Apocalypse Atlanta

by Rogers, David

  “Want some help?” Darryl asked as she managed to get to his side of the bed, struggling across the mattress as if it were a great effort. Bethany was still looking at him, like her eyes were on a rope connected to him. Her flailing hands stretched out to plant on the bed as she tried to drag herself forward. One of the hands missed the bed entirely, and she toppled forward in a tangle of limbs and blanket with a heavy thump as she hit the floor.

  “Shit!” Darryl blurted, setting his beer on the dresser and taking the two steps necessary to lean down over her. “Take it easy, I’ll get you back to your place and you can fix, okay?” He reached and grabbed her under the arms, hoisting her to her feet with ease.

  When he touched her, her head started swiveling around to look at him once more. As he lifted, she stared at him blankly. The first thing that struck him was her eyes, which had been lively and expressive, sexy, last night. Now they fixed on him without wavering, wide and unblinking. She looked . . . well dead. She looked dead.

  “You should keep some on you if it’s that bad.” Darryl said as he got her to her feet, the blanket sliding down to pool around her ankles. She had a good body for a meth head, Darryl thought admiringly, though he knew it wouldn’t last. It never did once you started fixing.

  That’s why he stuck to beer and booze, all that did was pack on extra pounds, which could be dealt with easily enough if you remembered to hit the gym. And that was never a problem for him, especially considering how much the girls liked it. Plus it made his job easier, which was just bonus atop bonus as far as he was concerned.

  He was still thinking about how long her looks would last when her hands suddenly closed around his upper arms with surprising strength, gripping his biceps hard enough to make him wince from the pressure. Far harder than her slight form seemed capable of doing.

  “Hey!” he blurted, stepping back and shoving at her. She’d not squeezed him that hard last night, not even when she was in the middle of orgasming, and it hurt. She lost her grip on his left arm, but the right stayed clamped on, and her mouth opened as she leaned closer to him.

  “You trying to bite me!” Darryl said incredulously, putting his free hand on her forehead. Then he grunted and pushed harder, as he felt the effort she was exerting trying to lean closer to him. Her mouth opened and closed like she was gnawing on something, and she was exerting a lot of pressure against his hand as she strained to lean forward.

  Darryl jolted his shocked mind into gear, and twisted his arm as he yanked. It slipped free of her fingers, the fingers making grabbing motions as he got loose of her. Darryl shoved her, hard, and Bethany toppled over onto the bed. He flexed his forearm, where he could see the marks her fingers had left in his skin. “What’s the problem, girlie?” he said angrily. “You came back here last night, I didn’t drag you. And you weren’t drunk when you came neither.”

  Bethany sat up with jerky motions, like a windup toy that had missing teeth in its gears. Her eyes, still vacantly open, fixed on him, and she started to get off the bed. “No, homie ain’t playing none of whatever you’re on.” Darryl said as he backed up, holding his hands out in front of him placatingly. “I ain’t taking no charge from the po-lice, ‘specially when I ain’t done nothing.”

  She managed to regain her feet, and lurched for him, still silent. “Back off girlie.” Darryl said warningly. “I’m serious, this ain’t happening.” Bethany gave no sign that she heard him. She merely continued stumbling forward.

  “Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” Darryl said as she drew near enough to make another grab for him. Slipping back, he let her fingers close again on empty air, then reached out and grabbed her wrists. Pivoting, he swung her around, then shoved her into the bathroom. She stumbled backwards and crashed into the sink, her head rolling unsteadily on her neck, but she didn’t go down. Darryl stepped forward, snatching at the door knob to jerk it closed.

  “Just calm down, okay?” he said loudly, holding onto the doorknob with one hand to prevent her from opening it and coming out. “Let me find your phone an I’ll figure out who your dealer is, give that homie a call and get him over here to hook you up.”

  A thump, rather heavy, rattled the door, but as he reflexively tightened his grip on the knob, he realized it wasn’t twisting. Another thump shook the door, then another. He looked at the door, puzzled, then shook his head. “Damn girlie, you forgot how to use a door too?” His only answer were more of the continued banging on the door as Bethany threw herself against it.

  Darryl backed slowly from the door, his eyes narrow, then he shook himself and glanced around the bedroom. Throwing the blanket aside, he found his pants and yesterday’s underwear next to the bed. Skinning into them quickly as Bethany continued hammering on the bathroom door, he was just buckling his belt when the latest thump was immediately followed by the sound of breaking wood. Looking up, he saw a long crack in the middle of the door, running vertically across its length.

  “Daaaaammm.” he muttered, staring at it. The bathroom door was a typical interior model, and pretty cheap at that, but it was still more substantial than a ninety-eight pound stripper should be capable of breaking through so quickly. Shaking his attention from the bathroom, Darryl looked around again. His boots were near the door, where Bethany had thrown them the night before after taking them off for him, along with the socks. He grabbed them up, looked around for his shirt, then shrugged and wrenched open the second drawer on the dresser as the bathroom door cracked further.

  Snagging the first shirt he saw, he left the bedroom and pulled the door closed behind himself. In the main room, he felt secure enough to pause to pull the shirt over his head, but a heavy splintering sound from the bedroom spurred him back into motion.

  He ran into the kitchen and grabbed three beers, then headed for the front door as further sounds of breaking wood came from the bedroom. Darryl left the apartment, paused for a moment, then dug his keys out of his jeans pocket and locked both the knob and deadbolt on the door before hurrying downstairs.

  He didn’t stop until he was outside on the front stoop, where he dropped his boots and then, more gently, set down the beers. Glancing up at the apartment building with a twist of anger, he pulled his phone off the clip on his belt and ran his thumb through the unlock sequence on its screen.

  His contacts were one of the main screen icons, and he scrolled and tapped the correct entry in the list as he sat down. The phone was silent for several seconds, then it started ringing. On the fourth one, he heard the call being picked up, then Charlie’s voice was in his ear.

  “DJ, this better be good.” came the irritated, and sleepy, voice of his high school friend.

  “Yo, Char-man. Listen, I need you to get a unit over to my pad, like quick an shit.” Darryl said urgently, trying to convey serious need with his voice. “Before one of the neighbors makes the call, and I’m looking at a BP situation.”

  There was a pause, then Charlie spoke again. “What’d you do?” he asked, sounding more awake.

  “Nothing.” Darryl insisted. “I hooked up with one of the new girls last night, and we came back to my place for some fun.”

  “Which one, the cute one or the tall one?” Charlie asked.

  “Don’t matter. Listen, everything was cool, right? We were making out on the couch, drinking and listening to some tracks, then we transferred into the bedroom for a little horizontal action, ya know? Everything’s still cool, then this morning, I wake up, and she’s asleep, right? Then she wakes up, and she’s like, whack or something. Girlie tried to bite me, came at me.”

  “So what’d you do to her?” Charlie asked again, the amusement having leached out of his tone to be replaced with irritation.

  “Nothing, on my gran-momma’s grave, honest. She just woke up, came at me, tried to bite a chunk out of my arm.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “Didn’t say a thing. Girlie dead quiet the whole time. So I put her in the bathroom, that all. Didn’t hit her, didn’t p
ut a mark on her. Just put her in the bathroom.”

  “Then why don’t I hear her?” Charlie asked.

  “’cause I’m outside, out front.”

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “Something ain’t right with that girlie, ya hear me? She weren’t using, weren’t even trying to use the knob to open that door. It don’t have a lock on it, not ‘less you the one inside. She just start hammering on the door.”

  “Beating on the door?” Charlie asked, sounding skeptical.

  “Yeah. And getting through too.”

  “Say what?”

  “You heard me.” Darryl said, annoyed now. His headache wasn’t nearly gone enough to be putting up with this shit this early. “Girlie up there beating her way through the bathroom door. Probably working on the bedroom door now, rate she was going.”

  “And you’re out front, right?”

  “Yeah, I left man. Locked the front door. You gonna sort out a pair of friendly uniforms for this shit or gonna let me be BP?”

  “And you didn’t do anything to her?”

  “Damn cuz, I done told ya. Didn’t touch that girle, just last night when we was partying, and she was down with that. There ain’t a mark on her I laid, hand to God.”

  “Alright, let me make a call. You gonna be out front?”

  “Yeah, guess I need to be here, right?”

  “Yeah, you need to be there.” came the dry response.

  “Alright, thanks man. Good looking out.”

  “Word.”

  The line clicked dead, and Darryl fumbled it back into the clip on his belt. Looking back at the building, he bent down and grabbed one of the cold beers, popping the top and draining it in a series of long swallows. Belching as he finished it, he crunched it on one large hand, then lobbed it at the garbage can twenty-five feet away. It rattled off the back rim, then fell inside.

  “Jacobs drains a three.” he whispered, then squinted up at the sunlight through his shades. “Shit.” Sitting down, he started putting on his socks. It was way too early to be facing a black perpetrator situation. He really hoped Charlie got the call in and had some understanding cops turn up. He didn’t need any hassles right now. His life was working out reasonably fine even though he’d missed any chance at hoop stardom.

  He liked how things were going. This was not cool. A girl wrecking his pad was completely not cool

  * * * * *

  Chapter Two – Please stand by

  Jessica

  Jessica looked up as she heard the waiting room door open, and was relieved to see the deli delivery man instead of another patient when she cracked the frosted window enough to peek out. About time, as far as Jessica was concerned; she was ready for a break. She was keeping up with the push of covering for Mary’s absence fairly well, but lunch was the perfect excuse to catch her breath and gather energy for the home stretch before the weekend started.

  The waiting room was empty at the moment, the shuffling up of earlier appointments into spots opened by cancellations having actually created a small window of time where there were no patients waiting. She welcomed the break, and knew it would have the added advantage of keeping Doctor Morris in a reasonably good mood, since he’d have time to actually sit and eat as well. He didn’t mind the occasional calmer day, just so long as it wasn’t a regular occurrence.

  “You look hungry.” the deli guy said as she slid the window open.

  “So ready for lunch.” Jessica answered as she opened a drawer and pulled out the office credit card. The deli guy smiled as he started unloaded his soft cooler, stacking clear plastic deli containers with sandwiches and salads on the counter. These were followed by single serving bags of chips, then six large styrofoam cups with lids that he took from the cup holders studding the outside of the cooler.

  “Here you go.” Jessica said, handing over the card when he closed the cooler’s flap and slung it back over his shoulder.

  “Alright.” he smiled as he took it and pulled out a smartphone. There was a sticker on the back of the phone with the deli’s logo on it. His fingers danced across the screen, paused, then tapped a few more times before he swiped the card through the small reader attached to the top of the phone. He waited a few moments, tapped something, then held the phone out to her. Jessica used her finger to sign the screen, and he took the phone back and tapped some more.

  “There you go, enjoy.” he said, handing back the card. “Receipt should be in your email in the next few minutes.”

  “Thank you.” Jessica said, sorting through the boxes to find her salad. There, on the bottom, of course. She stood up and lifted the other boxes out of the way so she could slide her chicken ceasar free. As the deli guy left, she sat back down and pushed the computer’s keyboard out of the way to make room for her lunch.

  Reaching out for one of the cups with one hand, she tapped the intercom button on the phone with the other. “Lunch is here.” she announced. She had the lid on her salad open, and the initial forkful into her mouth, before the first of her coworkers showed up.

  “You gonna eat your chips?” Bryan asked as he collected his sandwich.

  Jessica shook her head and made a vague motion with one hand as she chewed, picking through the salad with her fork as she loaded another bite.

  “You sure?” Bryan persisted, and Jessica glanced up at him. He looked like he expected her to change her mind, and she rolled her eyes at him.

  Swallowing, Jessica gave him a mock stern look. “Yes, I’m sure. Now take them and leave me be. This is probably the only peace I’m going to have all day.”

  “Schedule’s clear for lunch?” he asked as he picked up two bags of chips.

  Jessica nodded. “I was able to get in touch with the two noon appointments and move them around, thankfully. Now scoot.” She made a shooing motion and lifted the fork. He shook his head with a grin, grabbed one of the drinks to go with the two bags of chips that he’d claimed, and disappeared back into the depths of the office.

  Over the next two minutes the rest of the lunches were claimed, the last by Doctor Morris, who looked longingly at her carafe of coffee before she relented and motioned for the mug he’d helpfully brought with him. Once the doctor had vanished with his meatball sub and another cup of her ‘special’ coffee, Jessica flicked on the radio, tuning it to AM750 so she could hear the midday news.

  As she resumed eating, the lunchtime traffic guy finished up his report and turned the program back over to the host. “Thanks Crash. Now, returning to our top story, schools all over the metro Atlanta area are reporting disturbances that have interrupted classes.” Jessica paused, fork midway between her lips and the deli box of salad, as the words registered. She waited, concentrating on what was being said.

  “–reporters are still trying to get further details, but what we do know is the problems appear to be medical in nature. Fire-Rescue personnel have been called to a number of schools, and even now more calls are going out from others. Parents, listen up, I’m going to run through the list again. This information is on our website as well, and we’re updating it as updates come into our studios. Okay, starting in Barrow county –”

  Jessica was barely listening at that point. Dropping her fork, she managed to not knock her salad to one side, merely sliding it out of the way, as she reached for the keyboard and mouse. Clicking, she brought up the web browser and opened a new tab to Google. Typing quickly, she clicked again, and then clicked on the top link as the search gave her the news station’s address.

  She had to stifle a mild curse as the website loaded slowly, since it, like all television and radio station websites, was packed with stupid scripts and applets that took time to push down to a connecting computer and activate. Finally the computer finished initializing all the crap, and her eyes were drawn almost immediately to the animated red banner scrolling across the top quarter of the site, just below the station’s name and call letters.

  “Atlanta area schools experiencing medical emergencies –
click here for story.” it read.

  Jessica clicked, waited for the next page to load, then looked frantically across the information. There. She clicked on a link off to the right that promised a list of affected schools. A pop-out box expanded on the screen, and she clicked again for Gwinnett schools. She felt her breath catch as she saw, right near the top of the list, Central Gwinnett High. Jessica made herself scroll the list, dreading what she might see, and sure enough, there was Lawrenceville Elementary.

  Since Brett’s death, all she had, all she had left of him, were the kids. She was only just now as finished as she felt she ever would be at putting herself emotionally back together from the loss. Now, the thought of something happening to Joey, Sandra, Candice . . . it was unthinkable. Except she was thinking about it, and the scenarios her mind was supplying were not at all comforting.

  She stood up and walked quickly out of the front desk area, ducked into her office to grab her purse, then went to the break room in the back. She felt a bit light headed and unsteady, and paused in the doorway with one hand on the frame for support. Her coworkers were gathered at the table, Tynisha, Monica and Danielle talking at one end while Joe and Bryan ignored everyone and read a newspaper and book respectively as they ate.

  “Where’s Doctor Morris?” Jessica asked, keeping her voice level only with tremendous effort.

  Eyes flicked up to her, but Monica was the one who answered. “In his office.”

  Jessica turned immediately and went back up the hallway, then took the small side corridor that terminated with Morris’ office and the server room on either side. His door was standing open, and she stepped into the doorway as she rapped her knuckles on the doorframe. Dennis Morris was just taking a huge bite out of half of his sub, and he had to settle for cocking an eyebrow at her as he chewed.