You could read it all over the national news anchor’s face… even he didn’t believe what he was reading. The basic summary was that the newly identified R33PR virus had gained a foothold in most major cities.
Once infection reached final stages, the afflicted person exhibited extremely violent behavior. It was unknown whether or not this was a transmission method for the mature virus or maybe even a result of altered brain chemistry from the infected and darkened blood. As a result of the propensity towards violent behavior, the CDC recommended that infected family members who were showing signs of the R33PR virus should be isolated and reported.
Scientists were still trying to determine the exact transmission method and level of contagion. At that point, the death rate in the newly infected appeared to be one hundred percent. This new phase in the pandemic had potential to cause a new collapse in the global economy unless drastic action could be taken in the coming days.
Isolated and reported? What in the hell did that mean?
Oh, I forgot the best part… they were calling it the “REAPER virus.” I guess “R33PR” looks like “REEPER” on a fucked up vanity license plate or something. Frankly, I was surprised it took the media this long to think of a nickname for it. Well, at least it was easier to say than R33PR, plus it sounded deservingly ominous.
* * *
0230 hours:
Closing time for the clubs normally unleashed a tainted flood of humanity in streets near our station. Club patrons were kicked out of their sweaty confines of sensory bombardment and into the streets. Our agency responded by having extra officers in the area to deal with the inevitable brawls between intoxicated, scantily clad deviants. This pattern of crowd control was fairly predictable. I had seen girls waiting outside the club wearing veritable scraps of clothing compared to my many layers on nights where the temperature reached single digits. However, the unrest from the viral epidemic must have everyone truly scared because that night there was barely a soul.
Even though our officers covered two main areas they usually conducted operations utilizing one radio channel that was controlled by a single dispatcher. If there was a special event or initiative, then command would authorize use of a secondary service channel used exclusively for that event. I wasn’t very surprised when they opened up a service channel on the radio just for the hospital units, but it made sense with their hands being so full with infected patients and family members. Our air time was so clogged with distressed transmissions from east officers that the ones on the academic campus could hardly get across. The other officers needed to be able to reach the radio room just as badly since the infection was hardly isolated to the hospital area.
While stepping out of dispatch I tiptoed by the commander’s office. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I sort of eavesdropped to see if I could learn anything new. I almost wished that I hadn’t…. All I heard was alley kid, Reaper, bites and from attack. After that I think they heard my shoe squeak and closed the door. The last thing I wanted to deal with at the time was an irritated senior officer. I abandoned my efforts to overhear something useful and returned to the radio room.
The covert effort to get an idea of what was really going on out there backfired because when I returned my mind was flooded with more questions than answers. Did this mean the kid got infected from being attacked? My imagination was often my worst enemy, and it was fueled by reading so many books and watching so many movies about zombies, because when I visualized the alley attack, all I could think of was that word… zombies.
I spent time searching the web to see what else I could find. There had to be something out there that would make me feel better about what was rapidly transpiring. It was difficult not to neglect the phones with this nagging curiosity, but at least I was able to sort of multitask between the two. However, my mind was not cooperating with the phones, no matter how hard I tried to concentrate.
* * *
0400 hours:
Reports came in that two of our hospital stationed officers got attacked by a patient in the emergency room. Violence towards police officers was not as uncommon there as it should have been, especially in the emergency room, but this time was different. Both officers were rookies. I think one was still in field training and the other just got out of it, but I couldn’t be certain. All I could get was that they were rushed into isolation and everything possible was being done for them, whatever that meant. No matter how you try to spin it, everything possible is being done for them, never sounds very optimistic.
It was becoming overly obvious that the hospital was way under-prepared for the situation. Sure, it existed to deal with sick people, but from pandemic proportions? The grim reality that nearly half of the infected crowds were now sick with something that made them a physical threat to all those around them was compounding the degrading security our agency had over the area. I eagerly awaited an order from the commanders to contact Virginia State Police to get assistance from outside our department, but with their stubborn handling of this situation I had doubts that order would ever come.
I was pretty sure they had let Lance go back on duty after all the debriefings for the officer-involved-shooting. Policy dictated that they keep any officer-involved out for a while on administrative leave. Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were desperate for people right now. From requiring extra units around the hospital to people calling out sick, they needed all able-bodied units to keep this chaos to a minimum.
I figured that I might try and catch up with Lance later to make sure he was alright and maybe see what I could find out about what was going on. Hopefully it wasn’t what I suspected it to be. We’d been friends for years so if anyone was going to be straight with me over what had been happening I should hope it would be him.
I was still checking the news. There were a lot of rumors, media speculation and propaganda, the usual stuff one gets used to, but the key was to look for a common thread in rumors, where you could often find a hint of truth. I didn’t know what to think though, everything was such a jumble of information that simply didn’t make any sense and when it did make sense, it wasn’t making me feel any better.
* * *
0615 hours:
I bumped into Lance for a second in the read-off room. He wouldn’t say anything in the station, but he did mention quietly that I should meet him at the Third Street Diner, which was about a mile away from headquarters, for breakfast and a beer. For most people, a beer at seven in the morning is a telltale sign of an alcoholic, but graveyard shift workers could never be classified as “most people.” Everyone should be sleeping in at home today so I doubted my being late would be noticed.
When the shift was over I hustled up the street to meet him. I wanted to look closely at my surroundings along the way in case there were signs of the chaos I’d dealt with over the radio. Instead, I found myself distantly lost in my thoughts, moving along on autopilot. Anxiousness over what my friend might reveal kept me focused on the destination rather than what passed by the car window. Entering the diner I saw Lance immediately in a corner booth. I sat, wincing at the shriek of my vinyl upholstered seat.
Before even starting to talk Lance looked at me very seriously and said, “I’m not just here because we’re friends, but because I know that you have a family to look out for. They told me that if I talked to anyone about what I saw that they would have my badge, so I’m risking my ass talking to you.”
I nodded, speechless, because in the back of my mind, imagination whirling, I almost knew what he was going to say.
“The homeless guy who attacked the kid was definitely infected with the Reaper virus. His veins were dark all along his hands, neck and face. When I got to him he was already down. The kill shot, at least what I assume was the damn kill shot, went right through his left eye. It didn’t go all the way through, but it definitely made its mark. What came out of the wound was thicker than normal blood. It was dark crimson, nearly black liquid, and didn’t spurt blo
od out the way a wound should. The guy got nailed with rounds around his body, easily six to eight other entry wounds. He was wearing a lot of dark colored layers – probably because of the cold. His jacket and outer shirt just looked thick, like it was soaked in Jell-O. It was pockmarked with bullet holes, several of which should have stopped him in his tracks.”
He paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “The kid was a different story… obnoxious hippie student type; looked like a real asshole. The bum fucked him up pretty bad. But the thing is that he didn’t beat him, didn’t stab him, didn’t do any of what you would expect…”
Pausing again, he looked down at his beer for a second and after a moment he regained his earlier pace. “The bastard bit him. And not a nibble, a bite. He had a chunk taken out of his arm the size of a small steak. There were other bites all over his exposed skin. The shirt on his left shoulder was torn; it almost looked like a big dog had bit him. Even the tip of his fucking nose was gone. His nose! Probably in the stomach of the bum’s rotting corpse. It was an ugly scene. Hippie kid was screaming, the kind of scream I didn’t even hear in Iraq. The rookie who fired the shots was shaken and he kept saying something about the guy walking towards him – even while taking rounds in the chest. When the bum was about six feet away he lunged, using all the speed he didn’t use while taking bullet after bullet. That’s when he shot at his face and the guy went down.”
After a moment or two lost in our beer glasses I joked that the guy was “kind of like a zombie.” I’m a smartass at heart, and was just trying to break the silence. In the back of my mind though, I wanted confirmation… confirmation for something that shouldn’t ever be.
“Zombie,” Lance said, expressionless. “Why the fuck did you say that? I keep thinking that, but didn’t want to say it. You really think the Reaper virus is like the zombie viruses from all the movies, games, and shit?”
I shrugged, waiting for a punch line to this joke the world was telling us. We didn’t laugh. Instead, a few minutes of silence followed this idea so absurd it had to be considered.
“We need to find out what happens further in the infection. Are these people becoming violent and then dying or is it something else? Either way, we need to gather more information before we make a plan.”
* * *
0845 hours:
I was sitting on the couch at home, filled with dread because I knew when Sarah woke up I would have to tell her what Lance told me. The last thing I’d ever want to do was worry her, but I was realizing that denial in any form right now could be a deadly mistake. In the blissful quiet of my sleeping house I started forming a mental script of how I’d tell my wife the world might be ending.
I felt my eyelids grow heavy. The comfort of my couch usually joined forces with the exhaustion of a busy night to knock me out before even making it to the bed. A fog of persistent grogginess started taking its justifiable hold. Then a little voice snapped me back to reality.
“Good morning, Daddy.”
Calise stood before me in pink pajamas that were patterned with kittens and cupcakes. She smiled sweetly with messy curls twirled about her head like a halo.
“Hi, Princess. Did you have good dreams?”
She smiled and said, “Yes I did! Were you nice to the sick people last night?”
My heart sunk at the innocent question. I wished that the world were that easy.
“Yes baby. I helped the police officers be nice to all the sick people. Now let’s stop talking and snuggle on the couch until your mommy and brother wake up. Daddy could sure use some snuggle time!”
Calise was already nestled at my side under the blue and white afghan before I even finished talking. It wasn’t long before I dozed again. With a mini angel at my side it became easier to find hints of peace and rest. Sometime during my teasing of deep sleep Maddox joined us on the couch. Sarah emerged from the bedroom and rubbed my arm until I woke up to let me know it was time for breakfast. Everyone went to the table and began tearing through cereal like a swarm of locusts through crops.
The sight of my family at the table always brings a smile to my face and this morning was no exception. However, there was an unavoidable hesitation in my actions. Sarah and I needed to talk about what Lance told me. She picked up on it and waited for the kids to finish before suggesting they go play with Legos together until one of their favorite shows came on.
When we heard their scurrying end down the hall in Maddox’s room I began to recount all that Lance and I discussed. She sat listening while I unloaded the burden of knowing the reality of this all. Normally someone should feel better once they don’t have to deal with something like whatever this is alone. The fact that I only felt worse was evidence that the world had departed from normality. Sarah was scared, but tried to cover herself with her typical adorable smartass comments. Frankly, I was scared too.
Many possible courses of action were discussed. After weighing a few options we decided to keep the kids out of school and prepare them for the idea of having to go stay at the cabin with Grandma and Grandpa. I asked her to start packing bags for everyone. Several sets of warm clothes, the photo albums, which was her idea, some basic necessities, just in case, and of course a medical kit.
My goal was to have a week’s worth of basic, but suitable clothes for each of us to fit in a backpack, per family member. Other than that, I had been busy getting some tools ready as well as some lumber planks, just in case the house needed to be secured in a hurry. At that point it was better to be safe than sorry and if these people were turning into zombies, I wasn’t going to let my family suffer the same fate.
Sarah finally ordered me to stop packing and go to bed. She reminded me that I have one more night of work to get through then we’d be able to straighten everything out. We could prepare every way possible but if I wasn’t rested then I’d be dooming myself to failure. The sinking feeling in my gut was reminder enough of what might await me at work.
* * *
1835 hours:
National news started the broadcast with an update on the pandemic. The anchor didn’t try to summarize it, and instead they just played footage from the press conference with the head of the CDC
“From what we can tell, the R33PR strain is not an airborne contagion. The transmission rather occurs through exposure from infected blood or bodily fluids containing blood. Violent behavior begins at the most advanced stage of infection. Reports of new infections have increased drastically and from what we can tell most are the result of wounds received from a previously infected subject. Bites are the most commonly reported wound. It is unclear if the virus is also present in saliva or if infection creates a presence of blood in the saliva. At this time it is imperative that new cases be reported and isolated in order to prevent further spread of the pandemic. Also, death is likely in any advanced case of what is being referred to as the Reaper virus. Scientists around the world are working to develop a treatment.”
He put his hand up to indicate no questions and rushed away from the podium. The screen shot back to an awestruck anchorman. After that I turned off the television, not needing to see anything more.
My mom called shortly after the news was over. My parents saw it too. Mom had nothing but questions, asking about everything at work and in the city. I didn’t tell her much, just that things were getting worse every night. Evidently Dad was out all day around the farm making sure the fence was solid. It had to take him all day, because it’s quite a big property. Some parts would never be fully protected, but nonetheless, it was a little more secluded than here in the city. The land had a couple of streams running through it and some heavy woods that surround it, the natural barriers adding to the seclusion of the property. There were portions around the wooded areas where the fencing was flimsy, but hopefully the thick brush or streams would create a natural defense where the manmade wall was inadequate, although one of the reasons they picked it was because it was “fully” fenced.
Mom pushed and pushed
for us to leave tonight, but I told her it wouldn’t be possible before my day off, which was not for two more nights. In the meantime I needed to be here, in the city, finding out what I could, and Sarah needed to prepare the kids. I know Mom didn’t agree, but she stopped resisting after a while.
Dad was asleep when Mom called so I couldn’t talk to him even though I really wanted to. I needed some insight from him to say the very least. This was a very odd situation for us and he was wise enough to help us overcome some of the hurdles in our own minds, I guess.
I never said the “Z” word to Sarah, but she’d read all the same books and watched all the same movies – I know she was thinking it too. I didn’t want to scare her, because for some reason, I knew she was freaking out just as much as I was, but she kept it hidden from the outside world. What else could it possibly have been? What else turned people into cannibalistic freaks that infected indiscriminately? It was zombies. There was no better explanation for it.
* * *
Day Six.
November 15th – 0008 hours:
There was a note in my mailbox at work from Lance, indicating that he didn’t trust the phones and there were too many ears listening everywhere else. The note said:
The Reaper Virus Page 3
