by Sean Kidd
“On three, we sprint the hundred yards across the street to the house, and we don’t stop for anything.” Chevy held out his fist for a bump, and as we made contact he said, “Sounds like a plan Stan!”
“One!”
“Two!”
When I hit three, we jumped out from the bushes, moving at a dead sprint. We both dodged a bird bath and easily cleared the flower garden. Chevy turned at the end of the driveway and wiped out on the loose road gravel. His feet came out from under him. He landed on his left-side ribs, hand, and elbows. The impact from the road forced all the air from Chevy’s lungs, expressing an exaggerated, “Ouch!” There was nothing I could do but stand there, point and laugh at him. I couldn’t control myself. “Ha! Ha! Dude you wiped out so hard!” Chevy picked up a pebble that was laying on the ground by his face and chucked it at me “Stop laughing at me! It really hurts!” I tried to contain myself, but even holding my hand over my mouth the giggles still managed to escape, “Okay, I'm sorry” I said.
Chevy lifted his arm looking for help up, I extended an apologetic hand to pull him up. We locked hands, as I started to give him a pull, someone grabbed my shoulder from behind me. I instinctively released Chevy’s hand and watched as he tumbled over backwards landing on his ass. I spun around to find Mrs. McCarthy standing there.
She was the old lady who doubled as our landlord and insisted on us having the big chest freezer. Mrs. McCarthy, the lady I had known to be sweet, kind, but maybe talked too much, now stood there growling at me with every breath. Her skin was a blackened gray, resembling the color of rotten, bloodless road kill. The old lady’s face and arms were covered with huge black cuts and tears in her skin. There was an even blacker puss oozing from them. I was fixated on her eyes. I’m not sure what color they use to be, but now they swirled a glowing blue and had a gray center that seemed to cast me under their spell. Her mouth opening and closing, like a dog snapping at an annoying fly. Her false teeth had fallen out. Every smack of her impacting jaw gave off the sound of a gummy thump. It disgusted me. I overcame the urge to look away, “Mrs. McCarthy, are you okay?”
She stepped closer and grabbed onto my shoulders pulling me against her. I tried to step back and lost my balance. The old lady refused to release me and fell on top of my chest. I tried to squirm out from under her, but she had already wrapped her legs around me. She hurled her head back and forth beating it against my chest! Her gums bit at me, tearing my shirt away. I felt the cold black ooze dripping from her mouth onto my skin. With every thrust of the old lady’s head, I felt my bare skin being pinched by her toothless gums. I screamed for help, pinned down by the weight and strength of the biting maniac.
I felt the breeze from Chevy’s sneaker as his foot connected with Mrs. McCarthy’s head. The force of Chevy’s kick instantly broke her neck, hurling her off from me, and stopping the attack. She landed on the pavement a couple of feet away. I jumped to my feet, wiping ooze from my chest and watching her. She was on her back, but her nose and mouth were facing the road. Her head was facing 180 degrees in the wrong direction, “Holy shit, Chevy! You killed her!”
Chevy’s face went flush with panic, “She was trying to kill you man! Look at her, she’s all gray, and it's like she’s starting to rot, and she smells so bad! I think she was already dead?”
We stared at Mrs. McCarthy’s lifeless body, “What the hell are we going to do Chevy?” We were trying to come up with a plan while we watched Mrs. McCarthy. She was beginning to moan and working her way back to her feet. We watched in awe when she finally made it up. Her head was hanging on backwards like it was attached with a rubber band. She was looking up at the sky, as though trying to catch a glimpse of an airplane, but her head kept swinging backwards, held on only by the stretched skin of her neck. She lifted her arms straight out, and she started walking towards us again. Chevy and I gave each other a quick look and took off, sprinting for our house.
CHAPTER 17
October 4th 4:55am
The three of them stood there staring at the autopsy table. Miranda lay there dead. Bob walked over and placed his hand on her forehead, “I’m so sorry Miranda.”
“You killed her!” Sophie hollered, visually shaken by the incident, “We could have saved her!”
Bob spun around and snapped back, “I killed her? Are you fucking kidding me? You mean, you killed her with your wonder drug!” Bob tried to control himself realizing he was losing his composure. Dr. Marcil stepped between the two, “At this point, I believe we need to stop blaming each other, and start trying to figure out how we’re going to fix this.” The autopsy room door swung open, as a squad of soldiers burst into the room, “Colonel Aiken, the hospital’s been breached! I have orders to get you out of here A.S.A.P.”
“What do you mean the hospital’s been breached?” Bob asked.
“The dead, Sir. They made it off the floor and out of the hospital, infecting people as they escape.”
“Infecting people with Ebola?” Dr. Marcil asked.
“No, Sir, they’re biting people. After they bite someone, that person turns, and then they attack us too!”
“Turn into what?” Sophie asked.
“Zombies ma’am. With all due respect, I need to get you all out of here, and to the off sight lab we’ve set up for you.”
Bob and the two doctors made their way to the lab with the soldiers. Once there, they worked through the morning trying to re-map the serum. Bob was receiving hourly reports on the Ebola outbreak and the zombie situation. Sophie walked in with the latest update, “Oh my god, Bob! You need to see this.” Sophie handed Bob the updated report, as she turned to Dr. Marcil, “We’ve lost it, Doctor. The CDC is reporting hospitals in every state are being overrun with Ebola patients. They all have the same airborne strain.” Dr. Marcil took the paper from Bob’s hands, “That means they’ve all been infected from our patient zero, which means that he infected everyone on his flights from South Africa, through Europe, to here. “Dr. Marcil put down the paper, walked over to the counter, and dropped his head. Bob thought for a brief second he heard the doctor crying, “What is it Doc?” Dr. Marcil slowly spun around in his lab chair and stopped when he was facing Bob. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, “I’ve just finished re-mapping the ZMapp serum. Anyone who’s been exposed to the ZMapp, that is carrying this Ebola strain, will suffer the same reanimated effects as Miranda. Blood work has concluded that Miranda took a dose of ZMapp. She must have taken it before her nap, thinking it would help protect her against any exposure.” Bob looked up at the doctor, “There’s only one problem with that theory Doctor. Miranda wasn’t exposed to the Ebola virus.” The doctor motioned to Sophie, and she brought over Miranda’s protective hood that had been brought back to the lab with Miranda’s body. The doctor took the hood from Sophie, examined it for a moment and showed it to Bob, “Take a look at this.” Dr. Marcil pulled back the hood lining revealing a small rip in the seam. She must have known about it, but didn’t say anything. After we arrived with the serum, she took it thinking it was her only hope.” Bob’s gut twisted, “Why wouldn’t she say anything about the tear?”
“That’s the least of our worries now.” Dr. Marcil said. “We need to make sure no one infected with Ebola gets this exact ZMapp serum.” Before the doctor finished speaking Bob thought he was going to collapse. Sophie grabbed Bob’s arm to steady him, “What is it, Bob?” Bob closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Operation Thunder Storm!” The two doctors gave each other a confused look and then turned back at Bob again, “What’s Operation Thunder Storm?” Sophie asked. Bob had a defeated look on his face, “General Strong is going to add ZMapp to every water supply in the world.”
“You need to stop him!” Sophie shouted.
Bob had found a chair and was collapsing on it, “It’s already done. We may have just lost this thing.” The room was silent and time seemed to slow until Sophie spoke, “Well not necessarily.” Sophie had the men’s full attention now. “We genetically engin
eered our ZMapp. Why can’t we break it down, back to the basic proteins, and rebuild it from the platform up? I mean we already have the map. Let’s just change the ingredients?” Dr. Marcil responded, “In theory. It's possible, but it would take months, and we’re already out of time.”
“I disagree Doctor. We have the CDC at our disposal, and we can have MARIA start breaking it down while we’re on our way back to Montréal. Bob how long will it take you to get us back to our lab?”
Without hesitation Bob answered, “Six hours!”
Fifteen minutes later, Bob and the two doctors were finished the decontamination procedure and boarded the C-141 Starlifter. Dr. Marcil sat down next to Bob, “How long will it take us to get to Montréal, Bob?” Bob fastened his seatbelt, “Well let’s just say you shouldn’t get too comfortable. This baby cruises at 566 miles per hour.”
Once they were in the air, Bob went to the cockpit and grabbed a Sat-phone. He pushed on the keypad and waited for an answer, “Hello!” An official female’s voice answered on the other end. “This is Colonel Aiken. I need to speak with General Strong.” The female spoke again, “Please hold on Colonel. I am locating him now.” There was a short pause and then a series of clicks and beeps. The phone snapped to life with background noise, “Bob did you get out of there, are you okay? I’ve just been informed the PA site has been compromised!”
“Yes General!” Bob answered. “We got out of there in the nick time. I’m en route to Montréal with Dr. Marcil and Simone.” The General interrupted “Bob, why the hell are you going back to Montréal?”
“Sir, Palo Alto was a catastrophe. The ZMapp didn’t work. You need to stop operation Thunder Storm!” The General started talking over Bob again, “Whoa, Whoa, Whoa Bob. I think you’re over reacting. Let’s just give it some time and see what happens.” Now Bob was interrupting the General, “We saw what happened, Sir! Anyone who’s infected with the virus and comes into contact with Zmapp, will turn in just a few hours!” After a short pause the General asked, “What do you mean, turn?"
“I mean they turn dead, Sir. They die and become reanimated. They come back to life as……zombies....... and they’re hungry. You need to abort the operation!”
There was a long pause by the General, “I’m sorry, Bob. I can’t do that.”
“Listen Ray!” Bob shouted. “You’re going to kill every person on the planet if you don’t stop right now!”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” Bob screamed
“Because the operation’s already been completed, Bob, it’s done.”
CHAPTER 18
October 11th 10:30pm
I slammed the door behind me and peered through the peep hole confirming we hadn’t been followed. I took a second to catch my breath. Chevy took up position, watching out the window next to me.
“I can’t believe what just happened!” I said, as I headed to the kitchen to grab a couple of sodas. When I came out, Chevy was sitting on the edge of the couch with tears in his eyes, “I didn’t mean to kill her.” he mumbled as he gazed up at me. I handed Chevy a soda and tried to console him, “You didn’t kill her Chevy, she got back up after you kicked her,” I said as he popped the top of the soda and nearly downed the whole thing.
“Did you see her head?” he said to me while staring back at the floor. I didn’t say anything at first, I took up position on the couch trying to figure things out for myself. How could she be alive? Her head looked like it was about to fall off and why was she rotting? Chevy stood up, headed for the TV, “What are you doing?” I asked.
Chevy skipped the search for the remote control and was heading straight for the television’s buttons, “I need to find some news. There’s something going on out there, and we’re in the dark right now.” He cycled through the channels twice and couldn’t find anything but static. He dropped back down on the couch next to me and finished the last gulp of his soda. He reached for the antique end table and made a quick search for the remote. Now armed with the television’s clicker, he started cycling through the channels again. Static, static, color bars, and static. “Hey!” I barked, trying to steal Chevy’s attention from the TV, “We need to get our shit together and make a plan.”
“Wait! Go back! Did you hear that?” I caught a voice trying to weave its way through the pixilated screen on the TV. Chevy turned it up, and we both leaned in close, listening for the voice again. Our eyes widened as the voice materialized.
“Hello, Is there anyone out there? Can you hear me?” The voice tapered off and stopped. We picked up a faint second voice talking to the first one, “Don’t give up! Get the message out! There are still people in the world.” The first voice started again, “Okay I’ll try. Hello! Is there anyone out there? If you can receive this, we are in Albany. Ten of us survived the apocalypse and grouped together. We are building a sanctuary here at Albany Medical Center. We have plenty of food and medical supplies. Please be careful. Watch out for the dead! They eat the living. They are slow, but their numbers are overwhelming. The only way to kill them, is to destroy the brain. I repeat the only way to kill them, is to destroy the brain. If they bite you and break the skin, you will turn into a dead in a few hours. The coordinates to our location are 42.655500, -73803881. We will try to rebroadcast every two hours.”
The voice ended. Chevy and I sat there staring at the static screen, “Did you hear what they said?” Chevy bellowed. “The dead are alive, and they want to eat us? Apocalypse?” Chevy stopped talking.
I looked down at my chest pulling my tattered shirt away, “Mrs. McCarthy bit my chest!” I whimpered. A sudden wave of nausea came over me. Chevy reached over and pulled the remaining pieces of shirt back, “Ty, there’s nothing there.” I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. Chevy gave me a light slap on the side of my face, “Hey! Snap out of it, Ty, there aren’t any bites on your chest. She didn’t break the skin. She gummed you.” Chevy teased. “You’re fine.” The tears were still flowing down my cheeks, “Yes, I’m sure, she didn’t bite you, and you’re not going to turn into one of those dead things!” Chevy said as he got up from the couch. I looked at the clock on the wall and made a mental note of the time, thinking to myself that if I was still fine in three hours, then Chevy was right.
We walked into the kitchen and each grabbed a cold piece of pizza. We took a seat at the table with our mouths full.
I washed down my food with a slug of soda, “We need to come up with a good plan.” Chevy nodded his head in agreement. “So let’s go over what we know, those dead want to eat us, and the only way to kill them is to bash their brains in. There are other people out there like us, but they want to steal your truck and bash our brains in. So, my best plan is making it to my parent’s house.” Chevy was listening to me, nodding his head, and was making short work of his crust. “So what’s the plan?” he asked, as he stuffed the remainder of the crust in his mouth. “We grab our backpacks, throw in some food and soda, just in case. Then we head out to your truck and make our way over to my parents. We meet up with Mom and Dad. Dad saves the day, and problem solved.
Chevy raised a finger to his chin as he went over the plan in his head, “Not bad, but I think we need to head over on foot. We have to assume everyone and everything out there is trying to kill us. My truck is so loud, all it’s gonna do is draw attention to us.”
“That’s a good point.” I agreed. Chevy continued,
“Okay, we get dressed in all black. Black pants, black shirt, black hat and gloves. We’ll meet back here in five minutes to pack our backpacks with food. Then, we head the three miles to your parent’s house on foot, and we’ll avoid walking on the streets and open fields. We stick to the yards and stay undercover. This is a total secret mission.” We confirmed the plan with a fist bump and went into action.
CHAPTER 19
October 8th 10:00PM
Now, after a few days back in the McGill lab, Bob was exhausted. He pulled a chair up to Sophie. She was sitting there with her han
ds propping up her head, and her eyes were closed. “You need to get a little sleep.” he said. She turned to him without removing her two arm supports, “I need to figure this thing out so we can save a few lives. It’s been four days, and we’re still no closer to a cure!”
Dr. Marcil walked into the lab looking for Bob and Sophie, “I need you both to come with me.” Dr. Marcil led them into the inner lab that was made up of six inch thick steel walls. “Look at this!” Dr. Marcil said, as he turned on the screen viewer for the electron microscope. He pointed at the screen while he explained, “I’ve re-engineered the serum’s synthetic proteins, changing their DNA. If we process them through the enhanced protein, it will create a new blue print for the ZMapp! We should be able to produce a sample in 48 hours. If this works, we can start dosing within a week!” Bob listened to Dr. Marcil, feeling a sense of Déjà vu, “Listen Doc, let’s make the samples and test it on a handful of sick, before we start getting too excited. It’s still a little early to start jumping for joy.” Dr. Marcil and Sophie started at once by clearing an area for work. “If you and Sophie are going to start working on the serum, then I need to call General Strong with an update.” Bob looked up at the speaker on the ceiling, “MARIA, open the door please, I need to make a phone call.” The speaker above him came to life. “Yes Colonel, may I suggest you make your call in the outer office? If you are planning on using your Sat-Phone you will have the best reception there.” Bob gazed up at the ceiling again, “Yes, thank you, MARIA.” Bob passed through the maze of security checks, effortlessly with MARIA deactivating each of the security systems check points. Once Bob stepped into the office, MARIA came over the speaker again, “Colonel Aiken, I will be deactivating all the sensors in the office for your privacy.” MARIA said, as Bob heard the speaker click off. Bob hit the speed dial and waited for the connection. For the first time in his career, no one picked up on the other end of the secure line. He tried again, after the tenth ring, the General picked up himself, “General Strong here!”
