I’ve been trying to keep as quiet as possible so that they won’t hear me up here, but it’s becoming more difficult by the minute not to get up and move around. The blood has drained from my legs making the normally bearable pins and needles sting feel more like the pain from being stabbed with ice picks and kitchen knives. My back is throbbing from sitting on this wooden floor with no padding. If I walk around to get the blood flowing back into my legs, though, they’ll hear it and know that I’m here. There are at least two of the creatures on the bottom floor and they’ll call for reinforcements if they know there’s food upstairs from them. Anyway, I’ve survived worse and at least this time there are no bullets lodged in my body needing to come out. I’m not bleeding and no bones are broken either. There’s only a couple more hours left until daybreak. I can deal with this.
Chapter Three
End of Broadcast
Sidney
“When the people you love are gone, you're alone.”
Keanu Reeves
As soon as I woke up with Coco snuggled in next to me, I leaned over and glanced at the battery operated alarm clock to check the time. I had that strange feeling that travelers get when they wake up in a strange hotel room. It took a couple of minutes to clear my head and remember why I was sleeping in the basement.
With all of the windows covered, it’s almost impossible to tell morning from night. Staying on a normal schedule is important, though to keep circadian rhythms in sync. Setting the alarm and getting up like normal adds the little bit of structure that I need in order to force myself to get out of bed even though I’m mindful that the world has gone to hell around me. I know this sounds like a defeatist attitude, especially since I have it so much better than most people right now, but my luck is on a timer and it won’t last forever.
Coco tilted her head and started pawing my arm, which broke my concentration. She needed to go potty and her bladder won’t wait another second. “Okay, okay. I’m getting up,” I complained with a raspy morning voice and dry mouth.
She stared at me with slightly squinted eyes as if to say, “Geez, you’re grumpy in the morning.”
I stumbled into the spare room where Coco has an indoor dog potty. It’s actually only been put into use during a couple of tornado warnings when it wasn’t safe to take her outside to relieve herself. I stumbled across it one day while surfing the web for cute dog clothes like hoodies or rain slickers for Coco.
It’s actually a pretty good idea for people who live in apartments or are in situations where they can’t take their dogs out at regular intervals. The pad looks like a square of grass and it has three layers to lock in the odor and help keep the room from smelling like an outdoor john. That’s important. Especially when we’re locked up down here for the long haul.
Coco sauntered up to the fake grass and squatted down for a what seemed like an hour, then hopped off and led me straight to her favorite room, the kitchen. After filling her food and water dishes, I emptied the leftover coffee from last night into a cup, added copious amounts of sugar and cream to cover up the rancid taste, then nuked the mixture until it was steaming hot. Yeah, it tasted like crap and trying to cover up the bitterness didn’t work, but I have a problem throwing things out. Sue me.
With a steaming hot cup of awfulness in my hand, I walked into the living room and flipped on the television to see if anything had changed while I was sleeping. Most of the stations were off the air today and had been replaced by white noise. Unfortunately, only one station was still broadcasting.
The usually well groomed man at the anchor desk looked like he hadn’t slept a wink since this ordeal began. His plaid silk tie was loosened and askew, the first few buttons of his dress shirt left undone displaying brown curls of hair on his muscular chest and the mane on his head was mussed as if he just crawled out of bed. A short growth of beard was beginning to take shape. His steely gray eyes were heavy lidded and bloodshot as he sipped slowly out of a coffee cup in between pauses in speaking. I turned the volume up to listen to what he had to say.
“As I told you before, this segment will be rebroadcast until the power goes out. It seems that we’re on our own, people and God help us all. It doesn’t look like anyone’s coming to save us. The phone lines are down and we’re running on generators here at the station until the fuel runs out.”
He took another sip and continued, “The last communication we received from the governor’s office assured us that the National Guard had finally been deployed, but we’ve had no reports since that time as to their whereabouts. It seems that they just vanished. We don’t even know if the governor is dead or alive. Heck, we don’t even know if the President is alive. Not a lot of people survived this.... this whatever it is.”
He ran his fingers through his unruly hair and added. “Law enforcement agencies did what they could, but they took on too many casualties during the first few hours to be any help and before the phones went down, the 911 operators stopped taking calls.” He took another sip and continued, “Can’t blame them really. I mean, if you had to choose between answering phone calls from strangers that you couldn’t help because there was nobody left to respond to calls or go back home to your own family who needed you … it’s a pretty easy decision to make.”
“I’ve reported from war zones, but there’s never been anything like this. Whatever caused this disaster worked quickly – too fast to control. We tried to keep you updated, but things just got out of hand. The situation escalated so fast that it was outdated before it could be put on the air. When we lost contact with the field reporters and management, that’s when we at the station decided to lock ourselves inside.”
He paused and sighed. “There aren’t many of us left.”
“The only advice we can give you is to stay hidden in a safe place and move whatever you have that’s heavy to block windows and doors. Try not make any noise. These creatures that most people now call zombies seem to be attracted to sounds. Oh, and don’t let them see you move. If you stand still, they don’t notice you as easily, but if you move, it draws their attention.”
“If you have to fight, don’t be deluded into thinking that you’re going to knock them down and then just walk away. They don’t seem to feel pain and they won’t be intimidated. You can bet that they’ll not only get back up and follow you, but they’ll call their friends to join them. It doesn’t matter if it’s your child or parent that gets bitten and turns. You have to do what it takes to keep them from biting you or someone else. A lot of good men and women died because they just didn’t have it in them.”
“Now, I know that this goes against everything you’ve ever been taught, but you have to kill the bastards if you want to stop them - these zombies. It might seem like murder, but it’s not. Get it through your heads that they aren’t people anymore. Whatever was alive inside of them is gone after they turn into these things. If you don’t kill them, I assure you that they won’t hesitate to kill you and anyone else that’s nearby.”
“The only way to know for sure they won’t get back up is to shoot them in the head, cut it off or stick a knife or something sharp into their skull. Yeah, I know that most of you don’t want to think about this. Hell, I don’t want to think about this. We have to face the truth, though. If we want to have even an iota of a chance of surviving this thing, we will kill those who are trying to kill us.”
He took another sip of caffeine, leaned back in his chair and stretched, then rolled his neck to loosen up the muscles. It gave the impression that he had been talking for hours. His scratchy voice was confirmation. Abruptly, he leaned forward and looked directly at the camera. “I’m not trying to scare anybody.” He shook his head and then said. “No, maybe I am. If you aren’t taking this seriously, you’d better wake the fuck up because we’re facing a threat beyond our imaginations. If help doesn’t come soon...”
He removed his wire framed glasses, pinched the bridge of his, and then put them back on before continuing. “The last th
at we heard from our sources at the Pentagon, the UN had been planning to send humanitarian and peacekeeping aid, but then communications broke down, so we don’t know if aid will be arriving after all. We aren’t betting on it. This thing is spreading. No one knows exactly what happened, but it’s turning into a global pandemic. Was it a virus that caused all of this? Maybe a biological weapon? Your guess is as good as ours. Either way, if you haven’t figured this out by now, we are fighting for the survival of our entire human race.”
He stopped speaking, turned and looked to the side, then nodded his head and held up a finger like people do when they want someone to wait. He focused back towards the camera and hastily apologized. “I’m sorry to leave you like this, but we have to go off the air now. Our situation is getting bad at the station and everyone still here is moving down into the basement area to wait this out. I’ll be joining them there at the end of this broadcast.”
He glanced at his watch and then back at the camera. “It’s 10:20 p.m. now. The station is surrounded by those zombie creatures. For our safety, we will be taking our own advice and will be attempting to fortify our shelter against them in case they are able to find a way into the station.”
“Once again, I repeat that this message will automatically rebroadcast until the power goes out. God be with you all. Please keep us in your prayers and we will keep you in ours.”
With that, he abruptly slid the chair back, stood up, and walked away. With a thoughtful look backwards through eyes that took in every detail of the room, perhaps to remember it as it was before the crisis, he strode away with the bent shoulders of a man carrying a heavy burden.
A tear is rolling down my cheek as I sit here in the comfort of my basement, but I can’t seem to move my eyes away from the now empty news desk or raise my arm to wipe the moisture away. I feel lightheaded , but I’m still sipping on this cup of coffee, as unpleasant tasting as it may be, and planning what to cook for breakfast.
What bothers me is that I’m lounging here on my comfy sofa when countless others, maybe even my friends or coworkers, are struggling just to stay alive. Watching the broadcast just made everything more real. It was easier to pretend this was just a dream or to make it out to be less than it was last night when we thought the authorities would come swooping in to save us. Reality bites.
Why am I sitting here doing nothing when I know what could be happening to them? It’s not that I don’t care. I’d rescue everyone out there and put them somewhere safe and comfortable with all the food and water that they need if I only could. That’s only a pipe dream, though and would be a dangerous stunt to try. Regrettably, life isn’t like the movies. I have no choice but to stay put and wait this out, regardless of how hard it is. I feel very alone right now.
Where is my family?
It’s been hours, but I’m still working through the feelings of frustration and helplessness, pacing back and forth across the floor with nervous energy. Coco thinks it’s a game, so she’s picked up her fluffy chew toy and is waddling alongside of me with her tail wagging her entire body. To her, this is a lot of fun. She finally has Mom all to herself for the entire day instead of watching me leave for work. To me, it’s a nail biting experience where I feel trapped and irritated because there was no way to contact my family to see if they are safe.
The HAM radio and internet are helping to keep me from feeling completely isolated, but it’s impossible to discern who to trust right now and without family or friends to speak with, I’m alone with my thoughts and fears. I know phones are down, but they still haven’t answered the radio, logged onto Facebook or answered emails. I have to hope for the best, though. Maybe their antenna has been damaged or they have a loose connection somewhere. It could be something like that, couldn’t it?
I slumped down in the recliner, picked up the Kindle and tried to read more of Zombie Fallout, but can’t keep my mind in the plot. After rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time, I decided to try something else, so I walked in the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water, then added scented bubbles to it.
I turned on the radio for soft music, but forgot that there isn’t anyone there to man the station. I was met by white noise instead of tunes. Frustrated, I flipped it back off then sat on the edge of the tub staring at the wall for a few moments before breaking down sobbing until there were no more tears left to be cried. Damn! I hate wimpy women who fall apart at the slightest hint of danger and this time I’m the one acting helpless. It makes me angry to react that way.
The bath water was lukewarm by the time there were no tears left to cry, so after washing quickly, I exited the bath and dried off, then stood there shivering as I dressed. It’s not that the room is chilly, but my body is wet and my nerves are still on edge. I peeked down to see Coco staring with her big brown eyes and resolved to get it together and suck it up. She’s depending on me to take care of her and I’m not doing my job very well.
After getting dressed and feeding the brat, I gently lifted her up and laid her on the sofa next to me and rubbed her soft belly until she drifted off to sleep. As she lightly snored and occasionally kicked her legs in tempo to the dream she was having, I considered our situation. We are lucky in one way because we are better prepared than most people and unless someone figures out that I’m alone and have all these supplies that they can break in and steal, we can survive down here for at least a couple of months. It has to be assumed, though that the supplies will eventually run out.
What will happen then?
My anxiety is trying to get the better of me, so needing something to occupy my mind and as a way to gather intel, I turned off all the lights in the apartment and stepped over to one of the windows. The windows of the basement are high on the wall and I’m barely over five feet, so I employed the use of a step stool to reach it. I cautiously opened the steel shutter a crack and took a glimpse outside. It’s still bright outside, but there doesn’t seem to be anything moving. Even the birds and other small creatures that normally scamper around climbing the telephone lines or who steal bird seed from the feeder are missing.
I have a clear view of the street from this window, but there’s not a car or person in sight and with the flat landscape around here, you can see for miles. There’s absolutely no movement except what comes from nature and the only sounds are coming from the ice-cold January wind and lightly falling snow. It’s dead quiet. No pun intended.
I shut the shutter carefully and moved from room to room repeating the process with the other windows, but received the same results. My first instinct is to leave the basement and go topside to take a peek, but caution and fear are forcing me to be patient. At least I have something to occupy my time with now. I’ll continue checking every couple of hours and in the meantime try to pass the time with reading or watching DVD movies. It’s challenging to concentrate on anything for very long, though. My thoughts are random and unfocused. There are just too many unknowns in my life right now and the answers are hard to come by without being able to communicate with others.
I tossed the book that I was reading to the side and turned the HAM radio back on. It’s not that there is much chatter that’s new, but maybe I’ll be lucky and my parents will try to call. Just the same old conversations detailing the death and destruction that we already know is taking place. Listening to it makes my stomach tighten, so after a few moments I decided to give up and do some baking. Cooking and cleaning helps to keep my mind off of things and gives me busy work. I threw the ingredients together to bake some homemade yeast rolls and mixed up some rice, vegetables, cheese and other things for a casserole that I’ll put in the oven after the bread finishes rising.
While waiting on the rolls to double in size, I made a circle through the house dusting and vacuuming even though it’s not really necessary. Coco and I haven’t really been messy and almost everything I brought down with us has already been put away except for the bug out bag. Needing something else to do, I alphabetized the DVD collection
and all the books on the shelf, then changed the sheets on the beds and washed the bedding even though they weren’t dirty. Even so, no one has slept on the spare beds in months and it never hurts to have fresh bedding just in case someone drops by. Heck, who am I kidding? It’s possible that no one will ever drop by again. I might be totally alone. My family still isn’t answering their radio or emails. As hard as it might be, I have to face the fact that they may not have made it.
Chapter Four
Real Life isn’t Graded on a Curve
Jason
“Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose.“
Zora Neale Hurston
When the ball dropped to mark the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, I was working alone in the biological sciences lab located on the second floor of the university, totally unaware of what was taking place around me. It was late night, but that’s the only time I can work on the biomedical research application I’ve been developing without interruptions breaking my concentration.
I seldom attend social events at any rate. I’ve always been the proverbial nerd in the room and tend to end up feeling out of place instead of being able to enjoy myself. I’m not distasteful with my six foot frame, black hair and sapphire eyes, but I have very little in common with most people that I encounter. There are too many awkward silences to make conversations worthwhile.
At just over thirty years of age, I already earned a PhD in Biological Engineering and two masters degrees in both Microbiology and Molecular Biology from MIT. I’m originally from the UK and graduated from the “King's College of Our Lady of Eton besides Wyndsor” as the youngest student ever to do so.
Nuclear Undead: Wake the Dead Page 5
