The Week of the Dead

by Viktor Longfellow

  “My place is closer. I don’t live that far if you’re all cool,” he said as he made eye contact with Ethan for any other ideas.

  “Got any beer?” McMiller said as she cracked a smile.

  “We’re not out of this yet,” Parker said as he looked forward.

  “How far is your place?”

  “Two blocks, down Southern.”

  “The Glen Apartments?”

  “Yeah, you know the place?”

  “Yeah. Who’s got a car?”

  “I do,” Ethan said. “But it’s on the other side of campus.”

  “Nope,” Josh recanted.

  “I do, but my keys are in my office,” McMiller said.

  “Looks like we’re walking,” Parker said as he wielded the lab stool.

  “Here we go,” Parker said as they reached the door to the exterior of the building. He slowly pushed the door open. What he saw amazed him. People were running in all directions. Some being chased, some were just running out of fear or adrenal “Fuck,” Parker said as he slide the door closed.

  “What is it?” Ethan asked.

  “Chaos,” Parker commented.

  “We’re going to have to run for it. You, dude. Your place, you lead the direction. Other dude and I will carry her,” Parker said to Ethan and Josh as he handed Josh the barstool.

  “No way, man. You’re like seven feet tall. No way can we carry her together. Give me your bag, and you give her a piggyback.”

  “Whatever, man, just don’t lose my shit!” The group readied themselves. They didn’t know what they were getting into.

  “OK. I’m going first. Them in the middle, and Ethan, you’re in the back. You know where I live in case we get separated,” Josh said.

  Ethan reached over and took something from an abandoned janitor cart. He twisted the head off the mop stick and tapped it against the palm of his hand.

  The door was kicked open by Josh as he began to sprint across the campus. People were screaming. Car horns were blaring. People were running in every direction. Josh began to bob and weave through the crowd. Professor McMiller and Parker were right on his tail. Ethan was a few paces behind them carrying both his bag and Parker’s, along with his mop handle he used to swing at people. Gunshots began to ring out. Josh stopped dead in his tracks as he came face to face with an armed security guard carrying a shotgun. He had blood on his face and began to fire wildly into the air around him, not caring what he wasn’t aiming at. Ethan had surpassed Josh and the Parker/McMiller group as he held out the mop handle; he ran toward the security guard and broke the mop handle against his face and began to repeatedly make whap noises in the air as he swung the mop handle over his head.

  He let out a throaty moan as he began to remove the shotgun and pistol belt from the security guard. “Truck! Now!” Ethan said as he handled the keys from the guard’s belt. Josh jumped into the back of the truck as Parker rested Professor McMiller on the tailgate and hoisted her into the bed of the truck. Parker jumped in and banged his hand of the outside of the truck to signal Ethan he was ready. “Petal to the metal! Go! Go! Go!” Ethan took the hint and revved the security truck over the grass away from anything resembling asphalt. There were train tracks that separate the university to Southern Avenue. While it was good for transporting goods, building a university next to train tracks was a horrible plan. Nevertheless, it happened. The students hated it. Most of the train traffic happened at night while they were sleeping. Everyone had a joke that the conductors blew the horns at night to keep the drunks off the tracks. Most believed it was the reality that people worked at night, and they were pissed people were still asleep.

  “To hell with this!” Ethan thought as he pressed the horn and drove the pickup over the tracks with two thumps of the tires leaving the ground and slamming back down to earth. Ethan weaved a hard right down Southern. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he shouted as he paid no attention to the others on the road. He narrowly missed a man in an orange University of Tennessee hoodie. Ethan turned a hard left down to a cove of Josh’s apartment complex. He stopped the truck to a screeching halt as he quickly shifted into reverse and backed the truck up slowly into the driveway. He exited the truck carrying all of his, Parker’s, and the security guard’s belongings. He walked over to the other side and began to rummage through the glove box looking for anything valuable. He found a spare box of pistol rounds and a Zippo lighter. Josh and Parker were dismounting from the tailgate as Ethan met them carrying the shotgun in a controlled manner. “Welcome to mi casa,” Josh said as he readied his keys. Parker carried McMiller in his arms, bridal style, and Ethan backstepped as he took a look around the complex. The row of trees blocked out most of the buildings, cars, and carnage of what they had just left. He stepped into the house and closed the door.

  THE GAS STATION

  CHAPTER 20

  MONDAY 1505 CST

  MEMPHIS

  Devin and Erica drove back out of the neighborhood. He turned the steering wheel back to the left. “I want to make sure,” he said as he slowed the car to a roll. The house he had grown up in was now a burning pile of wood. There were things moving around inside the house. Most of the movements were slow as they fell to their knees and dropped below his eyesight. He looked at the roof that had caught fire. The shingles from the roof gave off a black smoke and a foul smell. Erica pointed out the window at something. Devin ducked his head to peer out the window to see a booted foot sticking off the eve of the house. “Shit,” he said in a hushed tone.

  “I’m sorry, Devin,” Erica said as he met her watering eyes.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said as he pressed the gas pedal. “We’ve got about a third of a tank of gas in this thing. We need food. One place that has food and gas is a gas station,” he said in a simple tone.

  He saw the thing that once was his neighbor Harold, as his flaming body was feeding on the child he tried to save. “Fucking asshole!” he broke into a scream as he aimed the grill of the minivan into the feeding frenzy. With a thud, he connected the front of the van into the bodies. Blood splattered the windshield. He turned on the wipers, and the blood smeared onto the rest of the windshield. The sun shone through the blood putting a red hue on the humans. He turned on the sprayers to clean the windshield. Erica sat silently as she watched the blood run down the front of the car.

  They peeled fast back onto the busy street. Horns were honking as he weaved in and out of oncoming traffic. “Where’s the nearest gas station?” Erica finally broke the silence.

  “Around the corner at the grocery store.”

  “Don’t you think that would be a bad idea? Won’t there be more of those things?” she responded.

  “Yeah, but it’s separate from the grocery store. It shouldn’t be that bad. When we get there, I want you to climb over here. Hand me a gun. Take two of the smaller ones.”

  She began to rummage through their belongings for the .45 and the 9mm. “Now, you take one. Anyone or anything comes up to you that isn’t me, you shoot them. Preferably in the face. I’m going to pump gas and get supplies.”

  “How are you going to get them to turn on the gas?” she asked.

  “Well, if anyone is alive in there, I’m gonna to ask nicely,” he said as he waved the gun in his hand. “If not, I’m sure I can figure it out. Hold on. We’re almost there,” he said as he rounded the corner and jumped the curb. He heaved the massive vehicle alongside one of the open gas pumps. People on the street were running around trying to get to wherever they were going.

  Devin jumped out of the car armed with the .45 pistol. He flipped open the gas cap, stuck the pump in the receiving end, and pressed the automatic clip down. No gas flowed. He motioned to Erica in the driver’s seat that he was going inside via hand signals and pointing. He sprinted the short distance. When he walked in, there was a line of people trying to get things and the lonely cashier slowly losing her patience as more and more people where shouting at her. Devin grabbed a basket from the wall and began
to arm-sweep canned food and other items off the shelf. He didn’t care what it was. He attacked the small vegetable stand and the beef jerky shelves.

  The beer and soft-drink section had already been stripped along with the “fresh deli” food in the displays. He slipped out the door and took the basket to Erica in the car. He checked to see what was happening. Down the street, he saw a mass of people, or what looked like people, beginning to trudge the way of the gas station. “Fuck!” he said as he double stepped back inside. He walked up to the counter. The stressed-out woman looked up at him. “Ma’am, you need to turn on the gas pumps!”

  “You’ll have to pay!” she said in an old Indian accent. He reached back behind him and pointed the .45 at the clerk’s face. Everyone in line began to riot and started running around and out of the store. Devin turned his head to see and the clerk brought out a handgun of her own from under the counter.

  Devin turned his head at the sound of a click. He lowered his gun. “Get out!” she said.

  “Ma’am, there are things coming this way. I need gas. Turn on the pumps, please.”

  “You Americans with your ‘I’m so important attitudes’ and drugs. There’s nothing happ—.” Another store patron hit her in the face with a coffee pot full of coffee. The patron dove over the counter and began grabbing packs of cigarettes. Devin followed suit. He stood at the control of the gas pumps and started flipping switches until everything turned green. He grabbed the incapacitated clerk’s handgun and stuck it in his back. He too began grabbing lighters, cartons of cigarettes, and other items behind the counter. He was in a mad frenzy. He knew something was happening. He grabbed a paper bag and began filling it with ten-hour energy drinks, lighters, and random items behind the counter. He leaped back over the counter and paced for the minivan. As he ran to the minivan, throwing the bags inside he grabbed the automatic shotgun and ran to the pumps. He fired the shotgun into the oncoming horde and began picking the pumps up off the hinges. He pressed the pump hinges and threw the pumps down.

  All eight of the gas pumps released gasoline. Erica watched as the gasoline began to pool around the pumps. Gas shot out of the side of the minivan as the tank had filled and forced air against the oncoming flow of gasoline. Devin threw the bag into the window at Erica and removed the pump from the side of the car, spraying gasoline everywhere he pointed it. By now the mob of things had come closer. Close enough that he saw the bloodshot eyes. He took action. He told Erica to move the van to a safe distance. She hung out of the window firing her handgun wildly. He took the gas nozzle and started weaving it back and forth creating a zigzag pattern of wet concrete. The first creature was in range of his gas nozzle. He raised the shotgun but didn’t fire. He moistened the first one. He hit it with the nozzle until it fell. He didn’t want to ignite the gasoline while he was standing in it; instead he threw the nozzle on the ground on top of the creature as it tried to stand. He backstepped out of the wet puddle that began to surround his feet.

  The flowing gasoline began to pool. He began to hear the moans of the oncoming entourage. Erica saw what he was doing from the side mirror of the van. She reached into the new bag of items and fetched a cheap lighter. She also found a set of baby’s clothes from the back of the minivan. She met Devin’s eyes as he shouted “Do it!” Erica lit the piece of cloth on fire and flung it at the puddle. She didn’t reach her mark. “Get in!” Devin said as he too jumped into the passenger side of the van. They both peeled out onto the street.

  “I missed,” Erica said as she looked out the back of the van. Kaboom! The van was jeered to the side by a large force of wind. In the rearview mirror, there was a miniature mushroom cloud of fire and smoke.

  “No…you didn’t,” Devin said as he started to chuckle.

  Erica joined in on the laughter. She felt bad about blowing something up. It was just another notch on the belt after the day she had had. Suddenly, there were thuds and clanks on the roof. They both looked around until something had hit the hood of the car. It was a head with bloodshot eyes. Its hair was blowing in the wind; its eyes were still open. Its mouth was still moving.

  A NEW RIDE

  CHAPTER 21

  MONDAY 1110 EST

  PHILADELPHIA

  “Gate has a lock. Once we find the key, we’ll be o…” Harrison looked past the SUV to see feet coming out from the tree line up the hill. Phil turned around to see a body rolling down the hill and standing back up again. It came running toward them. “Wait! Stop!” It shouted to them. Phil rolled down the window. “Step back, Harrison!” he shouted as he backed the SUV up a few feet and put it back in the drive. “Hold on, Paul” he said as he pressed down on the pedal. Phil rammed the gate open so hard it bounced back and hit the side of the SUV. He moved the vehicle past Harrison and jaggedly into a parking space.

  “We need to find keys,” Harrison said.

  “Go do that,” Phil said as he and little Paul began to unload the SUV.

  Harrison moved back through the building looking for the keys. He moved back to the receptionists’ desk where he thought the keys would be. He saw movement on the other side of the parking lot. It was that woman from the tree line; she had made her way across the parking lot coming up on Phil and Paul. Harrison continued to search the office. He saw a large metal box bracketed on the wall. It was locked with a circular lock.

  He was already tired of looking in this dark room. He picked up his golf club and began whacking the metal box on the wall. Again and again, he brought the aluminum head of the gold club against the steel frame of the box. It wouldn’t budge. He needed something sturdier. He walked over to the wall and found a piece of rebar against the wall. He took the rebar and connected it against the steel frame. It moved. Again and again, he struck the box until the door popped off the hinges. Inside, Harrison found the keys labeled “17.” “Bingo,” he said as he grabbed the keys and brought his new tool back with him to the outside.

  The outside had changed. Paul and Phil had everything out of the car. “17! Go!” Harrison said as he began picking up some of their belongings. The trio reached the vehicle numbered “17.” Phil reached the cabin and turned the keys. The diesel engine fired up. Harrison tossed Paul into the cab and began hoisting their things into the cabin. Phil pushed the shifter into gear and the shovel lowered to ground level. “It”s not a tank, but it’ll do!” Phil said excitingly as the snowplow moved forward. They came upon the being while making their way to the gate of the building. “Wait! Stop!” it shouted as it waved its arms in the air. “It’s a woman,” Harrison said.

  “Uh-huh,” Phil said as he didn’t seem to care.

  “Well, pick her up,” Harrison said as he looked at him.

  “She’s probably one of them. Look at her!”

  “She can speak.”

  “She’s covered in blood.”

  “We’re all covered in blood, you idiot. What did you expect? Her to be in a pink prom dress and a goddamn tiara?” Harrison said as he raised his voice.

  Phil looked at him and down at Paul as he made the decision to slow the snowplow to a halt. “Hey, are you OK?” Phil shouted over the diesel engine. The woman nodded. Her eyes were white with green pupils. “OK. Hop in.” The woman was trying to catch her breath as she heaved herself into the back of the cabin. Harrison turned to give her a reassuring smile. “Welcome aboard,” Harrison said as he looked over the woman in the denim jacket and what looked like waitress attire. She was still having trouble catching her breath. “…Hi…,” she said in between breaths. The diesel engine roared back onto the highway. Phil figured out how to lower the snowplow and use it as a battering ram against objects in his path. “On the road again…,” he silently sang to himself.

  With every object Phil connected with, the cab of the snowplow would wrench back and forth with the sound of steel forcing its way through any obstacle. “What is your name?” Harrison asked.

  “Mia. My name is Mia,” she said as her breathing subsided.

  “
Well, Mia, I’m Mike Harrison. This is Phil and his son, Paul. Obviously, we are getting out of town. Would you like us to drop you off somewhere?” he said in a witty tone.

  “Anywhere but here,” she answered.

  “Where are you guys heading?” she asked as she kept her eyes straight ahead, not looking at the carnage and destruction of her once peaceful city.

  “South, we think,” Phil interjected as he rammed the snowplow through a congested intersection.

  CHANNEL 7

  CHAPTER 22

  MONDAY 1400 CST

  MEMPHIS

  The professor was sitting on Josh’s couch with her foot propped up on the coffee table held down by a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel. She held a can of beer against her head as she, Ethan, and Josh kept their eyes glued to the television. Parker was in the bathroom. He found a pack of gauze and wrapped his knuckles. His knuckles were red and oozing from connecting them to the mouth of the attacker in Parrish Hall. He could feel his skin burning like fire. He began to sweat profusely. He made his way back to the living room where no one noticed his entrance. He plopped down in the recliner and began rummaging through his bag. Good, it’s still there, he thought. He too began to stay glued to the television as the world around him began to crumble.

  “W-N-E-C News Channel 7 reports strange sightings of cannibalism. People are reported to be being attacked by neighbors, friends, loved ones, and strangers alike. Those infected are being reported as having a fever, bloodshot eyes, pale skin, foaming at the mouth, and strange body posture. I’ll repeat that. Fever, bloodshot eyes, pale skin, foaming at the mouth, and strange body posture. These strange people do not speak; they simply moan and attempt to gesture with extended fingers that reach like a grabbing motion. Many have been injured since these attacks have begun. People are reportedly being bitten, scratched, and eaten. Those who are scratched do not seem affected. However, those who are bitten begin to show signs of their attacker. Once again, those who are bitten begin to show signs of their attackers. It is apparent that you need to stay indoors and do not attempt to go outside. We’ll keep you posted with updated news. Again, people are being attacked and becoming attackers. Cannibalism. Fever, bloodshot eyes, pale skin, foaming at the mouth, and strange body movements. If you are bitten, you should quarantine yourself. We do not know what is causing this outbreak. We do not have the answers. I understand Merle is in the traffic helicopter. Merle, what are you seeing?” The screen split. On one side was a live feed from the camera mounted on the underbelly of a helicopter, and the other side was the still shot of the face to the voice that was coming through the television.