by Dean James
There are other changes that occur during the reanimation process besides the obvious dead person up and walking around part. The saliva of the corpse changes into a sticky toxin that presents like a frothy foam whenever the infected come in contact with a food source. The toxin carries with it a high concentration of matured spores. In most cases the bitten will die from this poison within the first 4 hours, and returns to life within thirty minutes.
It is also believed that the fungal agent slows, or even halts the decay rate of the infected. It looks like these walking mushrooms will be with us for a very long time.”
“Fuck me,” I exhaled. Quickly I glanced in the mirror to make sure my slip of the profane did not elicit a shoe to the back of my head.
“Think that’s bad folks? It gets worse.”
“Of course it does,” I said to nobody. “Why half ass the end of the world?”
“Currently, the concentration of matured spores in the air is very high. With each creature killed, more spores are released. But the CDC states these matured spores do not affect living people in the same way it does dead bodies. Instead, the fungus will go dormant again, until the carrier dies. When that happens, the person will come back unless the brain is destroyed. Due to the concentration of contagion in the air, the CDC estimates every living man, woman, and child on Earth is infected. Everyone will come back.”
I sighed shaking my head. “So what’s the bad news?”
“We have received a lot of phone calls over the last few hours informing us of events on the ground. Many of the roadblocks set up since this crisis began have been abandoned. It is, however, advisable that you still approach checkpoints with caution. Callers have reported muggings, assaults, and even murder by those taking advantage of this crisis. It is advised that everyone exercise extreme caution with the dead, and ever more caution with the living.
As I close this broadcast, I would like to thank all the people who have called in with well wishes, and to keep us informed of events as they happen. We appreciate every call we receive. There may however be a time when we will no longer hear from you, either from our need to conserve power or simply from network failures. We just want you all to know whether you can get through to us or not, you are in our thoughts and prayers. For now, we are signing off again. We hope to have more news for you later this evening. From all of us a WFUKD radio, be safe. Yes, we changed our call letters, because here in Chicago, We Fucked. If anyone at the FCC has any complaints over the language, they are welcome to come down and hand us our fines.”
I chuckled as the radio went silent. For what it was worth, he still had his humor.
I turned down the volume on the static filled radio to process this latest information. The fleeting hopes that this infection would burn itself out had been dashed completely. This was here to stay. Unless we wanted to become zombie chow, we had to kill them. The act of killing them releases the infection into the air that makes more of them.
Damned if you do, eaten if you don’t.
“Well that explains what happened to you by the police car,” Abby said, placing her hand on my shoulder from the back seat.
“Jesus Abby! Are you trying to scare me to death on this trip?! How long have you been awake?”
“As soon as you turned the radio on,” she said laughing. “A little jumpy are we?”
“When the dead are walking and we’re on the menu, yeah my jumpiness factor goes up a tad,” I replied. “I do have some more bad news. We need to start thinking about gas soon.”
“How soon?” Abby asked as she climbed into the passenger seat. “I thought we had well over a half tank.”
“We did when we left this morning,” I said “But we’ve been taking the very long way there. Back tracking from that town didn’t help either. We’re below a quarter now.”
“Can we make it on what we have?” Abby asked as she began to fidget nervously with her seatbelt. She had every reason to be hesitant. Our last two supply stops had not gone smoothly, and she had no reason to think that would change.
“Maybe if we use the highway, and that’s if we don’t have to keep going around wrecks and roadblocks,” I said. “I could try to siphon off something from the dead cars, but who knows what will be waiting for me in and around them. Plus, we would still need to find a hose and something to hold the gas.”
“True, but what are the odds we’ll run across a Mobile station out here?” she asked, nodding towards the window.
“Not good, but we have to find something soon or we’ll be hoofing it across country.”
“I don’t like that idea much either,” she said.
“You never like any of my ideas,” I said winking at her.
“That’s because your ideas have a good chance of involving the police. Or the fire department,” she hesitated before adding that last bit.
“You’re going to bring that up again?”
“We had to move because of it. I’d say it’s worth mentioning from time to time.”
“How was I supposed to know that dog was sleeping in that pile of leaves? It wasn’t my fault that it ran into the neighbor’s garage,” I protested.
“And why did you set the leaves on fire in the first place?” she asked sarcastically.
“It was faster than bagging them all up. Come on, it was a good idea.”
“That’s not what the dog thought,” she chuckled.
“I’m going to stop talking to you. You’re mean.”
“There is another option,” she said looking at the GPS.
“Besides me not talking to you?”
“Can you please be serious for a minute?” she gave me a sideways glance.
“If I answer that will you hit me again?”
“Probably,” she smirked.
“Okay, what’s your idea then?”
“What about Route 12? It’s not a main highway, and it cuts right through Wisconsin. We could stay on it long enough to find gas, and we might even shave some travel time.”
“It’s still risky. That road will bring us through some decent sized populations. We would have better luck with gas though. There’s no guarantee we would find anything on these back roads,” I said eyeing the GPS. “It’s either chance the larger road, or risk running out of gas. No good choices really.”
“I say we go for it,” she said decisively. “I think it’s the better of two evils.”
“You’re the boss,” I said poking her arm with my elbow.
“Can I get that in writing?”
“Not in this lifetime,” I teased.
It was not long before we came to a stop. The four lane road that made up Route 12 was eerily absent of life. I had second thoughts about our course of action, but Abby was right. It was our best chance at finding fuel. One glance at Abby told me she felt the same dread that was coursing through me.
“We sure about this?” I asked, more to myself than her.
“Not really,” she replied. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty
Rosa’s dreams were awash in happiness and terror. She dreamt of her first day at work shortly after she moved into the small community. She saw the ER entrance, bathed in the warm sunlight of the early August morning. The scent of warm soil and healthy vegetation wafted through the country air as she walked into the hospital to the welcoming smiles of her new coworkers, and soon to be friends.
She had taken her lunch outside, sitting on a bench facing the miles of visible rolling countryside. The hospital sat atop a small hill, the land sloping downwards to a small strip of forest that wrapped around the hospital campus. Beyond the trees, tall corn stalks swayed in the warm breeze, like a green ocean ebbing and flowing with the currents of air. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, smiling as she warmed her face in the sun. The breeze caressed her cheeks with feathery tenderness. She was happier than she could remember being in a very long time, and she felt that she had finally found the place she would spend the rest of her life.
Off in the distance she heard a faint thud, like an open palm slap on a wall. The warm breeze suddenly disappeared; the sun light vanishing. She was cold, but it was not a normal cold. She felt a despairing emptiness in her soul. She opened her eyes, and found herself behind the nurse’s station in the ER. The florescent tubes were dimmer than she remembered, and buzzed like a fly caught in a bug zapper.
The room was a nightmare version of itself, walls twisting and distorting themselves before her eyes. Shadows moved out of the corner of her eye, but nothing was there when she turned to see what it was. Unearthly moans and shuffling feet came from all around her, as if the life that normally filled the halls were replaced with hellish abominations. Behind it, the distant slapping sound continued, growing louder with each passing second.
The coppery smell of fresh blood suddenly filled the ER, tinged with the distinct odors of death. Droplets of blood formed in the corners of the ceiling, dripping down in narrow streams and pooling on the cold tiled floor.
Lights flickered and dimmed even further. The slapping grew even louder, until it was like a hammer beating its way out from her skull. She tried to raise her hands to her ears to drown it out, but she had no control over them. Her arms came up of their own accord, and in her hands was a shredded human arm.
Rosa’s mind wanted to scream, but she had lost control of her own body. The blood soaked appendage lifted to her mouth, and her teeth tore into a strip of red muscle. She felt the skin flex, then pop as her teeth broke through. The spongy raw flesh resisted until she pulled her head back, tearing at the tough meat. It gave with a pop, her head snapping back as the tissue filled her mouth. She chewed, tasting the metallic blood squirt from the meat with every bite, until she swallowed it down.
Her brain wouldn’t stop screaming. Her stomach roiled, but she couldn’t stop herself from going in for another bite. “No! Stop!” she screamed in her mind. Her head suddenly felt like it had been ripped open when another slap hit like a stick of dynamite.
Rosa’s eyes snapped open. She was awake. She lay on the floor in almost total darkness, save for the slivers of light streaming in from around the door. Her eyes ached and her head felt like it wanted to burst open. She rubbed her temple with the hopes that the nauseating dizziness would subside as her terrifying dream faded into memory.
The door suddenly rattled on its hinges as something smacked it from the other side. Rosa bolted upright, nearly blacking out as she did so. Flashes of light danced before her eyes as the effects of her concussion refused to dissipate. The specter of unconsciousness hung dangerously close, and she felt as if she could slip away at any moment.
Movement in the scant light drew her attention to the door handle. It bobbed up and down, until the door came dangerously close to opening. She launched herself at it, her thumb hitting the lock seconds after the handle bounced back in place. She fell heavily on her side with a grunt before pulling herself up, sitting with her back to the door.
The thing on the other side snarled, and attacked the door with new found fervor. The door shook with every hit. It no longer sounded like an open handed slap, instead it was as if the creature was throwing its body against it.
“Please…go away, please go away, please go away…” she mouthed, pressing her knees tight to her chest. The noise was sure to bring more of them, and she didn’t think it would be long before her temporary sanctuary would be breached. She shook uncontrollably. For the first time since she was a teenager, she prayed.
She heard a sorrowful moan join the angry snarl, and a second creature joined in the attack. The door shuddered in its frame. Soon another joined, the hinges cracking under the relentless attack. There was no doubt, they knew she was in there. Or at the very least, they knew there was something in the room worth investigating.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. She realized she was in a medical supply closet that paramedics used to resupply their rigs. This particular one was relatively close to the sliding glass doors that would lead out to the ambulance bay. She needed to get there somehow.
Her eyes darted over the room, looking for some hope of escape while more of the monsters joined the fray. The top hinge cracked and fell away, the door buckling under the immense pressure of the monsters outside. She thought of climbing through the vents, but there was no way to gain entry that she could see. There were no windows to climb through or cabinets to hide inside. There were only wire racks marked with various labels to aid with locating the various medical supplies. Most of the racks were empty.
The door cracked, and she panicked. She got to her feet, fighting the ever present dizziness. She frantically grabbed at anything she could use as a weapon, finding only some crutches and a few collapsible walkers. The attack on the door intensified, and her knees weakened. She had no chance if she was forced to fight. One last look around the dark room, and an idea suddenly hit her.
Two large canvas laundry carts sat against the back wall, intended to carry soiled and contaminated linens to be properly cleaned and sterilized. On a busy day, paramedics could easily fill at least one of them. Usually they would be emptied first thing in the morning, but it seemed current events had delayed pick up. It was far from ideal, but it was literally her only hope.
She found them both full of linens that were covered with vileness that Rosa did not want to imagine. She pulled the first one out of the way to access the one behind it. She pushed and shoved the heavy sheets out of the way until there was enough of a gap for her to climb in. Once she stood inside, she reached over and pulled the first cart back to where it was, so she would have some protection between her and the things that soon would be inside.
No sooner had she ducked under the nastiest sheets and blankets she could imagine, the door cracked from its hinges and crashed to the floor. Rosa squirmed her way to the bottom of the cart until she couldn’t dig any deeper. She noticed a pinhole of light penetrating into her shelter. She cleared a crusted sheet away to reveal a small tear in the canvas wall. She could not see much beyond the other laundry cart, but what she saw filled her with icy dread.
The creatures were spilling into the room, banging into shelves and knocking bins full of equipment to the floor. She had finally accepted what the things were. She had no choice. She didn’t need her nursing degree to tell her the people milling around inside the room were dead, and yet they were walking. Against everything she knew to be scientifically possible, she was looking at zombies. A shit load of zombies, and they were looking for her.
She couldn’t see how many were in the room with her already, but she had a clear view to the now opened doorway. Creatures continued to flow in, with no end in sight. Her cart jostled with every impact of a creature against the cart in front of her. She watched through her peephole as the things packed in so tight they could only sway against each other.
She caught sight of a man in coveralls. His jaw and tongue were gone, leaving the top row of teeth exposed. Blackened clotted blood oozed down his exposed chest, running across a tattoo that looked like a tiger with a deep gash slicing through its midsection. His left arm was missing save for a small splintered bone protruding from his shoulder. His ghostly white eyes scanned the room, just like every other monster that had invaded her sanctuary.
“Oh Ted, no,” she mouthed when she saw the man who had dragged her into the supply room hours before. He had saved her and went back for others, and it cost him his life.
Her hiding place jarred suddenly as several of the things fell onto the cart in front of her. Rosa grunted as she was thrown backwards and away from her peephole. The room went silent. Rosa held her breath as she listened for the slightest noise and found none. She peered out into the herd once more. They stood eerily still, heads turned in her direction. Their eyes moved slowly left to right, as if searching for something. And they were. They heard her, and they were looking for the source of the sound.
For several terror filled moments the creatures didn’t move, and
neither did she. She waited for one of them to rip the sheets away, and pull her into the waiting hungry mob. A growl floated from out of her view, followed by a moan, and a hiss. Slowly, one by one, they started to move again. Eventually, they returned to their uncoordinated shambling.
Rosa exhaled into a bundled sheet to eliminate any more noise. Her head still swam from her concussion. Spots danced in front of her eyes from holding her breath for so long. She pulled away from her peephole. She didn’t want to see any more. She didn’t know how, or even if she would be able to get away.
She curled herself into fetal position, buried under pounds of sheets and blankets contaminated with blood, shit, and vomit. Her tears flowed freely onto the canvas below as the dead pressed against her.
She didn’t know what else to do. She waited.
Chapter Twenty-One
“No more gas stations,” Abby said.
“Agreed.”
Route 12 was a bust. Not that there wasn’t a glut of places to stop for fuel. However, all but a few were crawling with corpses. I wasn’t sure if there were people trapped within, and I wasn’t willing to risk my growing family to find out. The buildings that were not surrounded by walking coffin stuffers were either destroyed completely or appeared too dangerous to approach.
We thought we had struck gold when we came upon a Shell station that appeared untouched. We soon found that the owners were willing to kill to keep what they had. A point they made with two new bullet holes in Abby’s bumper and a shattered taillight.
“Everyone okay?” I asked after we gained some distance from the trigger happy station residents.
“We’re okay,” Lexi replied. “Right girls?”
