Quarantine: A Pandora Novel

by McCrohan, Richard

The two national guardsmen again trotted out to Riverside Drive. They had been aware of the acrid smell of smoke for a while now. Blackened ashes were starting to fall from the sky like snow. When they reached the street and look northward they could see why.

  About four blocks up from them a massive fire was burning in one of the many large apartment buildings fronting the avenue. This one seemed to have spread, engulfing almost the entire row of buildings. Bright orange and yellow flames leapt into the sky from the tops of the structures. Thick, black smoke was billowing up from the conflagration. They saw that a number of windows had either flames or smoke pouring from them. But what caught their attention and completely baffled them was the large amount of undead gathered below in the street. Normally, the zombies would shy away from the fire unless they had a reason to remain. Then, as when pursuing prey, they would charge right through the flames to get to them. As they continued to watch with curiosity, the reason for the zombie’s stubborn and dangerous proximity to the inferno became readily apparent. As the large fire continued to spread and consume the buildings, a person or persons would appear at one of the upper story windows. They would stand in the window on the ledge or hang from the building as smoke streamed from their apartment. But the result was always the same. Singly or sometimes in pairs, they would fall or leap from the ledges; their tumbling bodies falling to the sidewalk below. As soon as they hit, the mass of zombies would surge forward and pounce on the jumpers. Once, a small group of surviving tenants attempted to run from the smoldering entranceway to the corner of the building. They tried to run along the building’s façade hoping to escape around the corner. They didn’t make it. With a loud communal snarl, the undead mob rolled forward and, like a wave, engulfed the escaping people before they could reach the corner. One person was able to burst through and around the building. Grasping hands tore at him ripping his shirt off as he fled. He sprinted desperately up the side street pursued by dozens of growling zombies chasing after him.

  Deeply disturbed by the sight, Jermaine tapped Austin’s bicep as he turned away. “Come on bro,” he said, there’s nothing we can do for him.”

  Three minutes later Austin looked into a large plumber’s van parked near the curb. There was blood on the seat and steering wheel. Taking a step back, he also saw a red smears on the driver side door. He pulled the handle and the door swung open. As Austin looked inside, he noticed a set of keys on the floor mat. He looked into the back of the van, but it was empty. Taking a seat as Jermaine walked up, Austin put the key in the ignition and crossing his fingers, turned it. It took three tries, but he finally started the engine. With relief, Austin sat back and blew out the breath that he was holding. Jermaine leaned into the open door.

  “Okay,” he grinned, “you da man!”

  “Go back and get everyone together,” Austin said. “Bring them here and we’ll go.”

  Ten minutes later, everyone was climbing into the crowded truck. Fortunately there was enough room on the floor in back for everyone. Austin was driving, with Jermaine riding shotgun. Throwing the shift in gear, he mounted the curb. The suspension bounced as the truck body swayed to and fro, tossing the back passengers about the interior. Several boxes of washers and pipe fittings fell from the shelves.

  “Jesus,” complained Rick, as he was knocked about. “Take it easy.”

  Tomiko sat on the floor holding on as she was jostled about. She groaned uneasily and was again looking decidedly ill.

  Noticing, Amy said, “Don’t you dare throw up again. Not in here.” The poor girl shook her head gamely and gritted her teeth with determination.

  Now up on the sidewalk along the park, the ride became smoother. As they approached closer to the burning buildings, Austin could see that the bulk of the undead mob was gathered in the street. There were zombies up on the sidewalk and grassy areas ahead, but not enough to impede their progress.

  “Hang on guys,” Austin said grimly. He pressed harder on the gas pedal and the truck picked up speed. Jermaine rolled down his window and stuck the barrel of his rifle through. His thumb moved the selector to fully automatic. Now doing fifty on the sidewalk pavement, Austin gripped the wheel tightly. The trees and bushes zipped by.

  At first, the siege by the undead monsters was focused on the burning buildings awaiting their next meal dropping down on them. Then the first few zombies at the fringes of the mob and in the park area turned to look as the white plumber’s van picked up speed. Seeing the oncoming vehicle, they started to snarl. Turning, they advanced to meet the oncoming prey. Fortunately for the occupants of the van, this snarling of the zombies that spotted them was lost in the din of the rest of the creatures and in the roaring of the flames. The main body of undead was still focused in the other direction.

  Up ahead and before the first of the oncoming zombies was a car parked at the curb. All four doors and trunk lid were hanging wide open. There was a pile of suitcases next to the automobile. Apparently, some family bent on escaping the rising zombie apocalypse, was caught in the middle of packing the family car. The broken suitcases and boxes of clothes were scattered along the sidewalk. Sodden piles of wet clothing lay strewn on the grass. The rain still hadn’t completely washed the bloodstains from the detritus.

  As the speeding van rushed past that sad and horrifying scene, the left bumper clipped a suitcase that was standing on end and sent it flying into the side door hanging open. It crashed through the glass, scattering shards in all directions. It also jarred the wide open door off its hinges with the loud, metallic groan. With that miscalculation and its resulting crash, the zombies in the street all turned their heads to look.

  “Oh, shit,” Austin groaned, seeing that they were now spotted by the rest of the mob. Two seconds later, the hurling van struck the first zombie, sending it sailing over the roof. Now that they couldn’t speed by unscathed, Jermaine opened fire on the first of the large contingent heading in their direction. Although it was on full auto, he had the rifle aimed at head height. The lead portion of the mob caught the burst and their heads exploded in a shower of red mist.

  Rick and his group in the back were holding each other terrified. At this point unavoidable, they could hear and feel the jarring thumps as the front of the van smashed through the undead attackers converging in front of them. Austin accelerated even more. He was afraid of being swarmed to the point of immobility. If that happened, it was over.

  Jermaine had reached over and switched on the wipers for him as he stopped to change magazines. Just then, a single zombie somehow latched onto the large side mirror and hung on. Jermaine try to knock him off with the butt of his rifle, but this zombie grabbed onto the sling and held on. They had slowed slightly because they were starting to lose traction slipping on the zombie bodies and the wet grass. Austin glanced at his friend trying to pull the weapon out of the creature’s grip. Then, looking immediately ahead, Austin shouted to Jermaine.

  “Hang on tight to your rifle.”

  He spotted a thin metal Curb Your Dog sign off to the side up ahead and swerved the van sharply into it. The metal sign caught the zombie and ripped both him and the side mirror right off the van.

  As Jermaine tugged his weapon back, he yelled out in fright; as the ghoul’s hand attached to half an arm came inside with it. The completely repulsed soldier threw the body part out the window in disgust. Glancing at him Austin remarked, “Need a hand?”

  They had at last driven past the remainder of the mob. Some of the zombies, pawing the air after them as they sped past, turned and followed the retreating taillights. Austin kept on the sidewalk as they drove. The street had started to become more and more clogged with abandoned vehicles. They passed the Riverside Church and Grant’s Tomb, and then veered right avoiding a cluster of undead around a multicar pileup. Though they had no choice, heading this way led them back down into the city streets. There had been a lot of construction going on in that area.

  It was already late in the afternoon. The sun had gone back b
ehind the clouds about three hours earlier. It looked as if it might rain again. This dreary gray sky made the day seem even later than it really was. As they filtered through the streets, Austin pulled the van over to the side.

  “Why are we stopping?” asked Jermaine.

  Looking aggravated and perplexed, Austin said, “Something is wrong with the steering. It’s starting to freeze up on me. It’s unresponsive.”

  Rick popped his head into the front cab. “Do we have a problem?” he asked.

  Glancing at him, Austin answered, “Yeah. Seems so. This van has about had it.”

  “We’re walking?” Rick asked uneasily.

  Shrugging, Jermaine said, “I guess so.”

  Shutting the engine off, they all begrudgingly exited battered van. PJ came around to look at the front grille. Both it and the two fenders were pushed in and dented. Blood was smeared all across the front and tattered pieces of stained cloth hung from the battered grille.

  “Holy--” he muttered, stunned.

  During the entire ride he could only hear what was happening from the rear compartment. Now he could actually see the devastation that wild ride had wrought. Coming around the front, and stopping to look himself, Austin smiled ironically, “Pretty nuts, huh?” He shook his head in amazement. Now, that was intense, he thought.

  Rick walked up to them while shoving a couple of flares he found in back of the van into his backpack. “Everyone is ready to roll,” he said.

  The sound of gunfire echoed through the streets. They could hear faint, shouting voices. It all seemed to be coming from blocks away toward the east.

  “Let’s head back toward the construction area,” Austin said. “They’ll be less chance of running into any undead there.”

  As if to augment that statement, a moaning sounded from ahead of them. A lone zombie was making her way awkwardly down the street. She was a very large black woman in a dirty and soiled sweater and skirt. The pied sweater was ripped and tattered where her neck and shoulder had been bitten and torn. Dried blood was encrusted onto the fabric and down her skirt. She had on a long, curly wig that was sitting askew on top of her head. Staggering down the cluttered street toward them, she was moaning loudly.

  Looking at her angrily, Jermaine said, “Damn. She’s going to call down every last zombie around here with that infernal moaning.”

  He raised the M-16 to his shoulder and pausing to take aim, fired a round that hit her in the middle of her forehead. The impact jarred her head back, which knocked the crooked wig the rest of the way off. She fell over in the street and the wig went flying in the other direction. It landed and caught on the hood ornament of a nearby car. There it hung, swaying back and forth like a dead animal.

  Lowering his weapon, Jermaine shrugged and said, “Had to be done. One shot was better than her moaning all the way down the street after us.”

  The gathered their belongings and started walking toward the end of the block. As they reached the corner, Rick turned to cross the street toward the semi-erected buildings in the massive construction site when he found himself looking at a dozen undead ghouls shambling their way toward them. As their dead, milky eyes noticed him, they immediately started to growl and increase their pace toward him.

  “Oh, crap,” groaned Rick, “we have company.”

  As if hearing a call to dinner, the area suddenly filled with the undead. Coming from inside stores and hallways, from behind abandoned vehicles, and from surrounding streets, the zombies came stalking in from all around. Snarling and growling, they focused on the eight immobile humans standing in the middle of the intersection in shock.

  Shaking off the torpor, Austin shouted, “Quick, into the construction site.”

  The eight terrified people ran for the large span of construction ahead of them. The entire area encompassed an area that was almost three square blocks. There were multiple buildings in various degrees of completion. Construction vehicles, wooden and cyclone fencing separating the sections and piles of girders and construction material were strewn throughout the site. It was a congested maze.

  As the fleeing survivors scurried into the vast building project, the surrounding zombies poured into it after them. Austin, Jermaine, Rick and Amy turned and started firing at the encroaching zombies. They killed a good number of them, but they were just too many.

  “Head west,” Austin shouted, “we’ll all meet at the train tracks toward the river.”

  Almost immediately, the eight running people found themselves separated from each other. Between the tall piles of building supplies, the dark, empty shells of semi-finished buildings and the labyrinth of fencing separating everything, the fleeing refugees looked around and found themselves cut off from each other. They had been too terrified to pay much attention to the person next to them. Now they were separated, singly or in pairs, making their way alone through the darkened site. The sun was starting to set, and now a fine rain was beginning.

  Amy ran behind a battered wall made of boards hastily nailed together. It was only there to mark off an area, so it was not a solid, sturdy construct. “Oww!” she hissed as she grabbed the boards in passing. Looking at her hand she saw that she had cut it on the wood’s rough edges. Pausing behind the wooden fence she reached into her jean pockets and found a handkerchief. Holding the shotgun she carried in one hand, she used her teeth to wrap up the gash on her other hand. A sudden series of thumps sounded from the other side of the wall and a number of hands reached through the openings grabbing at her. She unconsciously shrieked and spun around as she stepped away from the wooden slats. The zombies were all reaching through the fence after her. When they started to come around the end of the fence toward her she turned and continued running.

  The layout of the site seemed haphazard and incomplete in concept. The group quickly lost their way around. It didn’t help that night had fallen. The moaning and snarling of the undead echoed throughout the site along with the crashes of bodies hitting walls and knocking into piles of supplies. The circumambient cacophony was completely disorienting. Occasional shots rang out as people turned a corner only to find themselves face-to-face with another zombie. It was chaos.

  Rick and Eileen ran out into the street again about a block further down. There was an arcade on the corner. Rick thought that it may be easier to run outside of the site, but as they approached the nearby buildings they found themselves once again attacked by the undead. Rick fired his rifle at several figures, but they were forced to flee back in the building project again.

  The night hid their way as they stumbled their way through the darkened maze. Austin and Jermaine would occasionally fire on the undead pursuing them. They were having good success making their way through the complex. The rain, although not heavy, was turning the dirt and clay around them to mud.

  Now hopelessly lost, Tomiko just kept running in any direction that seemed free of the undead. She was using the tallest building on the site as a guide and ran toward that structure. The building’s outer walls were complete and the interior walls had started being erected inside. The frightened woman entered and immediately started climbing up the levels to the top. She had to be careful for entire parts of the partially built structure were as yet unfinished. Tomiko finally reached the next to last floor as the fading sunlight left the sky. She walked over to the edge and looked down. It was so dark in the city without lights and electricity that she couldn’t make anything out. The only light came from the several burning buildings she could see from her height. But she could clearly hear the moaning of the undead and sometimes spot the muzzle flashes of guns from below. But mostly-it was all just dark.

  Mora had become separated from PJ, but they soon found each other again. A large fire was burning on the street from a vehicular collision. It must have happened recently as the five cars and trucks involved were all still burning furiously. Their rubber tires melted into the pavement. The toxic smoke was chokingly thick and reeked of burning rubber and plastic.


  As they stopped to catch their breath and get their bearings, Rick and Eileen came running up to them.

  “Oh, shit,” Rick said, “I thought we lost you guys.”

  After a few quick hugs, PJ pointed ahead to a series of wooden and cyclone fences. This led to another building that was almost structurally complete. “If we continue on that way,” PJ intoned, “I think we should come out of this fucking maze and into the street again.”

  The fire from the wreckage nearby had given them enough light to see. As quickly as it started the rain suddenly ceased. Everyone had still been wet from the previous downpour and this drenching, while mild, was greatly unappreciated by the surviving group. The four friends started down the path between the two fences. As they entered the building they were abruptly swarmed by zombies on both sides of them. The fencing continued into the open and unfinished first floor and the attacking undead literally threw themselves against the two sides. The snarling zombies thrust their arms and hands through the slats on the wooden fence. On the metal cyclone fence running parallel to it, the creatures rushing up and throwing themselves against it bowed the loosely tacked mesh fencing inward as they pressed their weight against it. As more and more undead rushed the fence, the upper connecting metal fasteners snapped off of one of the stabilizing posts. As the mesh parted and sagged inward a few of the thrashing undead were able to push their upper bodies partway through. This happened so quickly and unexpectedly that they were able to reach out and grab ahold of Mora. As the terrified girl screamed in horror and beat her fists against them, they pulled her in close. At least two of them were able to sink their teeth into the struggling girl. Instantly, PJ leapt to her aid and tried to pull his hysterical girlfriend out of the zombie’s clutches.

  Rick stuck his rifle barrel through the mesh fence and began to fire at the roiling mass of undead. Eileen had her hands to her face and was screaming as she backed away from the hideous struggle. The pathway they were in was narrow and as she continued to step back unthinking, she came close to the opposite wooden wall. Abruptly, one of the reaching arms grabbed a hold of Eileen’s collar and in an instant, yanked her back up against the wooden fence. One of the boards, already shaky, was knocked loose and the grasping zombie was able to thrust enough of his face through to clamp his teeth onto the side of her neck.