Dead Air (Book One of The Dead Series)

by Schafer, Jon

  As he accelerated toward Gulf Boulevard, Steve noticed that lights were now starting to come on in the apartments to his left and the houses across the street on his right.

  Good, he thought as he saw a few people come out on their front steps. Get your asses up. There's a shit storm coming and we're right in its path.

  Slowing for the stop sign at the end of the street, he saw the headlights of three cars coming at him from the left. Cursing, he came to a complete stop.

  "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he urged them while tapping nervously on the steering wheel. "Move your fucking asses."

  The approaching vehicles needed no prompting as the first two blew by him at seventy miles an hour, the passenger in the second car leaning out to scream something unintelligible in Steve's direction. Ignoring this, he turned his head to see where the third vehicle was.

  His eyes widened and he felt his body shrink down in his seat at what he saw.

  Hot on the trail of the fleeing cars was a National Guard Humvee, complete with a helmeted solider standing in the top hatch with his hands wrapped around the grips of the heavy machine gun mounted on the roof. When the vehicle was directly in front of Steve's Jeep, he saw the barrel spit fire as the weapon was triggered.

  Cringing at the hammering of the .50 caliber, Steve wished for invisibility as he thought, Holy shit, I hope that's not how they're treating curfew violators or I'm screwed.

  To his relief, the men in the Humvee ignored him as they roared by in pursuit of the two fleeing cars.

  Steve scanned the road in both directions again as the dwindling sound of the machine gun punctuated the steady wail of the warning siren. The boulevard was deserted, so spinning his tires he took a left and headed south.

  Ginny rented an apartment in the Bellaire Bluffs area, across the Intracostal Waterway from the barrier islands where Steve lived. Normally a thirty minute drive from door to door. Tonight, with the curfew in effect and the fact that it was three AM, he estimated he could make it in fifteen. With no traffic around, he pushed the Jeep to over sixty miles per hour.

  As he flew by the houses lining both sides of the street, he could see people clustered in groups on their front lawns, looking around in fear and anticipation as to what was coming. Ahead at a stoplight, he noticed a large crowd had gathered.

  Thinking that even though he was in a rush to collect Ginny and head for the safety of the bank building, he was still a member of the human race and therefore obligated to warn his fellow man, so he decided to stop. He slowed the Jeep as he came to the three-way intersection and leaned over to crank down the passenger window. As he rolled to a halt, he noticed two of the people gathered in the group carried rifles and one toted a shotgun. Although no overt threat was made, he still picked up his pistol from where he had set it barrel down in the drink holder of the Jeep's center column.

  Keeping the weapon out of sight below the edge of the windowsill but still pointed in the direction of the group, he called out, "They're coming up from the sewers and storm drains. I just heard it from a cop friend of mine. All hell's breaking loose."

  This was met by a confused babble of statements from the crowd along the lines of, "Just like San Francisco," and "Kill those undead motherfuckers," while some in the group started firing questions at Steve that he couldn't begin to answer. One woman repeatedly asked him where her husband was and wouldn't believe him when he said he didn't even know the guy. Shaking his head back and forth, Steve kept repeating, "I don't know," to the queries being shot at him from a dozen worried people. Finally, in frustration, he said, "I've gotta go get my girlfriend."

  At this, one of the men carrying a rifle asked, "Across the bridge?''

  "Bellaire Bluffs," Steve answered.

  "National Guard’s got it blocked off," he replied while shaking his head. "Some young'uns in a couple of them souped up little rice burners with the fart sounding mufflers tried to run by them a little bit ago, and all hell broke loose. They's shooting back and forth at each other and then them soldier boys chased them down the road.”

  Putting the Jeep in gear, Steve said, "I've got to try," hoping his KLAM credentials would get him through any roadblock. At least he knew why the Humvee had been firing on the two cars earlier. He knew he wasn't trying to run the blockade like they did, but he also knew that if it came down to it he had no qualms about shooting his way through.

  "Something you also might want to think about," Rifleman said with a tone of caution. "If them dead things is comin' up through the sewers and such, then there's gonna be a lot more of them up on the bluffs where the pipes are dry. Down here on the beach the water table's too high."

  This set off a discussion in the group about whether the dead needed to breathe and if they could move through the flooded drains anyway. Steve only half listened, his thoughts on Ginny as he took his foot off the brake.

  Seeing Steve start to pull away, Rifleman said amicably, "Well, if you get turned around, stop back on by. We got a keg of beer we just tapped."

  Steve laughed and said, "Thanks. I'll do that," as he stepped on the gas.

  Going slower now as he tried to decide on what story to give the soldiers at the road block, Steve finally settled on a lie that had enough truth in it to be believable. He would say that he had been woken up by a phone call and had been ordered to go to the radio station so that he could update the latest list of evacuation areas. He would try to stay hazy about who called. If pressed, he would use Captain Sobloski’s name and hope they didn’t check. He would explain that he had to pick up another employee who worked as a technician and that she was needed to keep the station operational. Satisfied with his story, he was about to accelerate back up to cruising speed when he saw two figures dart into the Boulevard a block ahead. They crossed the roadway quickly at an angle and headed toward him at a dead run.

  "Now what the hell's going on?" He wondered aloud. Then decided they must have heard about the kegger at Rifleman's place and didn't want to be late. At this he almost laughed out loud. Knowing the kind of people who lived on the beach, he might be right.

  The nervous humor bubbling up in him died quickly as he took in the horrified look on the faces of the two people as he got closer. Trying to decide if he should stop and see what was going on, he was tempted to just ignore it as someone else's problem. He had to get Ginny and get to the station. If he kept stopping, he'd never make it.

  What he saw next made his decision for him.

  From the front yard of where the two people had run into the road came the first real dead person Steve had seen. Running in a slightly loping fashion that he remembered from watching film clips of the dead on the Internet, he stared with fascination as the thing moved into the street, chasing after the people trying to escape it.

  The first thought that flashed through Steve's mind was to run the thing down. Even as he turned the steering wheel to put the Jeep on a collision course, his rational mind warned him that he could total his vehicle by hitting someone head on. Images of wrecked cars that had struck pedestrians came to him, causing his foot to slide over to the brake.

  Steve stopped just past the two people fleeing the abomination and was out of the Jeep with his pistol leveled in a two handed grip before he was even aware he had opened the door.

  The thing in front of him slowed to a stumbling walk as it spotted him, causing Steve to suddenly doubt himself. A zombie would keep coming at a run wouldn’t it? What if this was some guy chasing looters?

  The figure was still a little distance away, and now that he thought about it, the man could be limping, not staggering like the undead. Maybe the two runners had beaten and robbed him. For a second, he wavered.

  The thing let loose a high keening shriek then suddenly charged straight at him, erasing all doubts from Steve's mind.

  Tightening his grip on the Glock, he found his sight picture and squeezed the last half-ounce of pressure on the trigger.

  The pistol barked, the .45 caliber bullet causin
g a chunk of bone, hair and dark matter to explode off the side of the dead thing’s skull, the force of the impact spinning its body ninety degrees and dropping it onto all fours. With hardly a pause, it let out another shriek that chilled Steve’s blood and tried to lever itself into a standing position.

  Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger again, this time putting the large slug of lead through the bridge of its nose.

  Keeping the pistol trained on the mush that had been the things head in case it moved again, Steve backed away. After watching it for a second, he was finally satisfied that it was – what? His mind asked. Dead? Again?

  Steve let the Glock drop to his side as he turned and looked back the way he had come. No sign of the two people who had been running away. They probably wouldn't stop until they hit Georgia. Ungrateful bastards. The least they could have done was say thanks.

  "You're welcome," he yelled in the direction they had gone before getting back in the Jeep and putting it in gear. Steering around the crumpled form in the street, he found his thoughts were clear. He felt no sorrow at pulling the trigger, no remorse. Only the driving need to get to Ginny before something like that did.

  Suddenly remembering the radio station, he leaned over and turned on his stereo, catching Jonny G in mid sentence. The intern spoke gravely as he said "- are coming back to life and eating the living. Anyone bitten by one of the dead is infected and could turn into one of them at any time. Those infected show no symptoms, but a seizure usually precedes death and re-animation. You can't hesitate. You have to destroy the brain. If you don’t have a firearm, you can use a baseball bat or even a large rock."

  Jonny paused and then said, "Additionally, an electric charge seems to put them down. A taser works just fine if you have one, but if not, you can always revert to the ever-popular blunt object. I know some of these people are your loved ones, but you have to protect yourself. And if you've seen any of the video clips on the web, you don't want someone you care about to end up like that. Coming up in just a few minutes I'll have a complete updated list of safe areas and evacuation points for you, but while I get that together, I've got Warren Zevon singing about lawyers, guns and money."

  Out of habit, Steve spun the tuner to check what the other stations in the area were broadcasting. As he played with the dial, he saw that he was approaching the turn off to the bridge. He lowered the volume on the radio as he prepared to face the National Guard.

  Moving slowly as he drove on to the ramp so as not to alarm the soldiers posted at the roadblock, he waited to be challenged. As he reached the crown of the bridge, he was surprised to see that no one, military nor civilian, was around. The road was littered with empty shell casings that crunched under the Jeep’s tires. This was the only evidence that the National Guard had been there.

  They're chasing looters or putting down the dead, Steve guessed. So much the better for me.

  Stopping just past the crown of the bridge, he took a moment to survey the rise of land ahead of him. He could see a few fires giving off thick black smoke that stood out in stark relief from the lights of the city beyond. He counted eight buildings in flames before he realized the fire department was nowhere to be seen.

  Silhouetted against the flames, he could see figures staggering about but no fire fighters. A blue flashing light caught his eye and to his right on a street near the water he finally saw a fire truck.

  After watching the area for a full minute and seeing no one around, he surmised it had been abandoned. Its occupants now dead or undead.

  Taking his foot off the brake, he let gravity slowly pull him down the slight rise as he tried calling Ginny’s number again. His vehicle started losing its forward momentum on a flat stretch at the bottom as he continued to push redial, each time being sent to voicemail. The Jeep was slowly rolling forward now, only being pulled along by its idling engine as he grew angrier with each unanswered call. Where the fuck was she?

  The street he was on cut through a small nature preserve before ascending the bluff that gave the area its name, so Steve's first hint of danger was numerous crashing noises coming from the foliage that lined the side of the thoroughfare.

  A dozen figures materialized on his right and slightly ahead, so he swerved into the oncoming lane and floored the accelerator. One zombie crashed off the end of his bumper with a thumping noise as Steve fought to keep control of the Jeep.

  Slowing only when he was safely away, he looked into his rearview mirror and saw a dozen dark figures coming up the road after him.

  "This place is thick with those things," he said out loud. Looking at the clear stretch of road in front of him, he called out, "Catch this, mother fuckers," as he pressed down on the gas and shot forward.

  Steve picked up the Glock and held it in his lap as he steered one handed and tried to formulate a plan of action now that he knew the dead were roaming the area in high numbers. He couldn't find anything in his life's experience to relate this to, so as he reached the top of the bluff, he decided he'd make it up as he went along.

  One thing's for sure, he told himself as he looked down at the Glock, if any of those things come at me, it's history.

  He prepared to turn left onto the side street where Ginny lived but stopped as an ambulance came roaring up behind him. There was no traffic, so he found it odd that, instead of passing to the right, the emergency vehicle swerved into the oncoming lane.

  The ambulance slowed as it came up even with the Jeep and Steve caught a glimpse of the driver struggling with someone inside. A sudden jet of blood obscured the passenger window, blocking the view. The ambulance leapt forward in a burst of speed and continued on for a block before running head-on into an oak tree at the side of the road. As Steve watched in shock, the vehicle burst into flames that quickly spread back from the cab.

  No one got out.

  Focusing on his own mission, he made his turn only to find himself almost instantly lost. Thick smoke from the numerous fires burning in the area flowed in waves across the street. Feeling exposed because he had to creep slowly along due to the limited visibility, he held the Glock across his chest, ready for instant use. His eyes watering from the smoke, he suddenly stopped. Everything looked so different in this hazy environment that he had almost passed the turn into the parking lot of Ginny's apartment building. Cranking the wheel hard to the right, he pulled in.

  With relief he spotted Ginny's car and pulled in behind it. Leaving the engine of the Jeep running, he stepped out and was instantly on guard as he looked at the next obstacle facing him.

  The apartment building before him was two stories with three units each on the top and bottom floors that ran in a straight line perpendicular to the parking lot. Ginny's unit was the last one on the first floor, all the way in back. A narrow sidewalk ran along the building's front with the unit’s doors leading directly onto it. Just beyond the end of the building, the walkway dead-ended at a fountain with two benches flanking it.

  Steve remembered all this from his countless visits here. On the trip over he’d imagined himself rushing in, collecting Ginny and then leaving as fast as his feet would carry him. What he had forgotten to include in his master plan was the hedge.

  A wildly overgrown series of individually planted bushes had grown together and formed an almost impenetrable barrier that ran parallel to the sidewalk. On an average day, it formed an attractive border but on this night, it looked like a death trap.

  The only light in the area came from three fixtures set underneath the walkway of the second floor that ran directly above the sidewalk of the first. These produced a weak glow that did little to push back the deep shadows on the hedge. Although each apartment also had an exterior light, no one had turned theirs on.

  Knowing that anything could be hiding in that hedge waiting to jump out and attack but also knowing that he couldn't stop now, Steve advanced on the gauntlet while keeping his pistol held at the ready. He reached the sidewalk and its ominous border and turned his back so it
was against the building then started sidestepping down its length, his eyes darting back and forth across the hedge only feet away.

  He made it past the door of the first apartment when he heard the sound of leaves rustling a little further along the hedge. Spinning in the direction of the sound, he crouched with the pistol held in front of him in a two handed grip. After a full minute in which the noise wasn't repeated, he let his body relax slightly. After another minute he continued his sideways trek, keeping a close eye on the area where he thought the disturbance had come from.

  As he eased along, twice he found himself holding his breath and had to stop and gulp air before continuing. Both times he became aware of the warning siren’s wail and once heard a string of gunshots in the distance. Between these stops, he was so focused on being prepared for something jumping out of the bushes at him, that he blocked out everything else around.

  His concentration was so great that by the time he passed the door of the second apartment, he found he had to stop again. He was starting to imagine noises and see shapes lurking in the shadowy shrubs in front of him. Taking one hand at a time from his death grip on the pistol, he wiped them clean of the sweat that had built up. Blinking rapidly, he shook his head to clear it before moving on again. More confident now that he was near his goal, he quickly side-stepped until his back was pressed against the door to Ginny's apartment.

  With only the short section of hedge in front of him being of immediate concern now, Steve's sense of hearing came back in a rush. In the distance he heard what he thought were screams and a loud banging noise that sounded like someone hitting a metal garbage can lid with a jack handle. Behind this he heard the air raid siren still sending out its droning call to duck, cover and kiss your ass goodbye.