Quarantine: A Pandora Novel

by McCrohan, Richard

  The girls immediately put them in their purses and Rick and PJ hefted theirs feeling equal parts amused, conspicuous and very, very frightened. The group of now six members descended the stair and then huddled at the bottom in apprehension. Rick turned to the young waiter.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Oh, sorry,” he said. “I am Guillermo de Jesus. Call me Gil.”

  “Okay Gil,” Rick began, “Bridget here is going to be our guide and take us down to the Midtown ferry. They have a quarantine area there. Okay?”

  Gil nodded rapidly, and the pretty Irish waitress moved to the door, and blessing herself while silently muttering a quick prayer, grabbed the door lever and pushed it open. Single file they emerged onto the street. Quickly, they ran to the corner where they turned right and headed west toward the Hudson River. They moved rapidly, hugging the buildings and attempting to keep a low profile. There were now a lot of abandoned cars on the road. Some had people hanging out of the doors, and some were just empty. One car that was half on the curb had a man seatbelted in. He had apparently turned in the driver seat and was snarling in frustration and clawing at the window is trying to get out. It seemed that the seatbelt mechanism was totally beyond him. There were still cars attempting to maneuver down the streets, but these were becoming fewer and fewer as the side streets especially became bogged down with stalled vehicles. Some of the automobiles that could fit were resorting to using the sidewalks to drive down the cluttered streets. Pedestrians be damned! Zombies would be attacking cars and anyone they found on the streets. Fortunately, there weren’t many walking around yet. But there were enough to make walking a dicey exercise at best.

  6

  National Guard privates, Austin Bowers, Jermaine Willis and Jeff Costas stood alongside of the desert tan Humvee they had first rode in on. The three soldiers were part of the “Fighting 69th” infantry battalion stationed at the National Guard Armory on Lexington Avenue. The battalion had a long and storied history and its members were quite proud of their heritage.

  “So what you think of this shit?” Jermaine said nudging his friend and comrade Austin.

  Looking at the long lines of frightened and impatient people crowding the front area of the makeshift barricades and containment facilities and seeing the mass of portable and cyclone fencing still being erected with concertina wire wound along the top and sides, the young guardsmen shook his head.

  “I’ll tell you, Jer,” he said worriedly, “I think we’re all about one bad incident away from a complete disaster. This situation is truly FUBAR.”

  “Word up on that mess,” chuckled his friend.

  Jeff, the third private standing with them said, “They’ve already shot about twelve of those zombie things at the peripheries of the area already.”

  “The Zs?” Austin said.

  “Is that what they’re calling them, now?” said Jeff. “Yeah, Zs. Some of the people moving up on line are looking a little fucked up themselves. Only a matter of time before they become trouble.”

  “The cops are pulling the obviously sick ones out of the line and transferring them into that large holding pen that we set up,” said Austin, “but a few have already keeled over dead. They take the bodies out before they can turn, but look at all the people in there already. This shit’s getting really out of hand.”

  Throwing his half-finished cigarette down and stepping on the butt, Jermaine said, “Come on, let’s get back over to the perimeter fence. I don’t like the way the weight of this crowd is pressing against it. We put that shit up in about ten minutes with spit and glue and I don’t think that they had this many people in mind when they gave us the orders to erect it.”

  The three soldiers walked back to the fencing and surveyed the operation. The entire place was surrounded by high chain link fencing with razor wire strung along the top. Sturdier steel frame module fences were erected around the terminal building and low barriers were placed to funnel the incoming civilians in a series of long snaking lines to an assessment area. There, the obvious Pandora sufferers could be culled from the line and delivered to the massive holding pens off to the side and partitioned out of sight. A heavy police and guard presence was focused here because of the likely potential of trouble separating the two selections. There had been trouble here already. Three men and one woman had to be restrained and cuffed as tempers flared and fights between them and the police broke out. There was one not so deadly, but in context, a particularly ugly scene that happened when one very elderly Jewish man in a yarmulke started yelling and calling the soldiers and police “Nazis” and shouting out to everyone how they were “going to be sent to the showers to be gassed”. Everyone tried their best to calm the old man, but it was an awful scene with other people crying and leaving the police and soldiers involved completely shaken and unnerved. That was worse than any scuffle that had occurred. You could see the guarding units looking around embarrassed and feeling unjustly guilty.

  As the line was getting close to the low barricades a heavyset black man in a red baseball style jacket leaned over and grabbed the fence. He had two other men with him.

  Looking directly at Jermaine, he spoke, “Hey, blood, what say you let me and my crew through this stupid line. C’mon do a brother a solid.”

  Jermaine stopped and gave him a hard look. “Sorry. Can’t do that.”

  The man threw his head back in exaggerated dismay, “What? What are you talking about? You in the Army. You can do any shit you want, brother.”

  Austin and Jeff came up alongside of their comrade as he answered the angry man.

  “Wait in line with the rest of the people. I ain’t your brother.”

  The big man’s eyes glared wildly. He became more animated as his anger grew. “Motherfucker! You oreo piece of shit. I’ll fuckin’ put a cap in your black ass.”

  Now just as angry, Jermaine opened his mouth in retort when the other man reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun. His friend to his right started to reach into his waistband also.

  As the three soldiers swiftly swung their weapons up, the armed man fired off a quick and unnamed shot. This wild shot ricocheted off the wire mesh fence and struck another man standing nearby. The bullet struck him in the neck and he brought his hands up to the gushing wound; at first screaming and then gurgling out his cries. As the nearby bystanders scattered screaming, the three soldiers fired on the two now armed men beyond the gate.

  With practiced three round controlled bursts, they struck both men multiple times. The two men jerked in place as gouts of blood burst from their bodies. They collapsed in a heap as the third man turned and disappeared into the panicked crowd.

  It was at this moment that Rick and the other five escapees arrived at the quarantine center. There was a street wide line of police in riot gear in front of the entrance. They were there to both keep any zombies from attacking the waiting civilians and to create an intimidating presence for any would be troublemakers. They had just heard the gunfire from the interior of the center and were very much on edge. Although armed with riot shields and batons, they were taking no chances. There were two or three bodies lying in the street before them. From the condition of the bodies they had previously turned and must have tried to attack the policeman.

  Rick and his group had hidden the steak knives when passing the tense riot police and joined the rest of the packed hopefuls to try and get cleared to take the ferry to New Jersey.

  Nudging Rick with his elbow, PJ leaned over and said in a low voice, “Hey. Some of these people we’re standing with don’t look so good.”

  Rick met PJ’s eyes and his friend tilted his head toward a young woman standing about six feet away from them. She had long black hair past her shoulders and was clutching a handbag to her chest. Her skin looked clammy and she was extremely pale. She had dark circles underneath her eyes and the whites were completely bloodshot. Every so often she would start to cough, trying hard to swallow it down. Rick couldn’t tell for sure b
ecause she had her bag so close to her chin, but it looked as if her lipstick had been smeared. At least he hoped that’s what it was. He nodded back at PJ and they all started to carefully move away from the girl, edging through the crowd. Rick could see that she wasn’t the only one looking sick. It was going to be a while before they could even enter through the gate for a screening.

  Eileen said to Rick, “I can’t believe that the others wanted to go all the way across the city. We’re here already.”

  Rick smiled at her. Eileen was strong-willed and had a mind of her own. She definitely wasn’t a damsel-in-distress or helpless whiner. Eileen was not afraid to say exactly what she was thinking. Rick liked strong people and absolutely loved this about her.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet, babe,” he said.

  “No,” she answered, “but at least we’re here, waiting to leave.”

  “How long do you think we’ll be here?” Mora asked while standing on her toes to try and over all of the heads in front of her.

  “I don’t know, Mora,” joked PJ, “what year is this now?”

  She snickered and punched him in the arm. “Not funny.”

  Gil, who had been shifting back and forth in nervousness, turned to Rick, “Was that shooting I heard?” he asked.

  “I don’t know Gil,” Rick answered. “Maybe you should just try and relax. Okay?” Rick didn’t like the way Gil’s hand kept darting up to the ornamental Dos Amigos uniform vest he was wearing. It was where he had stashed his knife when they got here.

  Looking up at the skyline, Bridget said, “The sun is just going down. I don’t fancy standing here in the dark with the likes of those creatures roaming about.”

  Eileen grimaced, “Neither do I.”

  There was a bit of commotion at the far end of the crowd. They could hear a woman crying “Fred, Fred”. Five minutes after that there was another reaction as the crowd jostled behind them. They could hear the sound of somebody getting sick behind them.

  Rick looked at Eileen and smiled gamely as he squeezed her hand. He knew that they were moving much too slow. Between the increasingly obvious amount of already infected here and the mounting anger and barely suppressed hysteria among the rest, Rick was worried now that the whole thing might explode in violence before they could make it onto one of the departing ferries. You can actually feel the tension in the air. It was a palpable thing like an electric current.

  After the shooting a sergeant came over and moved the three soldiers to the other side of the terminal. Although everyone agreed that it was unavoidable; they just wanted to deflate a bit of the hostility that was building. Things were getting unstable. Two more people near the gate had just collapsed and died. They were attempting to remove the bodies now. A few of the waiting crowd had started to request medical attention for various bite wounds they had sustained on the journey to the quarantine station. That number was starting to mount also.

  Austin Bowers along with Jeff and Jermaine were walking toward the crowded containment pens. These were behind a large wooden wall that successfully hid the occupants from the rest of the crowd. It was a good thing, too. The people inside them were no longer complete human. They were now bloodthirsty zombies clambering at the fences, snarling at their keepers and continually trying to claw their way through.

  Jermaine stopped short and stared at the roiling mass of undead. It was totally unbelievable to look at them and remember that they were husbands, wives, sons and daughters just twenty-four hours ago.

  Austin paused and reached out to his friend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “C’mon man,” he said softly, “this is in doing any good. Staring too long into the abyss kind of thing.”

  Jermaine shook his head and looked at Austin, “Huh?”

  “Nothing, buddy,” Austin chuckled. While walking toward the fences again, the three saw a cop coming up to them. It was a New York City patrolwoman that they had met while setting up the enclosures.

  Officer Donna Masters was a thirty-two-year-old Brooklyn native and seven year veteran on the force. She just had taken her sergeants exam and was feeling good about her chances for promotion. Donna was five foot six with dark hair and a pleasant disposition. That easy friendliness could turn no-nonsense in the second when she had to. She was a tough lady and because of that was comfortable being easy-going. She had nothing to prove.

  With a big grin plastered on his face, Austin came over to her, “Well, Officer Masters. Still dogging it I see.”

  Snorting out a laugh Donna replied, “Pvt. Bowers… and I see you brought along Larry and Curly, too.”

  Laughing good-naturedly, they all stopped to chat. The soldiers liked the friendly cop and she got a kick out of the three of them. A mutual admiration society in the making. Austin pointed to the figures clawing and snarling at the fences, “Looks like the natives are getting restless tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Donna said, then looked up at the darkening sky and down at her watch. “Jesus, eight o’clock already.”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” said Jermaine.

  Donna put her fists on her hips and turned to look back at the tall cyclone fences holding the new zombies.

  “I think we need a bigger boat,” she joked darkly.

  As the four members of the security forces watched, two guardsmen came walking in front of the crowd carrying a body of a middle-aged man in a suit. His tie was loosened and almost dragging on the pavement. There were two policemen on each side of the stretcher walking next to them. The man’s arm was hanging off the stretcher and the tattered remnants of fabric were soaked with blood from a vicious bite wound on his bare forearm. They had just started to pass another officer who was very near the fencing. Suddenly, the arm that was hanging loosely, flopping off the stretcher, shot up and the bitten man quickly sat up and grabbed the one cop to his left. As he grasped onto the officer’s uniform the stretcher tilted and both the officer and the zombie fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. This happened so suddenly that everyone was taken completely by surprise. It was at that moment that the entire situation roared effectively out of control.

  Four things happened in rapid sequence. Outside of the quarantine area a group of a dozen zombies appeared on the street heading for the line of riot police. The officer standing close to the fence and jumped back as the two wrestling bodies tumbled off the stretcher and rolled to her feet. Unaware of just how close she was, the startled cop slammed back into the protective fence. Hands and teeth came at her as her body was momentarily pressed up against it. The growling crowd of undead, now energized with purpose, threw themselves at a hastily erected fence en masse. Feeling the fingers latching onto her clothing and entwining in her hair, the panicking cop attempted to run forward again. The top-heavy razor wire enforced fencing started to sway with the massive force of bodies throwing themselves against it. Two of the connecting bands snapped and the fence started to sag. The one soldier who had been manning the stretcher saw this happening and unthinkingly ran to the fence and threw his shoulder against it and grasped the mesh fence to push it erect. Immediately, teeth descended onto his fingers severing several before he could free his hands by yanking them roughly back. All of this proved too much for the rest of the connecting clamps.

  Donna, Austin, Jermaine and Jeff looked up at the top of the fence as it began to topple, then turned and ran. They barely made it out before that section of the fence came crashing down with a loud metallic rattling. Razor wire went bouncing as it tore loose like coiled, deadly Slinkys.

  As the now freed zombies poured through the large gap in the containment fence, the National Guardsmen and police ran up and began firing into their oncoming ranks. The zombies in front that had walked straight over the fallen fence became caught in the jumble of razor wire at the end of the metal framing. The soldiers thought they had regained control, but the rest of the oncoming creatures simply rushed around the struggling vanguard.

  Slowl
y the police and soldiers were pushed back. When they ran to the Humvees to man the mounted weapons on them, the waiting mob of civilians, realizing what was happening now, suddenly broke and began to run out of the quarantine center. This brought them back into the streets.

  Bridget was just telling Mora about her childhood home in Cahersiveen, Ireland. In the middle of her charming story, a jarring crash sounded from further inside the center. Immediately following that was the start of gunfire that increased in intensity. Just then a spontaneous gasp emerged from the crowd. The massive intake of oxygen traveled through the crowd from front to back in a wave of startled emotion. The entire mass of waiting people was pushed back as the front lines of the crowd saw the oncoming zombies emerge from behind the partition and head snarling and moaning toward them. Terrified, the frontlines turned and ran toward the street pushing and clawing their way past the, as of yet, unaware crowd behind them.

  As the mass of people started to break apart and scatter, Gil, who was standing in front of Rick turn to him in fright.

  “What is happening?” he shouted. “Why is everyone running?”

  Rick looked down and saw that the young waiter had taken his steak knife out and was holding it defensively in his hand.

  “I think there are zombies coming,” Rick said.

  The people running past were screaming the same thing. The police were trying to move the crowd back, but it was a route now. A man ran past in panic and shoved Gil hard with his shoulder as he passed. The terrified young man screamed and spun back around swinging the blade in front of him.

  “Gil,” Rick called, “take it easy.”

  As the waiter turned back to look at Rick over his shoulder, another large man ran directly into him. When they collided, Gil screamed again and reacting in raw fear thrust the heavy steak knife into the man’s abdomen. A woman nearby screamed and as the mortally wounded man grabbed Gil in surprise, the frightened young man stabbed him again now shouting in panicked Spanish.