“Let’s get as far as we can before going topside. The farther we get away from the center of town the better.”
Trudging through the drains was a relative walk in the park. They heard the dead above them in the streets for a while but the moans and shuffling faded as they left downtown. Thirty minutes later the drain ended under an old bridge next to a creek. Carson kicked out the metal screening; they splashed through the shallow creek bed and climbed up the snowy bank. Filthy and cold, but happy to be alive and out from underground, they assessed their surroundings. For the moment, there were no dead in sight.
A CVS Pharmacy and a Rite Aid, once fierce business rivals, faced each other across Broad Street. Both had clearly been looted and sported broken windows and doors. A grocery store, also looted, was to their right. The snow was deep, maybe two to three feet. A city park and the municipal pool just down the road marked the eastern boundary of the city. Beyond that lay the mountains.
Charles spoke. “It looks safe but that doesn’t mean it is. We should get what we need and move on ASAP.”
“Mom, I’m cold. Can we go home?” Marisol shivered.
“Soon. First we get the medicine.” Gabriella took her hand and fought through the snow toward Rite Aid.
“I‘ll go with them. Do you guys want to scout out a vehicle? Four wheel drive will be best.” Charles set out for the drug store.
Several automobiles remained parked near the stores, up to their bumpers in snow. There were a few abandoned in the street as well. Carson, Virginia, and Daniel waded through the drifts, wiping windows and peering inside to see if any had keys in the ignition. They were almost to the grocery store when they found an old Ford Explorer, keys inside and driver door open. Fearing the battery had run down, they turned the key. The engine turned over on the third try but the gas hand was near empty. They let it run for a few minutes then pocketed the keys and went into the grocery store.
Emptied shelves and freezer cases greeted them. Even the magazine racks were cleaned out. Drifts of snow lay on the floor under the smashed windows. A dirty, stepped on, and torn bag of bread was all the food they found. At the very back of the store, a pharmacy looked untouched. Behind the counter, a white coated body lay on the floor. The woman’s face was peaceful but her body had begun to bloat in decomposition. Climbing over the counter they found an empty bottle of pills and an overturned can of Diet Coke. They pulled her coat up over her head.
“I’m assuming insulin needs to be refrigerated. Let’s see what we can find.” Guns held at the ready, they searched. Behind the main room, they found a refrigerator, still running, and full of meds. They located the insulin and took all they could fit in their pockets. Virginia loaded up on children’s antibiotics and shared them with Carson. The only things they found to eat were Altoids and cough drops.
Emerging from the store, they saw the others in an enormous Toyota Sequoyah parked, with motor idling.
“What’d you find? Any food?”
“Here. Have an Altoid.” Virginia offered the tin.
“You’re kidding! Nothing? Both drug stores were cleaned out. Not even a bottle of aspirin.”
Virginia took one of the bottles of insulin out of her pocket and held it out. Gabriella’s face lit up.
“Gracias.”
“De nada.” That pretty much exhausted Virginia’s Spanish vocabulary. She lifted Daniel up and then she and Carson climbed inside the SUV. The heat on full blast spread luxurious warmth. The radio was set to scan for stations but only static played. They sat in silence for a few minutes, hoping to hear a human voice that would let them know that somewhere, civilization was alive. Nothing broke through the radio noise.
Gabriella’s apartment was on the way to Carson’s mother-in-law’s trailer. They decided to go ahead in the Sequoyah while Virginia said she needed to gas up the Explorer and would follow. Daniel elected to ride with her. The old vehicle started easily this time and she backed out of the parking lot and drove to the gas station on the corner. The snow on the street was turning to slush.
She ran her credit card through the reader at the pump but the screen kept showing “Error.” Great. Telling Daniel to stay put and grabbing her shotgun, she approached the store. It looked deserted. Once inside she went behind the counter and eventually turned all the pumps off, then back on again, hoping this would clear whatever caused the error. The shelf under the cash register was full of boxes of granola bars. Starving, she crammed them in her pockets and ate one on the way back to the pump. Daniel said he didn’t like “nola” bars. She slid her card through the reader. “Authorizing” flashed on the screen.
While she waited, she cleaned the windshield with the squeegee from above the pump. The glare was incredible with all the snow and sunshine.
“Virginia?” Daniel tapped on the window to get her attention.
“What baby?”
“The snow is moving.”
She looked around. Snow still covered most of the ground. There were odd little humps here and there, almost the height of tombstones and they- were moving. Snow fell off one to reveal a noiseless, eyeless horror dragging itself toward them, raising one arm and moaning. Now a chorus of moans began. There were at least twenty infected crawling in their direction. One rose to its feet and limped eagerly through the snow. He looked newly dead; the shredded skin hanging from his abdomen glistened red. The pump clicked and gas began to flow. She shouldered the shotgun and took aim at the walker, taking him down in two shots. Three more stood up and she shot again but missed every time. She reached for shells to reload and found herself trying to stuff a granola bar into the chamber. Her hands shook. Get hold of yourself Virginia, this is how you die if you’re not careful. The gas pump continued to click. The moaning grew louder as seven or eight more infected lurched around the corner of the building.
She was encircled but took down two more. She shot the lower jaw off one but it kept coming and reached her just as the gas reached the top of the tank and shut off. She pulled the handle out but couldn’t get the cap on before the infected woman gnawed at her arm with her upper jaw and pulled her to the ground. Black, fetid clumps fell from the hole in her face, splattering on Virginia as she fought her off. Finally, she slammed the woman to the pavement and got to her feet, found the shotgun and smashed the thing’s head. It twitched and lay still but two more were on her already. She fought free and ran to the passenger side of the Explorer, climbed across into the driver’s seat and backed out of the parking lot. Rolling over her pursuers felt like hitting a speed bump.
Everything looked quiet at the Willow Trace Apartment complex. Gabriella lived in the last set of buildings near the clubhouse and Virginia drove through the complex, finding the Toyota parked next to a truck. She stopped and screwed the cap back on the gas tank while she looked around. Odd items were scattered around the parking lot: chairs, a computer monitor, toys, a large framed painting, items people probably wanted to take with them before commonsense kicked in. No dead roamed. She and Daniel followed the footprints in the snow and knocked on the door.
The apartment was cold and dark inside. No electricity but the windows and doors were intact.
“All tanked up?” Charles asked.
“Yeah but it got interesting.” Virginia told them of the dead lurking under the snow.
“I shouldn‘t have left you alone. I’m sorry. I’m making mistakes. It may be lack of food or sleep. But you got out. Who knew the gorgeous Virginia Dare would turn out to be such a crack zombie killer?” He smiled and Virginia saw a trace of the old flirtatious Charles. He went on. “So maybe they stop moving around without external stimuli and just wait until prey shows up?”
“Possibly. Or they’re decomposing enough that they’re having trouble keeping going. They have to break down sometime, don’t they?”
“I don’t think we know enough yet to make that determination.”
Although they tried to talk her into going with them, Gabriella refused to leave her ap
artment. Virginia didn’t blame her. If I had my children with me, I would stay here too, she thought. The apartment was on the second floor with a sturdy metal door and the windows were not accessible from the ground. The truck in the parking lot belonged to Gabriella’s brother, whereabouts unknown, but she had keys for it. With enough food, I might be able to ride it out.
This time Carson drove the Toyota. Charles and Virginia, along with Daniel, followed in the Explorer. The road grew narrow and steep as they got closer to Carson’s mother in law’s place. Dark green fir and hemlock trees, branches sagging with the weight of the snow, lined the drive. They didn’t see anyone, living or dead, until they pulled up in front of the trailer.
Littered with toys and spare car parts, the front yard also had a clothesline holding some limp jeans. A tall, heavyset, older woman stood by the clothesline. They turned the engine off; the trailer door opened and a younger woman looked out. That had to be Debi. Carson bounded out of the vehicle, just as the woman by the clothesline turned. Virginia noticed for the first time that she wasn’t wearing shoes and then saw the front of her turtleneck was stained dark red. Her mouth opened, a bloody, stained rictus of hunger, and she stumbled in Carson’s direction.
The young woman standing in the door screamed. The infected woman stopped, mouth agape, swaying in the snow, then turned toward the trailer. Charles already had his shotgun out and he fired. The woman went down, moist, black fragments of her head splattering the hanging jeans.
“You killed my mama! How could you shoot her? She’s my-” Debi broke down in sobs of anguish mixed with rage. Carson cautiously put his arms around his furious, hysterical wife (or ex wife). Two curious little faces looked out from a window and Virginia saw one of them begin to cry.
Debi withdrew into the trailer and Carson followed, motioning for the rest of them to come in. Daniel didn’t want to walk by the dead woman. Charles picked him up and carried him up the concrete block step.
The little doublewide was dank and cold but spotlessly clean. A puzzle was under construction on the kitchen table near two untouched glasses of milk.
The little boy and girl climbed into their chairs, and sat, hands in laps, shivering in the cold. They were solemn and quiet; maybe not unusual for children who had just seen their grandmother gunned down.
Debi continued to alternately cry and curse while Carson tried to comfort her.
“She was dead, baby. Already dead. Charles didn’t do nothin’ but put her to her rightful rest. Once the snow melts, we’ll give her a proper burial and all.”
“What if there’s a cure? You know they gotta be working on a cure.”
“Debi, we don’t know if “they” even exist anymore. The world is a different place now. What if she had gotten in and hurt one of the children?” Debi blanched visibly at that but still glared at Charles. Carson continued to talk to her soothingly.
Something was not right. Virginia caught a whiff of something fetid underneath the smell of glass cleaner and furniture polish. Charles moved down the tiny hallway.
Debi stood. “Don’t go back there, Brandon’s asleep and he don‘t need nobody waking him.” In the short silence that followed, a soft moan came from the end of the hall.
Carson stiffened. “Is Brandon sick? I got medicine. It‘s the chewable pills.”
“It’s just a cold, maybe a virus. We’ll look in on him later. I been trapped here with Mama sick like she was. I couldn’t let her in the house anymore but I couldn’t leave her.”
“Was she around the children?” Virginia asked.
“Of course she was. She was takin’ care of ‘em right up ‘til she couldn‘t no more. Carson knows how much she loves those babies. Don’t she Carson? Carson?”
Carson stood up and moved down the hall, fishing in his coat pocket for the antibiotics from the grocery. He opened a door at the end of the hallway and disappeared inside.
A groan came down the hallway. Debi put her head in her hands and wept. Virginia went down the hall but stopped outside the door.
Carson knelt beside a crib decorated with lambs frolicking among clouds. Inside, fourteen-month-old Brandon, hands tied to the rails, eyes gone white, lunged at his father. His gray mouth snapped, revealing two tiny baby teeth in his lower gums. A chunk of flesh, just the size of an adult mouth, was gone from his plump little leg. The wound still oozed black pus. Debi had gotten him away from his grandmother, but not quickly enough. The pain in Carson’s face shook her to her soul.
He stood up and left the room, coming back with the police issue shotgun. His thin, tired, face was resolute as he stepped inside. The lock clicked. Debi ran down the hall screaming, and pounded the door. A shot rang out. Then another. Debi collapsed against the door.
Chapter 16
Have pity upon us miserable sinners, that now are visited with great sickness and mortality, that like as thou didst then command thy angel to cease from punishing, so it may now please thee to withdraw from us this plague and grievous sickness; through Jesu Christ our Lord.
-The Book of Common Prayer
Charles and Virginia took Carson’s body out into the back yard, rolling him and Debi’s mother up in a tarp before placing them in a storage shed. Debi wrapped Brandon lovingly in his lamb print crib blanket. She held the tiny bundle for a long time before she finally allowed them to place him with his father and grandmother.
Daniel was quiet as they drove down the mountain. They left the Toyota with Debi. She would need transportation eventually but was staying put for now. The trailer was isolated and that was a plus. They also left a handgun with her. She didn’t want the shotgun.
“So what’s the plan? You’re the only one of us who hasn’t mentioned where you’re going. I plan to take this up and over 531 but we need to find another vehicle for you first. What do you think? Should we hit a car dealership?”
“Honestly Virginia, I don’t have a plan. No family to find. I’ll stick with the two of you for now. How about you, little guy? Feel like a road trip?” He looked back to see tears pouring down Daniel’s face. He was crying so hard he couldn’t speak at first then gulped and said, “My mom and dad are monsters now, aren’t they? Like that dead lady and that baby. We can’t look for them because they’re bad now.” His thin shoulders shook with sobs.
Virginia stopped the SUV and climbed into the back seat, taking him in her arms. Charles slid over and took the wheel.
“Sweetheart, a lot of people are sick right now. It’s not their fault and they don’t mean to be bad. It’s going to get better, I promise. Charles and I are going to take care of you until we find out more about your mom and dad. I’m so glad you’re with us. You’re the one who saved us back at the gas station, remember? I don‘t know what we‘d do without you.”
He nodded and she held him close, rocking back and forth. The sobs turned into hiccups and eventually he fell asleep but she stayed where she was, holding him. She watched the alpine scenery slide by as they drove down the steep road back into town.
Back at Broad, the dead still wandered the street but not in overwhelming numbers. They had no need to stop yet and got through the crowd without incident. They reached the 531 overpass and took the exit right onto the highway. Here the scenery was especially breathtaking. No buildings or road signs marred the trees and hillsides lushly draped in white. Daniel slept on in the backseat. Virginia climbed into the front.
“I wish we had a car seat. A child his size should still be in one. Although I suppose zombies won‘t wait while we get him in and out. Child car safety doesn‘t appear to concern them much.”
Charles laughed. “I promise not to write you a citation for it.”
“Thanks. Want a granola bar? I found some in the gas station.”
“Of course.” Charles grabbed the bar from her hand. “Food is about to become a serious issue. I’m starving and you’re looking pretty peaked.”
“There are a couple of gas stations between here and Springfield. We’ll need to refu
el at some point. Maybe they weren’t looted.”
Virginia lapsed into silence. She tried not to think about Carson and Brandon, two more casualties of this nightmare that wouldn’t end. Instead, she focused on the fact that she was finally on her way up 531. The snow on the road was mostly slush now and there was no other traffic.
She fiddled with the heat controls. “I can’t get the heat to blow. I think it’s broken.”
“As long as this thing gets us there, I’m not complaining.”
Digging through her backpack, she found the dried fruit from home. She passed some to Charles who made a face but ate the whole bag anyway. Bill’s papers, a little rumpled and damp, were in the bottom of the pack. She sorted through and found some she hadn’t seen yet and started to read.
“What’d you find?”
“More of my neighbor’s research. You read some of it in that email attachment.”
“Yeah, that was just weird. Read it aloud?”
“Sure.”
She went back to the beginning.
The narrative below is part of the original Journal of the Plague Year published in 1722 but was not included in subsequent editions. It had been largely suppressed possibly because of plain old ghoulishness. Although like the rest of the Journal, it doesn’t claim to be anything other than fiction; it does provide an interesting twist on the version more commonly known.
“A Journal of the/Plague Year/Being Observations or Memorials/of the most Remarkable Occurences, as/well Publick as Private, which/happened in London during/the last Great Visitation in 1665/Written by a Citizen who continued all the/while in London. Never made publick before.”
The Living Dead (Book 1): Contagion Page 12
