by Steve Wands
"Oh, my God! What've you done, why did you kill him," she screamed.
"Maam, calm down." Dane said to her. "He was already dead." Dane told her.
"Then why are you pointing the fucking gun at me?" She was screaming at him. "I don't believe you. Leave us alone!"
"You drove straight at us you dumb bitch." Keith stormed closer to her.
"Don't you talk to her like that you bastard," Clem yelled as he got out of the car, stumbling with a bloody forehead.
"Sir, do not move. Stay where you are and put your hands in the air."
"You gonna shoot him too? Shoot us both?"
"No way," Clem chimed in. "She's hurt and I'm hurt, and I'll be Goddamned if I'm going to let you two do anymore damage. Shoot me if you want, but I ain't gonna take yer shit."
"Listen old man, we don't want to hurt you. We told you to stop but you guys kept driving. Look at it from our point of view---you tried to run us down!"
"Well we didn't mean to, I fell asleep and I guess Danni did to. We didn't mean it. We haven't slept, just been driving...seems like days. We don't have any real weapons, just a pipe and a baseball bat. Now I'm gonna get her out of the car. You two want to help or keep pointing your guns at us?"
They helped get the woman from the car. She was weak, and dizzy. Dane got them both some water. He sat with them by the side of the road as Keith called for back-up.
***
Sal, having slept enough to just barely function answered the call for back-up. When he arrived on the scene he saw Dane and Keith looking over their cruisers and spotted the two new arrivals to town. He pulled over close to the two folks who sat off to the side. They looked at him with penetrating skeptical eyes. The type of eyes he had grown accustomed to since putting on the badge.
In Sal's experience most people didn't care much for cops unless they needed them. Even in a town like New Haven he still got the looks, less than he did before his move, but some were just nicer about it. Not these two, these two looked like they didn't even trust the wind or the sun.
He stepped over to the car and nodded to the two folks. He tried to smile and they didn't smile back.
"Hi there, you folks okay?"
"Been better," the man said.
"Been worse," said Danni.
"You mind me asking what happened here?"
"You just did," cracked the old man.
"Guess so. Well?"
"I guess I fell asleep at the wheel." Danni said. "Crashed into your friends over there---got our friend killed."
"Sorry about your friend, atleast you two are okay, right?" Sal forced a smile. He couldn't care less about their friend, or about them. But since his brothers of the badge were okay he would try to keep his humanity, even if it was fading fast.
"It's okay," Clem said. "He wasn't exactly a friend, more like a pain in the ass. But he was alive for a bit and we'd rather travel with one of the living than one of the dead."
"Hmm," Sal nodded, unsure of what else to say. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go see what the damage is." He walked over to Dane and Keith.
Keith stared at Sal with squinty eyes as he walked over to them. Dane was kneeling down looking under the car, trying to figure out what was leaking.
"Thank God it's Friday," Sal said.
"Shit, it's Friday already? I guess that means you brought us our checks," Keith smiled.
"Checks? Ever hear of direct deposit?"
Keith laughed. "I don't trust computers."
"What's the damage?"
"Well, this one's leaking something. Looks like coolant. And it's not turning over. The other's fine, besides the busted taillight. That guy's dead, and their car is totaled." Dane stood up and brushed off his pants.
"Yep, he looks dead all right," Sal smirked.
"Had no idea New Haven was such a tourist destination. Maybe we should get cracking on this wall, so we can keep people out---especially if their crashing in like this." Sal chuckled.
"Don't get me started on that fucking wall bullshit," Keith slurred.
They all had a good laugh, though Keith really didn't think this wall was a great idea. He felt it was a joke that he just didn't get. Sal and Dane were on board with it but knew it was a huge undertaking, maybe more than they could handle. The two sitting off to the side didn't seem to appreciate the laughter.
"Clem, what're you thinking?" Danni whispered.
"Thinking about my sweet Lorraine," he replied.
"I know you are. But what about these people?"
"They seem okay I guess---they're breathing air, right? What more do you want from them?"
"I dunno. They just seem to be taking this all so lightly."
"Maybe that's how they cope with it. But we've been cooped up and removed from the reality of things for a long time. These guys seem like they've been on the front lines the whole time. Just look at all the remains."
Danni hadn't noticed it before but once she began to pay attention to her surroundings she noticed all sorts of human remains scattered around. Just a few feet away from where they sat lied a crumbled up pile of ash and bone. The dust and dirt covered it like camoflauge---she looked around at the landscape and shivered at the number of bones she spotted. Clem was right, she thought. She had been removed from the world. She was a stranger to it now, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to get to know it.
CHAPTER 23: Unrest
West Virginia.
Mount Weather Special Facility.
Rachel rubbed her temples firmly and slowly. Her head ached, her neck hurt, and grabbing a nap on the cot in the break room didn't do her any favors. She fished around in her bag and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. She twisted the top off and shook three of the little white tablets into the palm of her hand, popped them into her mouth and swallowed. She didn't need anything to chase them down, but opened a can of cola anyway. She drank it for the sugar and the caffeine more than anything. Rachel wasn't much for sodas but she figured it couldn't hurt, it was the end of the world anyway---a few calories weren't going to kill her, at least she hoped.
She tilted her head back and emptied the last mouthful of bubbly cola into her mouth. She swished the fluid around in her mouth, then gulped it down. Taking aim at a wastebasket in the far corner she launched the empty can. It hit the floor about four feet shy, filling the room with a clank and then a scuttle. Rachel snapped her fingers in mock disappointment and headed for the door.
She was once again suited up and ready to continue her work with the cadaver. A new guard was in the same spot as the old one, who nodded at her as she entered the room. She nodded back.
She attempted to feed the creature the cold strips of flesh, but even as they dangled over its dry, cracked lips the thing wanted nothing to do with it. She tried heating the flesh but the soldier still wouldn't take it into his mouth. She tried asking him more questions but the guttural noises when played back were just that: noises.
It left her with still more questions, and a few that questioned her own sanity. But when she replayed the previous session, the words were there. She couldn't go to her colleagues or superiors unless she had more to show them. She thought maybe she'd have better luck with a fresher specimen. She left the room, dissatisfied but with a sense diligence.
She went to the large lab room full of specimens and limbs and she obtained more chunks of flesh.
"Hi," she said to the lab technician seated at the main station. "Is it possible to get a fresher specimen?"
"Hey. What do you mean by 'fresher'? They all kind of have an odor---they're rotting corpses."
"Obviously. I'm looking for something that hasn't been deceased too long. Maybe something came in that just died?" She sounded a little too hopeful, even for herself.
"Give me a second, and let me check the charts." The technician turned his attention to his computer monitor.
He scrolled through a long list of specimens. The list was sorted by date received. Looking at the last entry and clicking on it opened a correspo
nding file that contained all available information about the specimen.
"We got this one, came in yesterday; Private First Class Nick Henshaw. Problem is Doctor Tran already has him, says Henshaw died yesterday in the observation unit and Tran nabbed him only a few hours later. He's the freshest thing we got."
"Great, Tran isn't going to give him up. Any chance you can notify me if anything comes in that's been recently deceased?"
"Sure thing. I can't promise anything, but if it comes in on my watch its all yours. You might want to see if Tran will share with you: he's got to sleep and eat sometime" He said smiling.
"Thanks, but I think Tran might be a vampire. And he seems to like talking to dead people over us living types," she replied.
Despite her gut feelings about Doctor Tran, Rachel decided to see if it was possible for him to allow her some access to his specimen. They were colleagues after all, and after the same thing. But Rachel felt that Tran might not see things that way. This was also a huge opportunity to save all of humankind, and what person---especially a doctor---would not want to be the responsible individual? Rachel knew she would love to be the one, if only to end the long days and longer nights.
She found the room where he was stationed. There was a similar guard stationed outside the room looking in, and Doctor Tran was inside. He was sawing open the top of the creature's head. The fast whirring sound of the saw filled the room.
Rachel stood next to the guard and waited. She didn't want to enter the room while he was performing such a task. She would expect the same courtesy if the situation were reversed, and she hoped he would appreciate the gesture.
The noise ended, Doctor Tran shut off the saw, laying it down on a small stainless steel tray. He then held onto the creatures head with the tips of his fingers and began to pry off the top portion of the specimen's head. Though Rachel couldn't hear it, she knew it was creating a schhllluck-like noise, similar to the sound of suction. Tran placed the top of the head onto the same tray where the saw lay. When he turned back around he finally noticed Rachel looking into the room. He simply cocked his head at her, surprised to see her standing there.
He walked to the door, opened it and a made an overly dramatic and gentlemanly bow, extending his free arm in a gesture for her to come inside. She smiled, and entered the room.
"To what to I deserve this pleasure?"
"Well, Doctor Tran, I was wondering if I may borrow your cadaver."
"Please, call me Gregory. And as you can see my cadaver and I are in the middle of something." He gestured to the creature with its brain exposed and glistening in the lab's diffused light.
"Yes, Gregory. I was hoping that maybe in your down time I can examine him. Perhaps when you go for lunch or sleep?"
"And what would you be doing with him?" Tran seemed almost as if he already knew the answer.
"Just doing a cursory examination," she replied coldly.
"Don't you mean an interrogation?" Tran smiled, his small eyes gleaming.
"What do you mean Doc...Gregory?"
"Come on Rachel. You're a smart girl, I'm a borderline genius and we both know why you want to see this particular specimen. The reason: because he's fresh!" He emphasized every letter of the word 'fresh', almost sounding like a snake.
"You're right Doctor--"
"Gregory, please. There is no need for formalities---it is the end of the world Rachel, we may as well be janitors. You and I are on to something. You may be a day late and a dollar short, but I'll give you the dollar. And I'll let you speak to my dead friend over here who I'm sure has plenty to tell you." He sounded almost mad. But he wasn't mad: he was excited---enthralled.
Rachel was taken aback by Tran's bluntness and willingness to share. She had been totally wrong about him and now felt foolish. "Would you mind telling me what you mean Gregory?"
"Still with the games, I see."
"No games. Let's talk."
"Fine, then let's talk out of these suits and with a cup of tea." He exited the room.
***
Rachel and Doctor Tran sat in the break room. Tran rhythmically dipped his tea bag in and out of his cup of steaming hot water. The water grew cloudier with every dunk. Rachel had another can of cola. It was cold, fizzy, and just as refreshing as the one she had earlier.
"I'm assuming at this point you've discovered that these things can in fact communicate?"
Rachel nodded.
"Okay, good, good. I discovered it on day one---quite accidentally, but regardless I did. It was nothing more than a few words, spoken backward, and hard to make out. It really didn't tell me anything we hadn't already figured out at this point: basically that they are hungry and want flesh, that much is obvious."
Rachel stared at Tran. She was fixated on every syllable that fell from his lips. He was being dramatic and stringing her along, and she wanted badly to be able to press a fast forward button and speed up to the stuff she didn't already know herself. But she couldn't. So he kept talking, and she kept listening.
"I've found out that not every one of the cadavers are capable of communicating. Maybe they are too far gone. Whatever the reason is doesn't matter. The trick I've found out---which is what you would have learned on your own---is to find the freshest specimen possible. And by freshest I mean those who have recently reanimated, not the ones who've been dead for days."
He paused to take a sip of tea and then continued, "I assume the condition of the specimen can also be of importance in the same regard." Tran began to speak quietly. "Also, it appears that whatever allows for the ability to communicate degenerates over time, quickly I might add, and never comes back. They are still able to 'speak' to some extent, but no exchange is possible."
"So, you're saying we have a small window of time where we can talk to the dead, and they can talk back?"
"Exactly! Though, I must warn you, the speech is basic, and vague, and they have difficulty understanding complicated sentences."
"Let me ask you this: Do they remember who they are?"
"Yes. From what I've gathered they are who they were in life. Only now they speak of being trapped in a darkness, controlled by hunger. Very vague statements, but statements nonetheless." Tran stopped dunking his tea bag and sipped, allowing Rachel the time to absorb his words.
Rachel was shocked to hear the answer to her question. It pained her deeply to know the answer and feared how others would handle that knowledge. If people knew their loved ones were still inside those dead husks, would they be able to dispatch them to survive? She didn't think so.
"Why haven't you told anyone this?"
"I tried to, but it was dismissed as nonsense. I was threatened with being removed from the premises unless I focused on the task at hand---stopping the dead from coming back."
"Jesus," Rachel said, unable to understand why their superiors wouldn't be interested in the knowledge. It's not like Doctor Tran is a crackpot---he's one of the elite. He wasn't kidding in the slightest when he said, 'borderline genius', if anything he was being modest by adding borderline.
"They are close-minded fools. There only concern seems to be pinning the bombings on some terrorist-harboring country even remotely capable of committing the act. When in reality who is ever going to know?" Tran grew angry.
"Pinning?" Rachel asked.
Tran looked perplexed. "Come on Rachel, please don't tell me you think anyone except our government dropped those bombs?"
"Those are American cities! They couldn't have," she protested, but had already considered it a possibility.
"They did. It's all strategy---just a group of pieces on a chessboard---nothing more. And it makes perfect sense. I understand why it needs to be done, but why worry about an excuse? Is there anyone reporting this? No! Of course not."
"No, can't be...that can't be true," she whimpered. She wanted to hold onto her idealistic view of the world she once knew. From a military perspective it made perfect sense to eliminate the places that harbored the largest numbe
rs of hostiles first. Even in painting you did your broad strokes first, then went in and did the detail work as means of a finish.
After they talked some more, Tran left her to fetch a few hours of sleep and relinquished his cadaver to her. Rachel wasted no time in examining the specimen and hearing for herself what the creature had to say. It didn't say much, and much of what it did say she had already heard from Tran. But hearing it from the horse's mouth was an entirely different experience.
The dead soldier, with its brain exposed, was once a man with feelings and dreams, and aspirations. He had a family and people who cared for him, and people he cared for in return. And Rachel could hear his garbled pleas for release, for flesh, and it sickened her right down to her bones.
What she had learned in the few hours she spent with the soldier was that the consummation of living flesh helped ease the pains of living death. And that there was no light waiting for her at the end of her life, just a darkness waiting to envelop her.
She ran her hand along the cadaver's cold arm. She could feel the hardened veins through the thick material of the suit. She looked the dead man in the eyes, feeling sorry for him. He was in there, staring through a darkness he didn't understand, unable to fight his urges for flesh. For whatever reason, unable to rest.
CHAPTER 24: Survivors
Sal left Dane and Keith where they were. One of the cruisers worked well enough, and they had plenty of time left on their shift. They'd continue with the ditch-digging, no doubt griping about it the entire time, and hoped to have the rest of their shift go by incident-free. They both held their breath.
Danni and Clem sat in the back of Sal's cruisers. They looked filthy and disheveled and on the verge of collapse. Sal continually looked at them from the rear view mirror to make sure neither of them turned into a flesh eater. He had asked them if either of them had been bitten, and they both said 'no', but by the looks of them they could've been dead already.
