by David Lovato
16
In the Ambulance
“I think we’ve got a much better chance if we find a higher place to stay,” Cynthia said. “The Cardigan is just a few blocks north of here, and my boss’s fiancé has a suite there.”
“That’s a great idea!” the plain-looking woman said.
“I never caught your name,” Jason said.
“Jennifer.”
“Jason, Jennifer, you’re welcome to stick with us, if that’s what you want,” Cynthia said. “I’m sure Art will be more than willing to let us stay in his suite until this clears up.”
“There will b-be other people there,” Eugene said. “Others who have changed, and we c-could be walking into a t-trap.”
“That’s possible, but I feel like we should give it a try,” Evan said. “We can’t just quit before we begin.”
“Besides,” Jason said, “you got a better idea, Gene?”
“N-no.”
“He brought up a good point,” Stephanie said.
“He did,” Evan replied. “We’ll just have to be careful.”
“What’s going to happen to us?” Mal asked. She was sitting between Evan and Cynthia.
“Everything will be fine. Just wait and see.”
“Yeah,” Cynthia said. “The Cardigan is a big, safe office building. We’ll wait there for a little while, and then when this mess has been sorted out, we’ll go home.” Cynthia exchanged worried glances with Evan. Evan looked back at Mal and smiled, hugged her, and kissed her on the top of her head.
****
When they reached the Cardigan, Stephanie turned into the parking garage and parked in a spot that was somewhat secluded, jumped out, and opened the back doors. Evan and the others poured out, and afterward, Stephanie climbed in.
“What are you doing?” Cynthia asked.
“There’s a backpack with all kinds of medical supplies,” Stephanie said. “We could sure use it.”
“Good thinking,” Evan said.
“Cynthia?”
The voice came from behind the group. A woman approached them; she wore an apron that looked like someone had wiped their bloody hands on it. She was shaking.
“Daisy, is that you?” Cynthia said. “Oh my God! Are you all right?”
Daisy’s eyes were red from crying. “Yeah.”
“What happened to you?”
“It was Art!” Daisy covered her face, smearing her tears.
“Wait, what happened? Did he attack you?”
“I was closing shop, and I had the radio on. A special report came on, talking about people going crazy and killing others. I saw some of it in front of my shop, so I went home to see if he was okay. But when I got there… Well, he was acting crazy. He jumped at me, and I got his gun and I… I just shot!”
Daisy burst into tears after that. Cynthia ran to her side and hugged her.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“I know this isn’t the best time, but do you still have the gun?” Jason asked.
“I left it behind. No ammo. But I grabbed the keys to Art’s office suite, I thought I’d lock myself in until this is over.”
“We were actually hoping to do the same,” Cynthia said.
Daisy dried her eyes and sniffed. “Great minds think alike, I guess. I’ll lead us there.”
“First thing’s first,” Evan said, “we’ll need weapons. Is there anything in the ambulance?”
“Weapons? No, not really,” Stephanie said.
“Okay, well, we should to head to the kitchen. Hopefully we can take care of ourselves until we find something to defend ourselves with.”
“Yeah,” Daisy said. “Let’s go, then.” The group followed her through a red door marked “Exit-B” and up a flight of stairs.
On the first of two landings was the top half of an elderly woman. The intestines and half-eaten stomach were strewn out of the poor woman like the never-ending handkerchief out of a magician’s sleeve. Blood was splattered everywhere, and it speckled the woman’s white hair. The expression on her bloody face was that of extreme fear and pain.
Evan cringed and looked away. He thought he was going to puke, but he didn’t. Eugene, however, was not so lucky. He turned around, faced the wall, and spewed all over it. He began choking and gagging, which triggered an asthma attack. He fumbled through his pockets for his inhaler. He found it, put it in his mouth, sucked hard, and was soon breathing again.
“Are you okay?” Stephanie asked.
“Yes. I’m f-fine,” Eugene said. His voice was raspy, but he was otherwise okay.
Just up the stairs, they found the other half of the woman. Stephanie saw it first, and suggested Eugene close his eyes, which he gladly did. The group headed up to the second landing and stopped in front of a door. Daisy opened it quietly, surveyed the area, then headed out. When they reached the cafeteria, Evan opened the door a crack and looked around, made sure everything was safe, and then turned back to the group.
“The coast looks clear.”
“Great,” Jason said. “Let’s go.”
It was about thirty feet from the door to the kitchen. The cafeteria between looked like a war zone. Chairs were knocked over, some were on tables, and some were covered with blood. There were some twenty tables spread around the area, all bolted to the floor. The survivors weaved around the tables, chairs, and a few bodies, quickly but quietly. Evan was glad that whatever was going on had happened at night; had it happened sooner, the room would likely be full of bodies, or something worse.
The counter on which the register sat was empty, except for a fresh salad and a big cheeseburger and fries. Evan turned his attention to the kitchen, and then looked back at the rest of the group.
“All right.” His eyes darted to the door they had come in through. He thought he’d seen a shadow, but he wasn’t sure, and nothing else moved. “We should find some big containers we can store food inside. Look for canned goods, and anything else that’ll last a while. Let’s grab stuff quick, so we can get upstairs.”
“The suite has a refrigerator in it,” Daisy said. “It isn’t very big, though.”
“So we should make sure to grab as few perishables as possible,” Evan said. “Maybe some milk and eggs, if we can find any.”
“Planning on making a cake?” Jason said. “And don’t forget, we still need weapons.”
The group followed Evan into the kitchen. They split up and searched for food, making more noise than Evan cared for. Jason filled a large pot with cans of beans, soup, and corn. Evan found two loaves of bread. Jennifer picked up a large cleaver.
“We can use these as weapons,” she said. She pointed behind her. “There are plenty more where this came from.”
They were almost finished when a low roar filled the room.
“What is that?” Jennifer asked.
“It sounds like a p-plane flying a t-too low,” Eugene said. The sound grew louder as the seconds passed. The group ran out to the windows in the eating area to see what was happening.
A 747 was falling from the sky, not more than a thousand feet above the tops of the buildings. Within seconds, its left wing crashed into an office building and decimated it; the wing was nothing but a twisted, mangled stump after it cleared out a few levels of cubicles. The plane spun down into 42nd street, tearing up the pavement like a shovel would with dirt. As it sped down the street, it crushed cars, pushing them forward like toys. Bodies and crumpled metal and stone littered the street in the plane’s wake, thousands of pieces of paper rained from the sky like confetti.
“Oh my God!” Stephanie said. She covered her mouth.
“Those poor people,” Daisy said. Evan turned away and looked down at the ground.
“You know what this means, right?” he said.
“That plane was taken over by the crazies?” Jason asked.
“Most likely.”
“That m-means that Chicago isn’t the only city in th-this,” Eugene said.
“Yeah. I wonder how
widespread this is,” Jason said.
“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Cynthia said.
“Mommy, I’m scared!”
“It’s okay, Mallorie. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Cynthia hugged Mal, then looked out the window again. People were scrambling around on the street. Survivors were trying to escape the plane, and people on the ground were trying to get around the wreckage and debris left from the buildings.
“We should probably get going,” Evan said. “We’re not too safe here in the open.”
“Yeah,” Jason said. “Let’s go.”
They went back into the kitchen and began dividing the rations between the eight of them. They gave Mal a bag that she could easily carry, and Daisy took one of the microwaves. Then they formed a single-file line.
“Okay, so here’s the deal,” Evan said. “I’ll lead us with my cleaver, and Jason, you bring up the rear with yours. We’ll head up to the suite on the… What floor is the suite on, Daisy?”
“The 22nd.”
“We’ll head to the 22nd floor and camp out there until we can figure out what’s going on. Everyone ready?”
Before they could leave, the group was startled by the sound of a door opening. Evan cracked the kitchen door and took a look to see what had entered the cafeteria. A man stood near the door.
“Is he one of them?” Cynthia whispered.
“I don’t know,” Evan said.
“He opened the door,” Eugene said. “They c-can’t open doors.”
“This one just pushes open, doesn’t it?” Jennifer asked.
“I can’t remember,” Cynthia replied.
“He’s blocking our exit,” Daisy said. “What should we do?”
“Let’s just stay quiet, and maybe he’ll leave,” Stephanie said.
The man in the doorway grunted, then walked farther into the room. He placed a hand on one of the dead bodies, brought its hand to his mouth, and licked its fingers.
Armed with his cleaver, Evan moved slowly out of the kitchen and ducked behind the counter. He looked around the corner and saw the zombie stop and sniff the air, then return to the body and begin dining. Evan put a hand on the counter to pull himself to his feet, and accidentally knocked a salad to the floor. The plate shattered when it hit the ground, lettuce scattered, and the zombie stood up and started toward the noise.
“Shit!” Jason said.
“It’s okay, it’s just one,” Evan said. He stood up and prepared the cleaver.
Jason stood up. “I can take this one!” He moved in front of Evan, held his cleaver in the air, and began walking toward the oncoming zombie. Once it got close enough, Jason swung the blade and stuck it in the zombie’s head. It made a sickening thunk!
Blood splattered onto the front of Jason’s shirt. He removed the cleaver from the cracked skull of the dying zombie. It collapsed to the floor with a small moan escaping its mouth. Jason turned around, smiling at the group, who had all emerged from the kitchen.
“That wasn’t too bad.” The smile disappeared, and Jason looked down. “Ahhh! What the hell?” The zombie was pulling his leg toward its mouth. It yanked and Jason fell down, twisting his ankle and cutting one of his elbows on the counter. Evan jumped over to help, along with Stephanie and Jennifer. They each grabbed one of Jason’s hands and attempted to pull him away from the zombie. Evan took the cleaver and debated whether to chop off the zombie’s hands or head. If he cut the head off, it could take a couple whacks, which would eat away precious time.
“Do something!” Jason screamed.
Evan took a swing at the zombie’s neck. The cleaver made a decent-sized slice. He took another. Still not enough. One more severed the spine. A final blow, and the zombie’s head was completely severed. Blood sprayed from its neck.
The group watched, and after a few seconds, they were convinced the zombie was dead.
“All right,” Stephanie said. “Come here, Jason. We need to treat that cut before we go. We don’t want it to get infected with whatever that creep had.” She pointed to the headless zombie. “Evan, you should probably make sure no more come in here. This will take a few minutes.”
Evan nodded and went to the door. It was just a push door, so Evan put a chair in front of it. It wouldn’t help much, but if anything entered, they’d hear right away. Evan looked over at Jason. He looked shaken, but glad to be okay. He smiled up at Stephanie, who smiled back as she soaked a cotton ball with peroxide.
“Why didn’t it die when I hit it?” Jason asked. “I’m pretty sure I hit its brain.”
“Well,” Stephanie said, “they can’t talk, they can’t open doors, they can hardly move. How much of their brains do you think they’re using?”
“The bottom part,” Evan said. “The part that tells it to eat.” He looked around. Jennifer was talking to Cynthia and Mal. Eugene was over by Daisy, who was crying. She must have thought about her fiancé again. Eugene was comforting her.
It’s so sad, Evan thought, to have the person you love ripped away from you like that. And to have to be the one to kill him…
Cynthia looked at him, their eyes met, and they exchanged smiles. Mal asked Cynthia a question, and Cynthia returned her attention to their daughter. Evan’s smile faded, and then Stephanie stood up, helping Jason to his feet.
“We’re done here,” she said. “Are you okay to walk?”
“Yeah. I should be fine. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Okay,” Evan said. “Everybody grab your stuff, and let’s go.” Everyone gathered their things and followed Evan to the door.
“What if we run into more than one?” Jennifer asked.
“Don’t worry about the ‘what if’,” Evan said. “We just need to be positive, and move quickly. We’re still quicker than them, you know.”
Evan unblocked the door and left the safety of the food court. He held the door for the others, and then led them up the stairs.
17
The Carnival in a Panic
“Max, don’t fall behind!” Andrew said. He was ushering the family along, looking for the most open areas to move between people. Max, however, was looking around as much as possible, trying to soak in the situation. People were attacking each other at random. Nobody seemed to be able to see it coming; someone they were with could, in the next second, tear their throat out.
A few people were trying to climb the fences and get out of the carnival grounds, but this was dangerous, especially for anyone in a group. Max could see some people lying down near the fence, likely trampled in the panic of those around them.
The Greenwalds passed a carousel. The calliope droned through the shouts and cries filling the night. Some children were still on the carousel, most of them were screaming. One of the crazy men had climbed onto the still platform surrounding the carousel and was lunging at the children as they passed. Max took a step toward the ride, and then heard Julie scream. He turned to see someone grabbing her by the sleeve, teeth bared. Max ran as the man put her arm to his mouth. Max didn’t think he would get there in time.
August tackled the crazed man. He dropped Julie as he fell, and he lay there for a second, dazed. August had plenty of time to get up, and then she kicked him in the head. Max arrived shortly afterward.
“Julie, are you o—”
Andrew slapped Max across the head. It hurt and, complimented by the lights of the carnival, made Max feel disoriented.
“I told you to keep up!” Andrew said. “Look what almost happened!”
“Let’s keep moving,” Margaret said. The family pressed on, but then Max remembered the carousel, and turned to look. It was fading from his view, which was constantly interrupted by people running around.
Escape would have been easier if it had been brighter outside. The lights that Max had always loved didn’t offer much to see by.
Soon the family was running, led by Andrew. Margaret was carrying Tim, and Julie hadn’t stopped crying since her earlier brush with disaster.
“No!” someone screamed. Max saw a woman covering her face. A ride meant to swing two opposing cabins full of people back and forth (and eventually upside-down and in a full loop) was moving at full speed, and a man was walking right into the path of the swinging cars.
Max didn’t know if the people on the ride knew what was going on outside, or if it was going on within their cabins. He didn’t know if the screaming woman knew the man, who took another step, and the huge metal cabin swooped by, splattering him against the front of it. Max saw a shower of blood, and the pulp of the man rode the front of the car to the top of its swing before being flung off, flapping into the darkness. What disturbed Max most of all was that he didn’t know whether the man was crazy or normal.
The carnival grounds seemed to go on forever. The family passed a ride that spun little rocket carts around by metal wires. A woman was standing near the side of the ride, screaming.
“My daughter’s on that ride! Help!”
The Greenwalds passed, Max watching her the entire time. All around he saw people running and screaming and pointing. None of them seemed to pay the woman any heed.
“For the love of God! Won’t someone help me?”
Max rushed over to her. She looked at him in disbelief, and when she was sure he was there to help her, she said, “My daughter, she’s on the rockets!”
Max looked at the ride, tried to figure out where the controls were. He saw a small booth near the center of the ride.
“That booth probably has the controls in it,” Max said. He and the woman waited for the ride to spin the rockets higher above them, then rushed over to the booth. It was empty; the carny had either fled or gone crazy. There was an array of buttons and switches, and Max didn’t know which one did what.
“How do we stop it?” the woman asked.
“I don’t know,” Max said. “None of them are marked. Maybe there’s a manual around here somewhere.”
