounds of madness and mayhem that were unfolding on the streets flooded the bedroom. Bo took a step back to see figures running haphazardly in the darkness and screaming.
“The roof! Climb onto the roof!” he yelled at her while he rushed to his side of the bed to grab the box of open ammunition. Bullets spilled onto the floor and he quickly struggled to pick them up. He finished, grabbed her arm, and pulled her towards the window.
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