Quarantine: A Pandora Novel

by McCrohan, Richard

  Rick was unaware of what was happening to Eileen as he was now hitting the zombies with the stock of his rifle as they tried to force the opening wider. With a loud ping, a third connector snapped off of the post. The cyclone fence sagged even further as the growing hole allowed several more zombies to grab onto the now blood drenched girl. They pulled relentlessly on Mora as she tried to fight them off. She was bent backward toward the massive zombies on the other side of the disintegrating fence. PJ reached in and grabbed her shoulders. While he tried dragging her back, a male zombie with dirty dreadlocks grabbed PJ’s arm and ripped a huge chunk out of his forearm. The anguished boyfriend screamed in pain. As his grip loosened, the mob of undead dragged Mora back into the gap. The still intact bottom of the fence caught her behind the knees and, screaming and crying, she was dragged into the horde of waiting zombies, still flailing her arms in defense.

  Rick pulled PJ away. As he did, two zombies turned away from their fallen victim and came at the two men. They fell over the resisting fence and landed on their faces in the pathway. Just then, Austin and Jermaine ran up. They had with Amy them.

  “Stand back,” Austin yelled. The two soldiers opened fire on the two zombies attempting to rise and then at the rest that were forcing open the gap in the fence.

  Amy shouted “Eileen!”

  Rick spun around as Amy ran toward the girl lying against the bottom of the wooden fence. Eileen was sprawled in the mud with her eyes staring out and her mouth open wide in surprise. She had both hands held against her ravaged neck. An impossible amount of blood had pooled around her. It soaked her clothes and had coated her arms with a crimson sheen. Rick knelt next to her as tears welled up in his eyes.

  “Oh no,” he moaned, “Eileen. No.” He gently moved her hands away so he could see the wound. It was horrible. Her neck was so savaged that he could see the ripped muscle and torn arteries in the ragged hole. Eileen was deathly pale. She turned her eyes, frightened, to stare at Rick. Her lips moved as she tried to say something.

  “No. It’s okay, it’s okay,” Rick cooed soothingly. Tears were running freely now. She grabbed his hand tightly. Still staring up at him she continued to mouth words. A line of blood ran from the side of her mouth. Then, like the sun setting at dusk, the light went out of her eyes. Her head fell to the side and she limply let go of his hand.

  As Rick stared at her in denial, a sudden mask of anger came over his face. Bolting upright, he batted away the reaching undead arms from the hole in the wooden fence and fired his rifle into it until the weapon clicked on empty.

  Six feet behind them and another connector snapped from the other end of the fence. “Come on guys,” Jermaine said quickly, “we have to go, now.”

  As the five remaining survivors ran down the pathway, Austin paused, and then fired two shots behind him. One into Mora, and the other into the slumped head of Eileen.

  Tomiko heard the sound of the firefight coming from below her. From the light of a fire burning in the street at the other end of the building, she saw figures below. They were running and firing behind them.

  My friends are down there, she thought. I have to get down and join them. I don’t want to be left here all alone.

  She made her way in the dark, batting away hanging sheets of plastic that were draping down from the unfinished ceiling. Though she could barely see in the pitch black night, Tomiko was looking for another stairway at the other end of the structure. The Japanese woman was getting anxious as the people below fled from her sight. Annoyed, she continued flailing her arms ahead of her and pushing away the sheets of plastic as she rushed ahead desperately. As she pushed one aside and hurriedly ran through the sheeting, Tomiko stepped through and found her foot hitting nothing but air. Her momentum sent her tumbling forward; while her arms pin-wheeled in helpless panic. Tomiko Yamaguchi, the best-dressed refugee ever, went sailing into the opening for the elevator shaft and fell screaming down the ten floors of empty space to the unyielding concrete below.

  Crouching behind the construction vehicle entrance to the street, the five stressed and battered souls looked out onto the broad avenue in front of them. Austin crept out and scuttled behind a vehicle on the side of the road. He peeked over the truck and looked around. Then he ducked back down and hurried back to the rest.

  “How’s it looking?” asked Rick.

  Leaning up against the fence, Austin shook his head and said, “Lousy. We have to get across the street and onto the side street on the right. That’ll take us down to the tracks.”

  “Okay,” Amy said, “let’s go.”

  Shaking his head Austin said, “Can’t. The street ahead is filled with zombies. If we show our faces, there will be all over us before we get to the corner.”

  “Shit,” muttered Jermaine, “are you sure?”

  “Without something to draw them off,” answered Austin, “we’ll never make it.”

  As they thought through their options, an increased moaning began anew. Looking back, they could see the tops of heads illuminated by the car fire. They looked to be heading their way and getting closer. Soon they would emerge from the last building and out into the open. When they did, they would surely see the five of them crouching there. Then there’d be trapped.

  All this while, PJ was sitting off to the side alone. He had his sleeve rolled up and kept poking his finger tenderly at the red, inflamed wound. He could see the teeth marks surrounding it. PJ couldn’t take his eyes off of the bite. It wasn’t just a bite… it was a death sentence. No, not even that. Now, he’d never die. Not really. He’d rise and walk the city trying to infect everyone he met.

  Jermaine looked around and said, “Austin, how about if I go--”

  “I’ll go!” PJ snapped loudly. They all stopped and looked at him. Still gazing at his fatal wound, PJ said, “Rick, give me those flares that you stashed in your backpack.”

  “Wh…why?” Rick asked with mounting dread.

  “I’ll climb on one of those cars outside and wave the flares around,” PJ spoke woodenly. “They’ll all come flocking around me. When they do, you sneak around and run for the street. And just keep going.” Glancing at Amy, PJ pointed to her waistband. “If I could have your gun, I would greatly appreciate it. I think I’ll need it for later.”

  Rick found himself complete devoid of any words. He just stared at his friend with glassy, tear filled eyes.

  Looking at his best friend, PJ smiled sadly and held out his arm. “It’s okay,” he said, “I’m dead anyway.” Then, chuckling, he added, “Besides, what better way to go out then be a hero. I can see it now-- PJ Jordan, hero of the zombie apocalypse. Maybe someone will write a song about me. Maybe Bruce Springsteen.”

  Although they all looked uncomfortable, they knew he was right. They were all out of options. Rick reluctantly handed the flares over to his still smiling friend.

  “No problem, Rick,” PJ said. “Hey, it’s a freaking zombie apocalypse. What have I always been saying? Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not out to get to.” He slapped his friend on the arm and stood up. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Now or never.”

  PJ crept out the gate and made his way down to a couple of cars that were near the end of the tall fence. Pausing a second, he pulled out a flare and with shaking hands ignited it. The flare burst into flame illuminating the scene in a bright red glow. Climbing up to the roof of the large SUV, he waved the flare over his head and called out.

  “Hey, stupid! Look at me. Yeah, you. Come on down.”

  Every undead head turned to PJ. For a fraction of a second they stood there in confusion. Then, in the snarling recognition, they all converged on the SUV. Still waving the flare over his head, PJ turned and looked over his shoulder.

  The four members of the dwindling group ran, hunched over, across the street. Unnoticed, they crept down the block using the abandoned vehicles as their shield.

  The undead were surrounding the lone human atop the SUV. There snarling faces gl
owed in the bright red light of the flare. Reaching hands slapped against the windows of the vehicle trying to grab PJ as he stood there. More and more came as the zombies from the construction site now emerged.

  PJ saw the four run around the corner. He figured he could give them another ten minutes. Taking out Amy’s handgun he looked at the magazine. There were still four bullets left. I only need one, he thought.

  As he looked at the undead faces surrounding him, an idea came into his head. Leaning over slightly he fired two shots into the fuel tank lid on the side of the vehicle he was standing on. PJ waited until he saw gasoline pouring out from under the car and running into the street.

  With an ironic smile, PJ said aloud, “Okay Bruce, do me proud.”

  He tossed the burning flare into the crowd. It bounced off the head of a woman and hit the ghoul behind her in the chest. Her hair flamed up, as did the zombie’s shirt. Holding the gun under his chin, he waited for the gas to ignite. Three minutes passed, but there was still no awaited flare up.

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he grunted.

  Putting the gun back in his pocket, he lit another flare. Trying to see the ground between the zombie’s feet, PJ found he couldn’t see a thing as they were packed too tightly. He could still see that the gas was continuing to flow onto the street. At this time, he tossed the flare a bit closer. The twirling flare sailed end over end and hit a tall creature directly in the face. The burning projectile flared up as it hit and fell at the zombie’s feet. The startled ghoul batted at his face in confusion. Then, with a loud whoosh, the gas pool ignited. As the flames trailed back to the SUV, PJ smiled and put the gun to his head.

  “So long, suckers.” Then he pulled the trigger.

  Austin, Rick, Amy and Jermaine ran down the street at full throttle. They crossed over and passed underneath the elevated arches of the 12th Avenue Viaduct. As they ran a single shot rang out. A moment later an explosion rocked the area. Looking behind him as he ran, we could see an orange and red fireball rise up into the night sky.

  Several of the undead appeared from behind the wrecked and abandoned vehicles scattered about. One grabbed Jermaine and they both fell against a parked Jeep. The startled soldier was able to squeeze his arm between them and push it up against the zombie’s chin. They struggled as his teeth snapped together inches from Jermaine’s face. Austin grabbed the ghoul around the shoulders from behind and pulled him off of his friend. He threw the zombie hard to the ground. Amy came up, stuck her shotgun in his mouth and blew his head off.

  They continued on and reached the tracks with just a couple of zombies on their tail. There were a few train cars on the tracks and they climbed underneath the empty freight cars, and then hopped into one of the open cargo doors on the opposite side. They left that same door open so they could quickly flee. Waiting silently, they heard some shuffling footsteps in the gravel on the eastern side of the tracks. After stumbling around near the freight cars, they eventually wandered off.

  The four survivors sat down warily on the dirty freight car floor. Amy was next to Rick and reached over to him. Placing her hand on his arm, she smiled knowingly at him. Looking back at her sadly, he leaned over and they hugged each other in solidarity. They had both lost people close to them.

  Austin and Jermaine looked at them, smiling slightly, and then looked at each other. Austin raised his eyebrows up and down quickly; Jermaine nodded in unspoken agreement.

  “Wild ride,” Austin said simply.

  Nodding, Jermaine said, “Yeah. Wild ride.”

  19

  The rain clouds had at last cleared. Bright sunshine lit up the sky. It reflected off of the sea of glass on the city’s skyscrapers. It was on days like this that New York City did indeed look like a city of gold. From a distance the only anomaly marring this visage were the multiple columns of smoke that rose from various raging fires throughout the island, and the military aircraft that could be seen patrolling the area.

  The four survivors, Rick, Austin, Jermaine and Amy stood on the upper deck of the George Washington Bridge. By keeping to the tracks as long as they could, they were able to avoid the millions of zombies that roamed the rest of the city. Now they were ready to leave this forsaken place. The smoldering fires from the New Jersey side of the river told them that they hadn’t seen the last of their trials.

  “The bridge looks pretty clear of undead,” Jermaine remarked.

  “I thought there would be a lot more,” agreed Rick.

  Nodding satisfactorily, Austin said, “My guess is that after everyone turned here, they wandered off looking for other victims.”

  “Bad for them, good for us,” Rick said.

  “We’ll still have to avoid the few that are still wandering around here,” noted Amy.

  The four started walking across the bridge. The expanse was completely jammed with vehicles of all shapes and sizes. They were bumper to bumper on the span. A number of them had collided on the bridge as they failed to break or tried to change lanes. A few were still burning. A good number of vehicles still had undead strapped into their seats, twisting their heads around and banging the glass in eternal frustration. The rest of the undead were either standing immobile or slowly wandering between lanes. Fortunately there were not many of them.

  “You know,” Jermaine mused, “I’ve never been to Jersey before.”

  Grinning, Rick said, “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Austin snorted sarcastically and grunted, “Oh, he knows. Why do you think he has stayed away for so long?”

  Everyone laughed as Rick said, “Hey, it ain’t so bad.”

  “It sucks,” Amy quipped.

  “No it doesn’t!”

  Austin glanced at Rick in amusement. “Does it have zombies?”

  Rick looked puzzled. “Well, yeah.”

  “Then, it sucks.”

  Of course, now… everywhere sucked.

  The End

  Richard McCrohan

  Since childhood when he was glued to the TV screen watching horror movies, Richard McCrohan has had a fascination with the things that go bump in the night. Whether a good film or a great book the exhilaration of a good scare was a feeling he always wanted to share. Now Richard has translated that excitement into his own words. He hopes that when you read his works, you too will be afraid of what lies beyond the light of you reading lamp.

  Richard McCrohan is an author, artist, optician, black belt karate instructor and avid video gamer. A New Jersey native, he now lives in Boynton Beach, Florida with his wife Linda, and their two small dogs.

  Richard is the author of the Pandora series of novels, Pandora, Pandora 2, Dead to the World and Quarantine; as well as several short stories.