Those Lazy Sundays: A Novel of the Undead

by Thomas North

  Before they could ascend another step, a loud snarl came from the bottom of the stairs. Jack saw him first: it was Pantsless Man.

  “Kate!” Jack yelled, but she was already moving. The half-naked man reached the stairs and grabbed Phil by the shoulders. As he gnashed his teeth and prepared to bite, Jack reached over Phil’s shoulder and grabbed a handful of the man’s hair. Pantsless Man growled and snapped his teeth, but Jack held on firmly, preventing him from getting his mouth close enough to bite Phil.

  With his other hand, Jack started to punch at the man's face. He let off a rapid flurry of blows and was sure he felt the man’s nose shatter, but kept striking him, lashing out over and over until the man's cheekbones turn to mush, his teeth shattered, and Jack's own knuckles were red, raw and bleeding. While Jack used the man for a punching bag, Phil twisted himself around and then, putting all his power into his good leg, pushed off, drilling a shoulder into the man's torso. The momentum tore the man from Jack’s grasp and sent him sprawling backwards. At the last second, Pantsless Man grabbed Phil’s shirt, pulling the already off-balance man with him.

  Jack tried to grab Phil’s hand, but wasn’t fast enough. Phil and the Pantsless Man tumbled backwards down the stairs, Pantsless Man finally losing his grip. The two men crashed to the floor of the kitchen. Phil moaned, turned his head, and found himself staring directly into the cold, dead eyes of the man, inches away from his face. The man's mouth was open, saliva dripping from what remained of his teeth, his cold, rotten, rancid breath washing over Phil’s face.

  A pair of hands suddenly grasped him under the arms and pulled, dragging him backwards across the floor. Pantsless Man wriggled towards him and snapped at his leg, sinking his teeth around part of Phil's sneaker for a split second before having it yanked away. Jack dragged Phil back onto the staircase and helped him to his feet.

  Pantsless Man pushed himself back up, took a step toward the staircase, and growled. Kate put one foot the bottom step and raised the gun, holding it in a classic shooting position. Her hands shook in spite of her attempts to calm herself. She aimed at the man's chest and squeezed the trigger. The first shot missed entirely and struck a cabinet across the room, leaving a tiny hole in the wooden door.

  Kate took a deep breath and exhaled, her hand beginning to steady. She squeezed the trigger again. The pistol jumped in her hand, and the uncovered bottom half of Pantless Man exploded in a spray of red. A small, bloody appendage flopped onto the floor, reminding Kate of a small, uncooked breakfast sausage. Where Pantsless Man’s genitalia had once been was now a gaping mass of blood and ragged flesh.

  “Aww Jesus, Kate,” Jack said, wincing. Phil also grimaced when he saw the man's injury.

  The man staggered towards them again, slowed but not halted by the gunshot wound. Kate calmed herself and thought back to her basic shooting skills.

  “Shooting low or high is a result of breathing,” she remembered her father instructing her in his cool, calm manner. “Shooting left or right is trigger squeeze.”

  She concentrated on her breathing, aimed, and fired. This time the round found its mark, slamming into the chest of the man and sending him staggering backwards.

  But he regained his balance and kept coming. She shot again, this round ripping through the man’s throat. He opened his mouth and tried to moan using his now-severed vocal cords, but only mustered a liquid, choking noise. He staggered backwards, but again regained his balance and re-started his advance.

  The man shuffled to just a few feet from the stairs, and Kate.

  “Jesus, it's barely doing anything. Shoot him in the head, Kate! In the head!” Jack yelled.

  Kate calmly aimed the pistol again. This shot hit Pantsless Man square in the forehead. His head snapped backwards, and a small jet of blood and brain matter squirted out the back. He took one last step backwards, and fell over.

  Kate didn’t have long to celebrate. Another gravely moan came from the living room, this one a feminine voice. The woman in the pink bathrobe staggered into the kitchen, the belt of the robe no longer there, probably lost somewhere on the steep hill of the driveway. The garment hung open, revealing a pink, silk lingerie top and a pair of matching bikini panties. She shook her hips seductively as she walked, almost like a model coming down a runway.

  Kate dispatched the Victoria’s Secret woman with one shot, taking out the upper right portion of her skull.

  “Kate, we need to get upstairs now!" Jack yelled. More growling and crashing came from the kitchen, the sound of yet another group of unwelcome visitors.

  Jack grabbed Phil under the armpits again and helped him up the stairs, Kate right behind them keeping the pistol pointed at the kitchen. One of the teenagers lunged into the room, his baggy pants down around his thighs, forcing him to waddle like some kind of bizarre penguin. Jack flung the door open and dragged Phil into the waiting hallway while Kate eyed the new arrival.

  She considered taking a shot, but decided against it, and hurried up the last couple of steps, shutting the door behind her. She noticed a regular push-button lock on the doorknob and pushed it in, the door locking with a click. Jack helped Phil stand up, and they all started the process of trying to calm themselves.

  Kate looked at the gun in her hands, almost with a sense of awe, or shock, at what had just happened.

  “We need to buttress the door with a chair or something,” Phil said. “If they get in here, there’s nowhere else to go but up.” He pointed at a trap door in the hallway ceiling just above his head.

  “Let's not do that unless we have to,” Jack said.

  "Agreed," Phil replied.

  Jack felt something in his pocket begin to vibrate. Initially bewildered, he realized it was his cell phone. He yanked it out of his pocket and flipped it open. It was a text message. Jack read it aloud:

  “Stuck n allentown. Will come find as soon as can. Van is broken. Find building r house and stay there. STAY AWAY FROM PEOPLE ACTING STRANGE LIKE AT THE STORE.”

  “It’s from Andy,” Jack said.

  "Kate?" he asked. She finally looked up.

  "Yeah?" she asked.

  "Look. Message from Andy."

  She took the phone and read it.

  "They're okay," she said, relieved.

  “That your friend that was going to come get you? If the network is backed up, it could be an old message,” Phil said. “When did he send it?”

  Jack looked at the phone, and then glanced at his watch.

  “Ten minutes ago.”

  “So then that wasn’t him that drove past us,” Kate said.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Jack replied. “I guess this means they’re not coming to get us, though. They’re stuck.”

  “He didn’t say that anyone was hurt, right?” Kate asked, double-checking.

  Jack nodded.

  “Yeah. Thank God they’re all okay.”

  KYLE GRUNTED AS he and Brent pushed the heavy desk across the room. The desk slid roughly across the floor, the two men having to stop and lift it up every few seconds when it hit a bump or crevice. The wooden desk legs rubbing on the wood floor made a racket, nearly drowning out the banging on the door, and the moans and snarls of the people outside. Sarah and Mary sat in their chairs and watched their friend sweat and strain against the heavy piece of furniture. They’d offered to help, but in an ill-advised expression of manliness, Kyle assured them that it was a two-man job.

  Halfway across the room, Kyle took his hands off of the desk and stopped. He pulled his shirt up and wiped the sweat off of his forehead, breathing heavily. A prime physical specimen, he was not.

  “You okay there, big guy?” Brent asked.

  Sarah snickered, drawing a sharp glare from Mary.

  “Yeah, just give me a second,” Kyle replied, still hyperventilating.

  While he caught his breath, he looked up at the small windows, the glass on all of them now broken. Pale, stiff hands clutched the bars from the outside, the flesh lacerated and shredded from the b
roken glass, drops of blood sliding down the cold iron. The space between the metal bars was too narrow for anyone to slip his arms through, so all they could do was pull at them in a futile attempt to gain entrance to the building and the sustenance inside.

  "Look at them," Sarah said, pointing at the hands clutching at the bars. "How can that not hurt?"

  Kyle recovered and put his hands back on the desk and nodded to Brent, who joined him. They finished moving the desk to the door and then sat down, Kyle again sweating and huffing. He looked at Mary, embarrassed, but she patted his hand and smiled.

  “That should be good for now,” Brent said.

  “What about the back door?” Sarah asked, pointing at the wooden door next to the refrigerator that looked even more flimsy than the front door.

  “Just a storage closet,” Mike said, looking up from the computer. “There’s another door that leads outside, but it exits into an alley. Should be secure. I doubt they'll get in there. Better to leave it unblocked for now.”

  “But what if they do find it?” Sarah asked.

  “We’ll hear it ahead of time if someone tries to get in that way,” Brent said. “Mike’s right. We can secure the door then if we need to. In the meantime, though, it’s good to have an unblocked door. It’s a way out if we need it.”

  Sarah thought about it for a moment, and nodded. It was a good point, and she wasn’t about to argue security with a trained cop. It was an argument she knew she would lose.

  The conversation over, Mike turned his attention once again to the computer. He focused intently, sifting through articles and forums on the Internet, trying to get a sense of what was going on in the outside world. It had only been a few hours since the whole thing had started, less than ninety minutes since they holed up in the police station, but they already felt isolated, cut off. The station itself had come to feel like a besieged fortress to its occupants, they unable to leave, their enemy unable to get in.

  “Suppose to rain tonight,” Mike said after several minutes. His voice was still normal, calm. They were all a little surprised; they expected to hear something about the virus – if that’s what it was – maybe about what the government was advising people to do, how much it was spreading. The weather was the last thing on their minds.

  “Anything coming from the government? Homeland Security? The military? Anything?” Brent asked.

  “The state government is advising everyone to stay inside, lock their doors, secure entry points, not allow anyone inside, et cetera et cetera. Still not much word on what is causing it or anything else. They’re guessing as much as we are. Says the Governor is out of the country on some trade mission or something, but is on his way back. The Lieutenant Governor is supposed to make a statement sometime later, but they haven't said when.”

  “Figures,” Brent replied. “For all we know they caused all this shit and they’re—“ He stopped.

  A cell phone was ringing, a generic dance pop ring tone blaring from the phone’s speaker. Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out her iPhone.

  “It’s Andy!” she exclaimed excitedly, and pressed the green ‘Answer’ button.

  “Sarah, are you guys okay?” came the voice from the other end of the line. Sarah breathed a huge sigh of relief. Though she had not let it on to the others, she had been worried since he left, especially after hearing what the cop, Mike, was reading on the Internet about the disease and its spread across the planet.

  “Yeah, we’re fine, Andy. We’re stuck in the police station right now. The two officers are still with us." She didn't tell him that Brent wasn't a cop. "We’re surrounded, though. Did you get Jack and Kate?”

  “No luck. I’m stuck about half a mile down the road from you. A whole bunch of those bastards jumped on the van before I even got down Main Street. I ran over a fire hydrant and smashed up the van pretty good.”

  Sarah’s worry came rushing back.

  “So where are you then?” she asked, the concern thick in her voice.

  “I’m in some dentist office downtown. I was real lucky too. The door wasn’t locked, and I barely managed to get the thing shut. Those people aren’t strong or fast, but get a few of them together and they can be a pain in the ass. One of the motherfuckers bit my fingers when I was trying to shut the door.”

  Sarah paused before saying anything. She didn’t know how people caught whatever it was, but if it was a virus, she figured that getting bitten by one would at least increase the chances of catching it. She started to imagine Andy, her boyfriend, his eyes sunk and empty, his skin pale and cold, staggering around, coming at her like he was going to lock her in a romantic embrace – but instead baring his teeth and…

  She closed her eyes tight for a second and tried to drive the image from her mind. She was making herself paranoid, she knew, and it wasn’t doing her any good.

  She forced herself to speak again. “Are you okay?” she asked in a shaky voice.

  “I’m fine honey,” he replied. “Don’t worry. It just drew a little blood, nothing bad at all. I’ve had paper cuts that are worse.”

  He sounded convincing, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Maybe we can come get you.”

  “Don’t,” Andy said quickly. “It’s too bad out there right now. I think we should wait it out and see what happens. There’s a radio here that I’ve been listening to. They’re saying that people need to stay put.”

  “Okay. I’m just worried about this whole thing. These phones haven’t been working, and I have no idea when we’ll be able to talk again. And I’m worried about Jack and Kate. We haven’t heard from them at all.”

  “I texted them,” Andy replied. “Hopefully it’ll go through and they’ll send something back. Jack’s a smart dude, so I’m sure he’s fine. Probably enjoying the whole thing, like some kind of nerd adventure or something. One of us will hear from them eventually.”

  “So what should we do now?” Sarah asked.

  “Wait and see. We should probably try to keep our cell phone batteries from wearing out, though. I’ll try to call again sometime tonight.”

  “Alright,” Sarah said. "But if anything changes there, please call as soon as you can."

  “I will. And same for you. Stay safe, okay?”

  “Okay. Love you,” Sarah said.

  “Love you too.”

  Sarah looked at the screen on her phone until it disconnected.

  “That was Andy. He’s stuck down the road in some office. He didn’t find Jack and Kate. One of those people bit him on the finger, but he’s okay.”

  “So what are we doing then?” Kyle asked. “Is he going to come back?”

  “I don’t think so. He said the van is wrecked. We’re stuck in here and he’s stuck down there. There isn’t much we can do. We agreed to call again tonight just to kind of… check in.”

  Kyle nodded. Brent was listening intently, but resisted the urge to jump in. He wanted to tell them how stupid the kid had been to leave to begin with, and that he was lucky he hadn’t gotten his head bitten off out there – but he held his tongue. It wouldn't help anything to antagonize the kids.

  The time ticked by slowly, making it feel like they were in an endless waiting game – only for what, they didn’t know. Every so often someone would get up and walk around the room to stretch, or just to break the monotony. The banging on the doors, the hands on the windows, and the moaning continued unabated, but they began to tune it out. Each person became lost in their own fantasy, trying to take themselves to another place, away from the creatures pounding on the doors, away from the police station with the bars on the windows, and the cold, pale fingers grasping them.

  Two hours crawled by at an excruciating pace. At 6:30, they raided the refrigerator and ate a few pieces of old pizza and the remainder of a ham and cheese sub. The amount of food wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy any of them, but they welcomed it nonetheless. The darkness set in outside, and the moist smell of an impending rain wafted in through the sh
attered windows.

  Kyle took over manning the computer, providing periodic updates on what was going on. They each took turns on e-mail and Facebook to contact their families and friends. Kyle, Mary and Sarah had each managed to contact their parents, who all, so far, weren't reporting anything strange in their own hometowns, though they were all living in different states, with Kyle and Sarah's families both in Massachusetts, and Mary's family all the way in Maryland.

  Twitter and Facebook were abuzz with discussions of what was happening and anecdotes of people encountering "sick" or "crazy" people, but nothing to the extent that was going on in Allentown.

  "You think it's just this town?" Mary asked, handing the computer back to Kyle after finishing an e-mail exchange with her parents. "I mean, I know there are some other stories and stuff but, seems like we're the only ones completely trapped by these people. It's the whole town here."

  "So far, I guess so," Kyle replied. Mary leaned in close to him and rested her head on his shoulder. She watched him scroll through message after message on his Twitter account. Some of them were about the "sickness," but so many more were just silly or mundane things. Five people trapped in a police station and an entire town gone mad, but the world still went on, or so it seemed.

  For now.

  Something caught Mary's eye, and she straightened in her chair.

  "Hey, what's that?" she asked, putting her finger on the screen. She was pointing at a Twitter post from @andersonp22.

  "That's Anderson Porter," Kyle replied.

  "The news guy?"

  "That's Anderson Cooper, Mare," he said, calling her by a nickname that she didn't particularly like, but had never bothered to tell him. "Anderson Porter is a dude I went to high school with. Think he goes to UNH now."

  "Well anyway, whoever he is, look," Mary said, pointing again at the tweet.

  @andersonp22: crazy ppl pounding on door. 911 busy wtf?

  Sarah got up and looked in from behind them. Another post from andersonp22 popped onto the Twitter feed.