Dead Pulse Rising: A Zombie Novel

by K. Michael Gibson

  “Great,” I muttered. Blood coated the office chair behind the desk and ran down to the floor. Upon further examination, it looked as if arterial spray had splattered the walls of the room. By all accounts, there should have been a body; alas, there were none. That gave me cause for concern. The room looked as if it had been painted in gore. Whatever this disease, or whatever it was that was spreading around, must have struck extremely fast—fast enough that it took these poor souls completely by surprise.

  “Come on,” Richard breathed as he headed for a door marked Restricted Access. I pulled my pistol, held it up against my flashlight, and nodded to Rich to open the door.

  Marvin came to stand behind me, raising his bludgeon up in his arms, ready to swoop in and attack if the need arose.

  Richard yanked the door open. The door swung open with ease.

  I wondered once again as to why these security doors would all be, well, non-secure, and then it hit me—magnetic locks. Looking around the area, there was obviously no power; the locks themselves would have held iron tight so long as there was electricity. I had to wonder why the power had been shut off; perhaps it was some kind of control measure in the case of a terrorist attack. I wasn’t completely sure, and that was probably a better thought for another time.

  I stepped forward with my gun at the ready and shined my light inside of the smallish room. Gingerly, I walked around the pools of blood on the tiled floor, taking care not to rub up against the walls as I moved inside. Marv came in behind me and then Richard. Slowly I moved to the other door that led farther into the police station. I cast my light trough the partially opened door and peered inside. From this vantage, I could see rows of desks crowding the room. An area used for booking and paperwork, I assumed. Seeing nothing of interest at first glance, I pushed the door the rest of the way open. I walked inside, Marvin coming in next to me.

  Something shot out to Marvin’s side and caught the old man by surprise, and he let out a shriek.

  Richard was there in an instant, shining his flashlight down to see the figure of a once blonde-haired woman whose long locks were coated with gore and matted down to her head with dried blood. Her hands wrapped around Marv’s leg as she sank her teeth in.

  Marvin let out a gasp as he swung his wooden club down at the female officer, catching her in the side of her face. Her head rocked to the side, pulling on his leg with each blow, but she wasn’t letting go.

  Richard stood there staring at the woman, mouth hanging open in shock.

  “Shoot the damn thing already!” Marvin cried as he struck her in the head once more.

  She stared up at him with blood-soaked eyes and let out a snarling growl, teeth still latched on to his leg.

  Richard looked down at Marv’s leg and to the figure that was attached. He raised his gun and fired. The bullet passed directly through the top of her forehead, exploding the back side out, showering a grouping of file cabinets along the wall with gore. Her teeth lost their grip, and she slumped to the side.

  Marvin pulled his leg free and stepped away from the corpse. To his surprise, Richard held his gun in Marvin’s face.

  “Hey, hey, hey now, buddy. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Marvin asked, cocking an eyebrow, scowling.

  “You’ve been infected,” Richard said, looking down to the old man’s leg. Marvin shook his head. I stepped forward to intervene.

  “Rich, we’re not even certain how this thing spreads,” I said, eyeing the man. The police officer didn’t budge, gun still leveled at my partner.

  “The hell we aren’t. Have any of you been paying any attention?” he nearly shouted, pointing down at the fallen woman on the floor. “Tell me what you see? Look at her neck. As a matter of fact, I can beg to wager that ninety percent of those we’ve seen have had some sort of chunk taken out of them,” he spat, anger seeming to well up in his voice. He wasn’t wrong; the female officer who lay dead at their feet had a ragged and grotesque wound along the length of her shoulder and neck.

  Marvin took a step back. “Enough of this horseshit. Look, moron,” he said annoyingly as he hiked up his pant leg and tapped on the titanium alloy of his prosthetic leg. The artificial leg glinted with a dull glow as Richard fixed his torch beam on it. “I’m fine, so chill out, would ya?” Marvin allowed his torn pant leg to drop once again obscuring his peg leg.

  Richard seemed to relax, and then broke out into laughter. It was infectious as I soon began to laugh as well. Tears welled up in our eyes as we chuckled. Marvin stood there somewhat stupefied at the scene and muttered something about us being “bat shit crazy.” As my laughter calmed, I fixated once again on the dead woman on the floor, and a disturbing thought hit me. If she had been bitten, then chances are that there was more of the infected wandering around inside of the building. I cleared my throat and put my hand up, trying to stem the tide of nervous laughter.

  “Guys, I think we should probably clear the area. If she had been bit in here . . .” I let the implication sink in.

  My two compatriots began to cautiously peer around the room, understanding what I was getting at. Thankfully, a quick search of our surroundings came up empty, save for a few trails of blood and strewn paperwork. We regrouped around the center of the room, taking up position in front of Officer Richard’s desk.

  Marvin eyed the stick in his hands. “You people have an armory around here, right?” he said, setting the length of wood on the desk. “I’m beginning to feel a bit naked,” Marv said as he tapped his empty holster.

  Richard nodded.

  “That would be a good idea. I could use to top off my ammo supply as well. I’m sorry, Kyle, but I don’t think we stock anything for your .357, though,” Rich said, leaning over his desk.

  I nodded by way of reply. “So what now?” I asked, eyeing the two men.

  “Well, we could try to fortify this place, but with the state of the doors, I’m not certain how long that we’d last in here,” Richard answered.

  I shook my head in agreement. “First things first, Marv. You have those files you mentioned earlier. I would love a chance to figure out what the hell we’re being chased for,” I said.

  Marvin reached to his shoulder as if just remembering the backpack that he still wore. It was a wonder that he hadn’t been stripped of it during his brief incarceration with Homeland’s goons, an oversight on their part that he was thankful for. Marvin slung off the backpack and set the green canvas bag on the desktop’s surface, managing to knock over a small tray of paper clips as he did so. The tiny pieces of color-coated metal skittered across the floor of the station.

  “Sorry,” Marvin shrugged as he untied the bag’s clasp. Reaching inside, Marvin produced a plain manila folder and set it in the middle of desk in front of me.

  Taking hold of my Maglite, I unscrewed the top and removed it. I then placed the lens holder onto the bottom of light, forming a sort of candle like light source. It was a handy feature. It allowed me to set the light down and illuminate the area without having to hold onto it. I took the folder in hand, scrutinizing the generic security seal emblazoned on the front cover displaying the word “Classified” across it in bright red lettering.

  I opened the folder and began to sift through the contents. I wasn’t too savvy when it came to medical documentation, but it was apparently obvious that the information had something to do with some sort of disease. Then I came across the photo. Marvin seemed to recognize the image as I moved it into view. The image was of a man, or more to the point, what used to be a man. It was also apparent that the photo had been taken some time ago judging by the graininess of the image. It was a black-and-white image of a man strapped down to a table. His eye’s fixated on the camera operator, his face twisted in a grimace of rage. The label at the top of the page read “Kuru variant 5.”

  “I guess that explains some things,” I said as I continued to thumb through various charts and graphs.

  “Explains what?” Richard asked, not quite putting two a
nd two together.

  “Why we’ve been getting chased all around God’s creation. From what I can tell by looking at this crap, is Homeland knew something about this disease. Could you imagine what would happen if the public got wind of that? Think about it. Nine eleven—the FBI, and the NSA had information prior to that attack and did nothing to stop it. We ended up with our asses in our hand and going to war with two separate countries over that—one of which had absolutely nothing to do with it—all in an attempt to placate the populous, a war that is still going on, mind you. The same day they choose to ship this particular information, we get hit with it. They knew this was going to happen. Perhaps they weren’t sure of when, but it’s fairly obvious with this information that they knew of its existence. Judging by the looks of this photograph, they’ve known about it for some time,” I said as Richard and Marvin exchanged understanding glances. “If the people found out that the government’s new golden boys let something like this slip, well . . . it would be complete chaos.” I finished my rant.

  Richard furrowed his brow in thought. “That explains why they took out your rig and firebombed the interstate. Someone out there wants to cover this up,” Richard said matter-of-factly.

  “I agree. I think in the beginning they may have been trying to contain the spread of this shit, but . . . we’ve seen how that panned out. Now I think it’s mostly a game of covering their asses,” I said as I closed the folder and handed it back to my partner.

  Marvin shoved the incriminating document into his backpack and returned it back to its former place. “So what should we do?” Marvin asked, letting out a deep breath. “Hey, what about that friend of yours you’re always talking about, that doctor guy? You think he might be able to make heads or tails of this stuff?” He looked hopeful.

  “I’m not sure. It might be worth a shot. I haven’t talked to Shaun in some time, though,” I answered Marvin.

  Shaun was a long childhood friend of mine. After high school, we’d gone our separate ways, me taking the job with Air Force intelligence and him, well, he moved on to become one of the country’s leading microbiologists working for Johns Hopkins. We’d kept in contact over the years, and well, life and family had gotten in the way.

  “There’s really one big hitch in that plan, however,” I said, eyeing the men. “John’s Hopkins is in the middle of downtown Baltimore, and if this stuff has spread there like it has here, then I’m not sure just how we’re gonna get this info to him unless we can find a working fax machine,” I said dubiously. “Honestly, I think Homeland is the one that cut the power out here. It’s the only thing that makes sense. No power, no media, cell phones, or anything else.” My two compatriots seemed to consider my argument. “I think the first thing we should do is arm up and see about getting out to our families.”

  Richard turned his attention over to the still form of the blonde officer that lay on the floor over by the entryway. “This was my family,” Richard whispered.

  Marvin reached up and put hand on the man’s shoulder. “You okay, chief?” Marvin asked.

  Richard shrugged off his arm. “No, I’m not okay. Nothing about any of this is okay.” Richard lowered his head, shaking it back and forth, trying his best to stave off tears. Richard turned, facing the dead woman on the floor. “Laurie over there, she was a pro, and they still got her. I want to know how in the hell they even got in here. How did this disease get in here? Is this shit airborne? Do we all have it?” Richard seemed to be cracking under the stress of it all. “If Homeland is responsible for this, I want to see them pay,” he spit out vehemently.

  I could see him beginning to shake with rage in the darkness of the room. “We will, Rich,” I said softly. “Can you get us into the armory?” I asked, trying my best to help the man focus on the situation at hand. I always found that during times of conflict, it was always best to keep men busy, give them a task to try and keep the demons in their minds at bay.

  Richard nodded. “Yeah, come on. It’s this way.” He pointed toward a hallway that led off to the left.

  Chapter 25

  The three of us walked down the darkened hallways of the police station with as much stealth as we could manage. Richard took the lead, and Marvin and I followed. We passed by empty offices and interrogation rooms as we moved, weapons poised at the ready. We knew that somewhere in the station was at least one more of the monsters. Officer Laurie was evidence enough of that, so we had to keep on our toes lest we end up in the same boat. Every so often as we moved, I would spot a trickle of blood on the floor, or a partial hand print on a wall; but so far, no threats had presented themselves.

  “This way,” Richard whispered and broke right down a T-junction in the corridor.

  We followed closely behind. Every so often, I would turn my gaze behind us to make certain we weren’t being followed. With every step we took, I could imagine the feeling of hundreds of infected eyes bearing down on me. The thought was terrifying. Shadows shifted and moved like ghosts as we passed through the halls. Every movement caused my finger to twitch on my trigger guard; it was a wonder that none of us had made the mistake of striking out against a potted plant.

  After what seemed like an agonizingly long trek through the police station, we made it to a heavy door marked—you guessed it—Armory. Richard slowly pulled the door open as I stepped around and shined my flashlight inside, barrel of my sidearm following the beam. The coast was clear as I stepped inside.

  The room itself was fairly large but typical of your average armory with the exception this one happened to be a complete wreck. A grayish-blue wireframe security door hung open. Boxes of ammunition were strewn across the floor from one end of the room to the other. Several rows of weapons shelves were completely empty, save for a few shotguns and what looked to be disassembled handgun parts, tear gas grenades, and tasers. I wondered for a moment just how one of the infected would react to being hit with a taser. I honestly doubted it would have much effect.

  “Holy shit balls,” Marvin managed to say as he stepped into the room. “Looks like they’ve pretty much picked this place clean.” He frowned looking at the stick in his hand.

  “Don’t worry, Marv, I think I still see a few things we can use.” I flipped the cylinder of my .357 open and eyed my three remaining rounds. “At least I hope this stuff is usable.”

  Richard stepped in behind us. “Shit,” Richard muttered. “At least it looks as if my guys got a chance to get in here and get stocked up. Who knows, maybe most of them are still alive,” he said hopefully.

  I nodded in agreement. “Come on, let’s see what we can salvage here,” I said taking care to step over any loose rounds of ammunition that were spread across the floor. Several different calibers littered the slate flooring; .45, .40, and 9 mm seemed to be the most abundant. I motioned to Marvin to begin trying to round some of them up. He scowled and set off about the task, muttering something about “Sure, make the old man bend over and pick up the shit.” I chose to ignore him and stepped over and began sifting through weapon parts. From the looks of things, each weapon part that I had found seemed to belong to the police’s standard-issue sidearm. A forty-caliber automatic pistol, I just hoped I could find enough pieces to build a complete and working weapon.

  Richard went to work, inspecting several shotguns that he had managed to procure.

  I laid out weapon parts in front of me. Granted, it had been a while since I had used any kind of automatic, but I had remembered from previous training what the various parts were. So far I had found several quick detach barrels, two duel recoil springs, three gas pistons, and two slides as well as various pistol grips and magazines. I went to work as fast as I could, doing my best to assemble the weapons.

  Outside of the room, I heard a loud crash. Richard and Marvin both froze in place, cocking their heads to the side, listening. Something went skittering across the floor. It sounded like a tin pie plate being kicked down the hallway.

  Richard fumbled with the shotgun he c
urrently held. “Marv, hand me some of those shells over there.” Richard pointed to a box of ammunition that lay in the corner of the room, with his flashlight.

  Marvin did as he was asked without so much as a remark and fetched the twelve-gauge slugs off the floor and carefully tossed them over to Richard.

  Richard managed to deftly catch the box in one hand and quickly thumbed it opened. He held the box under his arm as he retrieved several rounds and began sliding them into the ammo feed. “Here,” he said and passed the weapon over to Marv, who accepted it graciously.

  Richard went to work on another shotgun following the same ritual as before. The sounds in the hallway seemed to intensify as whatever it was making the noise got closer.

  Marvin took up position on one side of the door, standing several feet back, waiting to see if anything managed to stick its ugly head through. More sounds reverberated through the hallway, these apparently farther away.

  “Goddamn it,” Marvin muttered when the realization hit him that whatever was coming had managed to multiply. “You almost done screwing around over there, son?” Marv said in a harsh whisper.

  “Just a few more seconds,” I said as I finished assembling the second sidearm. “Just need ammo.” I began to scan around the immediate area of the floor.

  “Here,” Marvin said as he fished around one of his pockets. He handed me about ten loose rounds, which I took from him, and immediately started loading a magazine. I finished and slapped the magazine home and racked the slide, feeding a round into the chamber.

  “I hope there’s more ammo where that came from,” I told the old man. He nodded by way of reply. “Here,” I said as I produced another forty-caliber handgun and handed it to him.

  Marvin grinned—glad to feel the warm metal grip in his hand. He slid the empty weapon into his barren holster and seemed to relax a bit.