by Schafer, Jon
With emergency measures in place, reported cases of infection dwindled. When the Mayor was informed earlier in the day that there had been no new cases of the HWNW admitted to any of the local hospitals or quarantine centers in the previous twenty-four hours, he called a press conference to let his constituents know the good news.
Hizzoner finished the broadcast by reminding everyone that, while San Francisco had averted disaster, the crisis in the rest of California was far from over. While he would be relaxing his emergency regulations, those imposed by the State were still in effect.
This announcement caused both joy and dissention in the general populace of the area. Relieved and grateful that they were safe, the people of San Francisco wanted to get on with their lives. With the State mandated martial law and curfew in effect though, how could they? Why should they have to obey rules set up by someone in the Capitol, hundreds of miles away, who had no idea what the situation was locally?
After the Mayor’s telecast, sit-ins and protest speeches cropped up sporadically across the city and a large candlelight protest was planned for that evening. Thousands were expected to attend.
Sergeant Canton Phillips was present at the assembly point for the demonstration, along with forty-nine other officers all dressed in riot gear and ready for anything. Canton noticed that when it was time for the march to begin, its organizers appeared almost embarrassed that the Police outnumbered the protestors by an easy dozen bodies. It seemed that many who vowed to attend were too frightened of the HWNW virus, and those infected by it, to show up. This changed as the group picked up people along the way but not by much.
Canton followed along behind the procession, and when they were only a few blocks from the City Hall, heard the order over his radio that thirty of the officers on crowd control duty were to be sent back to their regular duties. The protest was so ill attended that it wasn't worth wasting this much manpower on it.
Hoping he would be one of those reassigned, Canton was disappointed when his name wasn't called. Crowd control was one of the worst duties a cop could draw, as often times the Police were the only visible target for the protesters’ hatred. Besides the hot, heavy extra equipment they had to wear and carry, they were also spit on and cursed at by the same people who screamed for protection when they were threatened. These were also the first people who voted down any raises or increases in the police department budget.
Canton consoled himself that at least this group was smaller than most, fairly well behaved, and that they didn't have to call in traffic control. With the curfew still in effect, there was nothing but city vehicles on the streets and very few of those.
Reaching their stopping point in front of City Hall, the marchers spread out and started chanting, "We are the people and we are free, drop the curfew and let us be."
Leaning against a mailbox, Sergeant Canton let his eyes wander over the crowd. He didn't expect trouble from this group but he had seen how fast a person could turn into one of those flesh eaters and vowed to be ready if that happened.
Four days earlier he had been coming out of an apartment building after answering a call that it was infested with zombies, turned out it was a group of heroin addicts on a roll, when a woman pushing a baby in a stroller passed him on the sidewalk. Suddenly, she had a seizure and dropped to the ground. As he rushed over to give assistance, the woman got up, snatched the baby from its seat and placed the child's hand in her mouth before biting it off and chewing.
Canton would never forget the sound of the kid's screams, or the wet popping noise its wrist made when the woman’s teeth severed it. Without hesitation he drew his weapon and put a bullet in the dead things head. After a quick look at the baby lying on the ground next to her, Canton had shot it too.
If anyone in this crowd even starts to shiver from the cold, I'm putting two in their head, Canton vowed. If I find out later that they had epilepsy or some other shit, oh well. Sorry.
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to find its source. Zeroing in on the center of the street, Canton saw a manhole cover slowly slide along the pavement as it was removed from its hole. Once the shaft was cleared, he saw a figure emerge. City sewer workers were essential personnel and on duty so he thought little of it. This was until he saw a second and third figure climb out of the hole. Then another and another struggled to emerge. Further down the street, a storm sewer grate was pushed up and over from the shaft it covered to land with a bang. More shadows emerged from its gaping maw.
The sound of Canton’s voice calling into his radio for backup was lost in the noise of the chanting protesters. Drawing his pistol, he drew a bead on the head of the first creature shuffling toward him and pulled the trigger.
The living dead had no rational thought after they were created. They had no speech that was recognized by others of their kind so they had no way to communicate ideas. Nothing like ESP caused them to behave as they did and no group conscious drove them. They moved on instinct alone.
A herd mentality had evolved in the dead, and while it had not developed enough to allow them to hunt in packs, they knew their existence was threatened and that there was strength in numbers. To follow their overpowering urge to eat, they must first survive.
Days ago, when the dead found that they were no longer the hunters but the hunted, they started to take to the sewers and drainage system of San Francisco. While feeding on rodents, the homeless and the occasional unlucky city worker who strayed across their path, they waited for some sign that it was safe to emerge. Their numbers slowly increased as the freshly turned dead were drawn to the pack.
It was not an audible signal that caused the living dead to hide, nor was there any reason for them to be drawn to and congregate in the area in which the protest march ended. It was a nameless undercurrent that drew them. If a comparison needed to be made, the closest someone might come would be the draw of an animal that was caught in a drought and its urge to travel to a distant watering hole to survive. It was part sense of smell, part instinct and part a nameless force which dictates the behavior of lower species.
With the appearance of an abundance of food above them, thousands of the dead worked their way to the surface through the tunnels and shafts that crossed under the city. Here they clustered before emerging as one. Although they moved in a group, these were selfish beings, only intent on satisfying their own hunger. Their senses told them that even while they outnumbered those above them, and could quickly overpower their food, it would be each one for itself upon emerging from the underworld.
Sergeant Canton Phillips put down five of the dead before he was overwhelmed and torn open. His dying eyes starred in disbelief at the thing crouched over him, yanking out his intestines and shoving them in its mouth. He faded into the oblivion of death, the cries of others around him echoing in his ears.
Indian Rocks Beach, Florida:
From a block away, it saw the food get out of what it no longer recognized as a Jeep. Staggering down the street in that direction, it found it was not fast enough and the food was gone when it got there.
Stopping, it took in the odors and scents of the night air before heading off in search of other food. A faint, steady, thumping noise coming from the end of the street drew its attention and it spun around to see two more food sources coming toward it at a fast pace. It stood still when it saw that its prey was coming directly at it and readied itself to lunge at them as they passed by.
When the food came into range, it sprang toward the nearest one, its hands grasping only empty air as the food sidestepped and sped up to avoid its reaching hands. It turned and followed in the food's wake as it struggled to catch up.
The woman jogger said to her companion, "Damn drunks, it's getting so it's not even safe to go out at night."
Her friend replied, "Damn pervert is what he is. I'll call the police and report him as soon as we get home. They need to keep his kind off the beach."
Unable to keep up
with the joggers, it staggered down the street. The urge to chew and swallow meat was so overpowering in its intensity that it involuntarily salivated as it looked for something to stuff in its mouth.
Off to its left a car door slammed, attracting its attention momentarily. Not seeing any food, it was nonetheless drawn in the direction of the sound. Cutting across a lawn it wandered between two houses.
A salty, tangy smell came to it, and even though the scent was different from the meaty aroma that its normal food gave off, it let itself be drawn to it. An echo from the recesses of its brain told it that food could be found in this area. Not its normal fare of human flesh but something that it could eat to relieve the hunger pangs that wracked its body. Although it craved the living tissue of its prey, at this point it would eat any being that came across its path.
It stepped onto the projection that stretched out before it and made its way to the end. A light hanging out over the water glowed brightly, beckoning it. Swaying slightly, it got down on its hands and knees as it searched for the food it knew should be close by.
Finally seeing its prey close at hand, it reached out to snatch it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Clearwater, Florida:
Steve Wendell felt like he had barely fallen asleep when his cell phone woke him. He looked at his bedside alarm and saw that it was seven in the morning, then groaned and picked up the annoying device. He had stayed late at the station the night before to sort through the stories coming in from their news service. Now that the story was being fully reported on, it was as if a dam had burst, flooding the wires with tales of savagery and horror. It was finally reported that people infected by the HWNW virus were not only biting their victims but also eating them. An additional item quoted a doctor from the CDC in Atlanta as saying, "We believe that the disease effectively kills the host and re-animates it."
It was as close as anyone would come to the full story of people coming back from the dead, but to Steve it was a start. He was painfully aware of how the media wouldn't throw all the details out in one lump for the public to digest, they only fed them bits and pieces to keep them coming back. If they didn't fully report a story, it gave them a chance to revisit it the next day in case the news was slow or cram it in between the latest terrorist attack and hot Hollywood sex scandal if it wasn't.
In this case though, he didn’t believe anyone in the media would have a lack of anything to report on for a long time.
The stories also caused a glut of phone calls to KLAM. Some were from people asking if the reports were an early Halloween prank, since the holiday was only two days away, and some calling requests for their favorite heavy metal death songs, in honor of the crisis.
The radio personality working that night, Slackin' Sammy, wanted to pander to his audience, so with Steve's permission, he cancelled the play list and ran a live call in request show that abounded with music from Ozzy, Blue Oyster Cult, M.O.D, and a host of others who sang about death and destruction.
With Meat doing the occasional break-ins from his live remote at Club Dead End, it couldn't have worked out better. The club sold "Zombies" for half price at the bar and turned it into a 'Dead Can Dance Night'.
Steve could see the generation gap yawning wide.
On one hand you had the under thirties, people who grew up with the Internet as their primary source of information. They had been seeing stories about the walking dead on the web for days and believed them. Case in point, Jax reference to a "Zombie" party as early as Thursday night. Then you had the over thirties, those who still believed that if it wasn't shown on the six o'clock news, then it never happened. Case in point, KLAM started broadcasting stories about crazed, infected people eating human flesh at around three in the afternoon. The number of people calling in had gone up after that, but at seven-thirty when the local and world news ended, the phone lines were jammed.
Steve fumbled the cell phone open and said, "KLAM Music Radio. We play all the greatest hits."
An unsure voice asked, "Steve?"
Recognizing Heather's voice, he sat up quickly and left the bedroom so he wouldn't wake Ginny. With the door shut behind him, he said, "Yeah, its Steve, sorry about that Heather. Just playing around."
"No big thing," she answered with a short laugh. "Just threw me for a second. I almost made a request."
"Your wish is my command. What would you like to hear?''
"How about, I can't wait till this shit is over, but that's not gonna happen anytime soon."
"Sorry," he shot back, "we don't play country. How about ‘Freebird’?"
Heather laughed again. "Over played and over requested."
There was a moment of awkward silence as they both realized that this was the first time they had spoken to each other outside the bowling alley. Their friendly relationship now seemed to step up a notch, but to what, Steve wasn't sure. He wanted to know why she had called but couldn't find a neutral way to ask.
Act cool and say, "Whazzz up?"
Put on his Barry White voice and say, "I know why you called, baby."
Take on a professional tone and ask, "What can I help you with?"
None of these seemed right.
Heather saved him by asking, "Did you make it to the store the other night?"
This gave Steve something to say, so he filled her in as he made coffee. She was pleased that he had been able to stock up on supplies and told him how he was lucky to get them when he did because soon there would be rationing. She also told him that there had been so many disturbances at grocery stores, that the bigger chains now had a full time Deputy on duty.
They talked about the Governor's announcement to hold off declaring martial law and how it would affect them. Heather was already working double shifts and saw no let up in sight. Steve spoke of having to go into the station today, his day off, and that he was on call 24/7 until the crisis was over.
"So you know more of what's really going on," Steve finally said. "Is it getting any better?"
Heather was silent for a moment before replying, "They’ve found a few cases in Tampa and across the Sunshine Skyway Bridge in Bradenton. We've also had a few unsubstantiated reports in St. Pete and Clearwater. One of the reasons I called was because we had a report from down your way on Indian Rocks Beach. Two women out jogging had a man try to snatch at them as they passed by. Also had a report of possibly the same man going off the end of a dock." Switching to cop speak she continued, "The complainant stated that he witnessed an unsub standing at the end of his dock looking down into the water. Unsub then got down on his hands and knees and started pawing at the water and fell in. By the time complainant reached the end of the dock, unsub was gone without a trace."
Going back to normal speech, she added, "The guy had one of those lights at the end of his dock that shines down to attract fish. We think some drunk was trying to grab at a snook or something and fell in and drowned. Marine patrol is going to check the area later today. You said you lived down that way, so when I finished my shift I thought I'd call and make sure you're okay."
Not calling professionally to see if I saw something, Steve thought. Calling personally to see if I’m all right. An interesting development.
"I'm doing fine," he assured her. "I got in late last night but didn't see anything strange. Unless you count the fact that I didn't see another car on the road the whole way from work except for cop cars."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. All the law abiding citizens are staying in so that makes it easier to catch the drunks. Even though retail liquor sales are suspended, the bars and bottle clubs are open." She gave a brief laugh. "At closing time, all I need to do is sit by Seminole Boulevard with a badge and a cast net and I can get my limit in no time."
The conversation was winding down and Steve knew he could have gotten away with a simple goodbye, so he was surprised when he said, "If things get bad, try to get to the radio station. That's where I've got my supplies stashed."
Heather seemed as surprise
d by the offer as Steve had been giving it so it took her a few seconds to reply. Hesitantly, she said, "I might just take you up on that. If things keep going the way they've been going around the country, I might have to take you up on it."
Steve explained his plan as she listened carefully. When he was done she made a few suggestions but then the awkward silence returned. Heather ended it by saying, "I’ve got to get some sleep before I go back out on patrol. I'm glad you're okay."
"Be careful at work." Steve said.
They said their goodbyes and Steve hit ‘End’ on the phone’s keypad.
What the fuck are you doing? He asked himself. You've got Ginny sleeping in your bed and you're talking on the phone like some junior high school kid getting his first call from a girl he knows at school.
Shaking his head in disgust, he flipped on the news and settled in to watch but couldn't get his mind off Heather and Ginny. They were so different in so many ways that he found it hard to believe he was attracted to both of them. His mind not registering the television, he compared the two women.
Ginny's complexion was dark, with long, brown hair and hazel eyes, while Heather was light skinned with short reddish blonde hair and gray eyes.
Ginny's outgoing, while Heather seems slightly reserved. Heather calling up to chat seemed quite out of character for her, which made it all the more obvious that she's interested in me, while Ginny will call me on my cell phone eight and nine times a day just to ask what I'm up to even though she's in her own office four doors away.
Heather's responsible. She's a cop and works a second job to pay her student loans, while Ginny's irresponsible and can never seem to pay her bills even though she makes good money. Sex with Ginny is fantastic. He wondered what sex with Heather would be like. Then he wondered what sex with both of them at the same time would be like.
