Middletown Apocalypse

by Brett Abell

  In her hand was a piece of a severed hand; just the thumb and forefinger. There was a two-color gold ring on the thumb. It was a woman’s hand.

  Behind him, Pam screamed. The crazed Ainsley charged him and West raised his leg and kicked her in the chest, sending her staggering backward and tumbling onto the ground. Turning toward Pam, he ran, the knife gripped in his hand. West was shocked to see the man he’d just stabbed in the stomach reaching for her, unfazed by what should have been a debilitating wound.

  West jabbed the long blade into the thing’s side and yanked the handle, spinning the man away from Pam. The black-eyed thing stared at him for a second as though trying to determine his nature, then his gore-riddled mouth stretched open in a choking scream as he charged forward yet again. West raised the knife and stabbed him under the chin, the long blade plunging upward into his brain.

  His legs immediately folded and the creature crumpled to the ground and lay still. Behind him, a younger man with several facial piercings and heavy tattoos ran staggered toward him, mouth agape and the now familiar choking scream emitting from his throat. West threw his arm out blindly, his knife jamming deep into the young man’s right ear. He, too, went limp and dropped.

  It’s the head, thought West. He didn’t have time to think anything else. He heard a higher-pitched scream and turned to see Professor Ainsley, back on her feet and reaching for him. Instinctively, he slashed with the blade and her head hinged backward like a Pez dispenser. Black-red ooze spilled down her chest as she collapsed to the ground and lay still.

  The other creatures that had been moving toward them had apparently found other targets, for he and Pam were in the clear for the moment. West could see the front entry of the main building now, and he immediately thought of Sally Lauster, trapped in her office. He couldn’t leave her there if she had managed to stay alive.

  West ran back to Pam, who held her knife and spun around in circles, her eyes wide with fear and panic. He stopped a couple of feet away, his hand out and said, “Pamela, it’s okay. We have to go. We need to run.”

  Her eyes slowly lifted to stare at his face, and he saw only emptiness there. She was young and she was understandably terrified. As he watched, her eyes swam into focus. “Professor West?” she said, her voice weak and small.

  He went to her and put an arm over her shoulder. “C’mon, Pam. We need to run and you have to keep up. We need to get somewhere safe, and we need to do it now!”

  She just stared at him. West grabbed her arm and pulled her as he broke into a run. “Keep up, Pam! Run!”

  “Hold on, hold on!” she shouted, stopping briefly while she kicked her shoes off. “Okay!”

  They ran side-by-side and she matched his speed then. As they approached the steps at the front entry, a young man of perhaps nineteen years called, “Professor West!”

  West glanced at the man and was about to tell him to run toward them, but a staggering woman in a mustard-colored pantsuit emerged from behind a column, her arms outstretched. She was a foot away by the time the student saw her, and her mouth clamped down on his neck before he could react.

  As she tore away his flesh and the jettison of blood spurted from his jugular vein, he let out a garbled scream and fell to the concrete steps, his head taking the brunt of the impact. The ravaged woman in the pantsuit went down with him, her hands clutching to him wherever she could grip, her mouth moving in for more of his tender flesh.

  The cluster of their bodies rolled down to the bottom of the steps; the young man had been knocked unconscious from the blow to his head, and West was glad he would not be awake to feel the pain of being consumed alive.

  His attacker did not seem fazed in any way by the tumble down the steps.

  “God!” shouted West, and pulled Pam up the steps behind him as they dodged around another afflicted student who was on the ground feeding on a body so ravaged that West couldn’t understand how so much damage had been done to it in the short time this thing had been going on.

  These things were feeding machines.

  The chancellor’s office was on the first floor on the west side of the building.

  “We need to get to the bunker at the football field!” shouted Pam, as West pulled her into the building.

  “No, we need to get to Sally Lauster first!” insisted West. “Then I’m going to the old bunker at City Hall. It’s by my mom’s house, and I have to see to her.”

  “If we don’t go now, we’ll die!” shouted Pam.

  West ignored her for the moment. They had not reached the main hall yet, but he stopped just inside the doors. He took Pam by the shoulders and said, “If you were in Sally Lauster’s position, Pam, I’d come for you, too. Go if you want, but if she’s still safe, I’m getting her out!”

  Pam’s face contorted and tears flooded from her eyes. “I’m scared!” she blubbered. “I feel like I’m going crazy, Professor West!”

  “Everything’s gone crazy, Pam! This is crazy! We need to work together!”

  Pam nodded quickly, lowering her eyes. West pulled her further inside and they reached the hallway. He scanned in both directions and saw several bodies splayed on the floor, with others hunched over them. Two of the world’s newest monsters turned to see them and got to their feet. They ran. Not shambling and slow like the fictional zombies West had always watched in movies; some of these things were focused, fast and strong; it was becoming clear that the younger ones could pour on speed when driven by what they deemed food; nourishment.

  People.

  A small reference room set up with six computers that could be reserved for research was just to their right. It had a large, glass window, and there appeared to be one person moving inside. West said, “Come on!” He ran into the room pulling Pam behind him and closed the door. There was no lock on the inside, so he grabbed one of the chairs and leaned it beneath the knob.

  “Dalton!” called Pam, her use of his first name reminding him of her past advances.

  He turned away from the door and saw a man in a janitor’s uniform moving toward Pam. She was cornered with no way of escape. West knew if he tried to go around the edges of the room it would be too late.

  He leapt up on the first row of desks and leapfrogged over the acoustic dividing panel to the next desk, then launched himself into the air, his blade pointed downward. As the long blade point met the head of the advancing creature, it bounced off his hard skull and dragged down the side of his head, plunging into his neck where it met the janitor’s shoulder.

  The thing’s head immediately dropped so that its left cheek rested on its shoulder, and it spun around and fell. Equilibrium was still required to stand up, and the man-thing had clearly lost it. When he dropped to the floor, West withdrew the blade and jammed it into his ear, which had been effective earlier.

  It stopped moving. Pam threw her arms around West and he toppled backward. He dropped the knife and just held the young student until she stopped shaking.

  Her tears soaked his cheek and shirt.

  *****

  West scooted into a sitting position and consoled Pamela as long as he dared, but there wasn’t time. He got her into a chair and said, “Just breathe. I’m going to try calling the chancellor.”

  He went to the inter-building phone and lifted it, dialing Sally Lauster’s extension. She picked it up before a full ring sounded. “Hello?” came her desperation-tinged voice.

  “Sally, it’s Dalton.”

  “Dalton! Where are you? What’s going on out there?”

  “It’s a melee, Sally. This infection, whatever it is, has spread so fast I can’t even put it into words. This is horrible. The infected ones are crazed, cannibalistic. They’re attacking everyone who isn’t sick.”

  “Are the police here?” asked Sally.

  “No. So far, there’s no help at all,” said West. “But we’re coming for you.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me and Pamela Howard.”

  “She’s still with you
?”

  “Yeah. We got out of the lab through the trash chute. Do you hear anything outside your door?” asked West.

  “Hold on,” said Sally. She came back on a second later. “Yes. Like a scraping sound. I don’t know what it is.”

  “Do you have anything you can use as a weapon?”

  “Not that I can think of,” said Sally. “My purse, maybe.”

  “That’ll get you about five feet, Sally,” said West. He glanced at Pam, who had squeezed his arm. “What is it?”

  “The knight,” said Pam, squeezing even harder.

  West didn’t understand. “What knight?”

  “The mascot. The medieval knight in the hall trophy case. He’s got a big sword.”

  It was an excellent idea, plus it was just outside the door in a large, glass-fronted case straight across from the main entrance.

  “Good idea,” he said. “Sally, we just figured something out, so be ready. When we get there, you just open the door and run out. We’ll need to move fast.”

  “Okay. Hurry!”

  West hung up and said, “You ready?”

  “Maybe you get the sword first, then I’ll come out?”

  West nodded. “Okay. Stay here and close the door behind me. Watch me through the glass. If anything happens and I don’t make it back in, just be smart and stay alive.”

  West pulled open the door without waiting for Pam to respond. He charged into the hallway and in a full run, raised his leg and kicked the glass front of the case.

  The crack was louder than West expected as the glass shattered into thousands of crystalline fragments and spread out on the floor like a cascading frozen waterfall. The tall knight stood like a sentry in its suit of armor, complete with chainmail sleeves, and a crest-shaped shield emblazoned with a cross.

  West focused on the sword. He’d never seen anyone remove it before, and he wasn’t even sure it would come off.

  The dragging footfalls moving toward him told of the deadly encounter he would soon face. West leaned in, his feet slipping in the shifting glass, and grabbed the sword’s handle.

  It wouldn’t budge. He jerked it back and forth in its scabbard, his nerves growing more tense with each passing second. His eyes fell to a single setscrew that had been inserted at some point to prevent anyone from doing exactly what he was attempting.

  The steps grew louder, and he could now hear the gurgling screams as the creatures drew nearer to him from both sides. He dropped his knife for the moment and slammed the palm of his hand into the shaft of the sword repeatedly, until he heard something snap.

  West glanced to his right. The gurgling creature was three steps away. He did not even take the time to look to his left, but grabbed the sword and yanked it hard. It slid from the scabbard and he toppled backward as it came free.

  He slid on his back atop the broken squares of glass, continuing to scramble away from the trophy case as the four creatures that had been running toward him from east and west rammed into one another, two of them banging their skulls together so hard it sounded like wooden mallets colliding. They spun sideways and fell into the glass case, bringing trophies and the huge knight crashing down.

  West, gripping the huge broadsword, rolled to his right as the armored knight slammed into the floor. He hurried to his feet and gripped the heavy, ancient sword. It weighed more than he expected; nobody had ever actually held the thing as far as he knew. It didn’t matter; the adrenaline coursing through his veins allowed him to draw it back easily as the creatures now regained their footing and moved toward him with malicious intent. He drew the sword back and swung it with all his might from right to left.

  The heavy blade hit neck after neck, taking out three of the four monsters with one tremendous blow. Their heads danced from their necks amidst spattering blood droplets, spinning in mid-air before toppling to the floor and rolling to squishy, sickening stops. West’s eyes darted from the single survivor of his onslaught to the heads on the floor. Now he fought to cling to his own sanity.

  The heads were alive. Eyes moving. Tongues lolling. Teeth gnashing.

  He swung the sword again, this time bringing it down on the head of the young, infected female student, who may have been all of eighteen years old; a freshman, no doubt. The blade cut from the top of her skull, splitting her head just inside of her left eye, running down the left side of her nose, and slicing her mouth and chin in two.

  Dizziness came over West then as he turned back to the door. He tried to open it, but the chair was back in place. Pam stood inside, staring at him. She did not move to open the door.

  West pounded on the glass. “Pam! Open the door! We have to go!”

  She stood there staring at him, shaking her head back and forth.

  “Pammy, do you want to die?” he said, trying to be calm as he used the name he had called her on the two occasions he had returned her flirtations. His eyes darted to the left. More of the monsters were moving down the hall toward him. They had to go now.

  “Pam, please,” he said. She still didn’t move. He raised the sword and slammed the butt of it into the glass and it shattered with the same shrill crash as the case. He leaned in and threw and arm around her, dragging her through the large window and into the hall.

  The jagged edge sliced her legs and she screamed and fought him.

  “Get your feet under you and run!” he shouted, and took off. A second later, he heard her footfalls behind him and it gave him the confidence to run harder. A few moments later he reached the chancellor’s door and saw what caused the scraping Sally had described on the phone.

  Paul Runyon, one of the guidance counselors, was splayed open on his back just outside the door. He was clearly dead, and one of the ravenous infected students had his face buried in Runyon’s midsection. The feeding creature’s feet pushed against the chancellor’s door as though trying to gain a foothold that might actually allow it to crawl inside Runyon’s shredded body.

  West held the sword with both hands and brought the blade straight down into its skull. It went limp and fell still.

  Runyon’s key was in the lock of Chancellor Lauster’s door. West knocked twice and turned the key, pulling the door open.

  “Oh!” shouted Lauster, when she saw West and Pam. “How did you – the door was locked!”

  “Paul had the key in your door when he was attacked. C’mon, Sally! We need to get to the bunker at City Hall.”

  “That’s the south end of town!” said Lauster. She was a brunette with wisps of grey; mid-forties, a very smart and attractive woman. She had earned her degree in constitutional law and legal history, but had forgone her initial intention of becoming an attorney when she was approached to head up Middletown University. She had grown up in Middletown, and never really wanted to leave, so she took the road that would make her happier.

  West respected her story; she could have made huge bucks as an attorney or won a seat to congress – perhaps even the White House one day – had she wanted to. Instead, she chose her hometown.

  As they ran down the hall, West in the lead with the sword and Pam bringing up the rear with her smaller knife, he asked, “Have you got your car keys, Sally?”

  “Right here,” said Sally, her voice straining as she ran. She held them up. “My car’s in the main lot. You know where my space is,” she said.

  “Good, good,” said West. He turned right at the smashed mascot case and bolted down the stairs. The coast wasn’t quite clear. A young man approached him, his eyes wild and black, his clothing covered in gore and blood.

  West stopped short, the sword dragging on the steps at his feet.

  It was Charlie Noble. It was a moment of realization. This whole thing; all of it. It started with the package. The FedEx driver had gotten whatever had been inside on his hands, according to Charlie. So had Charlie, obviously, and his T.A. had spread it to an untold number of students and staff.

  The chain reaction was a fast ripple spreading across a giant pond of humanity
, turning everyone it came in contact with into cannibalistic monsters.

  No. Zombies.

  These thoughts came in a split-second. With a single glance behind him to make sure Pam and Sally were clear, Dalton West swung the broadsword in a flat arc, slicing the head cleanly from Charlie Noble’s body. His frame collapsed and his head tumbled down the remaining six steps before coming to rest.

  West did not look to see if it was alive; he knew it would be.

  Nothing made sense. “Come on!” he shouted, leaping down the rest of the steps and hitting the sidewalk. He turned. “Sally, toss me your keys!”

  She did, and he jumped slightly to catch them. The women had reached the bottom of the steps now and ran toward her bright red, Audi SUV. As they neared the vehicle, it unlocked with a double chirp.

  Both women reached the rear doors first and jumped into the back seat. West scrambled into the driver’s seat and yanked the door closed, locking it just before five of the creatures slammed into the vehicle’s exterior, clawing at the glass. Pam screamed, “No! No! Leave us alone!”

  “We’re safe, Pam,” said West, reaching back to squeeze her hand. “We’re okay.” He fired the engine and threw the car into reverse.

  With a double thump, the creatures behind the car folded beneath the bumper and the wheels stutter-jumped over their bodies as West cranked the steering wheel to execute his two-point turn out of the parking space. More of the mindless, infected men and women moved toward the SUV, some charging full speed, some staggering as though barely able to stay upright. West gassed it and zigzagged back and forth to avoid crashing the Audi into them. He reached Highway 236 and cranked the wheel hard left, fishtailing the rear end of the sports utility vehicle as he pushed the pedal to the floor.

  Several cars sat disabled in the middle of the roadway, and others had crashed into various trees, signs and buildings. When Dalton reached the corner of the 236 and North 8 Street, he turned the wheel right and immediately skidded to a stop.