“How did they hear?” he blurted.
“Excuse me?” the supervisor replied, confusion on his face.
“You heard me, son. How did they hear? How did they hear about anything going on outside of this factory?” His eyes seemed to burn with sudden fury. Although the floor supervisor didn’t understand why, he knew he needed to choose his next words carefully. He thought Llewelyn Wither was a fair boss even though he typically communicated through the ops managers and not directly to the floor supervisors. The overnight manager was already gone and the second and third shift manager wasn’t there, so he took the call as the next supervisor in line. But he didn’t expect this anger from their boss. From what he experienced, the owner let the managers and supervisors run the operation, treated the workers with respect, and generally didn’t spend much time with supervisors at his level. He had to know people didn’t disconnect just because they came to work, not nowadays. Llewelyn’s unexpected lack of empathy was slightly shocking. His anger at the employees made no sense. He struggled with the words to express his thoughts coherently.
“Um, I don’t really know what you mean. Their phones or whatever I guess,” the young man stammered in reply.
Llewelyn sprang up from his chair, skidding it across the floor, and slapped both palms on the metal desk. The chair struck the filing cabinet with a startling bang, making the supervisor flinch. He sunk his head and gritted his teeth.
“No phones allowed on the floor! The rules are for everyone’s safety and the integrity of the product we make here. Keep people paying attention to their jobs. Keep contaminants out of the line. You’re a supervisor, you should be keeping these people honest. Integrity! Hard work! You can’t expect a handout from me just for showing up.” His voice seemed to rattle the windows of the room. Llewelyn turned and looked out of the long window nearby. There were windows on each of three sides of his elevated office, overlooking the factory floor in all directions. He watched the scene for a moment before slapping the window rapidly with his open palm. “Back to work!”
Workers in hair and beard nets looked up at the muffled noise. They seemed to scatter in every direction, hiding phones in pockets as they went. Llewelyn looked back to the supervisor.
“Sir,” he cleared his throat. Sudden tears jumped into his eyes, from fear and discomfort regarding the situation with the man in front of him. “I, uh, did you… did you see what the president said? What he said is happening?”
Llewelyn scoffed. “He’s a liar. I guarantee everything you hear from that man is a lie!” he said with a bemused chuckle. He paced across the office to the opposite window, quietly looking out to the warehouse floor below. He meditatively inhaled several times through his nose, seeming to calm down after his outburst. The red in his face faded as he sighed heavily and spoke more calmly. “I care about you people, of course I do. People just gotta follow the rules, you know?” He turned back to the supervisor, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms as he spoke.
“I don’t think if something happens in New York it applies much to us here in God’s country, but I know some of these men are scared. I get that. I ain’t blind. They ain’t been working but three hours. Let’s go ahead and cut this shift and the next. Let people plan and get ready. No pay of course. Ain’t nobody in Washington coming here to help us out, so we gotta take care of our own. Gotta take care of our families. Get the machines cleaned up and get these people out of here.” He walked to the employee sitting in front of the desk and placed his hand on the shaken man’s shoulder. “Do you have a plan for your family, son?”
“I don’t even know what to do. I can’t get ahold of my wife.” He waited for a resurgence of anger at his admission that he also used his phone on the floor, but Llewelyn just patted him on the back.
“Get home, get together some food and water, and wait. People ain’t gonna take this kind of thing lightly. You betcha there’s gonna be some problems. People hurting each other, not taking care of their neighbors, you betcha.” He smiled. “You gotta come up with a plan, boy. Think about feeding yourself, think about protecting your home. You’ll figure it out, you know what I taught my boys? Gotta have a plan when the shit hits the fan! That means use your brain and think. Don’t be afraid, work hard, and take what you need.”
“Yessir, I will.” The man stood to leave, uncomfortable with the whole exchange and eager to get the workers to their homes. Llewelyn leaned on his desk with his hip.
“Oh, and son,” he said. The man turned back to listen. “Get yourself a gun. Can’t trust your neighbors these days.”
Chapter 8
Panic
Ashur Zaka and Halwende Kahn stood together watching the ongoing news reports covering the attack in New York City. Neither had left the store because they didn’t know what to do next. Ash’s single defensive shot had caught their intruder one inch above his left eye. While Kahn was struggling to fight the man’s bulky frame, Ash had run back into the administrative office and retrieved the single loaded gun in the store. It was kept inside of a biometric safe that only Ash could access, which itself was kept inside the large admin safe they used for the cash drawer, change, and deposits. It had taken two tries to punch the code into the digital lock of the safe and then he hurriedly aligned his fingers with the biometric reader on the small safe inside. It popped open and Ash ran back with the .40 caliber, hollow point loaded, semi-automatic pistol. He took a wide shooter’s stance with two hands on the firearm just when the would-be murderer lowered his revolver toward Kahn’s head.
Kahn was still almost crushed by the collapsing corpse as it fell forward, and he needed Ash’s help getting free and recovering enough to function after the traumatic incident. After locking the front and back doors, Ash tried both cell phones and the landline to notify the authorities what had happened in his business. All the lines just had the same disconnected noise. After setting Kahn up in the office he also found the Internet was not working. The power was on, and the TV still worked, so he turned the volume up on the news while he worked.
First, Ash took both the pistol he used to kill the attacker and the revolver the man had dropped and placed them in the safe carefully, leaving them both loaded so the authorities could not accuse him of tampering with evidence. He methodically decided on the large cash safe since they wouldn’t fit together in the smaller biometric safe. He wore gloves, not wanting to contaminate the revolver with his fingerprints since he was sure the police would confiscate the weapons for forensic testing. They’ll probably arrest me too, he thought, picturing himself in handcuffs.
Kahn was still slightly catatonic and sitting in the office chair where Ash had first seen him this morning. Things seemed so different in the few hours since then. Visions of the dead man swam around Kahn’s thoughts. In one moment, he pictured the intruder laughing and pulling the trigger on his revolver, exaggerated details of jagged teeth and sunken eyes morphed the memory into a horrible hallucination. Kahn imagined the attacker’s corpse standing up and lurching forward, hungry for revenge, with his shattered skull spouting viscera like a nightmarish volcano of gore.
After trying the phones again, Ash went to inspect the body in his shop. After he was shot and was wrestled away from Kahn, the man had fallen awkwardly over one of the large boxes along the front wall with his head loosely back, eyes open staring at the back wall. His gut rose above his head at the angle Ash approached and the man looked decapitated. Ash had to get close and step with his knee almost touching the torso before he could see the bloody head and floor. The large puddle of red-black liquid had formed in the shadows along the wall and spread to the back corner. Ash went into the storage room and came back with a large promotional banner they used when they attended gun shows and other events. He loosely covered much of the corpse with the banner.
Kahn eventually shook himself out of his stupor and forced himself to stand. He walked out to find his brother-in-law watching the news. He looked over and saw a white tarp-like banne
r that said Boomstick – Ash’s Guns and Ammo covering the dead body. It was ridiculous and surreal to him, his fortitude was shaken, and he was struggling to keep reality separate from terrible fantasy. He knew he would need to mentally lean on Ash to keep it together. He checked outside the front door and saw the parking lot, empty except for the gunman’s truck, and no activity on the highway. His and Ash’s vehicles were parked out back. He thought about the implications of their self-defense as the television report caught his distracted attention.
“…reports from other cities around the country with what many describe as some sort of violent biological attack. We now have some footage that was posted on a Facebook Live video feed that shows some of the… uh… affected individuals in… uh… Seattle, Washington. I… uh… I think we have that footage now.” The reporter’s face disappeared and was replaced by a shaky, vertical video that only filled the middle third of the screen. His narration paused as the world watched the amateur footage. It was hard to tell what was going on at first. It was daylight, but whoever was behind the footage was running and trying to keep the camera pointed behind them. Several other figures were running in a blur around the videographer and you could tell they were fleeing down a downtown city street. Suddenly, the runner stopped and faced the camera toward a clearing that looked like a small park just ahead of where they were. The city’s distinctive Space Needle rose into the sky in the background. The person behind the phone was panting heavily and the image erratically displayed about a dozen people in the small park. About half were shambling in the general direction of the person filming. But most shocking was a group of about six people that were ripping and tearing at a person struggling on the ground. Kahn and Ash watched, shocked, as the violent creatures grappled with the woman and started to bite and tear at whatever part of the victim they could catch. The fingers of her hand, held up defensively, were ripped away by several fierce bites from snapping teeth. Crimson liquid flowed from her neck as more of the cannibalistic creatures tore into her flesh. Blood covered the ground and the biters in a gory display. The video quickly cut away and back to the suddenly pale-faced anchor. She picked up a glass of clear water and shakily took a sip.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” she muttered as she took another sip. She perked up as if someone was speaking into her earpiece and then resumed. “Uh… okay. Um, we want to once again warn any viewers that as more details come in, they are graphic and may be upsetting to some people. We have reports now coming in from several cities that there are severe outages of the central power and phone grids, including cell phones. Most of this activity seems to be fluctuating based on heavy usage. So far we have no reports that service outages are due to any terrorist activity. Some of what is coming in to us here is unclear if it is part of the same biological attack that happened yesterday in New York, related attacks, or unrelated looting and rioting. We are getting conflicting reports from police agencies that are battling either infected humans or rioters. We have reached out to the White House and the Pentagon and have gotten no new information thus far.”
Ash turned off the television. He turned to Kahn and neither man spoke. Ash took keys out of his pocket and shook them in Kahn’s direction.
“Here,” he said, “take my keys and get out of here.” He tried handing them to Kahn.
“Why?” It didn’t make sense for him to leave Ash alone before the police or somebody came. He knew it would look suspicious on them if they didn’t both stay put and give a coherent account of the shooting. Kahn thought Ash’s freedom depended on his own visible injuries and account of the customer’s behavior before the shooting.
“I don’t think anybody is going to come. I put the guns and ammunition in the back of the Escape earlier. Take it home and I’ll wait for the phones to start working again. I’ll call you when they do.” He shook the keys again. Kahn reached into his pocket, took his car key off the keyring, and reluctantly exchanged with Ash.
“Of course someone will come,” Kahn muttered under his breath. Ash ignored him by pointing the remote and turning up the television. The show now had a different host with several guests debating some of the information and footage that had been rolling in from around the nation. The three men seemed to be shouting and talking over each other. Amateur video bounced within the screen, rotating and showing several different clips like the previous Seattle footage.
“…multiple major cities around the country. We are waiting for anything official to come from this administration.”
“This administration can’t do anything about what’s going on here. This was a deliberate attack on our country, now it seems in many cities and not just New York, and this lame-duck president doesn’t have the political or legal ability to do anything!”
“He is still president for another month. He is still commander-in-chief, and we still have our military and intelligence agencies under the executive branch. The White House hasn’t made a statement because they are caught by surprise. Surprise that they are reeling from just like the rest of America at this point.”
“It’s telling that we don’t have an official statement from the president beyond his very vague address to the country. People out there are scared. They don’t know what to do. Our authorities don’t know what to do. It’s indicative of the nature of this outgoing president that the president-elect has been tweeting and talking to the press about this situation while this administration remains silent. He compares this attack to September 11th, and rightly compares the reactions by these very different administrations. Mr. President, where are your instructions to keep calm? Where is your order to ground flights? Where is your condemnation of Islamic terrorism? If this is a biological terrorist attack, we need strong leadership and decisive communication! All we are getting from the outgoing administration is what, nothing! This pathetic response lacks fortitude that the country needs at this point. Don’t we, as citizens and taxpayers, deserve more? When will they talk to the press? When will they--”
“Thank you gentlemen, thank you gentlemen, thank you, we appreciate the coalition among different sides of the political spectrum. We all believe the country needs unity and leadership at this juncture. We will--,” the host paused. “We are now getting the first information from the White House since the president’s speech. Their official statement is urging Americans to stay home. They are working with state and local government in affected areas to mobilize the National Guard with the full support of FEMA and other federal agencies. Do not approach anybody acting violently. The infection may be affecting people without warning. What is this? Is this a joke?” He waved the paper into the air and spoke to his producers behind the scenes, his expression conveying annoyed anger and breaking the lacquer of professionalism. His look melted back to neutrality and he lowered the paper to the desk.
“Um, okay. I’m being told these are official instructions from… um… the president and Department of Homeland Security. Uh… you may find this unusual but… so… rest assured this is legitimate. So, stay home. Per the president, do not approach people acting like they are infected. And… uh… don’t get bit. It seems to be one of the ways this infection spreads. Okay, now I would like to hear your interpretations of this order, Doctor…”
Ash muted the TV and threw the remote on the counter. The panelists were reacting to the odd proclamation, but the specifics of the situation didn’t strike either gun store employee as pertinent to their predicament. Kahn waited to react to his brother-in-law’s next move. Ash picked a brown leather wallet off the counter that Kahn hadn’t noticed before. He shook it in the air.
“His name is David Wither. I took this out of his pocket. I’m putting it in the safe with both weapons so we can give them to the police. If your phone starts working or you see a police officer, let them know what happened here immediately. We need to get home until this calms down. Nothing from San Antonio just yet, but it could be happening without us knowing. I’m going to head to my place and stay put
. You need to get home to my sister and keep them safe. Take a case of water from the office on your way out. I’m going to put the uh… David in the storage room and lock it and then I’m leaving, too. You need to watch for anybody near your place and keep them away from your family. I’ll call you when this stuff starts to blow over.”
“You heard him say they are mobilizing troops and stuff. We can just wait. I’m sure the phone or Internet will come back soon and then we can call someone to help,” Kahn protested. Ash looked directly at the younger man. He somehow looked wrinkled and aged from this morning. Kahn realized they, Ash really, had pulled the trigger on another person. Neither of them had ever been in a self-defense situation before, and they were both rattled. He decided to stop pushing back against his brother-in-law’s requests and head home to take care of his wife and son. As they paused, Ash grabbed Kahn’s shoulder and squeezed.
“We need to take care of ourselves. Stay home.” He walked away down the back hallway and into the storage room to begin arranging a space for the body. Kahn crossed his arms against Ash’s edict, but quickly softened and strode down the hallway without saying goodbye.
Chapter 9
Sinking
Boats of all sizes filled the waters around Manhattan. The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey, operating out of a temporary headquarters on Governors Island, commanded dozens of vessels in the East and Hudson Rivers. They, along with the NYPD and Coast Guard, worked to keep civilian crafts out of the area. A temporary blockade was set up to prevent unauthorized sea craft from entering the waters around the boroughs of Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Staten Island. Coast Guard cutters patrolled the waters under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and the Bayonne Bridge, watching thousands of civilians fleeing from Brooklyn and Bayonne, New Jersey, into Staten Island. Most traveled on foot. The few vehicles on the bridges were blocked by police checkpoints and civilian traffic, and many abandoned their cars, trapping even more of the fleeing people. It was a massive crowd, the largest and most panicked evacuation since September 11, 2001. Memories and fear from that day flooded into civilians and authorities alike.
Nation Undead (Book 1): Neighbors Page 5
