The Undead World (Book 2): The Apocalypse Survivors

by Meredith, Peter

  With no other option they ran, though they did so without aim or direction, fleeing from constant danger instead of toward some place of safety.

  Somehow in the maze they were turned back to the barn clearing where a wall of zombies stretching across the view greeted them. "No, go...back," Neil gasped, grabbing Sadie's shirt and pulling. She spun to the left and led them, zigging and zagging around the zombies. Neil benefitted from the confusion she wrought. With their limited brain power the zombies fixated on the human in front and, for the most part, didn't even seem to notice him. Sometimes he found himself running next to zombies or just behind them. After five minutes he was so exhausted that he could barely muster the energy to care.

  The headlong escape could not last forever. Neil was flagging and dizzy, stumbling like a zombie himself, while Sadie was breathing deeply and sweating up a storm.

  "Go...on," he wheezed. His legs were as stone and his feet unresponsive. He had not trained in years and the torrid pace threatened to explode his heart. It whomped in his chest, shaking the phlegm building in his lungs.

  Sadie didn't bother to dignify the request. Instead she used her empty Glock to smash in the temple of a zombie charging from their left. The creatures seemed unfazed by the nonstop running, however all the changes in direction had left them going every which way.

  "Look!" Sadie said with some excitement. At first he didn't see what had her smiling. The corn ran to the edge of a neighboring property and all he saw was a sharp drainage ditch that he was sure he lacked the strength to jump across.

  "Huh?" he asked, lacking the wind to form words.

  She was already pulling him on. "We'll jump it. They won't be able to," she explained. It didn't look like much of an obstacle for anyone but Neil. It was four feet wide and three feet deep...and even that seemed like too much for him. "Go first," she ordered.

  He stumbled on while she ran parallel to the ditch waving her arms getting the zombies to come after her once again. It was the only way he would have made it—and, even with the benefit of not having the zombies right on his tail, he didn't quite make the leap.

  The further wall of the ditch was wet with mud and he smacked square into it. However he was no mindless thing and so grabbed a nearby root and pulled himself up. Seeing him somewhat safe on the other side, Sadie leapt the ditch with the grace of a gazelle, and jogged over to him.

  Neil was only then getting to his feet, while not five feet away the ditch was filling with the grey bodies of the living dead. There were hundreds of them, maybe upwards of a thousand. They simply charged into ditch as if it wasn't even there and now they roiled in the long foul pit.

  "It won't hold them forever," Sadie said. "Come on."

  Flush with victory she turned, took one step—into a hidden gopher hole—and went down with a cry of pain.

  "My ankle! Oh jeeze, oh jeeze," she moaned over and over again as she rolled on the ground. "My ankle. I broke it...I think I broke it."

  He dropped to one knee and tried to take a look at her leg, but couldn't because she wouldn't stop rolling in agony. It was only when she went suddenly still and pointed behind him that he had the chance to see the extent of her injury, but by then it was too late.

  "Neil!"

  He followed her pointing finger and fear-stricken gaze which swept the entire ditch; the one thing holding the zombies back.

  "Shit," Neil whispered. The zombies were climbing out.

  Chapter 15

  Sarah

  The Center for Disease Control, Atlanta, Georgia

  It’s the germs what got out.

  Sarah's mouth fell open at these words, and then as a sudden false notion struck her—that germs were worse if they lands on her tongue—she shut it with a snap. She wasn't the only one who listened and worried over the words of the tall, jug-eared man. All around her people were backing away from the main CDC lab, pressing in close to the late comers such as Sarah and Shondra.

  "Now don't y'all be a panickin," the one with the 'Bama drawl said, raising his hands. "That there's the CDC, alright. The "C" stands for control. They control diseases up in there. It's where they cure 'em."

  At this proclamation the crowd breathed out a sigh of relief as if they were a single organism with a thousand mouths.

  "Do what you want and think what you want, but this redneck don't know shit," the jug-eared man who had first mentioned germs said, pushing his way through the crowd, clearly leaving. "If you don't believe me, why don't you ask him how them science geeks make the cures."

  If the man with the drawl knew he kept it to himself. He only shrugged and was seen to mumble something.

  "You see?" Jug-ears exclaimed. "Let me tell you. They need the germs in order to make a cure. Them science boys take a germ, like the plague or the measles or this zombie shit, and they monkey around with it until it starts killing the other germs."

  Sarah was somewhat certain that the man had his science wrong, except for the very important fact that there were indeed germs and viruses and deadly bacteria housed at the CDC. She had always known it, but with the zombie apocalypse occurring she had assumed the scientists had put all that away so as to concentrate on what was really important.

  "Then what's with the alarm?" she asked. "I can't imagine them working on anything but the zombie virus and it's not airborne. We can't just breathe it in, right? We shouldn't be worried, right?"

  "It ain't supposed to be in the air," Bama said, slowly, as if remembering something important. "But I seen me all them National Guard boys runnin' round with them gas masks on back when this all first started."

  "Then just like you, they didn't know any better," Jug-ears shot back from the edge of the crowd, he stood very close to Sarah and because of that proximity she felt the need for a gasmask herself. He sweated out a bitter aroma of acid and garlic. Even Eve seemed affected by the pungent body odor; she turned her button nose around to face into Sarah's bosom.

  "And besides, them gas masks are for chemicals," Jug-ears added.

  This meant little to Sarah who turned to Shondra and said in a whisper, "I don't know what difference that makes. They both kill you just the same."

  The jug-eared man with the bad body odor heard, but didn't take offence. He looked Sarah up and down with a hungry male eye. "I'm gettin outta here," he said, edging closer. "You should be smart and join me. That alarm is a wakeup call. They got germs up in there and they're still playin' with them. And they can't be trusted."

  "Then y'all just git going," Bama said aggressively. "Run away, now. Go on! It prolly weren't nothin’ but a bleach spill. And for me, them zombies what be worse than any germ. Ain't no germ eat your face off."

  Jug-ears walked away with an exaggerated shrug that implied to the crowd: I tried to warn you.

  It was a warning that settled into the bones of everyone present. The crowd nudged further back from the main lab. They milled about just down the block and worried over any breeze that came from its direction. Eventually men in full Bio-suits went back inside the lab and minutes later the alarm ceased its nerve rending meep, meep, meep.

  Again the crowd breathed out as one.

  Then everyone went home; to the apartments and the offices converted into apartments that surrounded the building where all the germs were kept. Those people with windows that looked down upon the lab sat in them and watched in a vigil that went on without let up. Anyone walking the streets, and there were very few of these that day, found the view strange—in every window was a face if not two and all wore a matching look of fear.

  Sarah's windows faced the opposite direction, which in a way was worse. She felt painfully alone. It was true, she could have accepted one of Shondra's continual invitations to visit which had not declined in enthusiasm in the face of Sarah's clear indifference. She had visited once and it had been worse than being stuck alone in her apartment.

  Shondra was a physically active worrier. Even with a guest present, she paced and sweated, going back and fo
rth from every window in her apartment as if the view was apt to change in some meaningful way with the passage of a few seconds.

  Her anxiety also seeped into her voice which went from slow and sugary to squeaky. "The germs got out didn't they? I just know they did. We're breathing them in right this second! I woke up with a cough. Eh-Eh. And there! It's back. Oh, my goodness what are we going to do?"

  "You can leave," Sarah suggested. "I know others are."

  The black lady looked shocked at this suggestion. "And get eaten by zombies? No way. I saw too many people get eaten alive."

  So instead of visiting or going about the increasingly empty streets, Sarah stuck to mothering her daughter and counting food. Both were obsessions with her. Clearly mothering was understandable; the compulsion to count and recount, and calculate consumption rates, and then recalculate them over and over again throwing in insane variables, was not.

  Because of their incarceration Sarah's four person family was easily the poorest at the CDC. Even Shondra had managed to show up in a Ford F-250, with its bed overflowing with scavenged goods, though she was the first to explain it had all been luck, having come upon the vehicle abandoned and already filled.

  Most everyone else had their one or two person apartments stacked from floor to ceiling with boxes of goods. Without currency, trading was how certain unscavengable essentials were gotten a hold of. Clean water being the most important of these essentials.

  The day after the alarm, Sarah picked out a can of yams, hitched Eve to her back, checked the load of her Beretta, and went out to trade for two gallons of distilled water. She needed and wanted so much more. One of the gallons was for drinking and making formula, the other was for bathing Eve and herself—the dregs of which would then be used to flush the toilet; a once a day occurrence when she was alone. Weekly she treated herself to a three gallon "full" bath—she never really felt clean like she used to.

  As usual she and Shondra met by the trading stands. Normally they both liked to linger in the sun and chat an hour or two while they nosed over what was being offered. What was different that day and for the next two was that Shondra was in a hurry to make her trades and go. It was clear she was under the impression that the air in her apartment was cleaner in some way than the air on the street.

  Getting water quickly wasn't an issue on that day; the usual crowds were half what they normally were. The day after that the crowds were sparse, and the day after that the word crowd was a gross exaggeration. The traders were there, but the people weren't. It was unnerving.

  "Where is everyone?" Sarah asked her friend.

  Shondra was a tall lady and so when she whispered she felt the need to bend down. "Some just up and left for good," she said in such a breathy whisper that Eve giggled, thinking it was a game. "But most say they're taking a vacation. Like for a few weeks or a month, you know? Just to see what's going to happen."

  "What do they think is going to happen? Do they really think the air is full of germs?"

  The woman scanned the people around as if checking for spies. "Maybe," she said in a way that suggested her answer was really yes. Again Shondra was quick to leave and Sarah hurried to her apartment. There she made the foolish gesture to her growing fear by putting towels down at the cracks of her front door—just in case.

  The following day, the fourth since the alarm went off, and two days after Neil said he would be back from his scavenging trip, Sarah woke very early; even before Eve began to stir. She lay in the king-sized bed and felt every square inch of its emptiness. The area next to her was a barren expanse; a forbidden zone so forlorn that she dare not enter it lest it's extreme lonesomeness overcome her.

  He should've been there...or rather, since Neil was an early riser, that side of the bed should've been mussed and warm, and his aroma still strong on his pillow. Instead the sheets were cold and still neatly folded, like a sterile hospital bed.

  "It's early yet," she said without pretence at being quiet. She needed company and no one could fill a room with their presence like Eve. The baby smacked her lips, waking. Sarah waited for Eve to make the quizzical noises that she used in lieu of actual words.

  "Ooh?" By this, Eve meant: Is anyone there? Is it time to get up?

  "Yes, my sweetums," Sarah cooed going to the bassinet that sat at the foot of the bed. In it, Eve was blinking her big eyes and trying to crane her head around to see her Mom. When she did her tiny features lit up in a big smile—it was this smile that made all the work and the fear of the future worth it.

  And it kept the loneliness at bay, but not the anxiety.

  This was the fifth day. Where were they? Had something happened to Sadie? Or to Neil? The thought of either being hurt was like glass in her guts.

  "It's neither," she told Eve, forcing a smile onto a resisting face.

  "Da-da," Eve told her. The smile bent on Sarah's face and she didn't notice. All day it sat like a crooked picture on the wall, though very few people saw it. Bob the water guy wore a matching one, while the people at the stands barely looked up from their wares to acknowledge her or Eve. And Shondra never showed up for their normal meeting.

  "She's probably still in bed," Sarah told Eve, needing to hear some sort of explanation even if it came from her own mouth.

  The day progressed at a snail's pace, most of it was spent staring at the door or trying to listen past it into the hall beyond, hoping to catch the familiar voices. The hall stayed eerily quiet all day. The entire building did as well; it was as though she and Eve were the only ones left in it. The thought was unbearable and yet no proof came forth to counter the idea that they were very much alone.

  It wasn't until just after their meager supper that a sound did come to her: meep, meep, meep. The alarm!

  "Da-da?" Eve asked.

  "No, it's not Da-da," Sarah said, rushing first to the window which showed little besides the drawing of the day, and then to the front door. Here she finally discovered proof she wasn't alone. Up and down the hall heads poked out and the people began to babble nonsensical questions to each other:

  "Is that the same alarm?"

  "What's it mean?"

  "Is it for real this time? A real emergency?"

  There were many questions but no answers. Sarah forced herself to ignore the alarm and her growing fears. She shut the door on the babbling; if she wanted to hear a bunch of incoherent rambling she had Eve for that.

  After a large steadying breath she said, "Speaking of which. Let's finish these mushed up peas. What do you say?" Eve made a face. Peas were not her favorite—still she ate them; she was trained to.

  "Open wide," Sarah said, demonstrating by opening her own mouth in round "O" and lifting her chin slightly. Eve followed suit and Sarah brought a tiny spoonful of mushed peas to her mouth. The peas and the spoon and her hand shook as she did.

  Sarah tried to laugh it off, but the shaking not only persisted it grew worse as more noises were added to the dim alarm. These weren't just hall noises. In the apartment above her, there were thumps and rattles, and the sound of rolling wheels, and frequently something large was dropped.

  Next door the walls vibrated every once in a while. There was the clink of plates being stacked and a good deal of scraping of what Sarah began to suspect were boxes being slid across the floor.

  It was the sound of people leaving.

  When the peas were done and Eve had her mouth tight around the business end of a bottle, Sarah got up and listened at the front door and heard hurrying footsteps going back and forth, and the grunt and heavy breathing of people carrying cumbersome loads. She then ran once again to the window. No longer was the sight calming for her.

  Four stories below, trucks and SUVs were being packed as fast people could shove their belonging into them.

  "Is it for real this time?" Sarah asked the glass. If it was she was a fool to just stand there. "Come on sweetums we have to find out if...no. You can't come. Mommy has to go out and you can't come. It might be dangerous. Th
ere could be germs." Here she paused fearing what she had to do. "You have to stay here. It'll be ok. I'll be right back."

  Eve cocked her head as Sarah backed away. Though her little features began to grow dark, Sarah knew she wouldn't cry...this was something she had been trained on as well.

  "I'll be right back," Sarah said one more time and then slipped into the hall, while her insides squirmed with nasty questions. Would the germs kill her in an instant? Or would she linger in pain? If she died quick, what would happen to Eve? Would one of her neighbors take her? She knew that there were some who were jealous and coveted the baby.

  Sarah locked her door behind her. "There are no germs. It's just another false alarm, like last time," she said to herself and then stepped back as Vince from two doors down pushed past with boxes in his arms. "Vince? What's going on?" she called out.

  "Me and Gwen are getting outta here. Can you get that door?"

  With his chin he indicated the stairwell door and Sarah dutifully held it open for him. "Has there been a leak or something? Or is this another false alarm?"

  "It's germs of course," Vince said, puffing as he went down the stairs. "Why else would the alarms go off?"

  There were other reasons. Simple ones like a short in the wiring of the alarm system or misreading by the sensors, or maybe it was just human error...but didn't human error also encompass accidentally releasing deadly germs?

  "No," Sarah said, firmly as she hit the evening air. "If the germs were released it had to have been done on purpose. They had to have a zillion safeguards to prevent an accident."

  Just in front of her, Vince glanced back to see who she was talking to. Sarah ignored him and his look. Instead she went around the side of the building and watched in horror as people fled in every direction and from every structure, including the main CDC lab. They ran helter-skelter as if escaping from a fire, and didn't look back.