by Tristan Vick
After getting to know him personally, something she instantly regretted, Jennifer expected Zanato was just a playboy having fun hunting cougars. But Jennifer desired something more. She had needs. She craved the raw, aggressive, take charge kind of man—someone who could pin her against the wall, put his hands around her neck, and ravage her until she gushed like Niagara Falls. Sadly, it wasn’t Jesse Zanato. He had turned out to be a lame duck.
Suddenly, the large glass window between the two of them burst and a deadhead flew over the ledge and plummeted down to its gut-splattering demise.
“Holy fuck!” Zanato shouted in fright, almost pissing himself. Pulling it together, he shot Jennifer a nervous glance.
Jennifer couldn’t help but roll her eyes so hard she felt as though they might tear out of her eye sockets as Zanato’s soprano melody of terror-filled shrieking echoed off the glass walls of the surrounding buildings. Looking back, Jennifer bit her lip, and seriously considered leaving the screeching coward behind. But she decided against it. After all, she still might need him later on—at the very least, in order to push him in front of her as a human shield so she could make a clean getaway if the worst came to the worst.
Scrambling to get out of the reach of the other zombies that reached through jagged shards of glass to grab them, they edged away from the flailing pale limbs that sought to tear them asunder.
The situation was rather hopeless. Zanato couldn’t go back the way he came no more than he could get past this new obstacle. But, still, Jennifer felt she owed him one. He did save her life in the stairwell, after all. Reaching out her hand, she said, “You’re going to have to jump.”
Zanato eyed her with a look. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Do you want me to leave you here?” screamed Jennifer.
“Fuck!” Zanato repeated, his voice full of desperation. He looked at her like he wasn’t going to make it. As if he’d thrown in the towel.
“Just hold on,” Jennifer shouted above the moaning. “I’ll bring back help.”
But they both knew it was an empty promise. Those monsters would reach him long before she’d ever get back.
Putting his back against the wall he took a deep breath and then looked fearlessly down as the expanse of streets below. Cars dotted the road like tiny insects. Sliding his front foot forward, he made up his mind. He would jump. Better to take his own life, he thought, than endure the horrific pain of having his body ripped apart and his flesh peeled from his bones while he was still alive. At least this way death would take him quickly.
13
After Dark
With a well-worn metallic scraping noise, the main entrance door of Newcastle Middle School creaked open as Rachael pushed her way inside. Standing in the darkened foyer of the school, she gazed behind her out the windows at the slowly setting sun. The horizon was a bright orange band that melted into a blue evening sky dappled with the white glow of astral spackle.
Rachael’s eyes trailed down the dusky skyline as she looked back at her car. Inside was the sleeping girl she had rescued from a horde of zombies earlier that evening. She had hesitated about leaving her alone in the car alone, but it would be at least an hour before any of those creatures caught up to them. She was pretty certain they were safe, for now.
Pushing onward, Rachael took cautious steps and let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. It didn’t seem anyone was at school, but strangely the doors were unlocked. As she looked around she saw loose papers scattered about, discarded notebooks, and a disarray of school stationery peppered with broken glass. So much stuff littered the corridor floors that it seemed more like a warzone than a school.
“Oh my God. What in the world happened here?” she spoke aloud. It looked as though the school had been vandalized.
Rachael flicked the light switch on the wall, but nothing happened. The power was down. Probably just a blown fuse, but Rachael knew she was running out of time. The only available light was coming from outside, and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set and everything would turn to pitch black. This gave her incentive to hurry.
“Hello?” she called out. But her voice got swallowed up by the deep and dark corridor only to fade back to silence.
Stepping lightly, she started down the hazardous hallway, paying special attention to avoid any broken glass where she stepped. Glancing into empty classrooms as she went, she saw a litany of school desks and chairs all piled up against the doors to each classroom as a rough barricade. It was unnerving, but perhaps not as unnerving as the fact that the clutter was deliberately set on the outside of the rooms, as if they were meant to keep something from getting out instead of getting in.
More unnerving than that were all the smudges of bloody handprints plastered all over the walls and floors, like a child’s hand painting session gone horrifically wrong. It sent a chill down her spine, and she tried not to dwell on it too much.
Turning another corner, Rachael ran smack into a dark figure and screamed. Recoiling in fright, she shuffled back and slammed into some lockers. She gripped her chest in fear, but then relaxed again when she realized it was just the janitor’s jacket hanging on a mop handle that was propped up in a bucket like an unintentional scarecrow.
The crunching of broken glass beneath her feet brought flashbacks of her struggle with Hector in the apartment. Rachael cringed as she contemplated what might have transpired here at the school. If it was anything like her morning of terror, waking up to find her son hungrily devouring their pet cat, his white-frosted eyes locking onto her with a cold, inhuman hunger, and then the struggle that ensued as Rachael fought for her very life—if it was anything half as terrible as that…
Putting it out of her mind, Rachael came to her son’s homeroom classroom. Although the door was blockaded by more chairs, desks, computers, and things that could be packed against it, Rachael decided to climb up and over the shattered window sill instead of trying to clear a path by moving stuff around, which would take longer than she’d like.
Finding Hector’s cubby along the wall at the back of the room, she bent over and looked inside. Rachael almost gasped when she found Hector’s blue backpack. The one they had bought together for his new school year. As Rachael took up the bag and began rummaging through it, she was completely unaware of the dark figure that stood in the hallway and watched her with ravenous eyes.
Pulling things out of her son’s bag, she set aside his books and math homework, which she had helped him with the two nights before, and shuffled around inside the bag until she found what she was looking for. Fetching out her son’s iPhone, the one he explicitly told her he hadn’t forgotten, she hit the on-button and slid her finger across the lock-screen.
The phone lit up brightly and cast a ghostly contrast of light and shadow across her face. She then tapped the photo application and looked at the snapshot Hector had taken of them together earlier that week. It was the last memory of her son she had before he became, well, before he became sick. Rachael wiped a tear from her eye as the thumbed through more pictures.
Suddenly, she had the disturbing feeling that she was being watched. Rachael spun toward the hall to confront whoever it was, but there wasn’t anyone there. She looked hard and listened even harder, but she didn’t see anyone. It’s only my frayed nerves, she told herself.
Looking back down at the glowing screen, Rachael flicked open her son’s voicemail and played the message she had left yesterday, before all of the ensuing madness.
“Hey, kiddo, this is mom. The meeting with my client went longer than expected, so I’ll be running a bit late. Please just wait in the office or out on the front steps of the school until I come pick you up. Again, I feel horrible for breaking my promise. How about I make it up to you by taking you out for pizza tonight? Oh, and I love you. Hugs and kisses.”
Rachael rubbed another tear from her cheek and sniffled. They never had the opportunity for that night out together. Hector had come down with a fever and on th
e way home he fell fast asleep in car seat next to her. She had decided to skip pizza and take him straight home so she could get him into bed. Why hadn’t she just shaken him awake and taken him out for pizza one last time?
She felt her body shudder with a torrent of sobs that threatened to flood over her fortified emotional barrier. Before she knew it she was sobbing uncontrollably. Dropping down to her knees she grabbed Hector’s blue bag, held it tight in her arms like a teddy bear, and sobbed into it.
Just then she heard a rattling noise—the sound of a locker door being shimmied. Rachael tucked the cell phone into her back pocket, threw the backpack across her shoulder, and made her way out into the hall. Looking both ways, she waited for the sound again. Soon enough she heard it and followed the rattling noise to the end of the hall. It fell silent. Pausing, she listened carefully for it to return.
She picked a locker and quickly opened it. But nothing. She skipped a couple of doors and opened another. But again found nothing inside. Biting her lower lip nervously, Rachael slowly reached for the handle of the last locker in the row. Her fingers hovered fretfully over the metal latch, when it began to jitter.
Swiftly, Rachael pulled up on the latch and then jumped back in anticipation. As the door swung open, Mrs. Jensen, the school secretary, tumbled out. Her body crumbled to the ground and Rachael caught her in time to help ease her fall and gently set her on the ground. With fearful eyes, Mrs. Jensen looked up at Rachael and mumbled, “Don’t eat me. Please, God, don’t let them eat me.”
“Nobody is going to eat you,” Rachael assured her. But Mrs. Jensen was unresponsive. Her pupils were fully dilated, probably from being in the dark for so long. Rachael waved her hand in front of Mrs. Jensen’s face and asked, “Are you alright?”
Mrs. Jensen repeated her ominous pleas to God, begging for him to spare her life. She was obviously in shock. Rachael tried to physically move her, but Mrs. Jensen scurried up against the lockers, grabbed herself tight, and rocked back and forth as she repeated those unnerving words, “Don’t eat me. Please, God, don’t let them eat me.”
Rachael crouched down in front of Mrs. Jensen’s face and said, “You’re obviously in shock. Come along, I’ll get you out of here. I have my car waiting outside. Just take my hand and we can—”
A loud moan tore down the corridor and Rachael snapped her head in the direction of the alarming noise. Squinting hard, she peered down the dim passage, but all she saw was a wall of darkness. All she could make out were a row of lockers that ran along either side of the hallway and quickly got gobbled up by the dark mouth of the black void. A void that inched closer and closer toward her. What lurked in those sinister shadows was anyone’s guess, but whatever it was, it didn’t sound awfully friendly.
Suddenly a hand wrenched Rachael’s wrist so tightly that she thought she’d scream. Mrs. Jensen held onto Rachael’s arm with a fierce grip. Her face pale, and her forehead dappled with sweat, she said, “He knows you’re here. You have to leave! Get out of here, while there’s still time.”
“I’m not going to leave you here,” Rachael said firmly. Getting underneath Mrs. Jensen’s arm, she tried propping her up. “Come on, let’s get you on your feet.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Mrs. Jensen said.
Rachael struggled to pull her up again, but they crashed back down to the floor. She was about to make another attempt when Mrs. Jensen stopped her. “Stop! You still don’t get it. I can’t run away with you, because they took my feet.”
“What?!” Rachael laughed, feeling it was some kind of bad joke. As she looked down at Mrs. Jensen’s legs she wrapped both hands over her mouth at the dreadful sight. Mrs. Jensen wasn’t lying. Her feet were gone. Chewed completely off. Nothing remained but two bloody stumps of raw meat and bone. “Oh, my God!” Rachael gasped, barely able to believe her eyes.
“I was cornered, no place to run,” said Mrs. Jensen. “I shut myself inside this locker and closed the door tight.”
The voracious moaning grew louder, closer. Rachael checked over her shoulder, but all she could see was darkness. Again, Rachael made an effort to pick Mrs. Jensen up, but Mrs. Jensen resisted.
“Goddammit, listen to me, Ramirez. He’s coming. You have to get out of here before it’s too late!”
“I can’t just leave you here,” Rachael insisted. She pulled on Mrs. Jensen’s arm again, but was met with stubborn resistance.
“You don’t understand,” Mrs. Jensen said sharply, raising her voice. She took Rachael’s hand and brought it up to her forehead. She was burning up with an awful fever.
“Jesus,” Rachael gasped, and reflexively drew back her hand. It was the same terrible fever that had afflicted her son, Hector. The same fever he had suffered soon after a schoolmate had bitten him during a scuffle at recess. The same fever that, in all likelihood, caused him to turn.
“I’m infected,” Mrs. Jensen informed.
“Infected with what, exactly?” Rachael asked.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Jensen replied. “But whatever it is, I can feel it eating away at me from the inside out. It’s only a matter of time before I become one them. One of those things.”
“How can you be so sure?” Rachael inquired.
“Because I watched it happen! The whole school staff became infected. The children tore each other to ribbons, and then…” Mrs. Jensen’s eyes streamed with tears as she struggled to process the dreadful memories. “My God, the children!”
“Try not to think about it,” Rachael urged. “Right now we need to—”
Before Rachael could complete her sentence she was silenced by yet another hideous moan. This time it sounded as if it were right on top of her—as if it were virtually breathing down her neck.
“Listen to me, you have to go. You have to go right now!”
Rachael looked one last time into Mrs. Jensen’s eyes, hoping she’d change her mind, but she just stared at Rachael with a look that spoke volumes.
Rachael stood up, turned, and ran down the hall. She didn’t dare look back. She just ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Her pulse raced so hard that she could barely make out the moaning over the sound of her own beating heart.
The noise of the car door slamming shut caused Alyssa to shake herself awake. She had been in a deep slumber brought on from fatigue and the loss of blood. But the rest had done her good. Alyssa looked over to see Rachael staring out of the window of the car, panting, lost in thought. The cool evening air that filled the car helped her wake up.
“How long have I been out?” Alyssa asked.
“About forty-five minutes,” Rachael said despondently.
“My name’s Alyssa, by the way. Alyssa Briggs.”
“Nice to meet you, Alyssa,” Rachael said. “I’m Rachael Ramirez.” Rachael shook Alyssa’s hand and gave her best smile, which was rather difficult to muster all things considered.
“Thanks for saving my tuchis back there,” Alyssa said, her voice wavering in her throat. “I got pinned down by wave after wave of those things. Every time I tried to get out, another wave of them came over the hill. I was in that car for hours before I finally made a break for it. That’s when I ran into you.” After a brief pause, Alyssa asked, “So how bad is it?”
“The city?” Rachael reached over and put her hand on Alyssa’s shoulder. “It’s not good,” she said, breaking the bad news to her as gently as possible.
“I see,” Alyssa said. “Well, what do we do now?”
Before Rachael could answer her, the school intercom suddenly chimed and an automated EAS broadcast came through the loudspeakers. Rachael and Alyssa both jumped at the unexpected interruption and then listened intently.
“This is an Emergency Alert. The CDC has issued a nationwide state of emergency. Controls are now being put in place to guarantee your safety. Please do not panic. Calmly report to the nearest quarantine zone for processing; thank you. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.”
The message repeated.<
br />
Alyssa and Rachael looked at each other.
“If the CDC is issuing an alert, it must already be a pandemic,” Alyssa said.
Out of nowhere, a bloodied claw came crashing through the passenger window of the vehicle and grabbed Alyssa by the strap of her gray tank top.
Alyssa screamed hysterically and abruptly swatted away the blood-encrusted fingers that clawed at her. Rachael saw the monstrous face of Principal Sanders baring his teeth and snapping his jaws maniacally. His skin seemed to be the worse for wear and was peeling off in leprous patches.
Rachael punched the ignition button and the engine roared to life. Rachael shifted it into reverse and slammed down on the gas pedal. Tires squealing like a banshee, the SUV peeled backward. Alyssa’s shirt tore apart as Principal Sanders refused to relinquish his grip, revealing her two petite breasts.
Principal Sanders stood before the white beams of the SUV’s headlights, holding onto what remained of the tattered gray tank top. Looking at them vacantly, he stuck out his chin, opened his mouth and hissed threateningly.
Rachael slammed down hard on the brakes and the Audi skidded to a halt. “Shit,” she said. “That must be who was lurking around in the school. I thought there was someone, but...” Rachael stopped mid-sentence when she glanced over at Alyssa only to see the poor girl shyly cupping her bare breasts with her hands and looking rather uncomfortable.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rachael apologized. Reaching behind the seat, she pulled out a sandy-brown hooded jumper with purple stripes down the sleeves and handed it to Alyssa. She kept gym clothing in the car for those rare occasions when she forced herself to get off her lazy ass and hit the gym. “Here, put this on.”
“Thanks,” Alyssa said as she peeled off the tattered remains of her shirt and promptly pulled on the jumper and zipped it up.
“No problem.”
Principal Sanders edged toward them with a stiff, stumbling gait. His arms stretched out toward them, his fingers clawing at the air. He was no more than fifty meters away when Rachael shifted the car back into drive, gripped the steering wheel firmly, and said to her passenger, “Hang on to something.”
