The Dead Don't Bleed: Part 1, The Outbreak

by S. Ganley

  With the phones having problems most of the day, Garrett was a little worried about his first day of work tomorrow. The news had continued to repeat that public schools and government offices were closed for the next two days and that private industry was encourage to limit operations to only essential personnel. Since he was not what his new job would consider essential by any means, he had to wonder if they may have been trying to get in touch with him to postpone his first day until later in the week. He had checked his email throughout the day and had not received any notifications there so all he could do was assume things were still going to go as scheduled for his first day of work the following morning. He told himself that with schools and government offices closed at least traffic would be much easier on the ride in, so he wouldn't have to worry about being late. Garrett watched the evening news at a little after ten and learned little more than he had throughout the day, no further closings or restrictions were being announced. Deciding it was best to just get a good night sleep and arrive at his job bright and early to make a good first impression, he turned in earlier than usual. He found it surprising that he was actually anxious about starting work the next day, he wouldn't quite call it nervousness, just an anxious feeling about the unknown. Dismissing those thoughts as best he could, he turned out his light, rolled over and like a good soldier went to sleep on command.

  #

  Kyle Anders' twelve hour shift had turned into a fourteen hour nightmare after his first confrontation with what was now being collectively referred to by most of his squad members as a zombie encounter. Finally able to break away from the flood of calls well after the end of his shift, he had sought refuge inside the small bunk room at his station house off Balls Hill Road in McLean. It seemed that the calls for emergency service started to die down in intensity a couple hours after the sun rose on Monday morning, he wasn't sure what that meant in terms of the epidemic, but he didn't believe it was even close to over just yet. He had learned of several other cases where patrols had been confronted with zombies returning from the dead and even one case where an entire family of five had turned before the officer and paramedics arrived. It was just pure luck for the responders that the doors to the house had been sealed tight and just before breaking a window to try and unlock the back door they had observed the zombies gathered together in a back room of the house in the process of devouring the family dog. They had backed away from the house and called in for assistance which triggered a response from a SWAT team tasked with entering and clearing the residence.

  He had managed a little over two and a half hours of rest along with five others seeking a quick respite from to constantly ringing phones, blaring radios and milling crowds of civilians who had decided to come in person to the station in search of one form of assistance or another. The cracking sound of gunfire ripped Kyle and everyone else in the room from their deep and semi restful slumber. Kyle had fallen asleep still fully dressed in his uniform only taking off his utility belt and laying it on the floor next to his bed, jumping to his feet at the sound of gunfire his first instinct was to reach down and grab his pistol from the belt. He had grown comfortable with carrying around the M4 rifle during his last shift and wished he had it now, but he had left it locked in the trunk of his patrol car parked in the rear lot. The other shift workers in the room were all civilian employees that worked in either the dispatch center or clerical staff that had also been pressed into around the clock shifts to keep up with the volume of work flooding in since the start of the epidemic. Each of them was now sitting up in their bunks with their heads darting from side to side and obvious fear etched into their faces. Kyle instructed them to stay where they were and to close and lock the door after he left, the gunfire sounded like it was coming from further into the building closer to the front and the bunkroom was tucked away far enough into the back that they should be safe for the time being. He reassured them that despite the crisis they were all working extra hours to deal with, at any given time there were at least a handful of armed officers in the building. He just hoped that he sounded more confident then he felt, another volley of gunfire rang out, there were multiple shots and he was certain that several shooters were involved. He told himself to remain calm and move out slowly, whatever was happening it would not be a good idea to run up on it halfcocked before he had an understanding of what he was dealing with.

  Kyle eased the door open and peered both ways down the empty hallway. To the left the hall ran into the open area of a wide break room with several picnic style tables surrounded along the walls by a variety of vending machines, microwave and coffee carts as well as a short counter with a sink in the middle. From where he stood just outside of the bunk room it appeared that the break room was not occupied at the moment. Since the only other way into that room was a single exterior door that could only be opened from the inside he did not feel that any threats would be coming along behind him. The opposite end of the hallway ran directly into a far corner of the administrative suite just behind the desk area in the front of the station. The gunfire had ceased for the moment but he was sure he could still here some muted voices and other sounds coming from that direction that let him know the main activity was occurring up near to front desk area. Kyle pulled the break room door closed behind him and heard the click of the lock an instant later as one of the others seeking refuge in the room locked it secure behind him. Moving carefully up the hallway, he stopped a few feet shy of entering the administrative area and swept his pistol across the room taking care to examine the undersides of desks and areas beside and around tall cabinets or other furnishings where an attacker could be lying in wait. Something about one desk along the far wall caught his attention and he studied it for a few moments warily. All of the other chairs in the room were scooted back at least a foot or two from their desks as if the last occupants in them had simply stood up and left, leaving the chairs just slightly out of place from center of the desk. This one particular chair was lined up almost exactly in place as if someone was sitting in it but it was too close to the desk. As he watched it he was sure that he also noticed the seat back shake ever so slightly. He was

  reasonably certain someone was underneath that desk right now and had pulled the chair in behind them to try and remain hidden. Moving as quickly as caution would allow, he stayed low and in a shooters stance with his gun aimed in the direction of that single desk as he crossed the open work space. Kyle had just reached the last desk in the row of desks and was starting to work his way forward in the room when another burst of gunfire erupted from the front area of the station. He had been pretty sure that the opening salvo of shots he had heard from the bunk room had been outside the front of the station, this time there was no doubt that the firing was occurring inside the building and just on the other side of the locked security door separating this room from the station lobby area. He was sure that he heard at least two different hand guns firing several rounds each along with three blasts from the deeper and distinctive sounding 12-gauge shotguns carried in their patrol cars and kept in the station armory. Over the echoes of the fading gunfire he could hear a collective group of yelling and anxious sounding voices carrying through the thick walls and several seconds later there was a smashing sound accompanied by the distant tinkling of broken glass, he was pretty sure that something had just forced its way through either the double glass doors or the plate glass window of the station entrance. Whatever was happening outside must have now forced his fellow officers back into the lobby and front desk area, from there they would have only two ways to retreat further. They could enter this administrative area or the opposite wing which led to a couple of interview rooms and a double row of temporary holding cells. That avenue was their most likely destination since they could funnel their attackers into a narrow hallway right away and use the cover of solid doors to stand their ground. It also had two doors leading into the parking lot and rear of the station for anyone needing a way out. He kept glancing back and fo
rth between the desk where he thought someone was hiding and the door leading into this section of the building in case the fighting in the lobby turned in his direction. He didn't hear any additional gunfire and thought that the voices he was hearing were moving further away, so he believed that at least for the moment the momentum of the disturbance outside was moving down the other side of the building away from him. That was going to put him in an ideal position to come out behind any threats to other offices once he had cleared this room and could finally reach the door.

  He was now one work station away from the desk in question and he was just able to see a flash of colored shirt moving underneath by peering through the space between the back rest and seat of the chair.

  Kyle called out firmly but kept his voice as low as possible to prevent it from carrying further than the immediate area around the row of desks, "Push the chair back out and extend your hands slowly into view."

  He heard the muffled sound of sniffles as if someone had been crying and was trying to find their voice, "please, don't shoot, I'm just a secretary, I'm not involved in any of this." The reply was female and there was the clear and distinct sound of raw terror mixed in with the timid voice. The chair slowly started to slide back away from the desk and a pair of hands popped up into the opening between the chair and desk. The tear streaked face of a woman Kyle recognized as one of the day shift secretaries, he thought her name was Shellie or Shelia, slowly appeared in the dark space under the desk.

  Kyle held out a hand to signal her to stop where she was after he realized that she was not a threat and it would be best for her to stay put for the time being.

  "What is going on?" He whispered.

  She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her nose, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible, Kyle could tell she was on the very fringes of totally losing it, "I'm not sure, the lobby starting filling with citizens. They were complaining about their calls for service going unanswered, most of them were sick and some were saying they had relatives in their cars that had passed away and no one would come to help remove the bodies. The desk sergeant called in a couple patrols to help organize things and it seemed like they had it under control. All of a sudden there was screaming out in the front parking lot, the patrols ran outside and we all started hearing shots and more yelling. The desk sergeant sent the other girls back to the cells, I got pushed by the crowd back into the office and just took cover here. That’s all I know."

  "Ok, that’s a good start, I'm going to go out and see what I can do to help our guys. Stay underneath there and don't come out until you hear me or another officer call for you." She nodded her understanding from under the desk and Kyle pushed the chair back into place to keep her hidden from view.

  Once he was confident that she was again somewhat safe for the moment, he directed his attention towards the door leading out to the lobby area. Reaching the closed door he stopped and pressed his ear against it for a while and just listened. He could no longer hear any shouting or raised voices, but the sound of movement not far from the door was clear, there was something else there mixed in with the sound of movement. He concentrated to make out the additional sound but it was muffled by the thick security door and heavier sounds of footfalls shuffling around in a seemingly random pattern. He thought it sounded liked something moist and pliable slapping against a harder surface, based on his knowledge of the layout of the lobby and the furnishings out there, he could not make a connection on what could be responsible for the noise. He was sure of one thing though, there was at least one or more people still in the lobby and he didn't think it was any of his fellow officers. Had law enforcement been out there following such a scene he would have expected to hear loud voices giving commands, the crackling of radios and the heavier footfalls from the military issue boots all of them wore while in uniform.

  Kyle took three deep breathes and then yanked the door open while stepping into the opening with his pistol raised and ready. The lobby was in complete ruin, all the glass from doors on both sides and the central plate glass window had been shattered and now lay covering everything from the entrance to the raised desk were a junior officer was stationed after hours and a civilian public liaison officer worked during the day. The remains of three heavy wooden benches and the chest high wooden platform that ran up one side of the lobby and had contained various plastic holders for the most commonly requested forms were all shattered and in splinters across the room. The more telling signs of the struggle that had occurred here were the bodies, starting at the further point outside the ruined front entrance and running all the way until the open door to the far hallway he could see broken and ruined bodies. He thought there must be at least forty dead just right there in the lobby area alone and more than that scattered outside along the grass and walkways leading to the distant drive in front of the station. The majority of the bodies were civilians, old, young, male, female, there was no discernible pattern to them. They lay over top of each other, pushed up against the walls, on their sides, backs and stomachs, some bore the distinctive milky eyes and jaundice skin color that was now known to be an indicative sign of a having succumbed to the illness and being born again as a zombie. Head wounds were the most obvious cause of death for the majority of people in sight, zombie or otherwise. Many of the others who bore no indication of having succumbed and turned undead also appeared to have been felled by gunfire. The telltale signs of a shotgun being used accounted for some of the most spectacular wounds that he had ever seen before, several people were missing limbs or even most of their heads. One woman must have taken a full blast at point blank range directly in her chest, her shirt was blown clear of her body and a dark circle of burnt gun powder outlined a massive hole that exposed several ruined ribs and a mash of pulverized innards. He left breast had been blown in half and a large section of it with most of a pink nipple clearly visible was hanging at an unnatural angle down along the side of her body. Her lifeless but normal looking eyes were staring straight at Kyle. The blood splatter, spilled intestines and other body parts coating most of the bodies, floor and walls made the entire lobby look as though it was it was the inside of a slaughter house. Mixed in among the civilians and scattered in a more discernible spread he picked out the uniformed figures of his fellow brother officers, it looked as they had had fell one or two at a time starting at a point in front of the building and extending back into the farthest reaches of the lobby. He could picture them standing their ground at different points against the mob of sick people with zombies intermixed in their ranks as some of them rushed forward for safety while others had more hostile and malicious intentions. The officers had been pushed back into the lobby, stopping along the way to fell more of their pursuers but hopelessly outnumbered and without adequate arms to stem the tide of so many zombies and terrified masses of fleeing civilians. The scene also showed that many of the civilians had been armed as well, he accounted for a handful of mixed small caliber firearms, knives, bats and other assorted blunt weapons. Most of the officers he could see where either on their backs or facing away from him and he was eternally grateful for that small favor. But a couple of them were easily identifiable including his shift supervisor, a man he had worked with for the last five years and had a great deal of respect and admiration for. Laying near the center of the lobby his face was turned towards Kyle and he could see the wide handle of a clever jutting from a wound in the side of his neck where the blade was buried so deeply that Kyle was sure if the body was jostled even slightly his head would simply roll free from his neck.

  As if the sight of so many mangled and ruined bodies strewn all over a police station in the midst of suburban part of a major metropolitan center was not enough to push his hold on sanity, he started to be aware of the smell. He had been on scenes of shootings before and the expected odor of burnt gunpowder mixed with the thick coppery scent of spilled blood was hanging heavy in the air. Voided bowels and bladders added a foul underlying essence that st
arted to turn his stomach, but those were not the most offensive of the intermixing stench. He was picking up the essence of decomposition, a smell that once experienced is never forgotten. It was an odor that was quickly becoming synonymous with the presence of a zombie, or in this case many of them. His assumption was that the virus that turned a human into a zombie was responsible for rapidly rotting the internal organs of the body as the victim metamorphosed from its living state to that of the undead. Kyle theorized that it was as a result of the attack on the internal organs that zombies immediately adopted the odor of someone who had been dead for several days and was well into the decomposition process. Although he was not a doctor and had no idea if that theory held any water, it helped him to process the fact that it was actually zombies they were dealing with if he was able to attach some type of reasonable explanation to what happened to a body to get them in that state.