by Steven Till
He stopped in front of the checkout counter and eyed the phone sitting by the register. He reached over, picked up the receiver and dialed Evelyn’s cell number again. Just like before, he couldn’t get through. This time, the automated message responded with “All circuits are currently busy…” In a last-ditch effort, he hung up and then dialed Julie’s landline. If things were getting bad at the old homestead, then she would have most likely taken Boomer over to Julie’s place. No answer. Now Nathan feared the worst.
He tossed the phone over the counter and strode out the shop door. He had to find a way out of the city and he had to find it fast. The subway seemed to be his only hope. He turned left and continued down Liberty Avenue, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. The streets were a mess. Crowds of people had abandoned their cars and were now moving through the streets as one terrified mass around the gridlocked cars. Mixed among the crowd were those infected by this unknown illness in varying degrees. Some were recently bitten, while others stood hunched over spewing vile jelly from their mouths.
While he walked, he noticed more and more people had turned; snaking out their forked tongue and gnashing their clawed fingers as they staggered down the road. What struck him as odd, was the fact that not all the afflicted were attacking the healthy people. Bloody tears streaked their faces as they walked, pushing those who came too close away from them.
Keeping a brisk pace as close to the buildings as possible, he reached into the weapons bag and pulled out a Smith & Wesson M&P9 9mm pistol. He paused underneath a store awning and dug out a box of rounds, then ejected the clip and began loading the ammo. As he finished loading one clip, he grabbed two spare clips from the duffel and began to load those as well.
As his hands slid the ammunition into the clips, his eyes scanned the crowd around him. Somehow, no one on the street had given him a second glance, which he thought was funny, since his mercenary attire made him stand out. Thank God for small miracles, he thought as he continued to arm himself.
Nathan finished filling the spare clips, secured them into the ammo pockets in his jacket, loaded one into the pistol, and chambered a round. He found one of the leg holsters that he grabbed at the surplus store and strapped it onto his right leg. Picking up the machete, he began to secure it to his left leg when he noticed that his luck had just run out. In front of him, in the middle of the street, stood a young girl who couldn't have been older than ten or eleven. He froze.
She wore a ratty pair of denim overalls, a fluffy pink down jacket smeared with blood, and a red knit cap with a big happy face sunshine on the front. The cap was the kind with ear flaps that had those cute tassels hanging down. White skin, red eyes, forked tongue; the whole shebang. Was that a teddy bear in her hand? Yep. Dangling like a hanging victim from her left hand was a teddy bear; the fur matted with blood.
The girl just stood there in the street. Motionless. Expressionless. Nathan wondered if she was like some of those other zombie-things he’d seen. Maybe she won’t attack me. I don’t want to have to shoot a kid. He was so focused on the little girl, that he hadn’t noticed the mass of thirty zombies assemble behind her.
The girl, whom he had dubbed Sunshine, flashed a devilish, bloody grin at him. It was at that precise moment that he realized that there was a mob of murderous zombie-things standing behind her. Now fear began to grip him as he was not only afraid for the girl, but for himself, as he was now cornered against a building. The creatures just stood there, growling a low, rumbling growl. Not a single one in the lot moved towards him or the girl. What’s going on? Why aren’t they attacking her?
Slowly, Sunshine raised her right hand and pointed at him. She unleashed an ear-splitting screech, which caused the horde to advance, but they ignored the girl and headed right towards him.
Oh, that’s why. Fuck all.
Nathan finished strapping on the machete to his leg, unsheathed the blade, and un-holstered his pistol. There was no hesitation this time. He unloaded two rounds at the closest creature, hitting it square in the chest. Knowing that he couldn’t let the horde get in front of him, he picked up the duffel bag and slung it onto his shoulder. Raising his left hand, he brought the blade of the machete down on a middle-aged woman’s head.
Blood sprayed as he heard her skull split like a coconut. Planting a foot on the woman’s chest, he pushed her back, dislodging his blade from her melon. Turning quickly, he fired another shot into a Goth teenager’s face. Another swipe took off an arm and then a head. Blood gushed from the wounds, soaking the already dirty slush that covered the roads.
He saw an opening ahead and pushed forward, then turned to fire off another four rounds at the advancing mob, dropping three of them. Two more shots exploded the head of an elderly man with a bowler hat. Who the fuck still wears a bowler hat?
He dispatched another ghoul with his last two rounds, then swung full circle with the blade, slicing a fat leather-clad biker across the gut. His abdomen opened up like a big jelly donut, spilling his innards all over the street. For a moment, the zombies nearest the biker stopped their pursuit and began to gorge on the intestines that littered the street. Nathan turned and ran as fast as his load would allow; he had to put some distance between himself and the horde of monsters behind him.
Another screech sounded. A quick glance showed him that Sunshine had refocused those feeding on the biker and now they resumed their pursuit. His eyes also registered that the creatures which he had shot in the chest had gotten back up and continued to give chase. The ones he dismembered followed as well, although some dragged themselves along on the ground, since he had lopped off a leg or two.
“Shit, this is not good,” he muttered. Okay, just like in the movies then. Head shots only. Make the ammo count. He continued to haul ass down Liberty until he finally made it to the intersection with Grant Street. Unfortunately, the foot chase attracted attention from others in the area. A lot of others. Now the crowd that was tailing him had at least doubled.
Things were going from bad to worse. Luckily, Steel Plaza Station was only two more blocks away. He had a one block head start, so with a little luck, he’d be able to make it into the station before he’d be overrun. Then, the inevitable happened.
He tripped.
CHAPTER 10 EVOLUTION
“Fuuuuuuuuuck!” he exclaimed as he finished heaving for a fourth time.
Ronnie had only walked three blocks before he needed to duck into an ally and heave. The vomit that he expelled turned into a thick, bloody mess. He had just gotten off the phone with Nate when the attack from his own body began. After two more episodes, his stomach stopped contracting. He staggered into the nearest alley, not wanting to get pulled back into the fray of carnage that had been escalating ever since his run in with the infected elderly man.
“Man, that was rough,” he said to himself. I hope I didn’t catch that nasty shit from Grandpa. He did, of course, catch that nasty shit from the old man. Unbeknownst to Ronnie, his body was changing at an alarming rate after a mere five minutes after infection. DNA was shuffling, allowing his body to create new structures. His cells created new tissues, blood chemistry altered, and neural pathways rewrote themselves. The rods in his eyes multiplied, which allowed for better night vision. Ronnie didn't care about what was happening to him. All he knew was that it hurt worse than anything he had ever experienced before.
People ran past the alley, screaming for their lives. The infected gave chase and slaughtered the terrified crowds without mercy. Blood, body parts, and innards paved the streets of Pittsburgh, melting the remaining slush on the roads. A noxious vapor emanated from the pavement. The sound of automatic weapons grew closer, as the National Guard had arrived and were now trying to win control of the bridges.
He peeked around the corner of the alley entrance and stared down Grant Street. He knew that he was only a few blocks down from the T station, which meant that he was getting closer to Nathan. The bloodletting seemed to occur primarily within a two block
radius of his alley, leaving a large expanse of open street to the subway. If he could slip by those zombie fuckers and make it to the open road, then he could definitely make it to Nathan without incident.
Beyond the vacant swath of street, Ronnie saw another mob, a large group, chasing after some poor shmuck who now ran for his life down the street towards him. The prey had to have been three or so blocks beyond the T station and would most likely be overtaken by the swarm before they reached his current hiding spot. Sucks to be that asshole, he thought as he returned to the relative safety of the alley.
The creative hot dog vendor slumped onto the ground and leaned against a garbage can. His breathing had become labored and shallow. Ronnie’s hands hurt bad. Looking down, he could see hard, bony protrusions poking through the tips of his fingers. The nails were a grayish color; a pinkie nail fell off and fell to his lap. That’s gross. His vision began to tunnel. “Enter Sandman” started playing through his earphone as his vision started to get dark and blurry.
That’s pretty fucking ironic, he thought, chuckling to himself. A moment later, Ronnie Manguba took his last breath as a human.
CHAPTER 11 SAFE HAVEN
Every curse word spilled out his mouth as he face-planted onto the pavement. Nathan jumped to his feet and sprinted onward. Beyond the subway station, he saw more infected a few blocks down Grant Street. More and more attacks occurred as the infection spread at an incalculable rate. He refocused on the station doors, which drew closer with every stride.
His heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted as fast as the slippery streets would permit. He was one block away from potential safety, the subway station only one more block ahead of him. The impending doom which chased him had gained some ground on him, but was still at least a half a block back. Half a block left. He was able to pull a few more yards ahead of the crowd. Finally, he reached the entrance to Steel Plaza Station.
The first door he tried didn't budge. The second door was locked as well. Same with the third. Christ, don’t tell me they’re all locked! He pulled hard on the last set of doors as the legion of blood-soaked zombies closed in on him fast. The door opened, almost sending him reeling backwards, since he didn't expect it to be open. Nathan slipped through and slid the lock bolts up into the door frame. Just as the last bolt clicked in place the mass of bodies outside hit the facade of the station. The entire front of the vestibule buckled under the weight of the impact, but the doors (and glass) held.
Not wanting to wait to see how strong the glass was, he turned and ran down the escalator. The station was empty. No Port Authority workers sat in the token booths. No police patrolled the platforms. No scared, frightened citizens looked for an escape from the city. Well, no scared, frightened citizens besides himself, that is. The only train at the station sat dead on the closest outbound track where he stood. Ronnie was right, the military had ordered the trains to stop their runs, which wasn't a big surprise. The train blocked the tunnel that led under the river and out of the city. He'd have to go through the train to get past it.
There was no sign of Ronnie anywhere, which could only mean two things; either he had arrived already and went on without him or he hadn’t made it. Nobody appeared to have tampered with the train doors. Ronnie definitely hadn't been here yet. An uneasy feeling began to take hold of him. With the army of dead in front of the entrance, his friend would not be able to join him, assuming he was still alive.
He placed his gear on the platform and pulled out his cell phone. He keyed Ronnie’s speed dial number and listened, but he was getting zero reception underground. Even if he could get reception, he doubted that he’d get through to anyone anyway. Most likely, the military shut down the cell towers by now. Placing the phone back in his jacket pocket, he decided to do a quick weapons check.
After checking all the spare pistol clips, he started loading all the other extra ammo clips. Nathan secured the clips within the multitude of utility pockets on his pants and jacket. He then grabbed one of the UMP45s, locked and loaded it, and slung it over his back. Then he loaded the other sub-machine gun and placed it back in the bag. He opened a box of shotgun shells and loaded the 12-gauge, which he then shouldered. With his Smith & Wesson holstered and his trusty machete in its sheath, Nathan felt somewhat ready for whatever lie in store.
CHAPTER 12 I, ZOMBIE
Intense and unadulterated pain racked his body. Ronnie had felt nothing like it in his life. Opening his eyes, he was surprised by how bright everything looked. Everything had a reddish tint to it, as if he were looking through rose colored sunglasses. The unrelenting pain that radiated throughout his body disoriented him. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he got there. Looking around through rosy eyes, he saw that he was in an alleyway, but couldn’t remember what had happened.
He looked down at his hands, or what used to be his hands. They looked foreign to him, as if they belonged to someone or something else. What the fuck is this shit? he thought. The hands in front of him had no fingernails and the tips tapered into two-inch-long bony claws. The knuckle joints were knobby and large, which made the hands look even more grotesque. On his left palm, just underneath the pinkie joint, a faint set of teeth marks where Grandpa had bit him.
A flood of memories returned to Ronnie. The scene across the river at Station Square, the jam of cars along Ft. Pitt Boulevard, a crazy old man who had bitten him. Grandpa! The images of the fight flashed in his brain as he recalled how the old man bit him on the hand. He could remember the old geezer drawing blood, but the marks on his hand had healed and faded, like an old wound. At the center of the lesion, a small dot marked the remnants of a puncture trauma. Ronnie was confused. He knew that it couldn’t have been long since the attack, as he still heard the bloodbath ensue throughout the streets. That meant that this had healed fast. Really, really fast.
“This is some fucked-up comic book healing shit, man,” he said to himself. The slight smile that had crossed his lips immediately vanished when he heard his voice escape his mouth. It didn't sound like his voice. It was lower and had a raspy sound to it, almost like he was talking into a fan, like he used to do when he was doing his best Darth Vader impersonation.
Another wave of pain washed over him. He doubled over onto the pavement. A noise to his immediate right caught his attention. Glancing over, he saw a large rat scurrying in front of him. Instincts took over; his claw flashed out and grabbed the rodent and shoved it into his mouth. Without thought, he bit down, crunching off the rat’s head. Blood spurted out the severed neck as he chewed on the skull and brains. He swallowed the rest of the head and opened his mouth for the next bite.
His jaw dislocated and dropped, allowing his mouth to open another eight inches. His taloned hand thrust the rat body into his gaping mouth. It wasn't until the hindquarters were passing beyond his teeth that Ronnie realized what he was doing. At first, the thought repulsed him, but then he paused. Tastes like chicken, he thought as he continued to chew the last of the vermin.
The pain that had racked his body subsided and eventually abated. Standing up, he felt much better; stronger even. Looking around, he was still amazed at how much better his eyesight had become. It was if he were viewing everything in 1080p high-definition. His hearing had also improved. He was able to pinpoint sounds and understand the direction that they originated from. The new abilities enamored Ronnie and he began thinking up new superhero names for himself.
Before he was able to settle on a suitable name, he stopped and began to stare at the wall of the alley. A strange, ghost-like blob glowed white in front of him. He reached out to touch it, but his clawed finger stopped at the brick. I must be tripping balls right now! Scanning up the building’s wall, he noticed another white blob further up where the second story would be. Then the blobs started moving. The one at the top moved in the direction of the street, while the bottom one started to fade, then disappeared. Ronnie moved his attention back to the top light-blob-thingy. He followed it as it neared a secon
d story window that led out to the fire escape.
The window opened and a young Hispanic man emerged out onto the fire escape. It was then that Ronnie realized that the man was glowing! The ghost shapes that he saw on the wall must be people inside the building! “Oh, this is just too cool!” he exclaimed in his new raspy voice. The man looked down to where the voice originated from and saw that it came from one of those murderous creatures. He froze.
Ronnie smiled and waved at the petrified man. “Hey dude!”
The man on the fire escape screamed and ran back inside the building, his phosphorescent glow fading away through the wall as he high-tailed it to the far side of the building.
“What an asshole.”
Making his way towards the street, he peered out from the alley. Looking down Grant Street, he could see white glowing bodies flee from the infected. It seemed as though humans weren't the only glowing bodies out there, as the infected had a dark red aura around them. It turned out that the zombies were able to distinguish their own from potential prey by the type of color that a body emanated. This is definitely cool stuff, he thought.
A thought occurred to him as he watched the scene before him. Nate-dog. He had been so preoccupied with his new abilities, he had completely forgot about his friend. He needed to find Nathan fast before the nasties got to him. He was about to leave the alley, but then stopped himself. Not sure if the other zombies would attack him or not, despite the fact that he was now one of them, he decided to try to reach the subway station via the rooftops.
Jumping off from the ground, Ronnie propelled himself straight up about ten feet. He grabbed the fire escape railing and flung himself higher, reaching the top of the three story building in a matter of seconds. Hot damn! I could definitely get used to this shit! He ran across the roof and jumped over the next alley, reaching the adjacent rooftop with little effort. Soon, the newborn zombie reached the end of buildings and looked out over the street. The buildings broke up and became spaced too far apart for him to jump to.
