The Reaper Virus

by Nathan Barnes

  Lance followed the oblique angle of the connected vehicles and stopped at the front passenger wheel of the parked vehicle, facing the Scott House. Brad followed a few steps behind him, crouched at the grisly impact point. I rounded the bumper, checking behind us to make sure we hadn’t drawn any attention.

  Just as it had in the parking deck, time slowed to a crawl. Turning my neck to pan my view and see where I would stop - I saw it… from beneath the wreckage a disfigured, infected torso swung towards Brad. Its arm, reaching upward and sandwiched between the bumpers, became hyper extended in the feverish movement. With a nauseating crack the lifeless flesh tore and the arm ripped at the shoulder.

  Freed from its tether, the creature fell from suspension and landed in the puddle of blended horror I assume once belonged to its lower half. It reached towards Brad with a single-minded tenacity. Everything transpired so quickly I doubt any of us would have been able to avoid it. Brad looked down as the infected fingers latched onto his left pant leg. I watched his expression turn from surprise to mortal terror and end with pain-polluting rage. The zombie’s feral jaws found his calf, biting with enough force to spray bright red arterial blood from the sides of its mouth. In the back of my mind, the morbid sight reminded me of biting into a ripe fruit.

  Brad’s reaction was as quick as it was devastating. The mini-crowbar swung downward in a left-handed fury. Its forked carbon-steel edge met the infected skull just past the temple with no resistance. The jaws released and the creature fell to the ground. Brad let the crowbar, still embedded in the infected skull, drop with his attacker. His legs gave way through pain and the heaviness of knowing his fate.

  We rushed to his aid. The wound wasn’t even visible through the seeping blood. A large vein in his leg looked to have been severed from the bite. Even under normal circumstances we would have to get him to a hospital quickly from an injury like this. Sadly the blood loss wasn’t what worried me. Lance gave me a look – I’m sure he was thinking the same thing I was. Any bite to an artery or vein as vital as this meant the person could turn in minutes. We all gazed at the hemorrhaging wound, the dread palpable.

  “Shoot me, man.” Brad’s voice was eerily calm.

  Lance stuttered, taken aback by the demand. “F-f-fuck no! I’m not going to be the one to kill you, you motherfucker! Take my gun and go out on your own terms for Christ’s sake. We can take it from you after.”

  I said nothing. What could I say? I should have been watching to see if the commotion got us noticed. I took a few cautionary steps back and watched in absolute horror.

  “Lance I need you to shoot me. Please!” Brad repeated as more of a command. Pushing his hand against the car he hoisted himself back to a staggered stance. He must have been in excruciating pain.

  “No! Fuck you, man,” Lance said again. His left hand met the right, returning his weapon to the forward ready position.

  “SHOOT ME!” Brad screamed. With a single fluidic motion he reached into his belt and removed his pocket knife. He lunged at Lance raising the blade above his head.

  I would have covered my ears to shield them from the blast if I weren’t in shock. Lance fired. One shot was all it took. Brad’s momentum took him to the ground face first. He lay motionless in a growing pool of his ebbing life.

  We should have stopped to mourn. However, mourning was a luxury that went away with the living. The entire ordeal broadcasted our position like a megaphone. Lance cautiously checked for a pulse on Brad’s right wrist, his hand still in a fist around the small knife.

  It may have been paranoia, but I became acutely aware that the background noise sounded much closer. I pried my gaze from the fallen friend at our feet and started looking about frantically.

  “Lance, we need to go. I’m sure one of them heard us.” He stood from checking Brad for signs of life and looked around the same way I just had. While he did that I retrieved my crowbar. I had to put my boot against the bastard’s skull just to get enough leverage to pull it free. It emerged coated in black filth. I tapped it on the curb to remove whatever gunk I could. There was a dirty tee shirt in my bag. After the hazardous end was covered I tucked the heavy piece of metal through a strap on the bag.

  “We can’t leave him here.” Lance knelt and grasped both arms. “Grab his legs. We can move him behind the bushes along the stone wall. Hopefully none of them will find him and decide to snack.”

  I moved to Brad and grabbed him by the shoes. Hopefully he laced them tight – if I had to go any higher on his leg I’d be touching where he was bitten.

  After seeing me nod, Lance mouthed a countdown from three. We stood and sidestepped our way over the sidewalk to the cobblestone. Brad’s body was heavy and cumbersome. It was difficult to fathom the fact that moments ago this was a friend and ally who was unfairly taken. I tried not to dwell and rather focused on the task at hand. It was even more difficult to not think about how easily it could have been my body being toted away.

  Approaching the threshold for the stone wall, I took another look around us. Fear surged through me when I saw at least two of the creatures stumble out of the eastern fog. The dead pair was coming towards us with all the speed they could muster.

  While doing his best to keep a good pace, Lance must have seen my expression change. I was facing east and saw them approach first. He turned and saw what was coming. Nothing was said, but we did move faster.

  Just ahead was a line of mulch for a garden with tiny shrubs backed up to the wall. There was a couple a feet between the fringe of the shrubs and the stone. I hoped this would hide him. There were no flowers because of the cold that we were experiencing, due to the seasonal changes. Flowers would have been fitting for the makeshift grave. We hoisted Brad’s body over the knee high shrubs and did our best not to drop him. The entire time we carried him he was still face down. I don’t think either of us wanted to see his face.

  Our infected pursuers had reached the car accident. I counted at least four now. Lance saw them too. Practically dropping Brad in the dirt, we turned and sprinted to the rear wall. Lance arrived first and scaled it with a skillful leap. I’m not nearly as aerodynamic. Fortunately for me, my partner thought to stay on top of the wall and extend his arm to help.

  It took a moment of struggling against the abrasive and uneven wall, but I made it over. If I live through this, I need to lose some goddamned weight. Awaiting us on the other side of the wall was an empty courtyard which would allow us a few minutes of recovery before moving on. We jumped from the ledge at the same time.

  The small crowd of reapers was about even with where Brad lay when we jumped. I don’t think they saw him. Why pay attention to a dead meal when you can try to feast on the living? Thank God there was no way the infected could have gotten past the wall. For the moment we were safe. We were safe and our friend was dead, face down in the dirt behind some fucking bush with zombies all around his corpse. How fucked up is that?

  I collapsed on a backless wooden bench. Now the memory from the incident in the parking deck would have some competition in plaguing my thoughts. I wanted to think that Brad’s death would be the last horrible memory I’d have to contend with, if we survived long enough to make it out of the city.

  Chapter 11

  Budding Wasteland

  0810 hours:

  We spent about ten or so minutes in the courtyard. Neither of us said a word the entire time. Instead we caught our breath and gave our bodies a moment to calm down before having to throw them back into the wringer.

  We used every idle second to listen, attempting to discover whether or not we’d be brunch. We could hear the small crowd of infected beyond the stone barrier. The wall was too thick and solid to hear their fists pounding, but that didn’t mean they were silent. A nauseating chorus of gurgles and moans painted a vivid picture of the group in my mind. I imagined them bumping and scraping against the stone, their dead hands pawing at the abrasive wall until fingertips became bone.

  Lance came over and s
at on the bench next to me. We spoke quietly. I doubted anything farther than a few feet away would be able to hear us over the creatures beyond the wall.

  “You follow right behind me,” he started in an unflinching and calculated voice. “Keep your sword out and ready. I’m going to keep my ASP out so we stay quiet. If our quiet defense doesn’t hold up then I’ll keep the gun drawn.”

  I nodded in agreement. The Kukri was already unsheathed and in my lap. I was running my finger along the blade testing its sharpness when he came over. “Whenever possible we need to keep to the walls. We avoid all doorways or inlets. Do you have any ideas on how to keep us alive?”

  This had already been on my mind for days now. I’d been keeping sort of a mental list of zombie behavioral observations. As a lifelong dork and previous fan of the zombie genre, I had to be sure any tactical decisions made were the result of my own observations rather than something I saw in a movie. My voice croaked as I tried to speak quietly. “I don’t think we need to haul ass. They aren’t exactly quick. The key will be to avoid any close encount—”

  “Like the parking deck? I saw how that fucker jumped at you,” Lance cut in.

  “Exactly. There’s no point in wearing ourselves out by running all the time. As long as we can stay ahead of the infected and stay out of any bottle-neck situations I think we should be alright.” My goal was to sound confident, to allude to the notion that escaping this city would be as simple as staying in the open. For a second there I almost believed myself.

  Whether or not Lance believed in our chances remained to be seen. He acknowledged my insight by removing his ASP. A flick of his wrist extended the baton as he stood from the bench. In a low voice he said, “Let’s just keep a low profile and not draw any attention to our position, and don’t forget to look where you’re walking… I’m not going to be forced to shoot you too.”

  “I appreciate that. Oh and speaking of that,” I whispered with a grin, “don’t forget to aim for the head… not that I have to remind you.” This whole end of the world thing has forced me to give up so much of my own humanity. The last thing I intend to give up is my twisted sense of humor.

  “Asshole...” Lance chuckled. “Let’s just get the fuck out here.”

  I shouldered my bag and strapped it to myself securely. Stealth was secondary only to survival. There couldn’t be anything jingling or rattling. We didn’t know the infecteds’ hearing capability, and there was no point in needlessly giving ourselves away with a damn key jingle.

  “Try to keep up, fat ass,” Lance said through a smile.

  “That’s fine, that’s fine. I deserved that.” I snickered. “Just remember that my knife is bigger than your stick.”

  After a proper display of his middle finger, nothing more was said for a long time. We had a job to do.

  Lance cautiously and intently started our route. Though I wasn’t a hundred percent sure exactly what that route would be, I followed closely behind him. I’m sure he had a basic course set out in his mind, just as I did. The fact of the matter is that we had no clue what we would come across. Our best option was to head in a general direction and wing the rest of it.

  To the east of the courtyard was Hibbs Hall, a fairly large classroom building that served as a cornerstone to one of the campus’ more populated regions. Beyond the building to the east were a dining center, several high rise dormitories, and the rest of downtown Richmond. South of it was the campus library, student commons, more classroom buildings, a recreational facility, the downtown expressway, some old trashy neighborhoods and finally the James River.

  There was a good chance that a majority of the people would be cleared from the campus owned areas since the campus did close down right before the shit hit the fan. If the horde around Police Headquarters was any indication, most of the zombies would flock towards clearly populated areas. With the university closed, most buildings should be largely empty.

  My guess was that we had at least a mile and a half to traverse. At that point we’d have to find the best way to cross the water and beyond it, who knew? It clearly was one enormous obstacle after another.

  Hibbs Hall was located at the corner of Park Avenue and North Linden Street. Park Avenue was an old street with even older houses that closed to vehicle traffic at the point of our courtyard. From there, cars continued southbound on Linden while the remainder of Park became a large pedestrian vein for the University.

  I followed a step behind Lance along the wall of the old classroom building. Approaching the brick corner, we became exposed to the west. I anxiously looked down the vehicle portion of Park Avenue. Thankfully nothing dangerous could be seen. Lance inched up to the corner to peek around at the wide, potentially dangerous, pedestrian causeway. After a few seconds, he silently motioned for me to switch places and look for myself.

  The sun had made a little headway in getting through the clutter in the air. By now we were able to see about as well as we should have been able to upon leaving West Franklin Street. Dark clouds still coated the sky. The wind occasionally blew low accumulations of smoke or ash above us. If viewed in a photograph the atmosphere could easily be mistaken for preceding a late-January snow.

  I gazed beyond the wall and down the walkway. My attention immediately went to the four figures standing motionless maybe two hundred feet past us, and just before them lay two mangled corpses in pools of carnage. The zombies all faced away from us and their kill. Although I was thankful for that, I also found it eerie and confusing. Why were they all looking the same direction?

  I shook it off and looked to their victims. They had been torn to pieces… just days ago I would have been nauseated by the sight. The zombies no longer had any interest in their kill. Additional bloodstains were visible sporadically around the walkway. Some had red drag marks leading to or from the pools of crimson, which morbidly indicated their ravenous sprees.

  Lance pulled me back from the corner by my backpack. “We have to get past. Follow at my pace. If I run then you run,” he ordered in barely a whisper. He stepped back in front without any need for my acknowledgement. With a quick look to ensure the infected were still looking away he slowly walked out of our cover.

  We were completely exposed for maybe forty-five feet. The distance felt like a mile. I had to watch Lance to see if he sped up, but it was so hard not to stare at the undead figures, which were standing just a shout away. The only movement I could see came from one of the middle creatures. Its jaw opened and closed like so many of the others I had seen. Sick, rabid, monstrous. There wasn’t any other way to describe it.

  In the moment of distraction the space between Lance and I grew. He sped up. I had no clue why, but knew I had to catch up. We were at a jog by the time the distance had been cleared. A parked SUV served as suitable cover just beyond the expanse.

  Lance came to a stop ducked behind the large car on the street’s side. I took the hint and ended at a crouch. After catching my breath I cautiously peered back at the infected.

  All four had turned towards us. They remained still. I don’t think they saw us. Now, I could clearly see every sickening jaw snapping at nothing. A wet, percussive gurgle emanated from the group, raspy moans accenting the clatter of dead teeth chattering. For once, I don’t think my imagination was filling in the blanks.

  I froze upon seeing the quartet of unholy, rotting eyes. We could have been surrounded by an infected horde and my attention still would have been focused on the group ahead. Sensing this, Lance tugged on my shirt and motioned with his head that we needed to keep moving. I followed him at a crouching run. Running on the street itself may not have been the wisest course of action, but it seemed like a better option than risking exposure to the curious group behind us.

  At the end of the block Linden ended at Floyd Avenue. Beyond it, the street continued as another pedestrian walkway that cut a path through some of the largest classroom buildings and student areas. Normally the notion of running through an area as bustling with ac
tivity would be a death wish. My hope was that the evacuated campus would provide safe passage. Assuming all went well, Linden Street should take us to the outskirts of campus all the way to the Downtown Expressway. A mile or two past the expressway and we would reach the river.

  Our pace remained rightfully quickened up the block. Lance paused when we reached the intersection of Floyd and Linden. While he surveyed the safety level I desperately tried to catch my breath. I’m sure it would be worse if my adrenaline hadn’t become such a welcomed companion. Damn my being out of shape – I wasn’t even running for my life and I still was winded!

  He carefully eyed both east and west before walking beyond our cover of parked cars. My cautious glances around us were almost superfluous. After all, if Lance spotted danger nearby then my guess was we would be either stationary or walking much faster. That didn’t mean danger wasn’t still obvious. The increasing light illuminated several motionless and some shambling silhouettes in both directions of Floyd Avenue.

  The road-turned-brick walkway was bordered by cherry blossom trees for much of its length between Floyd Avenue and Main Street. A courtyard filled the space between the walkway and the sizable Student Commons building. Passing this area we were almost completely exposed to the east. On the western side of the building was the beginning of a classroom building network that covered an area the size of around two square blocks in total. It was comprised of four buildings that led into each other, joined by outdoor walkways or second-story street-crossing connections. If this outbreak happened with the full population present, we would be walking through an inner circle of hell. Now it was vacant and eerie. It felt like a ghost town.