by DeLeon, Jon
If I want to survive this, I can’t let my guard down. I got lucky there. I have to keep running.
Kurt was running at a dead sprint when he entered the historic area of town. The streets were full of people. There was no way to tell who was a zombie and who wasn’t. Everyone was screaming, crying and looking crazy. Kurt slinked into a back alley and paused, listening for a second. The alley had two ways for him to turn. Down the left were the sounds of the city, of terror. Down the right were sounds of shouting. It was Russian! It was sentences! People were still alive!
Kurt took off at a fast pace down the right alley. He stopped as he came to the end. It opened to one of the two major roads in town. On the other side was the local car dealership. Kurt could see kids searching through a pile of keys. He knew exactly what these boys were after. This dealership had made noise a month earlier when it had gotten a delivery of an Audi R8 Spyder GT sports car. It was a beautiful machine. It was matte black with tinted windows and purred like an angry tiger.
Each of the boys was searching for the set of keys that belonged to that sexy machine. Kurt began to run across the lot of parked cars. He didn’t care about the sports car; he just wanted a vehicle, period. It was then that all hell broke loose. The trigger was as simple as the accidental press of a button.
One of the boys had found the keys, and while racing for the car, his thumb had rested too hard on the handheld fob’s panic function. The R8 began honking. Just like a set of stacked dominoes, it set off a chain reaction. It set off a tidal wave of alarms.
Kurt was far enough from the office, which had been placed in the center of the dealership, to stop and realize what had happened. He made a beeline for the woods at a forty-five-degree angle to his left. He reached the trees just as the first of the zombies entered the lot. From every side of the car dealership’s semicircular lot poured in a mass horde of undead.
Kurt paused, waiting to hear feet coming from the surrounding forest. There was nothing; apparently he had gotten lucky one more time. The boys in the shop had not been so fortunate. They were swarmed in a matter of seconds. As screams echoed, Kurt glanced one last time at the town he had hated and said goodbye. In this moment, he felt sad to be leaving. Something about this place had become home. It may have sucked, but no town and no people deserved this fate. Kurt started a slow and monotonous trek through the Russian forest.
Now where do I go?
Kurt had been walking through the dense Russian pines for a few hours now. He paused by a stream and took a drink from his water bottle. He took the opportunity to have a silent conversation with himself.
What would Joe do? How would he get out of this?
He would fight.
I can’t do that. What else?
He would follow the stream downhill, get to the coast and get out of Russia.
Then where? This is worldwide.
I don’t know. Find Joe.
Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll get to the coast, get home, somehow, and find Joe.
Kurt finished his conversation with himself and set off following the stream he had crouched by. He had a reason to carry on. Kurt had a mission. Kurt had a goal. He would find his brother.
La Vida Dulce: End of Outbreak Day
Joe was staring at the strangest view he had ever seen. It was a contrast of calm and chaos. He was standing in heaven and looking out upon hell. Joe had spent a significant amount of his life on boats, growing up in South Florida, but never in his life had he stood on the fly deck of a beauty like this. Joe was sitting at the captain’s seat on the top level of a Marquis 630. The Marquis 630 was a luxury sport yacht with three bedrooms, fine finishes and two massively powerful engines. This particular yacht was named La Vida Dulce. “The sweet life” seemed a fitting name for a boat of this caliber. Joe, however, wasn’t admiring the stainless steel appliances or the soft leather couches; no, he was looking out at downtown Miami and Miami Beach.
Joe had taken the boat out into deeper water off of South Beach. He scanned the horizon from Ocean Street to Government Cut to Fisher Island. It was nearly all black. The occasional fire or explosion would light the night up, but for the most part, what was once a scene of neon and lit palm trees was now an eerie, oily, smoky sheen. Only the full moon’s light was illuminating the world in front of him, that and the bow lights from other boats floating in the ocean. Most of the boats were heading south. The military had established an ocean base in the Keys. All surviving citizens were instructed to head that way.
Joe heard a shuffling of feet coming behind him. Two sets of footfalls climbed the stairs from the main deck up to the fly deck of the Marquis. One set pounded each stair, labored up the climb. They belonged to Aaron, the father of the young children Joe had saved in their minivan earlier that day.
The second set of feet belonged to a young, thin woman in her early twenties. She glided up each step, barely making a noise. The two sat down on the bench seat behind Joe.
He turned just as Aaron plopped down with a gasp on the soft cushion. The lithe woman sat down with her hands on her knees, taking as little space on the seat as possible.
Joe turned so his chair was facing the two of them. He looked at the young woman. Her face showed her current mental state. She stared off into the distance at nothing in particular, trying to wrap her head around all that had happened. She was a very attractive young woman. She was blonde haired with green eyes and stood around 5’2”. She clearly did some sort of exercise routine, most likely yoga. A nice pantsuit and white silky blouse gave her appearance the right amount of class and fashion. Joe looked at her eyes. They were red from crying.
Aaron broke the silence the three of them were sitting in.
“What a day, huh?”
“Yeah.” Joe couldn’t think of anything else to say.
The young woman simply nodded her head, never changing her facial expression.
“Are the kids asleep?” Joe asked Aaron.
“Yeah, took a little while, but they were pretty drained.”
“I think we all are.” Joe turned and faced the young woman. “Are you all right?”
She blinked and shook her head a little. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you.”
“What’s your name?” In the rush of their escape, he hadn’t ever asked.
“Kira.”
“Nice to meet you, Kira. I’m Joe, and this is Aaron.”
Kira nodded politely.
“Aaron, I never asked, what are your kids’ names?” Joe asked.
“Jack, Christine and Elizabeth. Elizabeth is the one with the shorter hair. She’s named after her mother.” Aaron started to cry. “I hope she’s okay.”
“Me too.” Joe thought about the people he cared for most in his life. His mother and father had just taken a trip to Alaska the day before, and his brother, Kurt, was studying abroad in Russia. “Let’s just hope this, whatever you want to call it, is only happening here. Hopefully the rest of the world is safe.”
Kira sat in silence.
“Guys, we have to go back,” Aaron said with concern in his voice. “Christine has asthma. It’s bad. All of this craziness is triggering it. Jack and Elizabeth have been trying to keep her calm, but without an inhaler soon, she’s going to be in trouble. We were on the way to the pharmacy to pick one up when we were attacked in the van. Christine left her last one at home by accident.” Aaron had spoken while staring at the floor. He wasn’t looking forward to returning to South Beach.
Joe had already been thinking about going back. He needed his satellite phone. It was back at his apartment. He had bought it a few years back while overseas. It was the direct line that he could be reached at anywhere, anytime. He even had a solar charging kit, so he was always in communication. The only people with its number were his commanding officer and his family. Joe needed to know if they were safe. He worried most about his brother, Kurt, trapped now in a foreign country with no one to protect him.
“We’re going to need gas
too.” Kira spoke in a ghostly tone. “They keep the boats only slightly fueled so they can’t get far if someone steals them.”
“Are the pumps still going to run? Don’t you need to prepay and have someone authorize the purchase?” Joe asked.
“I know the code for the pump,” Kira responded. She had joined Aaron in staring at the floor.
“So what’s the plan?” Aaron asked.
“Where was the prescription being filled?” Joe asked Aaron.
“CVS on Alton,” he answered.
“Okay.” Joe thought for a minute. “We go to the marina first and get gas. Without it, we have no chance. If there aren’t . . . zombies . . . walking around, then we’ll move inland to the CVS, then north to my apartment, returning to the boat immediately after.”
“What about the kids?” Aaron asked. “I don’t want to take them back into the city.”
“They’ll stay with the boat,” Joe answered.
“Alone?” Aaron asked.
“Kira will stay with them and the boat.”
“What? Why me?” Kira shot back. She didn’t like the idea of being left behind.
“Well Aaron will know the medicine for Christine, and I know my apartment. Plus you know this boat better than us, and if something is happening, I’d rather have you driving it,” Joe said.
Kira didn’t like it, but it made sense. “Fine.”
“I don’t like my kids at risk sitting at the dock,” Aaron said.
Joe spoke again. “Okay, so Kira will take the boat and float offshore. There are kayaks docked out back of my apartment building. We’ll row back out to her. Your kids will stay safe, as will the boat, and we can be off the island faster rather than backtracking.”
Before any more discussion of the plan, small shouts reached the upper deck from below. “Daddy!”
Aaron stood up on weary legs. “Excuse me.” He shuffled down the stairs and disappeared into the yacht’s main cabin below.
Kira and Joe now sat breathing in the night sea air, both adrift in their minds.
Kira’s voice barely caught Joe’s attention. “I’ve been meaning to say thank you. You could have left me back there. Thank you for bringing me along.”
“You’re welcome, but I should be the one thanking you. Without you there, we may not have survived.”
Miami Beach Marina: Outbreak Day
Earlier that day . . .
Immediately as they turned the corner after ditching the ruined van, Joe and Aaron saw a wall of zombies a few hundred yards down the boardwalk. Joe set the boy down. “Follow your father. Aaron, take your kids and run to the end of the dock. I’ll grab some keys and come to you! Go!”
Aaron followed his instructions. Joe’s command came clear and precise. Aaron could feel that trusting this man was the only way he and his kids would survive. He took off on a fast shuffle down the wooden planks, children in tow.
Joe turned and barreled shoulder first into the glass door of the nearest boat sales office. He didn’t bother to test whether it was unlocked; he didn’t have time. Joe’s momentum carried him through the glass, shattering it. He rolled across the ground of the office lobby, getting his feet under him. He scanned around and started running to the back of the office. Hopefully the office had an agent who had left a key to a boat in an unlocked drawer.
Joe found what he was looking for in the back room: the small safe that held the keys to all the boats docked outside. He grabbed the handle and uttered a curse through gritting teeth. It was locked.
What now? Do we cast off and float? Get on a small boat and paddle?
Joe heard a faint whimper. In his haste, he had neglected to scan this room. Beneath the shelves to his right was a young woman, probably the office secretary, curled in a ball of fear. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Do you know the code to the safe?” Joe yelled the question at her, accidentally scaring her more. She was sobbing now.
He didn’t have time to be polite. His only, their only, chance was to fight fire with fire. He raised his voice. “DO YOU KNOW THE CODE TO THE SAFE?”
This time, she started nodding her head, shocked at Joe’s forceful outburst.
“Good! Type it in!”
The young woman pushed six numbers into the keypad, and the safe clicked open.
“Which one belongs to the Marquis at the end of the dock?”
She reached out and picked up a key with a wings pattern on its key chain and handed it to Joe.
“Okay, listen to me. If you want to live, you need to come with me right now.”
She tried to pull away from his grasp, attempting to return to her hiding hole under the shelves. Joe couldn’t leave her there. He grabbed her a little harder and looked into her eyes. With all the calm and strength he could muster, he simply said, “I need you to trust me.”
This time, the young woman took a large gulp and uttered, “Okay,” shock still grasping her voice.
A moment ago, Kira had been hiding under a cabinet. She couldn’t escape her head; she was frozen, unable to think let alone move. Now here she was trusting some stranger, taking much-needed strength from his voice. Kira had never needed anyone else’s strength before, not for a long time.
Iowa: Outbreak Day -6 Years
Moonlight shone through thin clouds, wisps of white holding onto ghastly forms against a stiff, freezing breeze. The wind was making the night even colder. It was the dead of winter, too cold for snow. Everything was ice. The tree branches twinkled as their icy exteriors swayed, reflecting the moonlight in random instances. The grass in the field was hiding under a white blanket of snow, the surface of which had frozen into a crinkly hard series of sharp banks.
Kira sat in the back seat of their family’s car with her sister Karen. Her mother was driving them home after the three had just gone and seen a new movie for girls’ night. They were all dancing and singing along to the radio. The song had just come to an end, and they were all laughing together when the car hit a patch of black ice. In a split second, the car was in a dead spin. Kira’s mother tried to regain control, but there wasn’t time. The car slid off the road, down a large hill and directly at a tree. Kira saw it coming. She instinctively covered her sister with her body.
The car slammed into the tree at nearly fifty miles per hour. Metal bent, plastic crunched and glass shattered. Kira felt a hot burning sensation as glass from the windshield sliced through her back. She didn’t flinch; she just held her sister harder. The car jolted to a stop, slamming Kira and Karen’s head into the door. Kira felt a wash of blood pour down her face. She wiped it from her eyes and looked around. The car sat in silence. The only light that reached her eyes was the reflection of moonlight on glass and the glow of red brake lights that had been covered partially with snow falling from the tree they had slammed into.
Kira looked around in a daze, trying to stay conscious although every part of her wanted to just sleep. She couldn’t; she needed to check on the precious cargo she held clutched to her chest. Her sister was unconscious but still breathing, knocked out cold. A gasp from the front seat drew her attention.
“Haaawww, uhhhhh.” Kira’s mother labored to breathe.
Kira pushed between the two front seats, now almost back seats themselves from the impact. She could only see her mother’s face. The airbag had deflated and turned into a blanket sandwiched to her chest by tree bark. During the impact, the tree had broken and fallen through the windshield, pinning and crushing Kira’s mom.
Kira looked around the car, hoping to find one of their cell phones. They were nowhere to be seen.
“Mom? I can’t find any of our phones,” Kira said, scared.
“Kkkkkkira,” her mom sputtered out through the blood coming from her mouth.
“I’m here, Mom,” Kira said, starting to cry.
“Yayour sissster?”
“She’s okay, Mom. We’re both okay.”
“Ffffight, survivvve.”
“I will,
Mom,” Kira said, eyes burning from tears and clouding with blood.
Kira’s mom moved her one free hand and wiped the blood from Kira’s face, a tear falling down her own. In an instant, her hand fell from the perch it held on Kira’s chin to the top of the downed tree. She died late at night, on the side of a frozen road in the middle of nowhere, on the way home.
Kira cried.
After a few minutes, Kira heard her sister waking and instantly falling into a hyperventilation. Kira moved to the back and grabbed her. Karen couldn’t stop freaking out. She needed help. Kira turned and kicked at the rear driver-side door. After a few good hits, it gave way. She scrabbled outside, pulling her sister out with her. The cold snow shocked her.
Kira pulled and carried her sister however she could up the steep hill their car had come down, the entire time repeating to herself, fight . . . survive.
Once the sisters crested the top of the hill, a car came around the corner and halted after seeing them. In a matter of minutes, the whole night was flashing lights of red and blue. The colors reflected off every frozen surface. Kira just stared at the moon. All she could hear were her own thoughts.
Fight . . . survive.
Miami Beach Marina: Outbreak Day
Kira was now staring at a fluorescent bulb, listening to the same thoughts.
Fight . . . survive.
She had been strong ever since that night, every day she had steeled her sister and worked through high school to help her family. Every night she held her sister and talked her through the loss of their mother, she had been a rock. Then this morning, she had cracked. She had just never expected to watch someone eat somebody else. That image had caused her to be weak.
Then this random man yelled at her and brought her back to where she needed to be. Never again. Now she would be strong again.
