The Z Strain

by Matthew Isaiah Crawford

  “What’s wrong mama?” Molly asked.

  “Nothing honey. Just play with your sisters please.” Carla said in as calm a voice as she could muster.

  At 8:08 PM, the emergency broadcast system came on line advising all residents of the world to “Seek safety at designated “SAFE ZONES” or to stay inside, lock doors, barricade, or by any other means avoid contact with all other persons. The last message was simply to please stand by for further instructions.” This message ran for exactly one hour, nineteen minutes and twelve seconds before all broadcasting services went off line. Afterwards, Carla could only stare at the static on the portable television. She felt lost for an eternity, her mind reeling, unable to believe what was happening outside of their quiet little basement. She flipped through all the channels, only to find static on each and every one.

  “Mommy, what’s wrong with the TV?” Eight-year-old Molly asked standing with her head slightly cocked to the side.

  “Oh, I think that’s broken honey.” She said switching the TV off.

  “When can we go upstairs, I’m bored down here?”

  “Oh, I don’t know honey, probably not for a while.”

  “But I want my dolls, and I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Honey. Okay, listen, I’ll take you upstairs to the bathroom, but we have to be really quiet, okay?”

  “Why momma?” Sarah had stopped talking and was now paying attention to the conversation. Brittany was oblivious and was still playing with a pile of blocks.

  “Well.” Carla grabbed ahold of Molly’s hand but couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with the young blonde girl. “The news said that there are a lot of people out there that are sick, and they’re hurting each other.”

  “Is that why we’re hiding in the basement?” Asked Molly.

  “That’s right.”

  “And daddy, is daddy okay?”

  “Yes, daddy’s fine, he’ll be home soon.”

  “I really need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Okay girls, were going to go to the bathroom together.” Carla let out a deep sigh as her hand runs through her hair. We’re all going to stay very, very quiet okay?” Carla got to her feet and walks the children up the stairs. She sent the three of them into the bathroom together and told them to stay there until they were all finished. Her finger held sternly in front of her lips to emphasize that they be quiet. After the bathroom door latched closed Carla crawled across the hall into Molly’s bedroom. From the second floor she had a panoramic view of the streets. Though a lot of the view was obscured with thick green trees she could see numerous neighboring houses.

  About four doors up the street she could just see through the trees as a man pulls the end of a rifle to his lips and pull the trigger. A woman and a child lie at his feet. Her hand covers her mouth as she watches two different cars drive over a woman who was lying in the middle of the road. Her head was crushed open like a watermelon spread out all over the road.

  Carla turned away from the window, slinking down to the floor. She began to doubt if she had the strength or the fortitude to survive in a world like this. She stared at the closed bathroom door across the hall. Underneath the door she could just make out little feet moving around inside the room.

  Friday, August 16th, 9:48 PM

  The Westin Hotel and Convention Center

  Mark was sitting in the dark with his bare feet up on the polished redwood table of the executive lounge. He had traded in his security uniform for a pair grey plaid shorts and a blue t-shirt. From the 26th floor he had a panoramic view of the hills outside Pittsburgh. All the little lights scattered across the horizon. He had spent a lot of the evening thinking about his family. He had cried a couple times alone in the dark. But now he was thinking about tomorrow. Thinking about the work they had ahead of them, the preparations that had to be made. And an escape plan. How were they going to get out of this building? How were they going to get out of the city? He heard movement behind him and turned to see John walking through the sliding glass doors into the room. He looks exhausted, his normally sunken eyes are surrounded by dark circles.

  “You look like shit brother.” Mark commented.

  “Yea.” John flopped down into one of the puffy black office chairs, and put his head down on his arms. “I feel like shit. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my life.”

  “Why don’t you go to sleep?”

  “I tried. I can’t” John lifted his head up and looked at Mark. “I can hear them.”

  “Way up here?”

  “I don’t know, maybe it’s all in my head. But when I closed my eyes and was all quiet in the room, I swear I could hear them moaning.”

  “So, turn on some TV.”

  “I tried that, the cable is down already.”

  “Tragic.” Mark chuckled.

  “Yea, well, can’t exactly go to sleep to it.”

  “No, I imagine not.” Mark couldn’t stop smiling even though he knew John was frustrated.

  “Here, how about this.” Mark took his phone out of his pocked and handed it to him. “I don’t have a lot of music downloaded, but hopefully enough to fall asleep to.” Mark said.

  “Thanks.” John said putting the phone into his pocket. They sat in silence for a minute, Mark expected him to head off to bed, but he just sat there.

  “What’s up?” Mark finally asked.

  “Your family. You’re sure they’re gone?” John asked.

  “Pretty sure yea.” Mark said, new tears welling up in his eyes. “I heard them screaming in pain, not fear. They were being hurt.” Marc sobbed.

  “God, I’m sorry man.” John pushed the hair out of his face and leaned back in the chair. “I guess that’s my one advantage, I really didn’t have anyone. My mom lives in Florida, she’s seventy-eight. Don’t imagine her odds are very good.” John sighed.

  “Yea? I guess so.” Mark said wiping the tears from his eyes.

  “I don’t know man, I’ve been thinking about it off and on all afternoon.” John said.

  “And?”

  “And. Nothing realistic comes to mind.”

  “What about unrealistic?” Mark asked with a smile.

  “Sure, zipline off the rooftops Batman style to the adjacent buildings until we get away from downtown. Hang glide off the roof towards the river? Fuck, I don’t know.” He stood up and paced around the room.

  “Listen, we don’t have to jump off the rooftops yet. We have time. We can explore our options. There has to be a way.” Mark said trying to calm John down.

  “I just can’t believe this shit, can you?”

  “No. It doesn’t even feel real. Like this all has to be part of a dream or something.”

  “I had the exact same thought.” John exclaimed.

  “How do we wake up?” Mark asked.

  Friday, August 16th 10:14 PM

  New York City Subway

  Three hours trudging through the dank sewers Abeline Washington arrived at her destination. The manhole cover above her would lead her onto a street that is a block away from a pawn shop. The same pawn shop that a woman named Chrystal, a known crack head, had successfully broke into last week through a window in the back, she said the alarm was disabled, the window didn’t lock, and her boyfriend (pimp) was able to drill out the screws so she could climb in. Abilene only prayed that she was also able to find a way through.

  She had sat underneath that manhole for several hours, spending most of her time praying, waiting patiently for sundown. Abeline had noted through the day that the sounds of the city had changed dramatically. Thirty-six hours ago, the city was the usual hustle and bustle, sirens, car horns, screams, and the occasional gunshot. Then it changed, it changed to screams, many more gunshots and not as many sirens as one would think. Now after a day, it’s changed again, now there are just moans, an occasional scream, but mostly just the moans. The sound echoes through the subterranean tunnels.

  Exiting into the street she moved slowly and
cautiously, moving the manhole cover proved to be more difficult than she had imagined. She made what she considered to be a significant amount of noise moving it off to the side. When she popped her head out the street was empty in both directions.

  “Thanked you lord I know this is your hand at work.” Abeline whispered.

  She found the pawn shop exactly as it had been described, the screws were drilled out allowing access to the window which seemed to be locked. Abeline’s heart jumped up into her throat. She didn’t want to be out here without a weapon and didn’t want to make the noise of breaking the window. Then the window popped open. She could now see that the latch had scraped against the wood so many times that it wore a groove into the wood where the latch could slide off.

  Inside Abeline took her time collecting a variety of weapons. She took what appeared to be a very expensive mountaineering backpack and proceeded to strap a shotgun, a compound bow, and small sword to the pack. She then strapped on three holsters, one ankle, one hip, and one shoulder. She filled each with one. A snub-nose revolver on her ankle, and a matching pair of silver forty fives with inlaid pearl grips. She sat and loaded all the clips, then proceeded to fill her pack with as much ammunition as she thought she would be able to carry.

  A loud bang front of the store makes Abeline jump. The whole building shook from an impact. She backed away slowly, retreating towards the window she had entered from. Her eyes locked on the front of the store, waiting for whatever was to come next.

  A few tense moments later a large blue pickup truck with floodlights glaring bursts through the front of the building. Armed men clad in riot gear jump flood the building and begin clearing out the gun cases. Clearing the cases and shelves of ammunition bare in less than two minutes. Abeline had moved slowly as far back into the corner as she could and was standing silently in the shadows. Her hands clutched at her chest she was immersed in silent prayer.

  Someone yelled out front, and all of the men turned and faced the front of the building, readying their weapons. They spread out across the room and waited. The undead began flowing through the front of the building moments later. The men opened fire, and as if a coordinated dance, they all formed a triangle behind the leader. Every one of them aiming only for the head. They plowed right through the herd and jumped into the back of the truck without losing a man.

  Abeline watches as the truck backs out of the pawn shop and screeches off down the road. A Molotov cocktail flies through the air and explodes onto the ground near a group of undead moving past the front of the building. She watches in grotesque fascination as the burning corpses proceed to run down the street after the escaping truck.

  Abeline breaks her statuesque pose a moment later when the commotion dies down outside. She walks out the gaping hole in the front of the building rather than try to climb out of the window. Moving quickly down the alley she heads in the opposite direction that the blue truck went.

  Two blocks down from the pawn shop she froze next to a large green dumpster. She stopped breathing, and every muscle in her body tensed. She had heard something, she was sure of it, and it was close. She stood motionless, not willing to breath yet, waiting to see if the sound would be caught by her ears again.

  “Humph, humph. Sniff.” Abeline heard from her right. There was definitely someone there, not far, just inside. She moved across the alley to a small window on her right side, squatting down to look through as the window was just below ground level behind metal bars. She spotted a group of small children huddled in the corner of a basement behind a pile of boxes. At least one of them crying, it seemed the others were trying to comfort him. Abeline looked around the exterior for a way into the building.

  She didn’t have to look very hard, she found a first level door open and let herself in. Inside appeared to be a church of some sort, there were prayers written on the wall, some very poetic. She pushed through another set of doors that let her inside the main room. The pungent smell of death filled the air making her choke. A large red stained-glass cross fills the front of the room painting the room in and eerie pink haze. Past the four short rows of pews the ground is littered with bodies. Some were obviously infected, she could see blood stains around their mouths, and the fronts of their clothes soaked with blood. Abeline moved to the back of the room and opened the door to the stairwell. On the landing she looked up the stairs and saw no movement. As she moved down the stairs, she began to hear the sniffling again.

  With each step it was growing louder. As she stepped out into the small basement, the children must have heard her as they fell completely silent.

  “Come out now children, don’t be shy.” Abeline said in a calm motherly tone. At first there was no movement, then there was a face poking out from the side of the boxes. Then it disappeared. There was some hushed whispering from behind the boxes. Then three heads poked out from behind the boxes. They were all boys, and all looked to be a disheveled mess. “My name is Abeline, and the Lord has brought us together to help one another.” Another head peaks out slowly, his hair falling into his eyes. “Please, come forward children. I mean you no harm.” There was still no movement, only more hushed whispering from behind the boxes.

  A boy stepped out cautiously. His shirt was ripped, and his face was dirty. He had short blonde hair, and a stream of blood running down the left side of his face. Another boy stepped out from the boxes and stood at his shoulder. He was a little shorter and thinner than John, and his long brown hair was falling down in his face.

  “My name is John, this is Caleb.” The boy with the hair in his face raises his hand. “And back there is his little brother Alex. He’s only seven.”

  “Well that’s okay to be seven, isn’t it Alex?” Abeline said to the youngest one who was just peeking out from behind the boxes.

  “No, I wanna be big.” He spouted quickly before retreating back behind the boxes again. Abeline laughed before responding.

  “Well, you will be soon enough. I wouldn’t worry too much about that.” Abeline smiled down to the little one. He was peeking out from behind the boxes again.

  “And this is Tommy.” Tommy emerges from behind the boxes, but only glanced up quickly before gaze returned to his shoe tops. He was heavier than the other boys and had a buzz cut for a hair style. “We didn’t kill them.” John said.

  “Oh, that don’t matter now.” Abeline said in a soothing voice. “Even if you did, I’m sure you did what you had to do. Case you haven’t noticed, the world has changed.”

  “Yes, we noticed ma’am.” Caleb said hesitantly.

  “Please don’t ma’am. My name is Abeline, if you need to be formal you can call be Miss Abeline. Is that all of you, just you four?”

  “No ma… miss Abeline, Eliot is sick.” Alex blurted out.

  “Has he been bit?” Abeline asked.

  “Yea, his mom.” Alex started saying, but Caleb shushed him mid-sentence.”

  “Then he is already dead, dispatch him or leave him to die.” Abeline said.

  “I, we can’t.” John stammered. “That’s why Alex was crying. We know we have to, but none of us can do it.”

  “Listen boys.” Abeline took a knee bringing herself to eye level with the three of them. “This world is a hateful and dangerous place now. Just about everything out there wants to kill you.” She paused letting that thought sink in a moment. “It is overflowing with an evil sent from hell to take this world to darkness. I, we must remain bastions of light. We will fight the darkness together. This disease is spread through the bite, the moment the skin was punctured your friend was dead. You must free him, free his soul, before he turns to another of the undead minions.” Abeline held out the butt of a dangerous looking blade with a serrated edge. All four boys stared down at the blade, but none moved. “Who among you is ready to take the first step into this dangerous world? Or would you prefer to go back to hiding in the corner until death finds you?” John reached out and placed his small, thin, pale fingers around the black hilt of t
he blade. “I’m going upstairs to look for supplies, don’t be long.” Abeline turned and walked out of the room the four boys stood and stared at her unbelieving of the interaction that just took place.

  As she was nearing the top of the stairs Abeline heard a grunt and a squish. A thin smile played across her face.

  Summerville South Carolina

  Friday, August 16th, 10:51 PM EST

  Carla Henderson had spent the evening running all sorts of scenarios through her head sitting in the basement with her three daughters. Each path she chose, every possibility seemed to all have high probabilities of death, or rape, or to be torn apart by those monsters running the streets. Maybe if Nick were here. Maybe if she had a better car. Maybe if she had better weapons. Her options were her husband’s Glock 9mm, kitchen knives, and hand tools. None of which she felt confident in her ability to defend her children by herself. She had never even shot the goddamn gun. That was Nick’s thing and she had fought tooth and nail to keep it out of the house. They finally agreed to a compromise which was he was to have it in a locked container at the top of the closet. He went to that gun show three years ago and came home armed. He had gone out shooting a few times in the first six months, but since then it’s been collecting dust on the top shelf of the bedroom closet. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

  She knew it was a cowardly, and horrible decision, but the only one she could think of that made any sense. Her children are safe. Safe from the hands of brutal rapists and murderers. Safe from the monsters running the streets. Now, her three children lie dead on the floor. Carla’s hands shook in front of her face as she tried to steel herself to the pain, telling herself that it had to be done.

  She covered the bodies with white sheets as tears streamed down her face. Now, fully engulfed in darkness in every possible way, emotionally exhausted, she sits down at the base of the basement the stairwell. Wave after wave of crushing grief, regret, fear, sorrow, remorse, anger, and resentment wash over her. She felt like she was trying to brace herself from the oncoming waves, but they were too strong, and kept knocking her back. They came crashing over her, taking her breath away, and making her heart want to leap out of her throat. The waves pummel her down into the ground making her wish that she had the courage to pull the trigger on herself too.