The Week of the Dead

by Viktor Longfellow

  Devin knocked on the door to his own bedroom. Erica slowly opened the door to find the man with a broad chest looking down at her with hollow eyes. “How do they fit?” Erica smirked lightly. Her day was filled with chaos, and she did little to improve her current mood. Little did she know that her day had only just begun.

  COFFEE BREAK

  CHAPTER 16

  MONDAY 1455 CST

  MEMPHIS

  “M’kay. We have a bow, two long rifles, and two shotguns: Frank’s double-barrel and .357, the auto shotgun, a 9mm, a .45, and about a box of ammo apiece,” Devin said as he began to stuff things into bags. “Erica, ever used a gun?” Erica nodded silently.

  “Look, we’ve all had a shitty day, but we need to leave. Stay with me. OK?” Devin said to her. Erica eyed the 9mm handgun. “Yeah, that’s a good one. Shoots straight, seventeen-round magazine, and we have a few magazines.” Stephen grabbed the .270 deer rifle. “You’re not going to do dick with that, Uncle. Take the Auto.”

  “I have a better idea. You go ahead. I’ll stay here. You’re both young, and I can’t run.”

  “Stephen, you know we never leave anyone behind.”

  “Oh, put it up your ass. I’m sixty years old. I can’t run. I sleep with oxygen on. The docs gave me six months. I’m going out with a bang. Help me set up, and I’ll cover you while you take the back way. Find a new car, and go find your weirdo friends. I don’t know what these fucks are, but a .270 lever action to the head will ruin their day. Go to the shed, and get me some of them paint buckets and the gasoline. And meet me in the kitchen.”

  Devin knew it was the only option. “You stubborn bastard. It’s like punching a donkey in the face…What are you going to do with paint cans?”

  “Not any of your goddamn business. Where’s the sugar?” Stephen began to clank around in the kitchen loudly attracting the creatures outside.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Devin said as he pointed the gun at the windows.

  “Looking for sugar, vegetable oil, and the coffee beans. Where’s my goddamn paint cans? Girly, go in that room, and bring me my oxygen tank.”

  “Pantry, on the floor,” Devin said as he opened the back door going to the back shed. He quickly came back with a few paint cans, mostly still full, and a five-gallon jug of fuel.

  “What are you making?” Devin asked intently.

  “In my day, you never leave the area until all enemies are dead. I’m making something that will get their attention, and I’m making coffee while I work. Got a goddamn problem?” Devin shook his head silently. “Get your shit, leave me the rifle and a handgun, and let me do my thing,” Stephen said as he punched buttons on the coffee machine.

  The youngsters said their good-byes and made it out the back door. They began to climb over the back fence and into the backyard of the neighbor’s house making as little noise as possible. Stephen sipped on his coffee as he began putting the ingredients into the paint cans. “A bunch of flammable shit and a gun. Going out with a bang indeed,” he told himself.

  He lined the floor and counter with the vegetable oil. He dumped silverware, spare change, and salt rocks into the paint cans. He ripped up towels and stuffed them into the cracked lids of the cans. He poured gasoline into a line that connected the kitchen to the couch where he positioned a box of ammunition on its side aimed at the door. He had a plan, and it was going to work. Stephen finished his cup of coffee. Hope they have better coffee in hell. He stood at the door, armed with the handgun Devin had given him.

  He unloaded the chamber, and the creatures began to barge the door. More and more they pressed against the wooden portal until it gave out. Stephen moved to the couch. He stopped and threw his coffee mug at the approaching red eyes advancing on him. “Wrong house assholes!” he exclaimed as took the lit cigarette from his lips, took a few drags, and then threw it onto the gasoline trail. Stephen didn’t know how well his plan had worked, but he knew he needed to get out of there. He grabbed a chair and threw it out the window. He then crawled out the window cutting his hand on the cracked glass stuck in the frame. The attackers began to hurdle into the living room chasing him. Stephen found the ladder and climbed onto the shingled roof with his rifle slung over his shoulder.

  He knew the fire was getting close to the paint cans by now. Soon the house was going to be demolished under his feet. He took the time to pick off some of the creatures in the street. He aimed down the sight to pick his targets. Being an army sniper, his aim was true; being an old man, it was fuzzy, but he could still pick out friend from foe. After well-placed rounds, Stephen noticed that the noise was bringing the creatures into the house. He didn’t know if the fire was having any effect on them, but by now he didn’t care. The house under him let out a quick roar followed by another.

  Black and white smoke began to bellow out from under the roof. Then a small explosion happened. Followed by a quieter one. Then suddenly there was a familiar sound. A sound that Stephen had to dig deep in his memory to triangulate; it brought him back to his days in Vietnam, the sound of rapid gunfire. Stephen leaned over the side of the house and saw twelve distinct bullet holes in the next-door neighbor’s house. Holy shit, it worked, he thought as he gave himself a smirk. “Come and get me, you Charlie sons of bitches!” Stephen expelled as he reloaded his rifle and began firing wildly into his new audience of red-eyed listeners. “You’ll never take me alive!” he shouted as he reached in his pockets to find more ammo.

  He had only one round left. He loaded it. “Do I take myself or one more motherfucker out?” Then he saw her. His sister, Devin’s mom, had become one of them. He knew he couldn’t allow that to continue. He took aim down his scope and centered it on her forehead. He said a silent prayer as he made sure his safety was off. He recentered his aim. He pulled the trigger. When he heard the blast from the other end of the rifle, the roof beneath his feet began to give way.

  He fell to his side and rolled on his back. Stephen didn’t focus on his sister, he didn’t focus on the shingles beneath his feet, and he simply took out another cigarette and lit it, closed his eyes, and let the fire take over the house. When Stephen finished his cigarette, he flicked it over his head without a care. Staring at the blue sky and the white clouds that seemed to connect with the smoke bellowing out from the house underneath him, he closed his eyes. He was ready. Inside the house, one of the rounds had pierced the gas line through the wall. The fire was now raging against the curtains and furniture. Tearing through the carpets and filling those creatures that were still standing with smoke.

  As Stephen lay on the roof with closed eyes, he began to drift into a dream. He dreamed of a lighted path. With a thunderous boom, Stephen seized to be a part of this physical world. The explosion was mostly noticed by Devin and Erica who had made their way into the neighbor’s minivan and down the opposite street when the small black mushroom cloud appeared. “Jesus! That crazy bastard!”

  STEAM ROLLING

  CHAPTER 17

  MONDAY 1108 EST

  PHILADELPHIA

  Phil drove his red jeep down the street weaving in between cars and other debris clipping the side of his car now and again. “We can’t take much more of this. We need a new vehicle…We need a tank or something!” Harrison turned from looking out the window watching his beloved Philadelphia be destroyed by something he did not yet understand. Were they sick? Were they infected? Are we infected? Did I kill some of them? His attention returned to the present situation. “What was that?”

  “I said we need a tank.”

  “Can you drive a tank, Phil?”

  “Hell, if I know. I’ve never tried. Can you?”

  “Couldn’t be that hard. I’m sure you can use the Internet to learn,” Phil retorted, thinking back on how much the young kids at the office had to depend on their computers. As they veered toward the turnpike, Harrison looked out the window, and a slight smirk came across his face. “What about one of those?” Harrison nudged Phil’s elbow as he pointed out the
window.

  “That might do.”

  Phil drove the SUV across the median. The Cherokee bounced with every piece of concrete Phil leaped over with a crushing blow. He swerved the vehicle to a complete stop outside a wrought iron fence with a closed gate. “Do you see anything?” Phil asked as he ducked his head looking around.

  “No. The coast looks clear,” Harrison said as he gripped his familiar golf club.

  “Think we can knock and ask to come in?” Phil retorted jokingly.

  “Doesn’t look like there is anyone to answer the door. You stay here. I’m going to have a look around. Anything happens, you drive away…,” Harrison said as he locked eyes with Phil. “At least honk the horn for me if you do.”

  “I’m not going to leave you here!”

  “I’m an old man. There’s something you don’t know about me. Besides, you have Paul to watch over,” Harrison said as he exited the car with a glance over his shoulder.

  “What did he mean by that, Daddy?” Paul chimed in from the backseat.

  “I don’t know, buddy.”

  Harrison peeped through the glass windows of the building. “Damn government buildings. No one’s ever here when you need them.” Harrison chuckled as he raised his golf club. With a single swing, he broke the glass off the door. He looked around and made eye contact with Phil. Harrison shrugged his shoulders and stuck his hand in the door and unlocked the door. Harrison opened the door with an audible creak. The sun shined through the windows of the small office. Harrison crept around what he could make out was a desk with a chair pushed in. He didn’t hear anything except his footsteps and his hard breathing. He tried to slow down his breathing. He was scared, but he had never had this feeling of excitement in his body. Not long ago, he was planning on ending it all, and now he has the light back in him.

  He felt like he has a teenager again, a very old teenager nevertheless. He moved swiftly through the building toward the side door on the other side of the wrought-iron fence to the prize. He exited the door and felt the cool air on his weathered face. He made his way to the eyesight of Phil and Paul who were still idling in the car. Harrison moved toward the gate. The gate was chained closed with a padlock. Phil rolled down the window. Harrison met his surprised face. “Gate has a lock. Once we find the key, we’ll be o…”

  GETTING OUT OF TOWN

  CHAPTER 18

  MONDAY 1500 CST

  MEMPHIS

  Devin jerked the door of the minivan open. “Watch my back,” he said to Erica as he threw his bags into the van, took a knee, and began hot-wiring the vehicle.

  “How’s it coming?” she said as she glanced over her shoulder at the pair of boots sticking out of the driver side of the car. Her question was met with the familiar rumble of the engine of the minivan. Devin stood and made eye contact with her as she moved to climb into the passenger side.

  She swung herself into the van, and she looked around the soccer-mom car. Her eyes focused on a child booster seat. “Oh no,” she thought. “What’s happening?” Her mind began to wonder as Devin peeled onto the street. He kept his eyes open as he weaved through lanes. “We need to head north. Which way?” he asked.

  “I’d take I-40.”

  “No, that’d take me back into the populated areas. We need rural. We need less people to worry about.”

  “Highway 51. It’s rural once we make it out of Millington,” she said as she strapped on her seat belt. “The base is in Millington. Air Force. We might get some help there,” she said as she grabbed onto the handle above her head.

  “Maybe, and we might get shot. Two things the military would do in a crisis situation: self-containment and self-preservation. Either they’ll defend themselves against anything, or they’ll destroy anything that poses a threat.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Defense and offense. Defense is where anything comes near the base, dead. Offense is where they destroy everything, dead.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Nuclear weapons,” Devin said with a cold stare. After meeting her wide eyes, he followed, “But it probably won’t come to that. Not enough information. No one knows what is happening. The best we can hope for is the base empty, with the soldiers gone and deserted. Best-case scenario.” There was a brief silence in the car. “We need gas and food. I don’t know how long we can make it in this car.”

  CLASS

  CHAPTER 19

  MONDAY 1324 CST

  MEMPHIS

  Ethan arrived to the third floor of Parrish building. Late to class as usual. Even though he lived near the campus, being an “adult” was still tough to get used to, even if he was a sophomore at The University of Memphis. “Statistics. Great,” he thought. He snuck in the back door and took a seat near the exit. “Last in, first one.” The instructor, Ashley McMiller, was a graduate student, but she enjoyed everyone calling her “Professor.” She thought that had a nice ring to it while she was finishing her schooling. She was facing the marker board explaining bell curves and other statistical matter. “Glad you could join,” Josh whispered to Ethan.

  “What did I miss?”

  “The usual; everything is going to be on the test. Math will save your life,” Josh whispered as he nudged Ethan’s elbow.

  Ethan began to remove things from his backpack: notebook, pen, and he placed his cell phone on the desk. As he opened his notebook to begin taking notes on whatever the professor was talking about, there came a wave of vibrations across the auditorium. That was followed by a cadenza of beeps, whistles, eight-bit keyboards, and tidbits of popular ringtones. The room began busied with people shuffling in their seats, whispering to one another. Ethan sat still and watched as his cell phone began to flash and dance across the desk. His rubber cell-phone cover couldn’t contain the kinetic ballet of modern technology. He looked over to Josh who had a worried puzzled look upon his face. The ambient noise of Professor McMiller ceased to exist because her phone too began to rattle with excitement.

  “Everyone, everyone. May I get your attention?” McMiller broke the chatter. “I have just received a text message that the school is to be evacuated immediately. Take your things, and go home. Keep your phones handy. We will hear when we shall return to class. I don’t know what’s happening. It’s probably just another bomb threat,” she said with a sarcastic tone. McMiller and her audience began to stuff things into book bags and head for the door. Ethan and Josh sat still, letting the crowd pass.

  “What do you think, man?” Ethan said to Josh.

  “Beats me, man. But I’m getting out of here regardless. Want to come over for a beer?”

  Josh lived next to the campus in student housing about two blocks from the school. “Hell yeah, man.” As the two men got up, a single scream was heard from the back door, the way Professor McMiller had exited not too long ago. Every one stopped in their tracks to see McMiller running in her high-heeled shoes. She was being followed by a man in Memphis Tigers blue sweatshirt; the hood was drawn up. “No one panic. It’s just an idiot trying to spook us,” Josh said to the crowd.

  “Everyone out. I have to pee. Make a hole,” Ethan said as he began shoving his way through the crowd.

  As Josh placed his hand on the door, he heard a loud thud on the stage of the auditorium. He turned to see McMiller had tripped on her high-heeled shoes and she was holding her ankle. The man in the blue sweatshirt began pacing toward her and showed signs of foaming at the mouth. McMiller screamed as the she made eye contact with the man with his bloodshot eyes. “Hey asshole, she’s hurt. Joke’s over,” Josh said as he turned and crossed his arms.

  The man continued to come closer to the professor lying on the floor. “Parker, help me,” McMiller shouted. Most of the classroom had emptied by now; all that was left were a handful of students, including Josh, Ethan, and a giant in Memphis basketball clothes. The giant man stood in the path between the sweatshirted man and the professor. “Get the hell outta here, dude. Don’t nobody want yo�
� shit!” he said as the man in the sweatshirt changed his gaze to the tall man. “Yo, what’s wrong with you dude,” he said to the intruder. He was met with a snarl and an open mouth of teeth. “Fuck you, man!” he said as he swung his backpack into the open mouth.

  The man fell backward from the blow. The basketball player went toward the professor, as Ethan and Josh met them. The basketball player stuck out his giant tattooed hand to the professor. “Here we are, ma’am,” he said as he hoisted the professor up with his slender frame. Ethan and Josh grabbed each arm of the professor and held on to her. “Turn around!” Josh said to the big man. The snarling man had returned to his feet in a stumbling manner. “Yo! You drunk or something?” he said, which was met with another snarl. He balled his fist at the bloodshot man who began pacing toward him.

  The basketball player stood his ground. He reached back and planted his fist into the face of the approaching creature. “Yeah! Knocked you the fuck out!” he said as he squatted over his victim and began to mercilessly punch him repeatedly in the face. “Memphis style, bitch!” he said as he turned to face his spectators. Blood was rolling off his knuckles.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Josh said as he was tired of waiting around.

  Josh and Ethan were holding the professor while Parker, the basketball player, held the door. He had grabbed a teacher’s stool from the auditorium and held it in front of him like a battering ram with spikes. “Where are we going?” McMiller asked as she and the two men stepped in unison.