Those Lazy Sundays: A Novel of the Undead

by Thomas North

  “Believe me,” Jack said, smiling. “If they get through there, I won’t keep it a secret."

  Kate laughed. “I guess you wouldn’t. But what about him? Phil, I mean.” She pointed at the bedroom.

  “Let him sleep. We can check up on him every hour or so. Just to make sure he’s doing ok. He was bleeding quite a bit before, but I think it stopped. He's probably just worn out and needs to rest.”

  “Ok,” Kate said. “I’m going to lay down in the other bedroom then. The one next to the bathroom.”

  “Night,” Jack said.

  Kate waved, then walked down the hall and disappeared into the room across from the bathroom. Jack waited a few minutes and then, slipping the pistol into the waistband of his pants, went into the bedroom. He looked at Phil, propped up against the headboard of the bed. Phil’s chest was still moving up and down, though his breathing looked shallow, forced.

  "Phil?" he asked.

  He stepped forward and leaned in. He could feel the man's warm breath on his cheek. He put his hand on Phil's neck and felt for a pulse. He held his fingers there for several seconds after he found the heartbeat.

  Convinced that Phil was still alive, Jack walked back towards the hallway. He paused and turned around, taking another glance at Phil, who still hadn't moved from his place, when something on the television caught his attention.

  The shot you're seeing is from the local news station WPUR, who has a helicopter flying over the small hamlet of Allentown, Vermont, where, as you can see below, on what would usually be a quiet Sunday evening, it looks like there's a block party on every street.

  Hearing the name of the town they were just miles from ˗ and where his friends had gone, and as far as he knew, still were ˗ he took a seat on the end of the bed.

  The video, in typical grainy shades of night-vision green, showed a number of people, some wandering aimlessly in the streets, others crowded around buildings and moving with a frenzied motion, like people at a rock concert. The newscaster's block party analogy was apt: On any other night, it might have looked like there was some kind of festival.

  "Jesus," Jack whispered. He thought of going to get Kate to show her this, but decided against it. Hopefully she was asleep. She'd have plenty of opportunity to see all this in the morning. They'd already seen enough as it was.

  Keep in mind, those are by all accounts people who until today, until catching this unidentified illness, were completely normal, healthy people. We still do not have any explanation ˗ any clear explanation ˗ as to what is causing this bizarre behavior. And it appears that this is not just happening in this one town, though so far this appears to be an extreme example. We have reports coming in from other cities in Vermont, as far north as Burlington, as well as locations in New Hampshire and Massachusetts, including Boston. An incident at the New England Patriots game in Foxboro earlier this evening is now believed to be related. It's a little hard to separate fact from fiction at this point, so we haven't confirmed that or many of those other cases...

  Jack flipped from CNN back to WPUR itself, which was now broadcasting again, its scrolling marquee replaced with a concerned-looking Bob Bartolo sitting at the anchor's desk with a young, blond co-anchor, who was speaking into the camera:

  For those of you just joining us, we experienced some technical difficulties earlier due to a security issue at the station, but we’ve been back on the air for several minutes now. I'm Elizabeth Etherton, and Bob Bartolo is with me as well. We've been in constant contact with both state health officials and the State Police, and their directives have remained the same: stay in your homes, do not go outside unless in an absolute emergency, and please keep phone lines, especially 9-11 and other emergency services, clear for people who need immediate help. The officials we spoke to couldn't stress enough that this is a very dangerous, very communicable disease, and you need to take all measures to avoid spreading it. Now for those wondering, the State Police and emergency workers are on alert, but have been advised by both state and Federal Authorities not to deploy en masse at this point until they have a better handle on just what this is, out of fear of infecting first responders.

  She paused and turned to her co-anchor, who had been waiting patiently, occasionally nodding in agreement with his partner.

  Elizabeth, I believe some new information came in while you were talking. We've just learned that the National Guard has been put on alert and told to be ready to deploy. In addition, a special team from the CDC is on a plane as we speak˗

  His mind wandered ˗ the first time it had had the opportunity to wander since the whole thing had started. The scenes on TV, the talk, the situation ˗ sitting on the end of a complete stranger's bed ˗ who was in it, by the way, and badly injured at that ˗ in said complete stranger's house, which was surrounded by bloodthirsty, insane people pounding on the doors to get in. It was surreal. It was also terrifying.

  For a few moments, sitting in that bedroom, hearing the pounding on the door in the hall, the shallow breathing of Phil in the bed behind him, the blaring television, he thought that he might just wake up in his own bed, find that the pounding was Eric, his best friend who lived across the hall, trying to get him up so he didn't miss class. Find that the television was the idiot next door who never stopped blasting his shitty music or movies. Find that the shallow breathing was from a girl next to him, still dressed in nothing but a pair of bikini panties.

  The last one was bullshit. He'd had one girlfriend his freshman year for about eight months, and that was about it. But for now, he was going with it.

  Because it beat the hell out of where was right now.

  “REALLY ANDY, ARE you okay?” She felt as worried as she sounded.

  “I’m fine honey, really,” Andy replied. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. And sort of a messed up one, if you know what I mean.”

  Sarah sighed. She’d gotten tired of waiting, and called his cell phone. She'd dialed a dozen times before she got through, but eventually it rang, and Andy picked up. He’d sounded like a man waking up with a hangover when he answered.

  “Really hon, don’t worry. Tomorrow morning we’ll be back on the road and headed home.”

  She thought about contradicting him, but decided against it. They’d all have time to talk about the future later.

  "The dentist office have a phone?" Sarah asked. “These cell phones won't last forever, and I bet you don't have your charger. I know I don't."

  "Nope," Andy replied. "Didn't really have time to grab it when I was running from those psychos. But yeah, I think there's a phone here, let me look."

  She could hear him rustling papers in the background, then flipping through a book of some sort.

  "Got it." She grabbed a piece of paper and pen that had been dumped on the floor when Kyle and Brent had moved the desks, and jotted down the number. She gave him the number to the police station as well.

  "It's hard to get through on the phones," Sarah said. "That office have a computer or anything? We could stay in touch on Facebook or IM."

  "Yeah, but I don't have the password," Andy replied. "Tried it. No luck."

  "Damn," Sarah swore.

  "But I got a TV here," Andy said. "So I've been watching the news at least."

  "That's better than us," Sarah replied. "We've had to keep up with things on the net."

  "You hearing anything from friends? Your parents? Anything?" Andy asked.

  "Yeah," Sarah replied. "So far they're fine."

  "Good to hear."

  “I love you Andy,” Sarah said.

  “Love ya babe,” Andy replied. “I’m going to catch some sleep. There’s a crazy comfortable dentist chair with my name all over it.”

  Sarah laughed. “Well stay put. Don't do anything stupid like you'd normally do. Like, taking off with the van, for example.”

  “I may head out for a night on the town, but I won't be out too late. And don't worry, I'll keep all the hotties off me.”

  “Funny,”
Sarah replied.

  “You know I’ll be careful. Night, hon.”

  The phone disconnected. She’d feel better when Andy was sitting next to her again, and she could look him in the eye and know he was okay.

  She looked around the police station again. Mike was still on the cot. Mary and Kyle were sitting against the wall, still browsing the news on the laptop.

  Brent was…

  She looked around. He wasn’t there. Her eyes went to the back door to the supply room. It was open.

  She approached the open door and peered inside.

  Her mouth dropped open, but she managed to stifle a yell. The rear door to the outside was ajar, revealing the dark alley behind the police station. The steady rain was splashing onto the floor just inside the doorway, leaving a dark stain on the cement that reminded her of the blood stain on the road around the man they had run over earlier that afternoon ˗ the second in an incredible series of events that she was still struggling to wrap her mind around.

  For now, she was trying to wrap her mind around why the door was open ˗ and why Brent was missing. Had he decided to take off? Leave them to their fate? He'd be ditching his own brother, but then, she could tell they weren't the best of friends. They hadn't said anything directly, but she could tell there was an unspoken tension there, something between them that had probably been festering for a long time.

  And maybe that caused Brent, who seemed like the less reasonable one of the pair, to say the hell with everyone else, and head out on his own, while he still had the chance.

  Sarah walked across the room, around a couple of police barriers and unmarked boxes, and cautiously approached the open door. She paused in the doorway, the cold rain spraying across her face and body, and looked out into the night. The alley was more of a T intersection, with a narrow space running left to right, and the main, wider alley running straight from the back of the police station, the whole setup the product of two buildings built just behind the police station.

  Sarah leaned out from the doorway and looked to the left and then to the right, seeing nothing but the brick outer walls of the other two buildings and the police station, and the falling rain. She stepped outside, the full brunt of the rain now coming down on her. She took a few steps forward. Her heart was pounding, and she wanted nothing more than to turn around, get back inside, and lock the door. Instead, she took another step forward, and then another. She crept down the alley, being careful not to make too much noise.

  A figure, little more than a silhouette visible in the darkness, appeared around the corner in front of her. This time, Sarah couldn't stop herself letting out a short yell of surprise. She spun around and made a dash for the door.

  "Hey!" the voice from behind her was hushed, but audible. "You trying to get us killed?"

  Hard footsteps behind her picked up, and she turned just in time to see Brent a few steps away.

  "Me?" Sarah asked, letting her voice get too loud again.

  "Yes!" Brent whispered. "By doing shit like that! Come here!"

  He motioned for her to follow, then started walking back down the alley. She hesitated, then hurried to catch up. Brent stopped at the end of the alley, his shoulder pressed against one of the brick walls. Sarah stopped beside him, slightly behind, most of her body hidden by his. She peered around the corner.

  In the daylight it would have looked like nothing more than a narrow street with a mix of small commercial buildings and houses. In the darkness, though, it looked more sinister, the sharp angles of the old-style colonial houses looming out of the darkness, blurred by the rain. The street was mostly deserted, a couple of moving shapes visible further down the street, too far to notice the two living people hiding in the alleyway.

  "It's quiet," Sarah whispered. "Like we talked about. They're all out front."

  Brent nodded.

  "Yeah, but look." He pointed in the opposite direction down the street from where they were looking. Sarah could barely make out what he was pointing at ˗ in the dark, it almost just looked like wind-swirled rain. But as her eyes focused, she could faintly make out human shapes ˗ and it looked like more than a couple.

  "What're they doing?" she asked, still whispering.

  "If I was going to guess, I'd say those fuckers have found someone else hiding in a house or a building, like us. Once they figure out someone's inside, it's like they just don't fucking stop. They just clump up around people."

  "But what do they want?" Sarah asked. "What are they doing to do? Kill people? I don't get it."

  Brent, staring off into the distance, almost mesmerized by the undulating shapes in the darkness, shook his head slightly.

  "Maybe they're just hungry," he said.

  Sarah frowned. "What's that mean?"

  He looked at her. "Just screwing around. Who the hell knows."

  "Well, if they are hungry, they're not going to find much in there," she gestured back towards the police station. "We ate everything that was there."

  Brent turned around completely this time.

  "Not everything."

  8

  SHE SPENT MOST of the night lying in a stranger's bed, staring into the darkness above her, replaying the day over and over in her mind, especially the last couple of hours. More specifically, the fight to get up the stairs and away from those... people. That whole thing had only lasted twenty seconds, maybe thirty. But in those twenty or thirty seconds she'd shot two people to death. She remembered the feel of the gun in her hand, how it jumped when she pulled the trigger, the slight sulfur smell afterwards. She'd gone with it at the time, mainly because she hadn't had time to think about it. If she'd had to think about it, as she was now, would she still have fired?

  She didn't know. Maybe she would have just stood there frozen with the gun in her hand, while those people attacked and killed Jack and Phil.

  Letting Phil get murdered by those people. The people they had brought to his house. That would have been a nice payback for his saving their lives.

  But she hadn't hesitated, and they hadn't killed Phil. She shot, and he and Jack were alive. In pain, but alive. That was enough rationalization, or so she told herself. She'd done the right thing. Acted the right way. Saved lives.

  Yet somehow the scene kept replaying itself in her mind, like a song she couldn't get out of her head. Over and over it went through her mind, and over and over she repeated the rationalization. And over and over it still didn't feel right.

  She did doze, eventually. Even fell into a deep sleep, though she didn't remember dreaming. She didn't know how long she had been asleep when she felt Jack's hand shaking her shoulder, and opened her eyes to find him looking down at her. She woke up still tired, though not as tired as Jack looked. He looked exhausted.

  "You sleep okay?" he asked, while she stood up and tried to get her bearings.

  "Not really," she replied.

  Jack nodded. "Yeah, I don't know if I'll be able to either. I'm tired but..."

  Kate smiled. "I know. Too much happening I guess."

  "Yeah," he replied, smiling back.

  She got out of the bed. Jack handed her the pistol. The scene flashed through her mind again when her hand wrapped around the grip, and she winced. She'd held onto the thing for a few hours after it had all happened, and it hadn't been an issue then. But her mind had been occupied. She hadn't had time to think things over yet. Now that she had, holding the pistol was uncomfortable, even a little sickening. She didn't want it.

  "You okay?" Jack asked.

  "Yeah, fine. Just a little headache," she lied.

  "You want to try to get some more sleep?" Jack asked, a look of concern on his face. "I can stay up a while longer, it's no problem. I˗"

  "No, no that's fine," she said. The last thing she wanted to do was spend more time lying in bed, awake, her idle mind beating itself up. Maybe, she thought, she could distract herself. Watch the news. Eat something. Do anything that wasn't doing nothing.

  "Go to bed," Kate said.
"I'll wake you up in the morning."

  "You sure?" Jack asked.

  She nodded. "Positive."

  "Okay. Just wake me up if anything happens, alright?"

  "Sure," Kate replied. "Thanks Jack. Night. You want the door open or closed?"

  "Leave it open a crack."

  Kate headed for the door, leaving it open just a few inches as Jack had asked. She went into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face and hair to wake herself up, then went back into the hallway. The one or two people who could reach the door from the narrow staircase were still banging on it relentlessly, but the door and the dresser in front of it were still in place.

  After checking on the door, she went into the bedroom and checked on Phil. Her heart sank when she first looked at him. He was on his back, not moving, and it looked like he wasn't breathing. But after a few seconds, his chest rose and fell, and he let out a quiet sigh, then shifted slightly. Kate breathed her own sigh, this one of relief, and sat down to watch the television.

  Little had changed since before she went to bed, other than that the local station was now back to broadcasting live. The advice was the same ˗ stay inside ˗ and the facts of what was happening were the same ˗ mainly, nobody still really knew what was going on.

  Bob Bartolo was on the air, as was Elizabeth Etherton, his blond sidekick, both visible tired, but still going strong. Elizabeth was the one talking now, reading some viewer e-mails and struggling with a stray lock of hair that fell in front of her eyes every few seconds.

  This e-mail is from Jennette in Rutland. Jennette says, "My husband and I have been trapped in our attic since seven. Sounds like dozens of people in our house, but we don't know. Sounds like they're just knocking things over and breaking things. They keep groaning or screaming or something, all night. They showed up right after we finished dinner and forced their way into the house. Broke windows and got through the door. They acted like animals, like they didn't understand anything we said. Never seen anything like this. We're okay, though, so I guess that's what counts. Hope help comes soon."