Dead: Snapshot 01: Portland, Oregon

by T. W. Brown

  The little boy took an unsteady step forward. She could not attribute his awkward gait to anything. After all, he was still just a baby. Yet, his head kept twitching; just a bit, first one way, then another. His eyes locked onto her in a way that was disconcerting to say the least. It was not the look of her favorite nephew excited to see his Auntie Rose.

  His mouth opened and Rose felt her gorge shift for what felt like the hundredth time this evening. His tongue was a hideous gray thing that flicked just a little as that deep moan escaped his bluish lips.

  Rose unraveled a little bit more of the twine. That action seemed to alarm or maybe even anger the little boy. Without warning, Jacob lurched forward, hands reaching and mouth smacking. The few teeth that he possessed snapped together with a sharp clacking sound.

  Out of reflex, Rose threw out an arm and swatted the child backwards. He landed awkwardly on one side and there was a nasty snap as something broke. He slid a few feet and his head smacked into the edge of the raised brick in front of the fireplace. It wasn’t hard, but the angle was perfect for the corner to put a nice divot in the little boy’s face where his cheek struck.

  Rose knew that the little boy should cry, yet, he began immediately to try and regain his feet. Before he could, Rose rushed in and yanked his arms behind his back and bound the wrists. With a rush of adrenaline, she had them secured before she realized that she had cinched the rope tight enough to cut into the flesh, yet Jacob made no sounds except for the moans and groans. She shoved him down on his stomach and tied his ankles as well.

  Once she was finished, she rolled the little boy over onto his back. He had gone still and was looking up at her with those hideous eyes. Yet, for an instant, she swore that she saw something pass across his face. She told herself that she had to have been imagining it. As she started to reach down to pick him up, the child craned his neck and tried to bite her again.

  Being careful, Rose scooped up the boy and carried him in to Violet. Maybe that would help. Perhaps having them together would spark something. Anything to debunk the possibility that this was exactly what Violet proclaimed it to be.

  She walked into her sister’s room, and the reaction from Violet was instant. She began to writhe and gnash her teeth, her eyes locked on Rose in a way that was extremely unsettling. Still, Rose moved around the bed and ducked in to lay Jacob at Violet’s side.

  Stepping back, Rose was stunned. There was a definite reaction in Jacob. He had gone still, seemingly content to be at his mother’s side. Sadly, Violet showed no such change in her desire to get at Rose and take a bite out of her.

  Rose grabbed the thick comforter that had been kicked to the floor. After a few minutes and some serious effort, she had trussed the two down so that they were both secure in the bed. She wanted to gag them, but she was satisfied that, between being tied down, and the door being shut, neither of them would be much cause for concern.

  Now that she had that taken care of, Rose walked back out to the living room. The television had the “Emergency Broadcasting System” notice on the screen. The crawler at the bottom had the message: “An announcement from state and national government officials is forthcoming…please stand by…”

  “This ought to be good,” Rose sighed as she flopped down in the chair and thumbed the volume on the remote. Every channel had the identical announcement.

  At last, the screen changed and a man in a rumpled suit came to a podium. The American flag hung on one side. The man wiped his hand down his face and then looked up at the camera. If he was some important politician, Rose sure did not recognize him.

  “My fellow Americans, we are currently dealing with a situation that is unprecedented. As I address you, the president and several key members of the cabinet are en route on Air Force One to a secure location. They will be working endlessly with the CDC until a solution to this strange epidemic is found. We ask that you please heed the announcements from your state and local officials as we take the steps to stem this horrific tragedy that is being suffered around the world.

  “In a moment, your local emergency broadcasting systems will inform you of what to do. Afterwards, the president will address the country. God bless America, and the rest of the world, as we can hopefully come together and resolve this crisis.”

  There was an instant as the man gathered whatever he had brought to the podium that the camera lingered on his face. Rose saw the sweat running down in rivers. This man was just as scared as everybody else. And then there was the fact that he had obviously not made the cut when the president gathered “key members” of the cabinet.

  “That has to suck,” Rose whispered, her eyes glued to the screen.

  And then the screen went back to the EBS test signal. The ticker informed Rose that an announcement from the local network would be carrying region-specific information in one moment. Time felt sluggish, but at last there was a camera shot of a large desk. The Oregon state flag was on one side, the American flag on the other. A gray haired man in a suit sat behind the desk with a few sheets of paper. He seemed surprised by something and then looked up at the camera.

  “People of the Portland-metro and surrounding areas, we are facing something that is unprecedented. There is a terrible virus or contagion that is sweeping through not only our city, but the world. As reports flood in from around the world, the symptoms are consistent.

  “This is what we know for certain. Those infected are currently described as hostile and displaying violent, cannibalistic characteristics. The CDC has confirmed that this disease is communicable. There is no known prevention other than to avoid contact at all costs.

  “Local hospitals have ceased accepting victims of attack. You are directed to bring any person bitten but still alive to stations set up by the police and National Guard. Currently in the Portland-metro area the following locations are set up as monitoring sites: the Rose Quarter, PGE Park, Roosevelt High School, Beaverton High School, Gresham High School, Tigard High School, Forest Grove High School, and Franklin High School. Be advised that more sites are planned, and that those who must use the Rose Quarter or PGE Park will be directed to a FEMA-run emergency shelter where they will be asked to provide information on the person or persons they delivered. At each high school, that information will be obtained at a designated checkpoint established in the vicinity. There will be signs clearly designating routes to take. Also be advised that you should only use the Rose Quarter and PGE Park if you’re in the immediate vicinity.

  “Additionally, the president is expected to speak at seven Pacific Time, approximately eighteen minutes from now. Martial law is expected to be declared on a national level, and Portland is already in the process of recalling all members of the National Guard.

  “I ask you now to please follow the instructions you will see on the screen and do your part to keep the peace here in our beautiful city. If you are listening on the radio, this message will be repeated on a loop until the president speaks. After his address, your local stations will be broadcasting continuous updates of what to do. We will get through this, but only if we stick together as a community.”

  The man smiled and tapped the pages on the desk as if to signal that he was finished. There was a flash, and then the EBS pattern returned. The crawler began scrolling the high points of the national and local addresses as well as the locations to bring those who were infected.

  Rose looked over her shoulder. She simply did not see any way that she could move those two without putting herself and Crystal in danger.

  She would worry about that later. Right now she needed to get something fixed for dinner. She had no idea when the last time was that Crystal had eaten; or herself for that matter.

  She was rummaging through the cupboards, cursing her sister’s refusal to buy anything in a box that could be whipped up in just a few minutes when she heard a voice behind her.

  “I don’t feel good.”

  Rose turned to see Crystal standing in the entryway to the kitchen. Rose
did not see anything at first, and then it almost jumped out at her. On the left forearm, there was a perfect imprint of teeth. The skin had barely been broken, and only in a couple of spots by the looks of things. That did not seem to matter.

  The dark traces that acted as a visible clue for somebody who had been infected were already clearly visible in the little girl’s eyes.

  ***

  “…to bring any person bitten but still alive to stations set up by police and National Guard. Currently in the Portland-metro area the following locations are set up as monitoring sites: the Rose Quarter, PGE Park, Roosevelt High School, Beaverton High School, Gresham High School, Tigard High School, Forest Grove High School, and Franklin High School. Be advised that more sites are planned, and that those who must use the Rose Quarter or PGE Park will be directed to a FEMA-run emergency shelter where they will be asked to provide information on the person or persons they delivered. At each high school, that information will be obtained at a designated checkpoint—”

  Jason switched off the radio as he pulled up to the curb at the park. “Can you believe this?”

  He sat staring out the window for a second until he heard a sniff beside him. He turned to see Juanita wiping at her eyes. She glanced over and saw him staring and scrubbed all the harder.

  “Sorry,” she managed, the strangled sob catching in her throat.

  “For what?” Jason asked honestly.

  Juanita shrugged. Jason was at a loss. He wanted to be sympathetic, but now was not the time. They needed to meet up with this Erin chick and then decide where to go. However, he had learned his lesson at the hospital; reaching into the back seat, he fumbled around until he found the bat that he’d taken from Fred Meyer’s.

  Exiting the car, his eyes scanned the area. It sort of reminded him of prison. Every day, there was an open period out in the yard. Some guys walked the track, some lifted weights, played basketball, or any variety of other sports. When you went to yard, you always kept on a state of alert; that was just the way of things.

  He was glad to see that there was nothing moving at the moment. He waited for Juanita and then started for the fence. There was a corral-style entrance that you had to weave through in order to reach the park proper. As he and Juanita entered, the truck pulled in. Jason noticed that the cop was alone.

  Wait, he thought, scratch that. He has a dog.

  That was something that Jason had missed more than he realized until he’d been in prison for a while. One day, this blind guy came in to the anger management class as a guest speaker. He had a guide dog named Brogan. Petting that dog had stuck with him for a long while. That was one of those “small things in life” that he had decided might be a bit bigger than he had ever realized. He had vowed to appreciate those things much more this time.

  “Where’s your friend?” Jason asked as the man approached. That was when he realized that the man hadn’t given his name. To his credit, they had been in a bit of a hurry to get out of that hospital parking lot. Still, everybody else had given names. This guy hadn’t introduced himself or the person he’d been carrying.

  “She didn’t make it,” the man grumbled. Jason noticed that the guy did not make eye contact. He was hiding something.

  Once inside the park, Jason pulled Juanita to his side and turned to face the man. “You never gave your name back there.”

  “Ken Simpson. You wanna share your SID number?” the man quipped as he wove through the switchback entrance and emerged to stand a few feet away.

  Jason took note that the man had a pistol in a holster on his belt. He wasn’t touching it, but his hand sort of hovered in a way that hinted at his unease with everything going on. He also noticed that the man was kind of scroungy looking. A few days without shaving, and this guy could actually pass for a bum. When he asked for Jason’s SID number, it confirmed to him his suspicions that this guy was a guard or a cop. A SID, or State Identification number, was given to anybody who ever had the displeasure of being arrested and charged with a crime in the state of Oregon. For a convict, it was like a driver’s license number. He knew his better than his own social security number.

  “You a cop?” Jason asked as he started towards the baseball diamond.

  “Retired,” the man said as he fell into step. “You a convict?”

  “Yeah,” Jason answered, and then added, “also retired.”

  Ken Simpson did not laugh. The trio walked the rest of the way in silence. The woman was standing on the pitcher’s mound, the bicycle parked at home plate.

  Now that she had her hood back, Jason took a moment to get a better look. She was a pretty healthy looking woman, not anorexic and skinny—a look that reminded him more of crack whores and heroin addicts than anything sexy. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail that was wound up and pinned in place on the top of her head with two long prongs that looked like they might be stainless steel.

  She had a pretty face and full lips, but there was a hardness to her eyes that detracted from her appearance. Basically, to Jason, she looked angry. He glanced at Ken and saw similarities in their expression. He turned his focus back to Erin. She did not have a cop vibe, but there was something about her that made her more one of the guys than it did a woman; and that played at odds with her curvy shape that was obvious even with the baggy clothes.

  Her hooded sweatshirt was unzipped at the moment and revealed some form of Lycra sports bra or top. They were keeping what he considered just on the edge of an overabundant amount of breasts smashed together with a perfect amount of cleavage showing.

  Shaking himself, Jason flushed when he realized that, not only had he been staring, but it had been spotted. Erin scowled and zipped up her hooded sweatshirt before speaking.

  “So, here is what I know. These things ain’t living. My friend the nurse? The one I was trying to meet up with at Legacy? She sent me this.”

  Pulling out her phone, Erin tapped the screen a few times. A video began with a woman holding the phone that had shot the footage in her hand like she was taking a selfie.

  “Hey, Westy. It’s Cherry. You gotta see this. Whatever they are saying on television, don’t you believe it…”

  The video went on to show a man with a bandage on one arm from the wrist to his elbow. He had the sickly pale grayish-blue skin and the messed up eyes. There were three other hospital staff members in the video, and they all looked scared, but strangely excited at the same time. At one point, the girl who had identified herself as “Cherry” took a scalpel and cut the man open from neck to bellybutton. She used her gloved hands and opened the man strapped on the bed who seemed not to notice as he continued to raise his head and snap at the people moving around him.

  “It’s real, Westy!” The woman’s face came back to fill the picture. “Sure as shit, this is freakin’ zombies. We are gathering some stuff and will be leaving from the cafeteria exit in about two hours. We always said that medical stuff would be gold if this happened. Well…” The camera whirled around and came to rest on the body tied to the bed in some out of the way hospital room. “There it is. See you in a bit, sweets.”

  That last comment made Jason raise an eyebrow. Not that he was the sort to believe that all a “woman like her” needed to go straight was a roll in the sack with the right man, but at least he understood more why she had shot him such a dirty look. At least that was the logic his mind was forming.

  Ken Simpson was on an entirely different tangent. He stepped in front of Erin and hitched his pants in a way that reminded Jason of the stereotypical southern state trooper. All he needed was a toothpick and mirrored sunglasses.

  “Y’all were planning to steal a bunch of stuff from the hospital.” Ken had no emotion in his voice, and he was making a statement, not asking a question.

  “That was the plan,” Erin said shamelessly. “I don’t know if you were paying complete attention, but I think that video makes a valid argument for zombies.”

  The next thing that Ken said actua
lly surprised Jason. “It’s a shame they didn’t make it out. But I take it that you know where they would have been getting their stuff?”

  “Not exactly,” Erin spoke with caution licking at the edge of her voice. “Why?”

  “Because, in all this zombie crap, things are crazy for a few days, but then they settle down. If this spirals out of control, then we could go back in there a week or two from now and hopefully grab the stuff they gathered. It might even still be bagged up and just waiting. Save us the trouble of having to search.”

  Jason did a double take. He had actually thought all the way up to this moment that there would be no way the cop was going to buy the whole “zombie apocalypse” idea. He had still struggled with it. At least he had until that video; that had been the final nail in the coffin of any doubt.

  “Nice idea. But I am going on to phase two of my plan,” Erin said with a dismissive wave.

  “Plan?” Ken scoffed. “How does anybody plan for this sort of thing?”

  “It didn’t have to be zombies,” Erin said with earnest seriousness. “Preppers simply prepared for the collapse of this country and its infrastructure.”

  “You were one of those nuts?” Now Ken was practically laughing as he spoke. “Like those sorts you saw on television? You one of those religious nuts like in Waco, or some anti-government yay-hoo like that fella in Ruby Ridge.”

  “Easy to throw labels and make assumptions based on ignorance,” Erin shot back. “But last I checked, you came here to meet up with me. You are just as free to turn around and walk off. I imagine that girl you were carrying with the gunshot wound to her leg could use some help right about now.”

  “Oooh, snap,” Jason chuckled.

  Ken’s face darkened for a moment, and Jason actually believed that the man would either leave, or attack this Erin chick. He glanced over at Juanita and saw that she must be thinking the same thing as she had begun to edge away from where the possible conflict might turn physical. Instead, the man surprised him again.