Angie and John lived in post housing, and their home was only a few minutes away from the commissary, but the traffic was unusually busy today. She was about eight cars back from a stop light with several more behind her. The other side of the street was equally jammed up. She had no idea what was going on, but as she looked into some of the cars around her, she noticed that several of them were packed full of supplies and loaded with family members. It was a Tuesday, so it seemed like an odd time for people to start out on a trip, but a lot of people were definitely headed somewhere, and with the intent to stay gone for some time. Where is everyone going? Angie wondered.
Just as the traffic started to move forward again, slowly, Angie heard sirens from multiple directions. A military police car came flying by her car on the right side, using the shoulder to bypass the traffic. Shortly after, an ambulance came barreling down the road in the opposite direction. She figured that there were some accidents and that must be the cause of all the stalled traffic. Several minutes later she finally pulled into the parking lot of the commissary.
If the roads were bad, the commissary parking lot was worse. There were dozens of cars waiting in line to find an empty spot. Angie saw many people coming out of the store with cart loads of groceries and many more running from their parked cars to get inside. It was madness. The traffic in the parking lot was completely jammed up at this point and she was blocked in. She turned on the radio and tuned into a local news broadcast. An emergency broadcast was playing over and over on a loop.
“THIS IS THE EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM. THIS IS NOT A TEST. THE GOVERNOR HAS IMPOSED A STATE OF EMERGENCY. ALL CIVILIANS ARE INSTRUCTED TO REMAIN INSIDE THEIR HOMES. ALL NATIONAL GUARD, ACTIVE DUTY MILITARY PERSONNEL, LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICIALS, EMERGENCY MEDICAL PERSONNEL, AND FIRE AND RESCUE ARE INSTRUCTED TO REPORT TO THEIR PLACE OF OFFICIAL DUTY FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. LOCK YOUR DOORS AND AVOID CONTACT WITH OTHER PEOPLE UNTIL THIS STATE OF EMERGENCY HAS ENDED. DO NOT OPEN YOUR DOORS FOR ANYONE YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE AND ESPECIALLY TO ANYONE WHO LOOKS SICK. THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE ARE INFECTED WITH AN UNKNOWN VIRUS. NUMEROUS REPORTS OF VICTIMS BECOMING VIOLENT AND HOMICIDAL WHEN NEAR DEATH. BE PREPARED TO DEFEND YOURSELF IF NECESSARY. FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS WILL BE AIRED AS THIS SITUATION DEVELOPS. STAY TUNED TO THIS STATION FOR UPDATED INFORMATION. THIS IS THE EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM. THIS IS NOT A TEST…”
Angie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It all seemed crazy and impossible. She looked in her rearview mirror at her son, he had drifted off to sleep in his car seat. Angie was scared. She wished John was there with them, he would know what to do. She saw a fleeting shadow in the mirror as she was looking at Sam and turned in her seat to try and catch a glimpse of what it was. It appeared to be someone chasing after someone else. The pursuer ambled towards the fleeing person with arms outstretched. Angie jumped as she was startled by a scream to her front. She saw a man barrel into a woman and tackle her to the ground. Angie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She wanted to get out and help, but she couldn’t ignore the warnings on the radio, not to mention, Sam was sleeping in the back. The man and woman wrestled on the ground only a hundred yards to Angie’s front and she thought she saw blood flying through the air, coming from in-between them. She was paralyzed from the shock of watching their melee, until a loud bang on her window brought her out of the trance.
There was a man banging on her window and snarling at her like a rabid dog. The noise had startled Sam awake and he started crying hysterically from the back seat. She instinctively diverted her attention from the madman to her son, but seeing he was okay, quickly looked back to her would-be attacker. He didn’t look right at all. The skin of his face was strangely discolored. His hair was unkempt and his clothes were disheveled. He had caked blood under his eyes, around his mouth, down his chin, and all over his shirt. His facial expression was visceral, like a wild animal. His eyes were the most disturbing part. They didn’t look human. All color was lost except for a pair of milky grey pupils. They looked like something from out of this world. Angie panicked. Her car was still boxed in, but she had to protect her son. She threw the transmission into reverse and floored the pedal. Her car slammed into the car behind her with enough momentum to push it back and give her some room for maneuver. The crazy man that was pounding on her window was knocked to the ground as she plowed her way back and forth trying desperately to find an opening. After several collisions and just as many dents, Angie managed to find her opening and sped towards the road that would take her back home. She looked in her mirror, just as a man stepped out of his car to wave his fist her way. Her aggressor lost interest in her fleeing vehicle and went for the man that exited his car. The maniac was on top of him almost instantly, taking him to the ground. It looked like the psycho was trying to bite his new victim.
Angie ignored the normal traffic laws and just drove around all of the stalled vehicles between the commissary and her home. She drove on the shoulder, ran right over medians, plowed through a few road signs, and even drove right through a yard or two until she reached her home. Along the way, she spotted a few people behaving in the same violent manner as the crazy man back in the commissary parking lot, they were either chasing or attacking other people. She was scared out of her mind. She pulled into the drive way of her housing unit and quickly shut off the car. She got out and ran around the side to retrieve Sam. Once she had unloaded her son and had him securely in her arms, she headed for the door. As she hurriedly walked up the driveway, towards the house, she noticed one of her neighbors, a friend.
“Julie,” She yelled. “you need to get inside. Did you hear the broadcast?” Angie asked her. “I have already seen a few of these crazies trying to attack people.”
Julie snapped her head around at the sound of Angie’s voice. She didn’t reply, but instead, started moving towards Angie. She was walking quickly, but in a strange manner, like she was all stiff or something.
“Julie, what’s wrong?” Angie asked.
As she drew closer, Angie noticed that she had blood all on her forearm. The neighbor reached both hands towards Angie and started to move faster. She let out a guttural snarl and started clawing the air and she got even closer. Angie realized that her neighbor, her friend, must be infected. She turned quickly and ran for the door. She tried to put the key in the lock, but she was shaking uncontrollably. The keys fell to the ground in front of the door and Angie started to panic as she stooped down to get them. She glanced back as her aggressive neighbor got even closer. She was terrified, but pushed through it, picked up the keys, unlocked the door and rushed inside. Angie slammed the door behind them. Julie banged hard on the other side of the door just after she locked it. Her neighbor outside continued to slam on her door like a maniac. Angie put her back to the door and slid down to the floor, clutching Sam tightly.
What in the hell is going on? she wondered.
CHAPTER 3
John slowly opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred. He brought his hands up to rub his eyes and found that his arms ached from the movement, as if he hadn’t used them in some time. After several minutes his vision started to clear. He looked around and found himself in a very unfamiliar setting. He was in a dark room and was lying on a bed. The room had no windows and the only light was filtering in through the cracks of a single door. The light was not very bright, so he assumed it was coming from an adjacent room. The room was bare of any furniture, except for a single chair and the bed he was laying in. The walls were completely bare. There wasn’t a single piece of evidence present that could give him a clue to his current location or situation.
John sat up in the bed, but doing so was difficult; his whole body was sore. The last thing he could remember was that his platoon was attacked and then there was a rocket propelled grenade coming right at him. John realized that his tactical gear was gone, but his uniform top was draped on the back of the wooden chair in the corner of the room. He had no idea how long he had been out, but he quickly realized that someo
ne had been treating his wounded leg. He pulled his pant leg all the way up and noticed that the bandage he had applied was gone and in its place was a clean wrapping, tightly wound around his wounded leg. Someone had changed it recently. There was a catheter in his right forearm that was attached to an almost empty IV bag. He remembered that he had sprained his wrist, so he rotated it; it was sore, but the sharp pains that were present before were gone.
John pulled the catheter out of his arm and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The bed responded to his sudden movement with loud squeaking noises which startled John, as it was the first sound he had heard since regaining consciousness. He cautiously shifted his weight to his feet and tried to slowly stand up. He couldn’t figure out why it was so difficult to stand, but he could only guess that he had been unconscious for several days. After much effort, he discovered that his legs, even the wounded one, would indeed hold his weight, though the effort made him dizzy. He took a minute to gain his balance before taking a step towards the door.
John slowly advanced toward the door, but stopped a couple of feet before it. He took another look around the room, looking for any clue that might help him figure out where he might be. He noticed that the walls were constructed of mud brick; he knew this was typical of dwellings in Afghanistan. There were no other indicators within the room, but from this single clue alone, he knew he wasn’t on his military base, or any other military base for that matter. He didn’t know if any of his platoon members had also survived the attack, but he desperately hoped that some local villager had found him wounded and brought him under their protection. The alternative was not promising; he might be a prisoner of the Taliban insurgents that had attacked his convoy. John crept up to the door and placed his ear to the wood surface.
He closed his eyes so that he could better focus his hearing, listening for any sounds coming from the adjacent corridor. John didn’t hear anything at first, but as he focused his hearing more, he barely heard muffled conversation in what he believed to be Pashto. Pashto is one of two official languages spoken in Afghanistan. For all he knew it could have been Dari, a Persian language which is the other official language of Afghanistan. What John could tell for sure is that the voices were coming from a different room than the one next to his own, so he knew that the structure he was in contained more than two rooms.
John was scared, but he couldn’t just stand in this room and do nothing. His first instinct was to get out of this room, but he wasn’t sure what was beyond this door. He grasped the latch and slowly tried to open the door, but it was securely locked. He knew that he would invite disaster if he tried to force the door open and he still held hope that these were innocent villagers that had chosen to help him, though deep down he doubted that was the case, especially since the door was locked. Still, he had to find out more.
“Hello…can someone help me?” John shouted while knocking on the door.
For several minutes, nothing happened, but the muffled conversation he heard before came to an abrupt stop.
“Please help me, I don’t know where I am.” John pleaded to anyone who might be listening.
After another minute or two, John heard heavy footsteps moving towards the room he was in. John backed up from the door just before it burst open. A man fully garbed in the black clothing he remembered from the attack rushed into the room. He was holding an AK-47 and used it to shove John to the ground. John landed hard on the floor and raised both hands to protect his face and head. The man glowered at John as he lay flat on his back.
“American scum! You are a prisoner of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan. Your country fails to recognize the legitimacy of our governance.” Stated the man. “Soon you will make a statement to your government demanding that your president publicly proclaims our right to govern our country in exchange for your release. Many of your comrades have already made this statement and have been released as promised. You will be treated well, as long as you cooperate. Remain here, stay still, stay quiet…you will be given food and water shortly.”
With that, the man abruptly left the room and locked the door behind him. John was afraid, very afraid. He crawled backwards to the edge of the bed and pulled himself to a sitting position on its edge. John had no intention of making any statement to aid their cause, but he was terrified of the consequences. He doubted he would be released in any case. He knew that very few prisoners of the Taliban had ever been released and he understood that it was his duty to resist his captor’s demands. He resolved to fulfill that duty, but in the moment, all he could think about was that he would never see his wife and child again.
John laid on the bed for several hours, his mind racing. He had no idea what day it was or if it was daytime or night. He wondered if anyone else had survived the attack on his convoy or if his unit was out looking for him. Mostly, he wondered if his wife was aware that he was missing in action and if they were okay. He had no idea how much time had passed since the attack. He remembered the conversation he had with his wife before going on the patrol and the reports about the virus they discussed. He prayed that his wife and son were not sick; he prayed that the government had found a cure. As the time passed, he accepted his situation and accepted the fact that he would most likely never see them again. His fear was replaced by anger, his anger by sadness, then the fear returned; he was on an emotional roller coaster, but after a while, he fell asleep once again.
CHAPTER 4
Angie was sitting at the kitchen table, inventorying their remaining food. It had been two full weeks since the incident at the commissary, and she and Sam hadn’t stepped foot outside of their house since. There had been no updates to what was going on outside, but regular inspection of the street in front of the house had confirmed her nightmare, the sick still roamed the neighborhood. She had watched them move around outside closely over the past two weeks, and by this time, she had her suspicions about what this might be. Angie had seen enough zombie movies to guess the truth of things, but who could fathom that such fiction could possibly come to fruition.
There had been news on every channel for two days after she and Sam had made it back to their home. The reports were filled with similar attacks to what she had seen at the commissary, but on a global scale. The reporters and news casters even started using the term zombies to describe the inflicted. Two days after she escaped the commissary parking lot, all the channels reverted to the emergency broadcast, all live reporting had ceased. The emergency broadcast continued to loop for about a week, then there was only static on every channel. Angie scoured the internet for news, and it was clear that the zombie epidemic was being reported from all over the world. Naysayers and doomsday preppers were calling it the zombie apocalypse in their various blogs. She looked for any reporting from Afghanistan, but there was nothing to be found. The next day, the phone line went dead and her cell phone lost its signal. The day after that, the power went off.
Angie had the sense to ration their food from the moment they returned to the house. Before the power went off, she had the foresight to fill every container she could find in the house with water from the tap. She had prepared meals for herself and Sam using all the perishable food first, and once that was gone, she switched to the dry goods. She saved the canned goods for last, and that was what Angie and Sam were down to now. She figured they had maybe four or five days’ worth of rations left, even longer if she reduced their meals to once a day, which she had decided to do at this point.
Angie was near desperation with no news on how the situation was developing or if the government was getting it under control. Sam was mostly just confused. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t go outside to play, or why he couldn’t watch TV, but Angie tried to keep him occupied with toys and games. She didn’t have a whole lot else to do in any case. She finished up her inventory, then went to the living room to check on Sam.
Angie had moved all the heavy furniture to the windows and had barricaded the door with the couch. She had
done the same in all the rooms on the ground floor of the house. Sam was sitting on the floor in front of the powerless TV, putting together a puzzle and singing one of his favorite nursery rhymes. Angie leaned against the wall and watched him. She was worried that the situation would sap his innocence all too quickly, but she was glad that he could sit there and play in the meantime. She was startled from her contemplation by a loud banging on the front door.
Angie’s first thought was that there was a zombie trying to get into their house, but then realized that there was a pattern to the loud knocking. She ran to the window and carefully peeked outside to identify the unknown visitor.
“Oh, my god, it’s Jerry.” She said out loud to herself. “Go upstairs Sam.” She didn’t want Sam anywhere near that door when she opened it.
“Yes mommy.” Sam obediently replied and then ran up the stairs to his room.
Angie grabbed the end of the couch and slid it away from the door as the knocking continued. She unlocked the door, opened it, and quickly ushered John’s father inside. She locked the door again after he was safely inside and pushed the couch back against the door. Angie was shocked to see her father-in-law, but was elated to see another living human being after being locked inside for two weeks. She jumped into his arms and squeezed with all her might.
“What’s going on Jerry? How did you get here? Where is Michelle? Oh, my god, I’m so happy to see you.” Angie blurted out in succession.
Michelle was John’s mom, and they lived only a few hours away in a small-town east of Tucson, Arizona. The same town where both Angie and John had grown up. Angie wondered why he was alone.
“Hi Angie.” Jerry said with a barely visible smile. “You and Sam are ok?”
“We are fine, better now that you are here.” Angie replied. “It has been lonely, and we are getting low on food. Where is Michelle? Do you know if my parents are ok?” She asked.
A World Apart (Part 1): 8,000 Miles Page 2
