Still Dying: Select Scenes From Dying Days

by Armand Rosamilia

  "What about our luggage?" Russ asked. He had his important items like his laptop and backpack, but his clothing and personal hygiene items were still likely in the cargo hold of the plane.

  Janke shrugged. "I don't want to hang out here. It's up to you, stay or go." Janke smiled. "I mean, you're the boss now."

  Russ ignored the comment. He went to the ticket counter but there was no one there, either. With the power out and the sun behind the building, it was getting dark inside the lobby. Russ didn’t like this at all. Where was everyone in charge?

  "I'm going back to the terminal. There has to be someone up there. Are you coming?"

  Janke followed. They got to the entry and walked right through the dead metal detectors and past the empty roped-off areas and back onto the main terminal area.

  There were a few people curled up and sleeping on chairs, but for the most part it was empty. Russ assumed this wasn't usually a busy airport, but this was ridiculous. The food kiosk gates were still open even though no one was manning them.

  They walked the length of the terminal, checking in at all twenty desks, but there was no one who worked in the airport around. Russ counted six planes docked. He tried to enter one of the doors to the steps leading to the plane but they were locked.

  "Hey, there's a plane coming in," Janke said.

  They could hear it now as it taxied down the runway and aimed to the terminal.

  "We'll figure out where they are stopping and greet them. Maybe the pilot or attendants can help us. I need my luggage."

  Janke laughed. "I need to get out of here. Want a candy bar?"

  "What? No. The power is out. You can't pay for it."

  Janke nodded and he ran across the aisle and grabbed two Kit Kats, dropping a couple of singles on the deserted counter. "I'm hungry."

  "It's still stealing."

  "Where's the proof? The camera system is out, the workers have fled."

  Russ watched as the airplane began pulling toward one of the terminal docks. "Let's go greet them. Maybe they know something."

  "Maybe they're flying somewhere closer to New York. We'll hitch a ride."

  Russ watched as the plane slowed and glided to the farthest terminal entrance. They needed to figure out what they were going to do before it got dark. He didn't want to be trapped in a dark airport. "Why don't they have backup generators? You'd think an airport would have emergency lights."

  Janke shrugged, eating the last Kit Kat he'd taken. "This is some tiny little place."

  "Yes, but we're right between a major racetrack and a hospital. We have to be on a main grid for the power, right? I would think secondary power would be on."

  "No idea. I guess that's why you're the boss."

  Russ turned on him as he loosened his tie. "Look, I didn't ask for all this. I just wanted to get to New York, do what I had to do, and get some of my mother's cooking in my gut before we flew back to Germany and I had to suffer through another six months of horrible food and warm beer."

  Janke laughed. "Cold beer is disgusting. You've never had my mother's family recipe sausage. We still make it ourselves."

  "I've never been invited to eat at your family's house."

  "Then as soon as we get back I'll ring my mother and we'll throw you a proper feast," Janke said.

  "Perfect. But I'm not inviting you to dinner at my parents, so don't ask." Russ laughed. "Here they come."

  "Should we greet them down the hallway?"

  "We're not allowed to go down there. It's for airport employees only," Russ said.

  Janke looked around. "Funny, I don't see anyone left who works here. In fact, we might be the last two people in the airport." He walked to the door and opened it, kicking the door lock in place. "Being helpful."

  Russ sat down just across the hall, in a chair overlooking the now-open door. He was tired, getting hungry, and disappointed. This trip was going to end up being a complete waste. They'd probably miss the meeting, his boss would see this as a career setback for Russ, and someone else would be moving their stuff into his nice cozy office.

  His stomach growled and he stood, figuring they had a few minutes until the doors of the plane were open and the passengers and flight crew came out. Russ walked to the candy and pulled three singles from his pant pocket and put them on the counter. He picked up two Snickers bars. "You want something? My treat," he said and turned back to Janke just as the first passengers were getting off the plane.

  Only they were running off the plane, two men no older than twenty, blood covering their shirts and bloody footprints on the pristine carpet left in their wake.

  Janke laughed as they ran past him, throwing up his hands in the air. He looked at Russ, standing at the candy counter. "What the fuck was that? Are we on Candid Camera? On some MTV show?" He looked up at the ceiling, obviously searching for a camera, a smile still on his face.

  Russ took a step toward him when the rest of the passengers started coming down the hall… slowly. There was something wrong. The first woman was covered in blood but her eyes were vacant. There was no fear like the two guys had, there was only an emptiness. "Janke…"

  The woman wrapped her arms around Janke's shoulders. His look of amusement turned to confusion, and when she clamped her dirty teeth onto his neck and bit deep into his skin, it turned to astonishment and pain.

  "Holy shit," Russ said and took two steps to help Janke, but a wave of people broke around Janke as he fell to his knees, driven down by the woman. They all had sightless eyes on Russ.

  He turned and ran, aware his life depended on it. Russ was out of the main terminal, taking the unmoving escalator steps three at a time, and straight out the lobby and into the Daytona Beach heat despite it being nearly dark.

  Where do I go? There were several hotels within walking distance, he could see the huge racing track to his left, and it looked like a mall was out on the main drag. All the power was out and he saw people milling about everywhere. Russ took a second to catch his breath and try to figure out what his next move was.

  Screams behind him turned him around, in time to see people running for their lives. Those passengers who'd been lounging and sleeping in the lobby were being attacked but some had escaped. They spread out in different directions.

  He didn't see any of the… of the what? Dead people walking? Bloody deformed humans biting and eating the living? That was ridiculous, and he knew it. None of this made sense. Was Janke in on the hidden camera joke? Was Ashton Kutcher going to jump out from behind a bush at any moment with a camera crew, and they'd all have a laugh at his expense?

  The first couple of the things walked out into the sunlight and Russ couldn't help but watch. He had the stupid notion they'd explode when the direct sunlight touched them, even though he knew they weren't vampires. Zombies. He'd seen many movies and read enough horror stories to know what they were, but it didn't make any sense. Were there going to be werewolves on the next flight? A horde of mummies in the next plane? How do you escape from them? How do you kill them?

  Russ decided he didn't need answers right now, he just needed to escape. He saw how slow they moved, so keeping ahead of them wouldn't be a problem. Maybe a quick dash across the street to the mall would be smart. Find a stockroom to hide in until this was over. Unlike what happened in movies and books, he was sure the government had a plan in place and could easily eradicate this handful before the monsters spread too far.

  As he moved across International Speedway Boulevard, dodging crazy drivers who took no street lights to mean they could drive as fast or erratic as they wanted, he saw many people in the mall parking lot. That was a good sign, right?

  They all looked alive, getting into cars or wandering off and crowding near the bus stop. Russ was hungry and decided to see if he could get some food in the food court of the mall before it completely shut down. You never knew when your next meal was coming in a crisis.

  The JC Penney exploded, doors shattering and throwing glass and debris across the p
arking lot in all directions. Someone, on fire, rushed out of the building before collapsing to the asphalt.

  Russ instinctively moved to help. There were people closer and they beat at the flames with shirts and pocketbooks just as Russ got there.

  The next people coming from the destroyed doors were already dead. And they looked hungry.

  "Run!" Russ yelled as he moved away, but everyone around was too busy helping the burnt man on the ground. He tried to pull someone with him but they pushed away. The zombies (Russ had no other name for them, although it was crazy to even think they were) tore into people before screams alerted everyone in the area.

  They weren't just on the plane, they were everywhere.

  In movies, the hero was dressed in comfortable clothes and wearing sneakers, armed with a rifle and pockets filled with ammunition. Russ was wearing a suit and black uncomfortable dress shoes, and his pockets were empty.

  He tried to stop a Hyundai as it pulled out of the lot, but the driver was scared and she refused to stop, almost running him over. Russ kept backing up, watching in horror as dozens of zombies flowed from the mall. Most people were being trapped in their cars, windows shattered as they were pulled back out to the ground, where they were being attacked. And molested? Russ turned away as a zombie actually took his engorged phallus and…

  The sound of a racing motor was a nice reprieve from the insanity. Russ watched as a guy on a Harley tried to barrel his way through the horde gathering in the parking lot. He was quickly subdued by sheer numbers and pulled off his bike.

  The Harley spun out of control for thirty feet before dropping to the ground. Russ moved with caution, trying to keep his distance from any undead. He looped behind cars, ignoring the screams and the blood seeming to be everywhere.

  Russ ran across an open gap between cars. As he moved three zombies locked dead eyes on him and began shuffling in his direction.

  "Shit." He got to the Harley but it was heavy. As a kid he'd driven trikes and dirt bikes in the empty fields behind his house, but nothing this big. He'd owned a smaller motorcycle in Germany but quickly abandoned it. No sense in dying in a foreign country. "Move your ass or you'll be dying in your own," he murmured to himself.

  Just as he lifted the bike into position he felt his jacket getting tugged from behind.

  Russ turned to see a zombie right behind him, with three more coming up slowly. Russ slammed a knee into its gut but it only pushed it back a foot or two.

  "Head shot," Russ cried, but he didn't have a weapon. At some point he'd lost his laptop and backpack and just realized it now. He had nothing to fight off the monster, so he used the motorcycle like a shield and got on the other side of it. It wasn't a great barrier as the thing just reached across and grabbed him by the shirt, but at least it was putting enough distance it couldn't bite him.

  But his friends were getting closer to Russ and within minutes he'd be surrounded. Russ panicked and began throwing punches with his right hand while keeping the bike steady with his left, three quick jabs that broke the undead nose. It kept trying to grab him.

  Just as the other three came up Russ shoved the motorcycle at them and shuffled backward, keeping them in his sight. They stumbled over the fallen bike, one falling and breaking its neck. It stopped moving but the others kept coming at him.

  Lucky for him there were no other zombies in this part of the parking lot. Russ remembered all the heroic moves people did in monster movies, killing them with ordinary household weapons or objects conveniently lying around. They'd overcome their fears and save the day or sacrifice themselves so others could survive and spread the word about how heroic they were.

  Russ, scared shitless, danced around, bobbing and weaving and taunting the undead, until he got them far enough away from the motorcycle he had time to simply run back to it, lift it off the ground, and start it.

  The motorcycle roared to life. Russ began gliding away from the zombies but saw the sudden noise had gotten the attention of many more.

  As he drove out of the parking lot, the JC Penney still ablaze behind him, he saw the confusion out on International Speedway Boulevard. In the movies the hero would get on the Harley and simply ride off to safety.

  Russ tried to relax and stop thinking these stupid thoughts as he weaved in and out of the traffic. There were several accidents and the next intersection was blocked so he jumped the curb onto the median, squeezed the Harley between two cars, and then worked in and out slowly.

  People yelled at him as he passed, but he wasn't too worried about them. He had the horrific thought they'd all be dead soon. Women and children were sitting in their cars in traffic, wasting gas and crawling a foot forward every minute or so.

  He slowed at the next intersection and had to drive through a Hooters parking lot and circle the building in order to keep moving west. Russ needed a main highway and he wanted to head north. All he saw before him was an endless line of stopped cars going east and west, traffic lights that no longer worked, and people like sitting ducks in their cars, with no idea of the monstrosities behind him.

  Russ moved about a half mile ahead, slowly but surely, until he came to another intersection and was about to push through it when a Home Depot on his left exploded in a fireball and he could see a swarm of zombies coming from that direction.

  "Get out of your cars and run," he shouted to those around him, but they just stared at him like he was nuts. A younger guy in a pickup truck openly laughed at Russ and gave him the finger, oblivious to the wave of death heading his way.

  Russ turned north with the Harley and began weaving in and out as fast as he could, glad the noise of the motorcycle was going to drown out the screams behind him.

  He wondered if he'd ever get out of this alive.

  David Monsour

  Cheryl jumped at the slamming of the front door, immediately sliding out of bed and gripping the Colt .45 on her end table. David wasn't in bed next to her and she tried not to panic. They'd been over this a hundred times, and it always ended in something stupid like David being too loud or a wandering animal setting off a perimeter alarm.

  Someone was coming up the steps. Cheryl got into her shooting stance, dropping next to the bed to give as small a target as possible and ready to shoot.

  "Cheryl, I'm walking," she heard David call.

  She relaxed. I'm walking was their code for everything being alright. If he'd said I'm coming up she would have killed anyone coming into the room. It was as simple as that.

  When he entered the room he wasn't smiling. He wore his Army fatigues and his own Colt .45 was in hand. "It's happening."

  * * * * *

  David had the Ford F-150 SVT Raptor already loaded. He tossed their bug out bags in the front seat. "Is everything locked up?"

  "Of course." Cheryl slid into the passenger seat. "Your parents are already on the move." She loaded the coordinates on the GPS and turned on the other devices mounted to the dashboard. "I'm tracking them now."

  "Your parents?"

  Cheryl looked distraught. "They aren't answering their SpecPhone."

  David shook his head. "They probably never bothered to keep it charged and change the batteries." He started the Raptor. "Is their car moving?" David had installed a tracking device on their car last Thanksgiving even after they'd told the couple not to. Cheryl's parents didn't buy into the apocalypse prepping and thought David was kind of strange, but he treated their daughter well and that was all they cared about, according to Cheryl.

  His Army training (he was an M.P.) had carried with him even after his tours had ended, and a stint as security police in the Air Force finished off his career but not his need to get ready for the end.

  "It's really here?" Cheryl said through clenched teeth.

  "Yes. I'd been monitoring the police bands this morning while watching SportsCenter. It all happened so quickly, like a tidal wave across Canada and the U.S."

  "Canada?"

  David glanced at her as he drove throug
h quiet side streets. "We should be safe. I didn't hear anything about Thunder Bay." The couple had built an underground bunker over the border in Canada two years ago, and spent the last two summers prepping and training. They had enough room for them and their parents and enough food and supplies to last for a year. It was a six hour ride in normal conditions, but David knew it would take much longer if the problem had spread even more. "We need to tune into the police and military bands."

  Cheryl went to work, trying to find information.

  "You didn't even bother asking what was going on," David asked her as she tuned into the Hastings police radio band and heard nothing.

  "Something bad," she said with a humorless laugh. "We've trained for this and what's the biggest thing? Not losing your head and keeping calm."

  "Zombies."

  "No shit?" Cheryl found another band, this one emanating from Canada. "Thank God we learned French."

  David's SpecPhone rang and he used the BlueTooth to answer it. "Hey, dad. We're monitoring you and should hookup within the next ten minutes." David frowned. "Already?" He turned to Cheryl. "There are attacks in the area already. This is spreading pretty quickly. My parents aren't able to head north. The roads are already closing." They picked a secondary meeting spot, further west.

  "I think we're in trouble, too. According to the Mountie band, all roads into Canada are being shut off. They're trying to contain it and keep it from jumping the border, but it might be too late." Cheryl shook her head.

  David gripped the steering wheel and sighed. This is all happening too quickly. All of my projections were wrong. "I somehow thought I'd be ahead of this."

  "How could you know?"

  David shrugged. "I've been waiting for this my entire adult life. Hell, I thought about this as a kid. We're prepared and it took all of an hour to get mobile and get the truck loaded."