Middletown Apocalypse

by Brett Abell

  “Where do you think you’re going? And you can’t take a test tube out of the lab,” Doctor Langham was yelling.

  Charlie turned just in time to see Doctor Chin give everyone the finger before walking out the doors and into the hall. He held the test tube up in his hand, winked at Charlie, and he was gone.

  Two

  There was definitely someone still alive in the lab. Or, at least, able to move. Charlie began praying to a God he didn’t really believe in. At this point, better safe than sorry.

  The lab adjoined to another series of labs, all built in a hexagon pattern around a central corridor, which led to the main lab to the east and the exit to the west, once you got past the classrooms and staff offices.

  Charlie could hear noise in other labs via the intercom system. Someone was shouting for help at such a high pitch Charlie didn’t know if it was male or female, and something was growling behind the person.

  He didn’t want to get out from under the desk, until he heard the moaning in his own lab coming closer. Charlie pulled himself out as slowly as he could, hoping not to make a noise.

  Once he was out, he scanned the room and at first he thought he was safe. The sterile white had been replaced with shocking splashes of crimson, which looked even worse against the pristine backdrop.

  And one of the other students, Larry, was staring at Charlie from across the room. Dead eyes staring, actually. It was quite unnerving and Charlie fought bile back down his throat.

  “I’m going to calmly walk out the door, Larry, and you’re going to stay here,” Charlie said. “Got it?”

  He knew Larry wasn’t going to listen. Even before he was turned into whatever the Hell he was right now, the guy was an idiot. He was usually the student who asked way too many questions and never waited for the answer before asking the next dumb one. He extended the class with all of his nonsense, and, of course, Charlie had Larry in every one of his classes.

  Charlie took a step towards the door and Larry, blood dripping from his mouth and onto his lab coat, shadowed him.

  Can I outrun this asshole? Charlie was going to have to find out.

  Larry opened his mouth slowly and a chunk of someone’s flesh fell out and onto the floor.

  Charlie stooped and added his colorful breakfast to the splotches on the white floor, heaving and trying to stay on his feet. This was too much. He loved watching bad gory horror movies, but this was real shit and it wasn’t as fun as watching it on the screen.

  When Charlie recovered and looked up, he jumped back three feet and slammed his ass into a table. Larry had started quietly moving forward.

  “Aren’t you supposed to groan or put your arms out or something?” Charlie asked, trying not to lose his mind. He’d seen enough zombie and horror movies to know what was supposed to happen. Shit, none of this was supposed to really be happening, though.

  Larry wasn’t going to stop. Charlie could see other formerly annoying but breathing lab attendees moving in his general direction, too. And he knew they’d never breathe again, and, if he wasn’t careful … neither would he.

  Charlie had stopped smoking six weeks ago, but, as he ran for the doors, he was wheezing on the sixth step. In his mind, he was that Bolt runner dude, but he was moving like Michael Bolton.

  He had no idea why that poor analogy had come to mind and, before he could think about it further, Larry caught up to him.

  Charlie threw an ineffective punch. Not because Larry was now a monster and couldn’t feel the striking blow, but because Charlie wasn’t much of a fighter. It was more a dismissive slap than a jaw-rattling blow.

  Larry grabbed Charlie’s weak arm and pulled him closer.

  The smell coming from Larry’s mouth was unbearable. The guy had bad breath, after lunch, to begin with. Add to it the stench of uncooked flesh and the tinge of blood … Charlie, trying to pull away, puked all over his shoes and on Larry’s legs.

  Larry’s teeth bit into the soft flesh of Charlie’s shoulder, tearing at the lab coat and shirt underneath. Charlie began flailing and punching, finally breaking free and pushing Larry away.

  Charlie ran to the lab door, hoping this would be the one time it would open faster than it normally did. No such luck. He didn’t want to turn to see who was shuffling up behind him, either.

  He rubbed his shoulder and pushed through the doors as soon as they began to slide open, running down the corridor. Once Charlie got to the outside door, he burst into sunlight and smiled. He was free.

  Looking back, he was surprised to see there were no pursuers. No alarms going off. Nothing.

  Students were coming and going on campus like it was another day.

  Charlie needed to alert the police, unless it had been done already. He didn’t have his cell phone on him. His shoulder hurt like a bitch right now, too.

  He pulled the shredded lab coat and shirt away gingerly and assessed the damage. Not too bad. There were a few teeth marks and the skin had been punctured. A thin trickle of blood ran down his arm and the wound was already black and blue and tender. Charlie needed to get to the nearest hospital.

  What to do first?

  “Excuse me, can I borrow your phone?” he asked the nearest couple of women walking past. They ignored Charlie and picked up their pace. The next several people he asked either lied and said they didn’t have a phone or didn’t bother to answer.

  His walking had taken him closer to the apartment he shared with the three losers, so he decided he’d get back to his place, call the police, wash up, and barricade himself in his room until this all blew over.

  * * * * *

  Doctor Chin went into the cafeteria and filled his tray with a sandwich, a banana, and chocolate pudding. At the checkout, he added two bottled waters and a bag of chips. He’d earned a big meal today, and he was going to enjoy it.

  He glanced at the door. Why hadn’t anyone pulled the alarm in the lab? Could it be this easy? He added a pack of chocolate chip cookies to his tray.

  The second test tube was in his lab coat pocket and he didn’t want to crush it. He needed to remain calm until further instruction. Chin was part of something big and he wanted to savor it. Once he knew all the moving parts of this experiment, he was going to write a series of papers, get famous, and retire. He’d had enough slogging in second-rate colleges and universities across the country for one lifetime.

  He no longer cared about tenure and retirement. Chin wanted what every other American really wanted: money upfront and a purpose in life. And the means to spend the money and get famous while fulfilling your purpose.

  And if it meant a few people died … so be it. Chin could live with it. They were there for a reason, and in every great experiment, someone got hurt or died. How else could you defeat viruses and disease? The idiots in the lab were the guinea pigs. It would be contained on campus within a couple of hours, and then he’d be called in to help solve the problem.

  All he needed to do was wait on campus and watch events unfold.

  Chin needed to finish eating and get back to his office. He’d brought a new suit with him today, as well as deodorant and a toothbrush. He’d make sure his hair was combed and there was nothing stuck between his teeth for the imminent camera time he was going to get this evening. With any luck, every major network would be on campus and looking for the exclusive on how to combat this deadly disease.

  Once he received the other half of the money, he could retire or start his own lab. Chin Industries. He liked the sound of that.

  His Kia Spectra was going to be junked after this weekend. Chin didn’t know how flashy he wanted to go. You could buy many nice things with the quarter mil currently sitting in his bank account. The other three-quarter mil would be added tonight.

  He glanced out the window and saw Charlie, the annoying student from the lab, running across the lawn. His lab coat was ripped and he had blood on his shoulder and down his arm. The kid was a mess.

  Doctor Chin smiled when the alarms went off. He un
corked the test tube and left it on the table, and finished his banana as students and faculty began to worry about what was going on.

  Three

  His three roommates were slumped on the tattered couches, all wearing headsets, and screaming at one another while playing Call of Duty.

  “You’re in the same room,” Charlie said.

  Vinnie, without pulling his eyes from the screen, tapped his headset before putting both hands back on his controller. “Dude, it is so much cooler to be killing things with the headsets on. Chopper gunner, chopper gunner!”

  “I got him, Commander,” Jack yelled way too loud, especially in the same room.

  Charlie never understood why they got so excited over a stupid videogame. Didn’t they have better things to do with their lives?

  The third roommate, Sammy, peeled an old slice of pizza off of the coffee table and stuffed it in his mouth.

  They really didn’t have anything better to do with their lives, Charlie knew. He thought he lived with the trio because it made his life seem better. Plus, splitting the rent four ways definitely helped, too.

  “Do we have a first aid kit?” Charlie asked.

  Vinnie pointed at Jack without looking away from the screen. “Jackie is our medic.”

  “Stop calling me Jackie. You know I hate it.”

  “Dude, it’s your name,” Sammy said around a mouthful of food.

  “Your name is Samuel and you’re Vincent, but you never use it,” Jack said.

  “My real name doesn’t sound lame and gay like your name, dude,” Vinnie said.

  “Holy shit, guys … in the real world do we have a first aid kit?” Charlie asked, raising his voice.

  “No need to yell, dude,” Vinnie said. He began tapping the controller in his hand as fast as he could. “Chopper gunner, chopper gunner!”

  Charlie didn’t know why he bothered. He went into the dirty bathroom and looked around for anything he could use on his wound. After a few minutes, he quit looking, happy one of the washcloths was clean enough to wet and wipe the blood off his arm.

  He wanted to throw the bloody and ripped lab coat away but it was the only one he had. They cost way too much money, so he wet it in the sink and hung it up on the shower rod. He’d add it to his pile of laundry later.

  The shirt underneath was also torn and stained, so he did the same with it and went into his room to find something to wear.

  Charlie hadn’t done laundry in a while. Like … quite a while.

  He had three piles of dirty clothes. The stuff closest to the bed he’d only worn once or twice, the clothes he’d worn a few times and they might have a faint smell, and the pile tossed into the closet which definitely needed a good soaking.

  Once he got dressed and applied as much body spray as his nose could stand, he picked up his cell phone and began to dial 9 … 1 …

  And then Charlie stopped.

  What was he going to say? Tell the police there were monsters and/or zombies running amok in the science labs? Killing students and professors? All because of a package he’d inadvertently received thanks to Jim from the mailroom. Why didn’t he just look at the mailing address and see it wasn’t supposed to come here?

  It still didn’t settle anything, and pointing a finger at Jim from the mailroom wasn’t going to keep Charlie out of trouble.

  Charlie went into the kitchen. He was hungry, but when he opened the cabinets, his box of Pop-Tarts disguised as flour was missing from the top shelf.

  “Who ate my damn Pop-Tarts?” Charlie yelled.

  When the three losers began screaming about a zombie, Charlie panicked and ran into the living room.

  There was a horde of zombies on the television and the losers were busy trying to kill them. Charlie hoped they all hurt their damn wrists between the videogames and all the masturbating they did, loudly, all day and night.

  “Seriously, who ate my Pop-Tarts?”

  Sammy raised his hand but didn’t turn to face Charlie. “I did. I thought it was flour. It wasn’t.”

  “It was mine,” Charlie yelled. Now he was pissed. He thought about calling the police to sign a theft complaint against Sammy. The bastard had eaten the last piece of food he had in the apartment. He was supposed to go food shopping tonight after class, however, he knew it probably meant going to the nearest fast food restaurant for convenience.

  Charlie’s last girlfriend had been a militant vegan. He’d had to sneak out in the middle of the night if he wanted any meat. And he was hungry all the time since he didn’t eat the food his food ate. He called her a militant vegan because she didn’t eat any meat. Charlie looked down at his not-ample crotch. Any meat.

  Jeanine hadn’t returned a phone call in weeks. He thought she was banging one of the professors but didn’t know who. It was just a rumor. Charlie hoped.

  They were soul mates. Meant to be together. He imagined trying to get Jeanine pregnant and the fun they’d have trying. He’d marry her if he had to, but why buy the cow if the milk was free, right? They were too young to be serious. She’d hinted at marriage but Charlie had his whole life before him. Why ruin the fun with big plans and ideas? It was better to let it roll and see what happened.

  The breakup had blindsided Charlie and he was still hurting from it. Jeanine was his first real girlfriend and the first woman who’d let him touch a boob and her lady parts.

  Charlie was getting excited just thinking about her. What was she doing right now? Was she with another guy? Was the bitch cheating on him? Seriously, after all he’d done for her?

  He felt the anger rise in him and his body began to burn, the feeling going up his bitten arm and down into his torso and into his head. Charlie felt a migraine coming on as he stumbled into the living room. “I need to find Jeanine,” he blurted.

  “Dude, we’re going to break a record. Go away,” Sammy said over the shoulder. “She broke up with you.”

  Charlie thought of finding Jeanine and paying Sammy back for eating his Pop-Tarts.

  He sunk his teeth into Sammy’s neck, savoring the taste of revenge and his roommate’s blood in his mouth. He was so hungry. So, so hungry …

  * * * * *

  “Charles Noble,” Doctor Chin said to the bored security officer sitting behind the desk. “He is the reason for the sirens.”

  “He pulled the fire alarm?”

  “No.” Doctor Chin took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There are people running around campus biting everyone. It’s all because of Charles Noble.”

  “Do you want to file a report?” the idiot wannabe cop said, opening desk drawer looking for something. “I’ll get you the form. I don’t know if I have a pen, though. Damn kids are always stealing stuff on my shift.”

  “Is there a supervisor I can talk to?” Doctor Chin asked. He didn’t want this bumbling Keystone Cop to screw this up and not give him the proper credit. He was the one who would break the story about what was going on, linking Charlie to crazy skinhead groups, the area KKK and the local chess club. Those guys were all secretly conspiracy theory guys, Chin thought.

  “I can call him but he’s probably busy. Something weird is going on at the labs.”

  “And that’s exactly why I need to talk to him. I know what’s going on,” Chin said.

  It looked like the guy was finally getting it. He stared at Chin. “So, what you’re in here for has something to do with the craziness at the labs?”

  Doctor Chin put on his most dramatic face and leaned forward, knuckles banging on the desk for emphasis. “It has everything to do with the fate of Indiana.”

  Four

  “He bit me,” Sammy screamed. “Over a Pop-Tart.”

  “Glad he never found out I was banging Jeanine,” Vinnie said.

  “In your dreams,” Jackie said.

  Vinnie shrugged his shoulders. “Dude, you believe what you want to believe. I saw her naked, and not just by looking through the hole in the wall between my bedroom and the bathroom, either. Sh
e took her clothes off for me.”

  “Can somebody help me?” Sammy asked, his blood spurting on the couch as he tried to keep a growling Charlie from biting him again.

  “Go wash it off, dude. I knocked Charlie out for you,” Vinnie said and picked up the game controller.

  “You’re going to keep playing?” Sammy asked.

  “Yeah. Charlie isn’t biting anyone right now and you’re not going to die from a bite. I want to finish this battle.” Vinnie put his headset back on his head and looked at Jack.

  “Go soak your arm or something,” Jack said. “And hurry up. I’m getting hungry and, since you ate the last Pop-Tart, I say we run down for a slice of pizza.”

  “When we finish,” Vinnie said.

  “You guys suck.” Sammy walked past Charlie, who was lying on the floor behind the couch. Vinnie had clubbed him with one of the lamps. If they called the cops, it would only lead to questions and maybe a search of the apartment, which nobody wanted.

  Sammy went into the bathroom and got one of the not-so-dirty rags, turning on the hot water and looking at the bite on the side of his neck. It was bleeding but somehow Charlie had missed chewing into the main artery. It looked worse than it felt, the area already black and blue, bloated with the veins in the area pushing out of his skin. It looked gross but Sammy wasn’t in pain, which was amazing to him. But he needed to go to the hospital before it became infected.

  He cleaned it up as best as he could, the blood no longer flowing. Miraculously, there was a single Band-Aid under the sink and he slapped it on the wound, covering most of it.

  “How ya feelin’, bud?” Vinnie asked when Sammy came back to the living room and sat on the couch in his spot. Vinnie nodded at the controller on the coffee table. “We need you to watch our asses.”