Detroit Reanimated

by Michael Halliday

  Evan hopped up and rushed toward the door. He opened it to find Doug with another officer standing outside.

  “Evan, this is Officer Crawly. I apologize, but we’re told that we have to begin gathering people to take them to those camps. Were you able to reach anyone?”

  “I got a hold of my brother, but I can't reach my wife, my parents or my best friend. I got a voice mail from him, but I can’t find it. Doug, what the hell is happening?”

  “We don't know. Things are falling apart fast. We’re just told to get people to these camps. Pack what you can and meet us downstairs.”

  “My brother is a cop in Detroit,” Evan said. “He said don’t go to the shelters. He was very specific about it.”

  “Damn, Doug. I told you the same thing. I have a sick feeling that we need to stay far away from those,” Officer Crawly said.

  “What do you suggest then?” Doug asked.

  “Get our families, get out of town, and quickly,” Steve said.

  A series of orders blared from the officer’s walkies.

  “This is action plan CETA. All officers are to report downtown. AP CETA is in effect. Reports indicate complete loss of civil order in Phoenix proper. Units 14, 17, 22, 118 and 129 to East Washington, Units 12, 15, 100 to Central Avenue, Units...”

  “Oh hell, Steve,” Doug said while he listened. “I think you’re right.”

  “What is all that about?” Evan asked.

  “Someone screwed up,” Doug said. “They screwed up bad.”

  -----

  In the Brightmoor neighborhood, the throngs of Dearborn’s undead began to gather into large mobs that pursued the living in order to sustain their curse. Among those being followed relentlessly were Walter, Alicia, and Jaquan Briggs.

  Walter held a massive mallet that crushed any of the undead that dared come near his family. He didn’t care if the blows killed them or not. He just wanted to stop them from coming close. Other people had begun to follow Walter and his family as they saw that he was clearing a path.

  They came across a man, calling and waving, while holding open an iron door to let Walter and his followers in. Iron bars covered the only windows on the first floor. The door had a steel gate for the purpose of riot prevention. Once they were all in, the man slammed the gate shut and locked it up tight.

  The reanimated masses quickly gathered at the front gate. They pounded ruthlessly on the bars, but the gates withstood the increasing punishment. Many of the undead eventually wandered off when other prey had passed nearby, but a small frenzied group remained.

  Inside the shop, Walter discovered almost a dozen people were spared. Among them were an elderly couple, an Asian man that had helped Walter get to the shop, three kids and the man that let them in. The shopkeeper held a teenage girl who resembled him remarkably.

  “Are we safe now, dad?” Jaquan asked.

  “I think we are now, son. I think we’ll be ok now,” Walter replied.

  Walter wrapped his arms around his frightened son

  “The fuck if we are!” the elderly man shouted. The teenage girl and the children jumped from the outburst.

  “Let’s just keep calm,” the shopkeeper pleaded. He looked at Walter’s son and promised nothing would get in.

  “How can we keep calm with those damn things hammering on those gates?” the elderly man asked.

  “Knock it off!” the shop owner growled.

  The owner was able to bring in another six people before he decided they couldn’t take anymore.

  A block down the road, an ambulance sped down the road at full speed. With a screech, it turned the corner onto Fenkell Street. The ambulance picked up speed and ran down any undead in its way.

  A red Cadillac ran through a side street intersection. It plowed into the ambulance’s side. The impact crushed the ambulance’s right frame. The Cadillac’s driver flew through the windshield and she slammed into the ambulance, killing her instantly.

  The shop’s occupants watched the event with shock. They then watched helplessly as dozens of undead surrounded the ambulance. Many of the risen in front of the shop left to follow the sound of the crash.

  “Honey, we have to do something!” Alicia said, visibly trembling.

  “Right now would not be the time. There are too many out there!” the elderly man protested.

  “He’s right, babe,” Walter said as he took hold of his wife to comfort her. “There’s nothing we can do. There’s too many of them for us to take down.”

  “My God,” Alicia cried. “All those people out there, families, and children.”

  She sat down and began to sob.

  “I don’t know, baby. I just don’t,” Walter said. He knelt down, touched both of Alicia’s cheeks gently and looked into her eyes. “We’re safe now.”

  “You folks are welcome to stay as long as you need. We have enough food and water here to last a while. We also have rooms for you all upstairs.”

  “Thank you,” Walter said, now holding his wife and eight-year-old son. “We’re in your debt.”

  An hour passed at the small shop. Some of the rescued people stayed downstairs to watch the carnage. Upstairs, exhausted survivors slept on couches and on the floor. Others sat at a table to discuss what they had seen and tried to make sense of the horror. Most had waited for introductions to allow things to calm down in the shop.

  “I’m Jasper Collins, and this is my daughter, Julie,” said the shop’s owner. “My wife, Emma, was taken from us a few months ago by cancer, God rest her soul. As terrible as it sounds, she’s lucky. She wouldn’t be able to handle this.”

  “Thank you, Jasper, for letting us in. I’m Alexander Cooper, and this is my lovely little lady, Irene,” the elderly man introduced himself as while he firmly shook Jasper’s hand. “I’m sorry for flipping out earlier. I was just scared out of my mind.”

  “I think we all are a little freaked out. I’m Walter. This is my wife, Alicia, and my son, Jaquan.”

  “Well met, Walter,” Alexander shook Walter’s hand and nodded at Alicia.

  They all looked over at the Asian man standing against the cooler. He looked back at them with a confused look when he seemed to have been in deep contemplation.

  “Huh? Oh. I’m Jeremy Hayashi, and I also thank you for letting is in, sir,” Jeremy said with a quick two finger salute off his right brow. “Sorry, I was just thinking about some of the things I observed so far.”

  Alex walked over to Jeremy and shook his hand.

  “I really appreciate what you did out there, Jeremy. You too, Walter,” Alex said. “If it weren’t for you both, my wife and I, and those kids, would likely be walking around with those freaks. You and Walter sure know how to handle yourselves.”

  “Thanks, those ‘people’ can be handled easily if we’re careful and smart,” Jeremy said, trying to keep things calm. “They don’t seem to have a high mental capacity, and they stay dead if you hit them on their head. No, I didn’t mean to rhyme.”

  “They don’t seem to move very fast either,” Walter added.

  “Be careful, some of them do have the ability to move at a brisk walk. None of them run though that I have seen,” Jeremy cautioned. “We can’t leave out the possibility though.”

  “What about those kids? Whose are they?” Jasper asked.

  “We have no idea. My wife and I found them running for dear life and we took them with us. That’s when we met Jeremy. We had cut through someone’s yard, almost running into a handful of those things when he came out of nowhere. He tore through them with his baseball bat like a true warrior out there. We then came across Walter, and his family. They just plowed through them like they were made for this.”

  “My father was a Japanese traditionalist,” Jeremy told them. “He taught me about my family who came from a long line of Samurai that served the Shogunate.”

  “That’s bad as hell,” Walter said to Jeremy, who gave Walter another quick salute.

  “I know we’ve all been through
hell, but maybe we should talk about what’s going on outside,” Alicia suggested.

  “What happened to those people? Why are they attacking and eating other people?” Irene asked.

  “Those eyes of theirs, they’re unreal!” Julie Collins said. “Are they sick or dead?”

  “They are definitely dead-ish. Could it be the result of a biochemical weapon or something?” Walter asked.

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want to become a part of it. I’ll leave it as an exclusive club for those things out there. Like I said, my home and shop are now yours,” Jasper said. “You all seem to be decent enough people. I have good instincts, and something pulled at me to let you all in. We are safe here. I assure all of you.

  “Those gates will hold up to just about anything. If those things know how to drive a Mack truck and can pull them off, then we may be in some trouble. The back door is made of reinforced solid oak with heavy duty hinges, and its dead bolted. As you can see, I take care of what’s mine. Even your mallet would not be much use against it, Walter. I tested it myself.”

  “Biggest problem I see is the food and water situation,” Jeremy said. “It looks like we have enough for a month. Maybe a bit longer, if we’re careful that is.”

  “We’ll figure that out when that time comes,” Alex said. “I’m going to talk to those kids to find out who they are and how old.”

  “I’ll come with,” Walter said. “I want to make sure my boy isn’t misbehaving.”

  Walter and Alex went to the room where the kids were playing, and found they were looking outside.

  “Jaquan, I don’t want you looking out there right now. You might see some things that will give you bad dreams for the rest of your life. With everything that’s happened today, haven’t you seen enough already?” Walter asked his eight-year-old son.

  “Same goes for you kids. As a matter of fact, do you think we could have a chat?” Alex asked the three children.

  “It’s ok, dad,” Jaquan pointed out at a nearly empty street. “There’s not that many out there anymore. They went after some people and never came back.”

  “Well, damn,” Alex said quietly. “There’s just a few out there. You know how to take them down, right?”

  “Leave that to Jeremy and me,” Walter said. “You stay and talk with these kids.”

  Walter rushed downstairs.

  “Jeremy, grab your bat. We just got ourselves a break to get to that ambulance.”

  “What’s going on, Walter?” Alicia asked.

  “Some people pulled most of those things away,” Walter said. “We’ll need to drop a few of them, but we can get to the ambulance to see if anyone inside needs help. If they’re dead, we’ll search for anything we can use.”

  Alicia gave Walter a worried but understanding look.

  “Please, just be careful. Both of you come back to us safely,” Alicia pleaded.

  “We will, baby. I promise,” Walter said before he gave Alicia a loving kiss.

  Walter and Jeremy hurried downstairs after Jasper tossed Walter the keys. Three of the undead continued beating on the iron window gate. Walter pointed them out, signaling to get ready to take them down. He unlocked the gate and tried to quietly open it. It made a sharp squeak that drew the attention of two of the demented pounders. They began to move toward Walter and Jeremy with a stagger.

  One of them was a woman with a blood-covered face and a partially-severed arm. With the head of his mallet, Walter pushed her back into the man behind her.

  By this time, Jeremy had maneuvered around and swung his bat in a wide arch that struck two of the undead at the same time. They both fell to the ground as if stunned. Jeremy finished them off by pounding in their skulls with repeated brutal strikes, spraying Walter and the woman with a shower of blood.

  Walter got into a batter’s stance with the mallet when the undead woman came at him. The swing crushed in the entire right side of her head. After the three undead were down, Walter and Jeremy both searched around. They found the road was nearly deserted except for two undead by the ambulance.

  Jeremy casually strolled over to the ambulance and whistled. Two males stopped pounding to look around for the source of the sound, turning their attention toward the Japanese man. They began to approach Jeremy, oblivious to Walter coming around behind them.

  Walter raised his mallet over his head and brought it down on a large muscular reanimated man. The blow crushed his skull, neck and spine completely. Jeremy swung his bat at the other undead man with full strength and ripped off a large chuck of hair and skull, again spraying a shower of blood on Walter.

  “Thanks a lot,” Walter said.

  “Better you than me,” Jeremy replied jokingly.

  “Don’t you have any fear?” Walter asked.

  “What good is fear right now?” Jeremy said.

  Jeremy motioned at the ambulance with a jerk of his head. Walter opened the back door to find two men lying on the floor. He hopped into the ambulance and looked over the bodies. The driver was the worse off as his head was set at a weird angle and his forehead was caved-in.

  “This one is dead,” Walter said. “Hey, this one has a heartbeat, and he’s breathing. Help me get him out of here.”

  Jeremy and Walter lifted the living EMT up to carry him back to the shop. They carefully set him on the floor where Jeremy checked him over while Walter relocked the gate.

  “Did you find any bites?” Walter asked.

  “No bites that I can see,” Jeremy said. He patted the EMT’s cheek and snapped his fingers. “Hey! Hey buddy, wake up!”

  A brief moment later, the man opened his eyes. Quickly, he crawled back away from Walter and Jeremy as they looked down at him.

  “Where am I? Who are you?” the EMT asked.

  “You’re fine, sir,” Jeremy said. “I’m Jeremy, and this is Walter. What’s your name?”

  “Anthony,” the EMT said. “My name is Anthony Simms. Are we safe? Where are the other two men from my crew?”

  “You’re safe friend, but the others didn’t make it. I’m sorry,” Walter said.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Anthony asked.

  “Have you ever heard of the rapture?” Jeremy asked. Anthony nodded mildly. “Well, every religious nut who survives this rise of the dead will say that this is it.”

  Chapter 2: The Smell of a Burning Nation

  “This is an alert of the Emergency Broadcast System. This is not a test. All residents of Southeast Michigan are advised to report to government assisted refugee camps in Sterling Heights, Farmington Hills and Warren Neighborhoods of Detroit Michigan and area.”

  Ronnie James hadn’t been bitten to turn him to what he was, and like the other undead, his eyes were jaundiced and alien-like. His lower left jaw was crushed inwards from being struck by a speeding car. A deep eight inch gash also ran from the back of his knee to his lower shin that oozed thick, blackish blood. He was killed while running away from another undead man.

  All Ronnie had to rely on was his sense of hearing. His sense of sight was mottled and unreliable, while smell was useless unless he was within a few feet of the source of blood and living flesh he craved.

  “Residents are advised to take any necessary medications as they will not be made available. Food, water and bedding will be provided for the duration of the emergency. This is an alert of the emergency broadcast system.”

  Ronnie located the source of the alert and struggled through an open patio door. Debra Gibson lay asleep on her couch after an exhausting night working at the Southfield Mobil. She had stripped down nearly naked and dumped her work clothes on a nearby chair.

  Ronnie staggered toward the TV set and knocked into it. The brand new LED toppled and crashed to the floor. The sound jolted Debra from her sleep. She slightly lifted her head while Ronnie’s gaze shot towards the fallen TV.

  “Steve, is that you?” She asked quietly.

  The intruder glanced in the direction of her voice. The slightest move from Debr
a would call him to her.

  “I was just getting some sleep. It was a crazy night. People were out in swarms ripping us off.”

  Ronnie was upon her swiftly. He sank his teeth into her abdomen. Debra’s eyes shot open from panic and she released an ear popping screech. He tore away her flesh as she helplessly watched in horror. He bit her again while she tried desperately to fight him off. Bashing his face with her palm repeatedly had no effect.

  -----

  The Farmington Hills Refugee Shelter was built to accommodate the surrounding communities and set on the Farmington Hills Golf Club property. It was meant to hold three-hundred thousand people, but the materials that were available only allowed them to care for a third of that number. The lack of supplies was the consequence of mishandled logistics.

  Outside the camp, a line of at least ninety-seven thousand impatient and exhausted citizens waited to get in. Nine U.S. Army National Guard troops lined the entrance coming in, and four PFC’s took basic contact information.

  “You let us in right now!” a man shouted at the PFCs. His boyfriend and two sons stood with him.

  “Please, let us in! We have children out here!” a woman pleaded. “At least let the children in!”

  “Who gives a fuck where we live? Let us in!” the first man continued yelling.

  A lieutenant with ‘Daley’ on her nameplate tried to keep order.

  “Please people! Calm down! We need this information so we can set up a database that will allow your loved ones to find you. Please be patient!”

  “Lieutenant, we did the tally on the people already registered within the camp, and we’re already at just over fifty-nine thousand,” a sergeant-major said.

  “We’re not going to have enough for these people,” Daley said with uneasiness. She walked over to a rise to get a better view of the growing crowd. Despite the large number of people that waited, it wasn’t as many as she anticipated. Something had gone wrong. “Let the children in, but place them in an area where their parents can easily find them.”

  An army minivan arrived that carried a lieutenant in a new service uniform. He delivered a plastic box with a metallic cylinder inside.