by Dirk Patton
Ashley Box was her stage name, and while she certainly had the looks and personality to make money in strip clubs, she detested the job. But where else was she going to make five hundred dollars a night without having to spread her legs? It paid the bills, her college tuition, and left plenty more for her to drive a decent car and maintain a small but nice apartment in a good area of Atlanta. One more year of med school and she’d be able to quit, and she’d have her MD without the crushing mountain of student loans that most of her class mates were accumulating.
Rachel was staring into the lights, bent over to show her assets to the crowd when the first sounds of a disturbance reached her over the pounding music. Accustomed to bar fights and confident the bouncers, Rick and Jeff, both former Georgia offensive linemen, would make quick work of any troublemakers she ignored the sounds and kept swaying her hips in time to the music. The six inch stiletto heels she was wearing were killing her feet tonight and she couldn’t wait to finish this set. She only had one more, then could head home and get some studying done before collapsing into bed.
The song ended and the stage lights dimmed allowing Rachel a view of the disturbance by the door that was growing in volume. She was shocked to see Sandy, a small blonde that danced in the club and supplemented her income giving blow jobs in the parking lot, hanging on to Jeff’s thick neck and biting him. What the hell was going on? Rick, the other bouncer, grabbed her by the hair and ripped her off Jeff’s back, flinging her against the wall. He turned to his friend who had collapsed onto the floor and appeared to be going in to convulsions and didn’t notice that Sandy bounced off the wall and got back to her feet like nothing had happened.
Her eyes were blood red, visible even from across the room, and her mouth, neck and chest were slick with Jeff’s blood. With a wet, gurgling snarl she leapt onto Rick’s back as he bent over his injured friend, locked her arms around him and sank her teeth into his over developed neck muscles. Rick howled in pain, lurched to his feet and reached over his head to grab the much smaller woman. He tore her loose, lifted her in the air upside down and drove her headfirst into the floor where she collapsed and didn’t move again. Rachel clearly heard the snap when Sandy’s neck broke.
“Crazy fucking bitch!” Rick roared, staring down at the body.
Rachel felt like she was in a waking nightmare, and things got worse when Jeff rose to his feet behind Rick. His eyes were the same blood red as Sandy’s had been and he let loose with the same snarl she had made. Rick whirled when he heard the snarl and tried to raise a hand to fend off the charging attack from Jeff, but it was too late. They both crashed to the floor sending tables, chairs and a few customers scattering like leaves. Jeff clamped on to Rick’s throat with his teeth and snarling the whole time started ripping flesh, finally tearing the carotid artery and getting soaked in a jet of bright red arterial blood.
Rachel stood frozen in horror, her mind unable to comprehend what her eyes were seeing. She remained frozen in place until a hand reached out from the edge of the stage and grabbed her left ankle, savagely pulling her leg out from under her. She fell on her ass in the middle of the stage, her ankle held in a painful vice like grip. Lying on her back she raised her head and started to scream, but the scream died in her throat when she saw her attacker was another of the dancers named Lisa.
Lisa’s eyes were the same blood red color, but only the whites, and her face was smeared with blood. She leapt over the chairs and the brass rail at the edge of the stage, snarling deep in her chest and pulling on Rachel’s leg. Rachel tried to scoot away but the grip on her ankle was too strong and she only succeeded in allowing Lisa to pull her closer. Rachel started kicking with her free leg, feeling the solid blows connecting but having no effect on the grip on her ankle. Lisa pulled further up onto the stage, her upper body now pinning Rachel’s left leg and her grip shifted to Rachel’s thigh.
Now Rachel started to scream for help and pulled her right leg up and kicked in a stomping motion, once, twice then a third time and suddenly the grip went slack and Lisa stopped moving. Rachel kept screaming for a few moments then dared to look and had to turn her head to the side and vomit on the stage. Her stomp kicks while wearing stiletto heels had gashed open Lisa’s face to the bone in two long, ragged tears. The third kick had buried the entire six inch spiked heel directly into Lisa’s left eye, and the shoe was stuck in the dead girl’s skull.
Rachel reached down and unbuckled the shoe, slipping her foot out and using it to push the body off her left leg. She abandoned the other shoe as well, standing up and surveying the bar. There were only a few customers left that didn’t have blood red eyes and they were now far outnumbered by the gang that was led by Jeff the bouncer. As she watched two of the customers went down screaming under the weight of Jeff and two other dancers.
She started to back towards the stage exit when Carl, the bartender, leapt over the bar with a shotgun in his hands. Rachel’s first impulse was to run to him for protection, but she stopped and watched as he fired two deafening blasts into the body of a man charging towards him with a snarl. The shotgun blasts shredded clothing and flesh and knocked the man to the ground, but moments later he was back on his feet and charging Carl. Rachel turned and fled the stage, hearing three more blasts from Carl’s shotgun.
Rachel raced through the dressing area, elbowing a shorter girl aside that leapt at her as she passed, then hit the emergency fire door at full stride and burst into the back parking lot. She was barefoot and wearing only a G-String, but had never been so happy to be outside.
The fire door opened into the back parking lot and Rachel took a moment to get her bearings and was flooded with relief when she saw a Georgia Highway Patrol cruiser with blue lights flashing screech to a stop in the parking lot. She started running towards the cop who was getting out of his car with a nightstick in hand. Neither of them saw the two young men with long hair, dressed in jeans and polo shirts come out of the dark behind a pickup truck until they were already on the Trooper. He had time to swing the night stick once, making a solid connection with one of the men’s upper leg, but the blow had no effect and they swarmed him and carried him to the ground. Both of them started biting and clawing but he was able to fight them off and move to the far side of the cruiser where he stood swaying and shaking.
Rachel ran around the perimeter of the parking lot, keeping vehicles between her and the two young men. She reached the cop and grabbed his arm, feeling safer despite having watched him be attacked. The Trooper turned his head and looked at her, sweat pouring off his face. He had bite marks on his forearms and hands and deep fingernail scratches on his face. He opened his mouth to say something but all that came out was a gurgle. A moan followed and the pain reflected in his eyes must have been agonizing and he started to crumple to his knees, only Rachel’s support keeping him upright.
The two young men were circling the front of the cruiser and Rachel tugged the Trooper’s arm, leading him around the back of the car, intent on keeping it between them and their attackers. They kept circling, gurgling and snarling, red eyes glowing from the huge neon sign mounted to the roof of the strip club. On their second circuit of the cruiser the Trooper stopped cold and Rachel lost her grip on his arm as she kept going a couple of steps. She turned and gasped to see blood dripping from his ears and nose. As she watched, his eyes widened and seemed to bulge forward out of his head as if under great pressure, then first one then the other turned completely red.
“Oh my God,” Rachel breathed, and took another step away from the Trooper.
With a snarl he stepped towards her, arms raised to shoulder height and out at forty-five degree angles. Perfect for sweeping any prey into his grip. Rachel turned and ran.
5
For the moment the woman and I were the only living things in the parking lot other than a fat, glossy, black crow sitting on the roof of a red Chevy. It ‘cawed’ at us several times before flying away to the north, away from the inferno that was downtown Atlanta
. The woman approached me slowly, carefully looking me up and down, her eyes nervously pausing on the weapon in my hand, then moving on.
“Were you bitten? Scratched?” Her voice was low and husky, raw sounding from all the screaming she had been doing.
“What?” I asked. Everything was too surreal and now this crazy, naked woman wanted to know if I’d been bitten?
She took a cautious step forward, “Were you bitten?” She spoke slower this time as if I were a child.
“No. They never touched me. Why?”
She came closer and continued her visual inspection. “I watched that one and his friend,” she pointed at the young man I had shot in the head, “attack and bite the Trooper. Within one to two minutes he was just like them and trying to kill me.”
I stood staring at her, breathing harder than I needed to, but the adrenaline from the fight was still in my system.
I said, “They bit him? And he became like them? This is crazy. You’re describing something like a zombie or a vampire.”
She raised her chin and stared back at me defiantly, “I may look like a brainless bimbo at the moment, but I know what I saw. The Trooper was fine, normal, until he was attacked. He was bitten and scratched and in less than two minutes I watched him change into one of them and start trying to kill me.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts, and while I would have thought it difficult for an almost naked woman to look dignified she managed to pull it off.
“OK, so I guess I believe you. Any idea what the hell is wrong with them? Why are they trying to kill us?”
She relaxed and moved over to stand next to me, looking down at the body of the young man. “I was hoping you would know. All I know is New York got nuked last night. The owner of the club where I work wouldn’t close, and a few hours ago these things started attacking people in the club.”
I looked back over at the dead Trooper, then out across the swamp. A couple of hundred yards away there were four figures wading through the water in our direction. Uh Oh. I scanned the parking lot and found no threats, but out on the perimeter road that came from my company’s office building there was a small group of figures walking towards us. I slowly raised my arm and waved at them, Rachel turning to see who I was waving at, but they didn’t wave back or acknowledge me in any way. Oh, shit.
“We’ve got to get out of here. Now!” I said.
I took her hand in mine as if it was the most natural thing to do and broke into a trot across the parking lot to where my rental SUV was parked. Half way there I skidded to a stop and slapped my pants pockets with a feeling of dread. No keys. They were in my room on the fifth floor of the hotel. There was no way I could climb the stairs, get my keys and get back before the approaching threat cut off our escape.
“What’s wrong?” She asked me, not letting go of my hand.
“No keys. They’re up on the fifth floor in my room. I don’t suppose you know how to hot wire a car, do you?”
I didn’t expect an affirmative answer, and I didn’t get one. The look of horror on her face told me what I needed to know. We were on foot, multiple threats approaching from at least two directions, and she was already exhausted from fighting her way through the swamp. Exhausted or not we didn’t have a choice. We had to run.
6
We ran across the parking lot, her slightly behind me and to my left, holding my hand as we ran. My right was my shooting hand and I was keeping it free and available to draw the pistol if I needed it. Considering these things, alright I guess I’m ready to call them zombies even though they weren’t actually reanimated dead, apparently hunted by sound and smell I didn’t want to have to fire off the weapon and attract every one of them within hearing distance. I suspected they used sound for finding their prey at a distance, then sound and smell when they closed in.
Cutting the corner on the parking lot we made it to the road with about a hundred yards of clearance from each group of Zombies – infected? - but turned left towards the ones in the swamp. The water would slow their progress and let us get by them. I settled into a fast jog, the woman staying with me and maintaining a death grip on my hand. I was impressed. As freaked out as she had to be, as I was, she was staying with me and not slowing me down or complaining.
We didn’t make much noise, just the sound of my running shoes and her bare feet on the asphalt and our heavier breathing, but the infected in the swamp detected us and changed direction to pursue. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the group behind us speed walking after us, not that much slower than we were moving. My instinct was to push harder and open up some distance, but I was worried about tiring. I had slept most of the night and was relatively refreshed and strong. I was pretty sure she had been up a long time, certainly all night, and was already tired from her run through the swamp.
Ahead the road curved slightly, then straightened as it approached a large intersection with shopping on each corner. Several cars were piled into each other in the intersection and I hoped we would find one of them drivable with the keys still in the ignition. My hopes were dashed when figures appeared from behind the cars as we approached and started coming towards us. Three large parking lots on the NE, SE and SW corners were virtually empty of cars as none of the retail shops had been open when all of this happened, but there were groups of figures in each of the parking lots that all turned in our direction and started our way.
The NW corner, across the intersection and to our right, was a massive parking lot for a Wal-Mart Super Center. Cars were scattered across the parking lot, some belonging to employees and some to shoppers that needed something in the middle of the night. There weren’t any infected milling about that parking lot.
“There,” I pointed with my right hand, making sure she knew where we were going.
“How?” She gasped a response.
“Be ready to run flat out. We’re going through the ones ahead.” I indicated the infected in the middle of the intersection, directly ahead of us.
There were four of them, three men and a woman if it matters, and they were bunched up at the trunk of a mid-sized Japanese sedan as they tried to locate us. I would have preferred to go around, but there were broad drainage ditches on either side of the road as it approached the intersection and I didn’t want to get bogged down in mud or hurt by some unseen debris that lay hidden in the weeds. A sprained ankle or broken leg was a death sentence.
Coming up on the intersection I angled our direction to the left, intending to keep the crashed cars between us and the infected. I also wanted a good look at the condition of the cars. The first vehicle we came to was a ten year old Chevy Malibu and I dismissed it outright when I saw the crumpled front end and puddle of anti-freeze on the pavement under the engine. It was crashed into the side of a twenty year old Ford F-250 pickup that had been jacked up and outfitted with oversized wheels and tires. The truck was a four door behemoth and its damage from the accident was limited to the left side of the rear bumper. It looked in almost pristine condition, despite its age, and I was counting on the owner having cared for the drive train as meticulously as he had the appearance. Only one problem. When I dashed up to the driver side door I could see there were no keys in the ignition.
The infected in the intersection had split up, the three men bumping and groping their way around a couple of cars, but the woman leapt onto the hood of first one car, then another. How she was doing this blind was beyond me, and she also seemed much more coordinated and agile than the men. She sprang to the roof of the Chevy that was crashed against the Ford truck, then with a loud snarl into the bed of the truck. She was moving fast. Too fast and getting too close.
I drew the pistol which was ready to go and side stepped to get a better angle on her, and that’s when I saw her eyes. Blood red like the men I’d seen up close, but only the whites of her eyes were red. She still had irises and pupils and could obviously still see. This slowed me for a heartbeat, long enough for her to leap at us. I fired a single round tha
t punched through her forehead and blew out the back of her skull. Her body went limp in mid leap and she fell to the ground at our feet.
I wanted to take a closer look at this one, but the men were fast approaching with snarls of their own, and the infected that had been following us down the road were now less than fifty yards away. I quick glanced around and my blood ran cold when I saw the number of infected converging on us from the surrounding parking lots. First things first. I raised my arm and fired three shots and each of the men closest to us dropped dead to the pavement.
The one in the middle was a guy about my age, mid 40s, built like a tank and wearing jeans, muddy work boots and a Ford hat. It didn’t take Colombo to deduce he was likely the driver of the truck and I dashed forward and felt in his pants pocket with my left hand, pistol in my right ready to fire if he so much as twitched. In his right front pocket was a wad of keys, and one of them was a big silver deal with Ford stamped prominently on it.
We were running out of time and had to take a chance. If we got in the truck and this wasn’t the right Ford key we’d be trapped, surrounded by infected. If we didn’t get in the truck our only open path was the Wal-Mart, and while the parking lot was still empty I didn’t hold out much hope that the store wasn’t infested. I didn’t want to find out.
“In the truck!” I guided her towards the open driver’s door and followed her into the cab. She scooted over to make room for me, but stayed close so we were touching when I sat behind the wheel and slammed the door closed. I inserted the key in the ignition and it fit! I took a breath, held it, and turned the key. It didn’t turn. Wrong Ford.
“Goddamn it! I’m sorry.” I said, then the infected were at the doors and I just had time to hit the electric lock button before hands started pounding on the windows and body of the truck.
A woman who looked no more than 20 leapt onto the hood and squatted directly in front of me, staring at me through the heavy windshield. Just like the woman I’d killed the whites of her eyes were blood red, but she still had irises and pupils, but looking into those eyes I couldn’t see any sign of humanity, just primal hunger and predatory intelligence. I looked out the side window at a man who was hung up bumping against the outside rear view mirror and his eyes were the same solid red I’d seen back at the hotel parking lot. I wasn’t sure why there was a difference, but I was sure that women had just become what I always thought they were, the most dangerous members of the human race.
