by T. W. Brown
The radio station was a loop of the same warnings for people to remain indoors. It also said that people should avoid trying to go to the hospitals unless absolutely necessary. They were overcrowded with people that had been attacked.
“This is insane,” Rose said, glancing down at Circe. The dog glanced up at her from where it had rested its muzzle on its paws. “And if this is some of that crazy horror movie stuff, then I sure hope the people in charge get it taken care of in a hurry.”
She continued to drive, and as she passed people, she saw expressions of fear, anger, and even a few cryptic smiles. Those made her shudder. Who could find anything funny at a time like this? Then, something on the radio caught her attention.
“…Centers for Disease control have been working on this since the first reports. They caution that individuals who might have suffered an attack by one of the infected should be watched closely and taken immediately to the nearest hospital. The Army and National Guard units are being deployed as we speak to set up triage stations at all major medical facilities.
“In addition, we have just received news that President Branson will be leaving Washington for a secure location within the hour. It is believed that his staying in a heavily populated area is not in the best interest of national security as riots are erupting in the nation’s capital as well as several other cities across the country.”
Rose shook her head as she listened. Now they were telling people to go to the hospitals. They had just been running an announcement on a loop that said just the opposite and requested people stay home unless absolutely necessary. She also knew that the 9-1-1 circuits were basically useless. She’d tried and gotten a looped recording there as well.
“This is worse than I thought,” she breathed as she crested the hill that gave her that momentary glimpse of the city of Portland spread out along the horizon.
The majestic, snow-capped spire of Mount Hood sat off in the distance, and to her left she could see the remnants of Mount St. Helens. The Willamette River cut lazily through the heart of the city; a collection of bridges spanning it in several locations.
The scenery was spoiled by no fewer than a dozen columns of smoke rising from various locations. Some looked massive and could not be just a single building. One in particular looked like it might be an entire block going up in flames.
“…efforts to locate the president’s daughter have so far been a failure according to sources within the military. A representative from the Ohio—” Rose turned the radio off.
“What makes her any more important or special than any other kid off at college and away from their family?” she grumbled.
As she skirted the edges of Portland on her way to her sister’s house in Sandy, Rose could not help but feel the anxiety of not knowing what was going on. Violet’s call had ended so abruptly, and her sister sounded like something was very wrong.
At last, Highway 26 curved to the right. Now it was almost a straight shot. Twice more she tried to make the call, but as the landmarks passed and she knew she was moments away from the turnoff that would take her to Violet’s house, Rose resigned herself to having to wait.
At last she reached the end of the gated driveway. Jumping out of the car, she walked up and pushed the buzzer for her sister to open the gate. There was an abnormally long silence causing Rose to push the button again.
At last there was an answer. “Who is this, please?” Crystal’s voice asked cautiously.
“Crystal, honey, it’s Auntie Rose. Open the gate, please, sweetie.”
“Mama told me to leave the gate a closed until daddy gets home,” the sweet voice replied with her odd matter-of-factness.
“But it’s me, Crystal,” Rose insisted. Then, as an afterthought, she added, “I have the puppies with me.”
A squeal of delight came and then there was the familiar buzz and the gate began to slide open. Rose jumped in her car and waited until she had enough room. As soon as she did, she sped up the long driveway.
The first thing she noticed was that the house had every single light on; both inside and outside, the lights were a dazzling brilliance that kept the coming darkness at bay. That was Violet’s doing. She had never quite outgrown her fear of the dark and had insisted on the floodlights and motion-activated spotlights around the perimeter of the house. With Trevor gone so often with work, it had been a necessity if Violet was to have any peace of mind.
Pulling in, Rose opened her car door and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as Imp began to growl. Getting out slowly, but making certain to look in every direction, Rose decided to leave the dogs in the car for the moment. She had a bad feeling. It had begun with Crystal being the one to answer the buzz and it had climaxed with Imp’s reaction.
“Violet?” Rose called as she closed the car door behind her and took a few cautious steps toward the house.
She took another step and the front door flew open. Crystal emerged, taking a cautious look around before bolting for Rose as fast as her little legs could carry her. She was babbling something, but none of it was making any sense.
Rose knelt and caught the girl by the shoulders and looked Crystal up and down. She had something splattered on her jeans and dark blue blouse. Also, there were flecks of black on her face.
“Where are your mommy and Jacob?” Rose asked.
The little girl took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “Mama is sick. The neighbor gave her an owie on her arm. She made me and Jacob tie her hands up. She said it was a game, but then she said we could not untie her no matter what. Then she fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up. She smelled really stinky. When her eyes opened, they looked icky…”
Rose remembered Frank’s eyes; she remembered the ugly way they looked like they’d been hit with terrible cataracts. And then there were the black squiggly traces. She gave Crystal a closer inspection when she heard something that made her blood freeze in her veins.
“…then she bit Jacob, He screamed and she wouldn’t let go. She bit off his pointer and his naughty finger—” Crystal was explaining.
“Wait, where is Jacob now?” Rose demanded.
“In his bed. He cried and cried and none of the Band-Aids would stay on. Then he fell asleep.” Crystal had an indignant tone to her voice that made Rose think perhaps she had already said that part.
“Take me to him,” Rose said as she climbed to her feet and took Crystal by the hand.
Together, they walked into the house. Almost immediately, Rose noticed the stench. It was a bit stronger than it had been in her house, but it was that same sickly sweet, rotten stink. The television in the living room was on, as was the one in the kitchen and in the family room. Judging by the echo coming from down the hallway, so was the one in Violet’s bedroom.
She had to take a deep breath through her mouth and pause before continuing. When she did, Crystal led her down the hallway. As they walked, they passed the bedroom belonging to her sister. If possible, the smell was worse. A low moan came from the room that gave Rose a fresh dose of the creeps. On instinct, Rose reached for the door. Jacob could wait; she had to see her sister.
“Mama is in there. I don’t want to go in there,” Crystal whispered. “She smells bad and is being mean.”
Rose took a deep breath and then faced her niece. “You stay right here. I am going to go in and see your mom. No matter what you hear, you stay put. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Auntie Rose,” Crystal said obediently.
Steeling herself for what she was about to see, Rose turned the knob and walked into the bedroom.
***
Ken waited for the couple to get out of the way and then entered the parking lot. As expected, most of the spaces were taken. Pushing aside any sense of guilt, he opened his glove box and removed his police identification placard and placed it on the dashboard as he steered into an area clearly marked as a “No Parking” zone.
Jumping out of the truck, he ran around to the passenger’s side a
nd opened the door, catching the girl as she slumped over and into his arms. With minimal reaching around, he located the seatbelt clasp, pushed the release, and pulled her the rest of the way out of the truck. Closing the door with his foot, he turned and walked as fast as he could with the girl in his arms.
As he stepped on the pad that opened the door to the emergency room, he was hit with an overwhelming wave of sights, sounds, and smells. Just a few feet away, a man sat slumped over in a chair, his hastily bandaged arm dripping blood onto the linoleum floor in a growing puddle. Across from him sat a woman holding a little boy no older than three or four. He had a nasty bite on his right cheek and it had caused enough swelling to shut his eye.
Ken instinctively clutched the girl tighter to his chest. While he had no actual tie to the young lady, it was he that had brought her here. Until the doctors took her in, it was up to him to ensure that she did not suffer further injury.
He approached the window where he should be able to check the girl in. Once that was done, he could be on his way. He had a good idea as to where he was headed, but he needed to do this first; his conscience was already nagging at him about the shootings and then the subsequent leaving as the two young men were set on by the zombies.
He did not imagine there could be a worse way to die when it came down to it. Being eaten alive must be absolutely horrifying…not to mention painful. A scream brought his attention back to the waiting room. He realized that he’d been standing at the check-in window but there was nobody manning it.
Turning around, he saw the man with the bandaged arm now lying face down on the floor. Apparently he had slipped from his chair. Ken did not need to check him to know that the man was most likely dead. Another shriek came from somewhere back in the emergency area. This one sounded like a man, but it ended with an abruptness that was almost more unsettling than the actual scream itself.
“Yeah, we aren’t staying here,” Ken muttered as he headed for the door.
As he was turning to leave, the electronic doors opened and two people stumbled in. Ken had worked the streets enough to recognize gang tattoos. The thing that sort of did not fit with this picture was the fact that the thug was assisting an twenty-something Hispanic woman. With the racist tattoos showing prominently on his arms, this was the last guy on earth that Ken would imagine to be helping anybody; much less a woman of an ethnicity other than Caucasian.
The guy had his arm around the woman who had dried blood on the side of her face and a section of her hair matted down from an obvious blow to the head.
“Anybody!” the gang banger called as he stopped a few feet inside. Ken watched the man’s eyes scan the room. He was not surprised when they locked on him and narrowed considerably.
***
“Anybody!” Jason called.
Juanita had slumped to his side and was starting to struggle with staying conscious. He was beginning to think that the head injury might be worse than either of them believed.
He was only a few steps inside when a number of things pinged on his consciousness. The first was a smell. He’d gotten a really good whiff of it in the grocery store. It was here, perhaps not quite as strong, but he could smell it, and he was beginning to connect it to the possible presence of zombies. The second thing he spotted was a little boy with a nasty bite on his face. The eye on the side of the face that was bitten had swollen to the point where you could not really see it anymore. However, the other one was easy to see; even more so as Jason spotted dark squiggles already visible in the kid’s eye.
Then there was the cop.
Just about anybody who has done time can spot a cop in a crowd. Jason knew the moment that he saw the man with the body in his arms that the guy was absolutely a cop. He felt his old barriers slam into place and his instant distrust seep into every fiber of his being.
A moan to his right tore his stare away from the man across the room. Some guy on the floor was trying to get up. He had one arm bandaged, but the blood had seeped through and there was a nasty, dark puddle on the floor. The man had apparently fallen into it and smeared it all over the place. When his head came up and turned in Jason’s direction, he knew right away what this guy had become.
He eyed the check-in station and saw that it was empty. Also, now that he was on alert, he noticed a few other little details. The area on the other side of that check-in window had shadows moving around. There was a blood stain on a wall that was well back and just barely visible past the little wall that made the rear of the little cubicle where the receptionist or check-in nurse would normally be sitting.
“This is the wrong place to be,” Jason whispered. “All the books say things about how the hospitals are like zombie beehives. All the early victims are here and turning. Doctors won’t believe it and end up bit. We gotta go.”
Juanita moaned softly and mumbled something about being sleepy. Jason shifted his arm under her and hoisted her back up.
The man on the floor was slowly rising to his feet. Jason began to retreat towards the doors. He didn’t have a weapon and he was not interested in trying to take one of those things on with his bare hands.
The cop at the reception window was starting towards him. The zombie noticed right away and turned his direction. That gave Jason the opportunity he needed and he slipped out the door. Just as he did, another car was pulling in. This one came right to the curb, but it was weaving and did not so much stop as it crashed into one of the pillars that supported the slab covering the entry.
Jason altered his course just enough to avoid the crashed car. As he passed the front of the vehicle, he saw a body slumped over the steering wheel. But in the passenger’s seat was a woman. Thankfully, she was belted in. He didn’t need much light to know what her situation was as she reached and clawed at the air. An ugly black rip in the flesh of her throat made even darker by the shadows gave away her fate. Her head lurched forward in futility as the shoulder harness kept her in place, but in that action, her face came into the light shining down from above. Jason could see the unnatural pallor of her skin…and the eyes.
He kept moving, his grip on Juanita tightening just slightly as he spied at least a dozen figures heading their direction. By their awkward gait, he knew what they were and realized that a weapon needed to be his new priority.
“When there is no more room in Hell…” Jason recited.
The door behind him opened with an electronic swish. “Hey, you! Wait up!” a voice called.
The sounds of moans from the undead carried on the wind as if in reply. And then another sound that made Jason freeze: the sound of a baby’s cry.
***
Rose gagged on the wave of stench that assailed her. In the closed up bedroom, the reek was so thick that she felt it in the back of her throat. She could smell the stink of sweat and shit…and something rotten.
It was Violet.
She was tied up on the bed just as Crystal had said she would be. However, she had thrashed and wriggled around enough so that she was cockeyed and lying diagonally with the blankets all kicked away.
“Oh, Violet,” Rose cried, the tears coming to her eyes and blurring her vision.
The only response from her sister was an increased thrashing and writhing. Violet opened her mouth that was still stained with the blood of her son from when she’d bitten the poor boy, letting out another of those horrible moans.
Looking around the room, Rose’s eyes settled on a piece of paper that was on the dresser. The handwriting was instantly recognizable as that belonging to Violet. Walking over to it, she could not tear her eyes away from the horrible thing that had once been her sister.
Picking up the piece of paper, Rose read:
Dear Sister,
If you are reading this, then my fears have been realized. For days, the news has been talking about this infection or plague. It does not matter what they call it. I know what it is. Or at least, I know what it does.
Please bear with me, but if you are reading this,
then I am tied up in my bed (unless I have fallen on the floor or somehow managed to break free). I was bitten by a neighbor out at the gate.
I fear that I know how this will end. That is why I will have the children tie me up after I have written this letter. Rose, you are the last hope for my children. Trevor is in Seattle and called just about twenty minutes after the attack. He is in a hospital after being jumped in the parking garage of the hotel he was staying in during this most recent trip. He was bitten. He will not be coming home.
I know that you might have a hard time believing this, but trust me, Rose, these are zombies. Straight from the movies and all that stuff you never liked. I did one thing that might help you. I chased down the neighbor that bit me and crushed the skull with the three-pound sledge. (It is on the back porch, I did not want the kids to see it.) You have to do it just like in the movies. Aim for the head.
I have been trying to call you, but, as you may know, the phone lines are a disaster. I want you to know that if you do get here, there is nobody I would trust more with my children other than you.
And if I am still tied up in this bed, please end it. That is not me. That is a monster that will not recognize you as anything more than something to tear apart and eat.
I wish that I had more time to try and tell you more, but I am already fighting whatever this is that is burning up inside of me. Stay away from the cities. You can probably live here just fine if you reinforce the fencing. The cellar is stocked with enough food for a family of four to last at least a year. The spring planting was already done. All you need to do is take care of it and you will have more than enough.
The farm next door where the person that attacked me came from has chickens. I would grab some now. (I doubt they will be needing them anymore, LOL.) Between them and the goats, you should be well supplied.
