Middletown Apocalypse

by Brett Abell

  “You have responsibilities to us. We’re your family, Trav. You can’t just …”

  “Honey. Calm down.” He pulled her to him and he felt her trembling. “I can’t leave my people there to try to handle this on their own.”

  “But, what are we supposed to do?” She pulled back from him and he saw the tears start to run down her face. He reached up and wiped them away then pulled her close and kissed her.

  “Take Hunter and go to the cabin. It’s so deep in the woods that even if things get entirely out of hand, you’ll still be safe for a while. If you don’t hear from me after a couple of days, load up and head to your folks’ house.”

  “Get entirely out of hand? Travis, the news was saying that things were already out of hand.”

  The news? His face twisted into confusion then he remembered, they had to subscribe to satellite out here. There was no cable and only two channels over the air. He rushed past her and clicked on the TV. Nothing but static. He glanced to the satellite box and the light was on. “Why isn’t it working?”

  She shrugged. “It went out a while ago. I was watching the news and they were giving reports from people on their phones, showing screen captures from videos taken and sent to them and then suddenly it all went black. All of the channels.”

  “No cartoons either.” Hunter flopped into the chair and sulked.

  “Who has the clout to pull satellite TV signals?” he muttered.

  “I have no idea, but it was enough to make me worry.” She pulled him aside and whispered to him, “There were videos of firemen swinging axes at people. They were coming out of the bank downtown and the firemen were just chopping them to …” Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to recount the story.

  “The bank? Jesus … I sent Jack there.” Travis fell into his chair and stared at the black screen. “Did you see Jack in any of the videos?”

  “Honey, I didn’t see anybody. The images were too blurry. I could barely make out the firemen swinging their axes, and the reporter said that people all around the area were suddenly losing their minds and attacking other people.” She moved in closer and lowered her voice. “They said that they were cannibalizing the corpses. Is that true?”

  Travis slowly nodded, his mind racing to what could have become of Jack. “Yeah, baby. It’s all true.” He stood suddenly and pulled her to him. “I have to get back there. I have to know what’s going on with my people.”

  “Travis, I don’t think we should separate.”

  “We have to.” He glanced to Hunter, who stared at him with fear in his eyes. “Get Hunter to the cabin. If you can get cell signal there, try to call out to your folks and see what the news is saying.”

  “The phones are all dead.”

  “Here they are. I have a feeling that once you get out of Middletown, the signal is just fine.” He picked up the packs and headed for the door. “Grab the rest of your stuff.”

  He marched outside to the Bronco and dropped the tailgate. He tossed in the bags and waited while Hunter and Diane brought out the boxes of food. He slid them into the back and closed the truck again. “Drive Diane. Drive and don’t look back. Get to the cabin and see if you can reach anybody. If I’m not out there in two days, go straight to your parents’ house.”

  “Two days? Travis, I don’t see what difference you can make in two days. Come with us now.” Her eyes pleaded as she fought to keep her voice level.

  “I can’t. I have to ensure my people are safe. Even if it’s to relieve them and send them home. They deserve a chance to check on their family too.”

  Diane hated the idea of him leaving, but she nodded. “Two days, Travis. If you aren’t back, I’m coming for you.”

  “Like hell. If I’m not beating on the door within the next two days, you run.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. If I can break away sooner, I will. If I’m okay and you end up leaving first, then I’ll know to go to your parents’ house.” He pulled her close and held her face. “Promise me.”

  She nodded and pulled him into another embrace. “I love you.”

  “I love you more.” He reached out and pulled Hunter into their group hug. “Take care of your mom.”

  *****

  Mark had been joined by one of the reserve officers and the pair ushered people into the old tornado shelter, checking each of them for black eyes before waving them in. Pamela Howard rushed past him and he reached out for her. She spun back, fear in her eyes. “Okay, you can go.” He waved her on and continued to funnel people inside. “All the way back, push in as close as you can.”

  “Deputy, you realize that this shelter is only designed to hold seventy-five to a hundred people, right? There’s no way we can fit the whole town in here.” Mark turned to see an older man staring at him, his hands planted firmly on his hips.

  Deputy Curtis nodded. “Yes, sir, I am aware of that. I’m also aware that there’s a bomb shelter over at the football field. You’re more than welcome to cross town and use that one if you think you’d be more comfortable.”

  The man gave a furtive glance past him then shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

  “Then I suggest you move to the back and make room for as many as we can get in here.”

  People came in surges. One here, two there, four the next time, but still they came. Young, old, rich, or poor, they all came seeking some kind of shelter from the madness.

  Dalton West, a professor of biological science from the university approached him. “Mark. Is my mother in there? Grace West?”

  “Dalton, no. I haven’t seen her yet. If you’re going to check on her, you need to be quick. We’re filling up fast and we’re gonna have to seal the doors soon.”

  Mark watched him as he turned and took off at a run. As the professor disappeared from view, Deputy Curtis whispered a silent prayer for the man.

  “Who was that?” Dennis Rainey asked.

  Mark glanced toward the reserve officer. “He’s a professor at the school. Pretty good guy, too.”

  Another group rounded the corner and slowed upon seeing the officers at the door. “Is it open? Please tell me it’s open.”

  Mark nodded, “Yeah, it’s almost full, but it’s open. We just need to check your eyes.”

  One by one, they filed through, checked and cleared, then waved to the rear. “Mark, it’s almost full. We should really think about sealing the doors.”

  He looked inside and saw the people standing nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. “Son of a … they’re packed like sardines.”

  “We have to allow a little room, don’t we?” Dennis reached for one of the outer doors and began pulling it shut.

  “What if the next one around that corner is someone from your family, Rainey? Or a girlfriend? Or …”

  “Yeah, I get it.” Dennis stopped pulling and stood with the door still in his hand. “Oh crap.”

  “What?” Mark looked to the man and followed his outstretched arm. “Holy … shut the doors! Shut the doors!”

  The herd of shuffling, black-eyed people that rounded the corner was enough to cause his heart to skip a beat. Mark stuck his head inside. “Keep the noise down. They’re almost here. We don’t want anything to attract them.”

  “Jesus, Mark. They saw us.” Dennis began fighting with the latches on the door when Mark acted without thinking. He jumped outside the doors and pushed them both shut hard, allowing Dennis to latch them. “I’ll come let you know once we’ve taken care of these guys!” He yelled into the seam of the door.

  Mark stepped out toward the middle of the sidewalk and did his best to get the attention of the shuffling crowd. “Yeah, you bloodthirsty bastards. Follow me!” He began to jump up and down and waving his arms as he attempted to lead them away from the shelter.

  Dennis slumped just inside the door and felt the hot tears flow down his cheeks. “Godspeed, buddy.”

  *****

  Rosa fired the shotgun at the hands reaching through the br
oken glass of the rear door. She knew that it would be loud but wasn’t expecting the deafening roar that occurs when shooting inside a closed room. She nearly dropped the shotgun and shook her head to try to stop the ringing. “Come on you filthy beasts! Come at me again. See if I don’t fill your backside with hot buckshot!”

  She racked another round into the gun and shouldered it. A face appeared in the opening and she pulled the trigger, watching as the head disappeared in a red mist that coated the inside of the door and dripped down to the floor.

  She took a half step back and wiped at her face. Her hand came back bloody and she cursed. Apparently, the splatter had gotten her. She reached for her shirt and wiped at her face. “Ow! Son of a …” She blinked rapidly and stared at her shirt. There were only light streaks of red from the blood. So what caused her face to suddenly burn and hurt?

  She reached across the counter and pulled her purse closer. She fumbled with it a moment before pulling out her compact. Flipping it open, she stared into the tiny mirror. Little red dots appeared across her forehead and cheeks. “Blowback from the gunpowder maybe?”

  She ran her finger along the top of her forehead and was surprised at how raw her skin felt. “What the hell?” She noticed that her reflection started to become blurry and she blinked rapidly to bring it back into focus. One of the last things she saw was squiggly black lines crossing the whites of her eyes, filling them with darkness not unlike those she had been shooting at.

  “Oh no …”

  *****

  Travis hit the edge of town and the first thing he noticed was the smell. The air hung heavy with the pungent scent of death. He knew it wouldn’t be long and the smell would turn to that of rot and decay. He shuddered at the thought and pushed on.

  Turning onto side roads, he quickly worked his way back to the station. He pulled a half block short when he saw the dozen or so people trying to force their way in through the door. Blood, gore, and glass were scattered all around their feet.

  “Rosa!” He gunned the engine and rammed two of the monsters with the push bar of his car. He felt one of them go down and under the heavy sedan. He continued driving across the parking area until he was sure he had the others’ attention.

  Stepping from the cruiser, he pulled his shotgun up and began taking aim on each of the monsters. One by one, they fell to the heavy shot of the shotgun. He had to reload twice to get them all. Afterward, he walked back over the two he had run over and used his Glock to put a round into the skulls of the broken monsters. Their bodies may have been broken, but they were still trying to crawl toward him. “Damn things never give up.”

  Travis hit the back door and stared through the destroyed opening. “Rosa!”

  “Don’t come in here, Travis.”

  “Are you hurt?” He began to fish for keys to unlock the door.

  “I got some of their blood on me. My eyes are turning black.” She groaned and he heard something heavy hit the floor. “Don’t let the blood get on you. It’s infected.”

  “Rosa, there has to be something we can do.” He peered into the darkened interior and saw her come to her feet. “Rosa! Let me in so I can help you!”

  She turned and cocked her head to the side. The guttural scream that came from her made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Oh, no …”

  Travis stepped away from the door and pulled his Glock again. Rosa’s face appeared in the broken window of the door, her teeth gnashing at him and her arm trying to reach through to grab him. Travis closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, nothing had changed. She was still screaming at him, nearly chewing her tongue off as she snapped at him just out of reach. He raised the pistol and took aim. One round to the center of her forehead put her down and silenced her pain.

  Travis staggered back to his cruiser and leaned heavily against the fender. “Goddamit!” He slammed his fist against the hood and screamed. “Somebody needs to pay for this.”

  He allowed himself a moment to gather his thoughts. The football field. Darren Rutherford was out there. He slid behind the wheel of the cruiser and pointed it toward the old bomb shelter. Somebody had better have made it or all of this was for nothing. He would have been just as effective if he’d left with Diane and Hunter.

  *****

  Darren Rutherford was doing his best to usher people through the doors of the old bomb shelter. They had to remove a lot of crap that had been shoved into the old building. Apparently, one of the groundskeepers thought that the shelter would make a great place to store broken machinery. People worked in tandem, tossing crap out while Darren checked the newcomers. Although Travis told him to check their eyes, he was convinced the attackers were zombies. He was asking everybody if they had been bitten or scratched. If they had, he directed them to the tornado shelter downtown. People did not like hearing that, but it soon became apparent that his precautions were justified.

  An older couple declared themselves scratch and bite free, only to have the wife turn minutes later. Darren had to put a round through her head and the old man lost his grip on reality. He really thought he’d end up having to shoot the old man until some of the other people subdued him. He was quickly checked for wounds then declared safe.

  Darren searched the infected woman and found an otherwise minor scratch on her shoulder. It had barely broken the skin, yet here they were. Two volunteers carefully carried her body off and stacked it near the broken equipment while her husband wailed her name.

  Darren continued to monitor the incoming people and barely noticed when Sheriff Walton pulled in and parked behind the growing number of cars. He finally noticed the man when he pushed past the few people waiting patiently to get inside. Travis pulled Darren aside and tried his best to keep his voice low. “Rosa’s gone.”

  “Where’d she go?” It took Darren a moment to catch the sheriff’s meaning and it wasn’t until he saw the firm set of his jaw and the sadness in his eyes that he understood. “Oh, jeez, Sheriff, I’m sorry. How’d it happen?”

  Travis shook his head and ran his hands through his wavy hair. “I don’t understand it. She said she got the blood on her.” He turned worried eyes to the man beside him. “Apparently this thing is blood-borne.”

  “And it can also be spread through bites and scratches.” Darren hooked his thumb toward the small stack of bodies near the broken equipment. “We just had to put down a woman who got infected by a scratch.”

  Travis stared at the stack of bodies and shook his head. “This is insane. Bites, scratches, blood? How do you fight something like this?”

  Darren opened his mouth to reply when screams erupted from within the bomb shelter. He pushed past the sheriff and entered the narrow doorway. “What the hell is …” He pulled up short and stared at the scene before him. Two men were holding back a third man and a woman lay on the floor holding her bloody neck with her hand, doing her best to staunch the flow.

  “He just went nuts and attacked her!” one of the men yelled above the hubbub.

  “Get that man outside!” Darren yelled. “The woman too!”

  “No, wait. I didn’t do anything wrong.” She tried to get to her feet and shook her head as she slowly began backing away.

  “Now! Don’t get blood on you if you can avoid it!” Darren grabbed the woman by the arm and all but dragged her outside.

  “What the hell is going on in there?” Travis asked as Darren appeared in the entry. He continued to try to hold back the short line of people wanting to force their way in.

  “One of the men who carried the woman’s body out turned. He attacked this woman here.” Darren spun her around to face the sheriff and her hand slipped from her neck. She stared vacantly at the man before her then opened her mouth to scream, lunging forward and out of Darren’s grip.

  Travis sidestepped her feeble attack and brought the shotgun stock to her shoulder, pushing her further from him. “She’s infected!”

  He spun the shotgun around and brought it t
o bear just as Darren’s pistol barked, sending the contents of her skull splattering across the concrete. She crumpled at the sheriff’s feet and he sidestepped again to avoid any spillage.

  “Somebody help with this guy!”

  Darren spun to see the two men doing their best to hold the volunteer by the arms. The man was barking and snapping at both men, his arms jerking to try to pull them closer. Travis stepped past him and yelled, “Let go!”

  He planted a foot in the man’s midsection and kicked him back and away from the other two. He brought the shotgun up and pulled the trigger, obliterating the right side of the man’s face and skull. Travis spun and leveled the shotgun on the two other men. “Check yourselves. Make sure you don’t have any blood anywhere on you.”

  “What? We were just …”

  Darren stepped beside the sheriff and leveled his pistol, essentially cutting off their argument. “Do what he said.”

  Both men held out their arms and searched, praying there was no blood to be seen. Darren turned to Travis and whispered, “I’ll hold these guys here for a bit and make sure they don’t turn. Make sure nobody else inside got any of her blood on them. I don’t want to think what would happen if that stuff got loose on so many people in a tight area with only one way out.”

  Travis racked another round into his shotgun and stepped into the dimly lit interior. “Back. Get away from her blood.” He leveled the shotgun on the people closest to him. “Spread the word, everybody check themselves for blood. Whatever this is, it’s blood-borne.”

  A woman stepped forward holding a white bottle. “Sheriff. I found this bottle of bleach on the shelves in the back. Will it kill whatever ‘it’ is?”

  “It beats nothing.” He nodded toward the blood spilt on the floor. “Splash some around anywhere you see blood.” He stepped forward and looked again toward the people at the front of the shelter. “Any blood on your bodies?”

  The majority shook their head, a few muttered “no.” He stared at the front line a moment longer then slowly backed toward the door. “Darren, I’m not liking this. This is too volatile.”