Fear of the Dead

by Mortimer Jackson

  “I can’t sleep. Haven’t even bothered tryin.’ I figure at this point why even bother? Why make life even shorter than it already is by spendin’ it with my eyes closed?

  “Thing is though, it’s been a little tough findin’ better things to do. I’ve been up all night drinkin’ my ass to goddamn oblivion. I suppose that’s something. Nice enough for Atton to stick me in with some booze. Lucky this place was a club. Otherwise I’d really be losin’ my mind ‘bout now.

  “Atton and the girl. Don’t know what they’re doin,’ but if I had to take a guess I’d say they’re both sleepin’ like a couple a’ babies. It’s midnight, so now’d be the time to do it. Meanwhile I’m down here locked inside the men’s room a’ some shitty nightclub, realizin’ how much a’ my life I done pissed away. How much I ain’t got to see or do in what little time I had. Never got to travel. Hell I ain’t never left the country. Don’t know how things are like down in Mexico, or up in Canada. Or over at Europe. I always wanted to climb up some Scandinavian mountain top. Imagine the kinda view I’d have a’ the world from up there.

  “It’s kinda funny if you think about it. For all the shit I been gettin’ myself into, I ain’t been so afraid a’ dyin’ as I am right now. Maybe it’s because I know that there ain’t no avoidin’ this one. This is happenin’ no matter what. And all it is is a matter a’ time.

  “So how long’s it going to be until I turn into one a’ them? Asshole on the news channels never did say for sure. Did he know? Did anybody? Is there an answer out there somewhere? Or am I goin’ to have to sit here and find out on my own?

  “The biggest disaster to hit the world, and there ain’t no one alive to know a goddamn thing about it.

  “You know, I ain’t ever done nothin’ to deserve what I got. I was just an asshole drivin’ a truck, mindin’ my own business. I never killed ‘nyone. I ain’t a criminal.

  “But I guess life ain’t ever about what you deserve is it? Shit just happens, and all you can do is take it. You can’t never change what gets done to you. Nature comes aroun’ whether you like it or not. There ain’t no two ways about that. The only choice you got, is you can either sit back and laugh about it, or you can cry.

  “You know, about twenty years ago I was sentenced to Wyden Hall for a raping and killin' some woman I ain't never heard of. Well, technically that ain't entirely true. I met the woman at some rest stop down in Milboro. See I used to drive trucks state to state. Started back in Houston where I grew up, and went at it for a few years. I was good at it too. Could squeeze a six axle in a compact, three seconds flat.

  “So anyway, I take a breather at some podunk highway pitstop down here in California. I get to talkin' to this girl Laurie. She was 19. Pretty little thing. Bright too. Said she was going to some college up in Santa Cruz, but she was doin' some travelin' around town to go visit some relatives.

  “I offered to buy her a drink. She told me she was 19. I told her that what the cashier on the other end didn't know wouldn't hurt him. We laughed, and for the better part of that night we wouldn't stop talking.

  “Then it got late. We said our goodnights, and I even bought her a bottle of scotch. Something to remember our conversations by. We set off on our own separate ways, and we never saw each other again.

  “Three days later, just as I'm about to make my delivery, an army o' cop cars start swoopin' in up in front of me. They stop me in the middle o' the 280 freeway, blocking traffic like it ain't nobody's business. And before I know it, I got a gun locked onto my right eye.

  “When I saw the cops in the rearview mirror, I wondered if it had to do with my drivin' or somethin.' Maybe I ran a stop sign somewhere, and the cops were out lookin' to collect themselves some state revenue. When I saw the guns come out though, I immediately figured it had to do with Laurie, and the event of me handin' alcohol to a minor. But it was even more than that. When they mentioned murder, that was when shit hit the fan.

  “At first I thought the cops were on somethin' serious. I saw Laurie three nights ago. No way was she dead when I left. And all we did was talk. I didn't touch her, let alone rape her. Told the cops all a' that. They didn't care. They found her dead in the woods, her clothes torn like some damn animal clawed it off. She'd been used too, right before being clubbed to death with a piece of wood. Cops didn't have any leads, so they pinned it down on the one asshole who saw her that night, and was dumb enough to get her drunk the night she died. They figured with me bein' a truck driver and all, it was the perfect MO. Cross country man with no connections to the places he goes to, rapin' and killin' women for kicks. Didn't matter to them that I didn't do it. Didn't matter that the shit they said I did disgusted me. They used whatever little shit they had to put me away for life.

  “Fascist retards.

  “What the fuck kind of a fucked up world is that? And how fucked up is it that after four months o’ gettin’ out of prison, I’m gonna die locked inside a bathroom?

  “You know, it’s strange seein’ just how easy people change when they don’t trust you no more. Atton thinks I’m gon’ turn at any second. No matter how many times I tell him I feel fine, that nigger don’t believe a word I say. And just cause a’ that, that asshole stuck a chain around the door. He says he’ll let me out in the mornin.’ But it’s goddamn bullshit. After all the times I saved his ass, this is what I get?

  “Christ it’s dark in here. I can’t even see myself. I can’t tell where I am.

  If I manage to catch some sleep, then tomorrow when Atton opens that door, I’ll have to remember to kick his ass.”

  4:34 AM

  When the sky returned, bright enough to be able to see with, Eli could finally tell for certain where he was, and see for the first time just how far the infection had progressed in his body.

  Eli’s hands had turned to milky white. The pink complexion on his skin was there, but fading. The blue veins on both his arms had gotten more pronounced, making their color stronger and thus easier to see. The lines also looked bigger somehow, but Eli couldn’t tell for sure. All he was certain of was that he could see more lines from his insides than anyone alive ever should.

  As disturbing as it was to him, he’d already spent enough of last night worrying about what was going to happen to him. By now his fears were spent. And acknowledging the fact that there was nothing he could do only made the horror that much easier to bear. He saw himself in the mirror, and though he was disgusted by the sight, it failed to spark much dismay.

  The bleeding on his arm had stopped, although the injury itself had never been entirely serious to begin with. The thing about bites, he told himself, was that it was never so much about stopping things from getting out, but stopping things from getting in.

  His arm felt a little weaker than it did before, a fact that had only grown more apparent after the midnight hour. Eli didn’t want to think any longer on why that might have been. At least his sneezing stopped. His allergy seemed to have passed away on its own. That was, unless he had the medication to thank, or something else.

  Not that it mattered, but Eli liked to think it had nothing to do with something else.

  He checked the time, then peered out at the frost garbled window. All he could see was grey morning light. Any details beyond that were obscured by the opaque nature of the window’s glass. The restroom of a nightclub, it was no surprise they’d want to keep some privacy.

  The time on his locket had stopped moving since 4:34 AM. But from what little traces of daylight he could scarcely catch outside, it had to be at least early six in the morning.

  Ellen and Atton were still fast asleep. There was no one up for him to talk to aside from himself, but he’d already done that for long enough, and Eli was fast growing weary of his own company. He needed to get out. He needed air. He needed not to worry about spending the last few minutes of his life dying inside yet another prison.

  If Eli had had his gun with him, he would have used it now to butt the glass on the window. But Atton h
ad it taken away from him as he went inside. He had everything taken away. As it turned out, Atton was just as much a slime ball as everybody else he’d ever known in his life.

  Fortunately, Eli didn’t have to wait for Atton. Eli Desmond was nothing if not a resourceful man. Confident that his shoes needed no protection from shards of glass, he kicked down the window as hard as he could, sending the glass crashing down one floor below the second. He heard the waking moans of zombies before he saw them staring down. They looked up at him with malicious intent, but they were too far down to reach. And not to mention dumb.

  A large, white pipeline scaled from the base of the building up to the nightclub’s rooftop. The pipeline lay just within inches of his reach. If he could climb the ledge onto the pipe and then up the roof, he had no doubts that he’d be able to make his way back inside.

  As Eli contemplated what he was about to do, risking his life on the possibility that he wouldn’t end up falling on top of a horde of zombies, he took the time to reflect on whether or not he would simply have been better off waiting for Atton to open the door.

  It was a short deliberation however. Just yesterday he had a gun trained to his face, ready to blow his head clean off. With the way that his skin looked now, any hope for acceptance would have been far-removed from Atton’s mind.

  Once more it occurred to Eli that things between him and his partner weren’t ever going to be the same again. The brief friendship they’d started in prison was quickly coming to its end. He knew that if the infection didn’t end his life, then Atton surely would.

  It was fair to say that from this point on, they were as good as enemies.

  Eli’s arms were weak, but with enough accrued strength and willpower, he was able to climb the pipeline up the roof, suffering no more than sore muscles along the way. Luckily the distance wasn’t far. Since there wasn’t a third floor, all he had to do was raise himself one level above.

  By the time he started his climbed up the rooftop of club Llegada, it was no surprise that the ground floor was littered with zombies. They lined themselves around the walls of the predominantly red building, moaning and mindlessly circling the outside perimeter. They were trying to find their way up to the human survivors. Of that he had no doubt. He’d seen and killed enough of them that he knew how they thought. And like any hunter worth his salt, Eli Desmond had gotten used to being able to put himself in their shoes, to see things from their instinctual perspective.

  As soon as he landed on the ledge, Eli lied down for a moment to catch his breath. The infection was turning his system against him, making him weaker. Nonetheless he battled against the symptoms, and forced himself up.

  Apparently the club wasn’t half as podunk as he’d expected. Because not more than a few feet from where he lay was an outdoor bar with chairs, tables, and decorative lights. He got up and scoured the bar for a bottle of Jack Daniels. As it turned out, there was nearly an entire cupboard’s worth.

  “Hot damn.”

  He dunk a shot’s worth in his mouth, then squirmed in pain as the alcohol burned his throat. The drink was more fire than he could bear, and it only worsened the further down his system it went.

  Angry, Eli hurled the bottle past the roof, where eventually he heard the glass break on the street. The zombies below groused at the noise. Eli was amused.

  “Fuckin’ asswipe retards.”

  He spat, and watched his phlegm fall on the head of a zombie. An old forty-something whose face reminded him of George Clooney. The zombie felt the drop of liquid touch his hair. He looked up, saw Eli, then groaned in what appeared to be a show of immense anger.

  Eli couldn’t stop the laughter.

  “You like that? You want more?”

  He snorted and spat downwards with aim. It missed, but Eli laughed nonetheless. And that brought to mind another idea.

  He inched himself onto the ledge and unzipped his pants. He waited until the first zombie shambled up close enough below, and then he let himself go. Five or six zombies crowded together, staring mysteriously at the yellow urine landing atop their clothes. On their faces. On their hair.

  Eli’s cheeks strained with uncontainable humor, and he felt alive once more.

  He celebrated the occasion with a full bottle of vodka. But rather than take a single sip for himself, he poured the content over his infected kin, spreading the spill to reach as many zombies as he could. Soon, Eli brought back three and then four more bottles, and proceeded to soak the zombies with alcohol. When each bottle was empty, he hurled it downwards, cracking the bottle on whatever head got in its way. A woman staggered back when the last bottle hit her head. It broke, and her head began to bleed.

  The image stayed with Eli long after he stopped laughing.

  He retrieved a match box on the bar counter with the club’s logo emblazoned on the front. Eli struck them all in one zip before tossing them down to his flammable audience. When the fire landed, a few of the zombies burned, lighting the dull grey morning in a fiery orange tint, and bringing a smile to Eli’s lips.

  A door behind him opened. Eli turned to see who it was.

  “Ellen?”

  The girl leapt at the sight of his face. Her jaw hung wide and hysterical.

  Eli remained calm and playful.

  “What’s the matter girl? Don’t you miss me?”

  Ellen was beautiful. Even in fear she was beautiful. The way that her long, smooth legs trembled in the cold, and how she cowered in fear before his very eyes, like she needed protecting. Like she needed a man.

  Ellen hesitated before reaching for the door behind her. As she fished desperately for the knob behind her back, she was too afraid to take her eyes off of Eli.

  “Where you goin’ girl?”

  After a long search, Ellen’s hands found the knob, but before she could leave Eli grabbed her by the arm.

  “C’mon Ellen. Party’s just startin.’ Wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

  If she’d had the ability to speak, Eli imagined she would have said a lot of things. But as things were, she didn’t utter a word.

  “Don’t you be worryin’ none. I’m still as much me as I’m ever goin’ to be. There ain’t no need to be afraid.”

  She was still scared out of her mind, but she didn’t resist. She eventually let go of the door, and allowed Eli to take her up to the ledge directly overlooking the audience of burning zombies below.

  “Now that’s some cool shit right there don’t you think?”

  Ellen convulsed with shock.

  “I gotta say, this mornin’s been the best mornin’ I ever had. Don’t you feel it? The energy? The life? I swear, I ain’t got the first notion a’ how to describe it. But everythin’ just seems perfect, you know?”

  Eli looked down at Ellen. Ellen didn’t look back. He took her chin in his hand.

  “O’ course, things can always get better.”

  With his free hand, Eli caressed Ellen’s young, nubile legs, moving his hand down to her knees, and then up.

  She flinched with his touch.

  “It’s okay. Don’t be scared. I got ya.”

  He moved to meet his lips with hers. She turned at the last second, leaving Eli’s kisses to land on her cheek.

  Eli enjoyed the resistance. He enjoyed the hesitation. He enjoyed the fight.

  While she began to struggle away from him, he began kissing her neck, working his lips down her body while his right hand rose up her soft leg. But as he was kissing her, Eli felt yet another knot on his stomach. This more painful than all the others before. Stimulus reaction brought his hand to hold on to his gut whilst his body sunk.

  Panicked, Ellen tried to maneuver herself away from his hold. But Eli held on, grabbing her by the wrist and strengthening his hold.

  “It’s okay,” he told her, his voice still working its way around the affliction. “I’m fine. There’s nothin’ to worry about.”

  But Ellen pushed herself even harder away. She resisted as Eli struggled to tug
her closer, fighting control of her wrist along with the rest of her body. And just then he felt a sting in his heart, forcing him to let go of the girl. Only at the same time, Ellen pulled herself away with more might than she’d ever needed to break free. Momentum sent her up against the ledge, and a trip on her right ankle caused her to completely lose control.

  Ellen lost her foothold, and she fell.

  “No,” he called, and as fast as he could he reached for her hand.

  But it was too late. Ellen fell two floors down, headfirst, and smacked it against the concrete pavement below. She died upon impact, making no effort to move as the zombies descended.

  “No. No no no no no. No fuck.”

  Tears streamed from his eyes, and all the pain he felt coursing throughout his body was nothing compared to the guilt tearing inside him. He screamed at the top of his lungs, and his eyes continued to blur. First with tears. Then, with something else. Something dark, and red.

  It never occurred to him that he’d ever lost control of his own body. It simply happened, without his being able to process or even understand the information. Eli’s hands, feet, legs, and eyes, all moved against his command.

  He spun around, driven by an instinct that wasn’t his own. He saw a bald black man whose face looked strangely familiar. He was crying, just like Eli Desmond.

  Eli stepped closer to have a better look. Explosion erupted, and all he could see was darkness.

  Atton Stone

  Chapter Twelve

  Day 5

  Transcripts of Dr. Nelson Shore

  Inmate Identification Number: 6011512

  Patient Name: Atton Stone

  Date: October 5, 2002

  Disclaimer: Data Collected Under Jurisdiction Of SFPD, For Purposes Of The LTMU Gang Rehabilitation Program. Information is for research purposes only, and is not to be distributed without permission.