100 Days of Death (6 page)

I packed five magazines for the M&P 15-22 into my Mark 7 bag, attached a sling on my weapon, slipped it on, and went up onto the roof. As I eased up over the peak of my roof my jaw dropped. I counted twenty three Infected pounding on the house across the street.

In addition, three creatures were in front of my house reaching through my fence. Although the thorny Bougainvillea vines woven throughout my fence were tearing their flesh apart, they didn’t seem to care.

I threaded the sound suppressor on to the end of my gun, chambered a round and took aim. My first target was only ten yards away, at my fence looking up at me through the vines. The gun made a whap-clack sound as I touched off the trigger.

The round drilled right through the bridge of the thing’s nose, dropping him instantly. I looked across the street. None of the creatures noticed. Oddly enough, the loudest sound the gun made was from the bolt slamming forward when it chambered the next round. I dispatched the other two creatures in front of my house, then focused on the larger crowd.

Using a Reflex red dot sight on targets that are less than twenty-five yards away is literally like shooting fish in a barrel. While I can honestly say I didn’t feel at all guilty, I did feel immense disgust. As their ranks dropped like flies, they didn’t even realize what was happening to them.

The infected masses were intent on a single purpose, one they didn’t even understand. I was steady and methodical in my task. The last one was the only one that gave me any trouble. He was at Dawn and Jon’s gate, bent down and pulling at the bottom half of it.

Eventually, he would have pried it open.

I couldn’t get a shot though, because their Jeep Cherokee was in the driveway in front of the gate, partially blocking my view. I had made two attempts but one round hit the top of the Cherokee’s roof, punching a deep gouge into it. I cringed. For a moment I thought about how I was going to explain damaging their vehicle. Then, as I glanced at the twenty two bodies lying all over their yard, I realized how ridiculous the thought was.

I looked around me on my roof and saw a chipped piece of Spanish tile. I picked it up and threw it at the creature. The chunk fell short and hit the back window of the Cherokee. The creature’s head came around as it looked for the source of the noise.

I whistled and it looked up at me. Without hesitation, it came out from in front of the vehicle and charged across the street toward me. I didn’t even have time to get off a shot before it was at my fence trying to get through. It took three rounds before I got a head shot in and put it down.

As my breathing slowed, I noticed the silence for the first time in days. Well, not quite silence. There was still that annoying New Age crap playing from inside Dawn and Jon’s house.

Getting down the ladder from the roof was almost as dangerous as facing those creatures. My knee was in wretched shape and I almost fell twice. I limped up the driveway and let myself out the front gate. The smell of the dead was the first thing to hit me as I approached my neighbor’s house.

I had to step over several of them to get to Dawn and Jon’s front patio gate. The gate stands only stands 4 ½ feet high. I was surprised none of the infected had managed to get over it. I could definitely hear music coming from inside the house.

I let myself in the gate and approached the front French doors cautiously, my weapon at the ready. The doorknob turned in my hand and opened easily. Unbelievable. As I stepped into their kitchen, the stench of rotting flesh was replaced with the overpowering musky scent of Jasmine incense.

I let my .22 carbine hang on its sling and drew my .45. I cleared the kitchen and crossed the dining room toward the living room and the source of my annoyance- that stupid music. I kept a wary eye on the darkened hallway leading to the back of the house.

I stepped up to the antiqued wood entertainment center in the living room, painted in bright reds, greens, and yellows. A five disc CD changer was playing some crappy Latin New Age tune. I tapped the power button and the room went silent. I stared at the CD player for a moment, trying to figure out how it could continue to play five discs repeatedly for days on end.

It only took me a moment to realize that was impossible; someone had to keep recycling it. My .45 came back up instantly and I started toward the hallway. As I moved down the hallway, clearing each room I came to, I could almost sense that whoever was there was in the master bedroom at the end of the hall. The door to the last bedroom was partially open. I pushed it open further as I entered.

And there, sitting completely naked on the middle of the bed, legs crossed and meditating, was Dawn. Fresh incense burned in a sandalwood holder on the nightstand. I tilted my head. I think my jaw actually dropped.

Dawn’s eyes slowly opened and she smiled as she looked at me.

In a calm, quiet voice she said, “Welcome, friend.”

I was actually speechless. I couldn’t help but stare at her naked form. Even though Dawn is in her late fifties, she is lean, with only slightly sagging breasts and is still pretty attractive.

She just continued to sit there, unhurried, looking at me with that creepy smile on her face. Any brief instinctive thoughts of a sexual nature I may have had instantly fled my mind.

I finally managed to stammer, “What the hell are you doing?”

Her smiled dropped as she noticed the .45 I had aimed roughly in her direction.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t allow guns in our house. You’ll have to take those outside.” She said, as she wagged her finger at my pistol and carbine.

My eyebrows raised and I realized that, while she and her husband have always been a little odd, she was just downright insane at this point. I lowered my pistol, hiding it behind my hip, and adjusted the carbine so that it hung from its sling behind my back. This seemed to satisfy her and the psychotic, wild-eyed grin reappeared on her face again.

“Where’s Jon?” I finally asked.

Dawn looked at me innocently and told me that he had gone to get help. When I asked when, she couldn’t quite seem to remember, but thought it had only been a few days. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that if Jon wasn’t back by now he was probably zombie poop.

I asked her why she was playing her music non-stop.

She looked at me as if I were an idiot and said, “It soothes them. What happened to them is not their fault. It’s the least I can do.”

I nodded my head slowly, understanding…she had completely flipped off the deep end and was never coming back. I would have offered to let her come stay with me, but I knew if she was anywhere near me she would just do something stupid like invite Them in for dinner and get me killed.

“I need to go.” I said carefully.

“Well, thank you so very much for coming by.” She said, with saccharin sweet warmth and sincerity.

I wondered how much warmth she’d feel for me when she found the dead creatures laying on her lawn and realized I was responsible.

She unfolded her legs and started to rise, her arms extended to embrace me. I put my hand up and backed out of the room, telling her I’d let myself out. She hesitated, and then shrugged.

She sat back down on the bed smiling, and waved to me as I extricated myself down the hall as fast as I could.

When I reached the dining room I turned and made a quick stop into the living room. I went to the entertainment center, reached behind the CD player and yanked out the speaker wires. I then pulled on the power cable until it came out of the wall socket somewhere behind the cabinet. I drew my Spyderco knife, made a loop with the power cord and cut it in half.

I let the cut tail section of the cord fall down behind the shelves and then put the CD player back the way I found it. I left without looking back. I probably should have smashed her circuit breaker box, because I was sure she would find some other electrical device to make noise with and put me in danger again.

A few minutes ago I looked out my window and across the street. There were no sounds coming from Dawn’s house, only the faint glow of candlelight coming from one of her windows. I could see the silhouettes of the dead piled in her yard.

They looked like mounds of dirt in the darkness. I wonder what Dawn will do next. The thought sends shivers down my spine. I guess I shouldn’t worry about her well being. They say God looks after children and crazy people. If that’s the case, then she’ll be just fine.

DAY 15

I slept in until almost 11 a.m. today.

It’s the first time I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep since this whole thing started. For a moment I almost forgot that the world had turned to crap. I could hear birds outside, there were no moans from the undead, and Chloe was on top of the covers nuzzled peacefully against my back.

I took Chloe out back and let her wander and sniff until she got bored. I checked the water pressure and it is still falling. The power and gas are still functioning so there’s that at least. I took a long, hot shower and enjoyed it as if it would be my last (it might be).

I scanned my street for over an hour from my roof but saw no signs of movement anywhere. I didn’t hear any aircraft all morning. There is a haze in the air from fire somewhere in the city but I haven’t seen any flames or smoke rising from any specific area.

I spent most of the day doing laundry, cleaning weapons, and inventorying my supplies. My knee is swollen and painful but I don’t know what to do for it, other than try to take it easy while I can.

I thought about going to retrieve the propane kit sitting in the truck on the street behind me, but it was 12 noon when the thought came and I decided to catch Gerald Ritchie’s news report instead. I watched snow on my TV until 12:07pm and started to worry. At 12:09pm the screen came to life and Gerald began his report. He was broadcasting from inside a fire station somewhere in South Central L.A.

I could hear what sounded like hundreds of moaning undead coming from somewhere near his location. Muted banging sounds came from all around him. He seemed more subdued than before. Whatever spark was in him had gone out.

In the background a fire department sedan was smashed into the back wall of the firehouse. An infected creature, who looked like he might have been a fireman in life, was crushed from the waist down between the car and the wall. It moaned hungrily and reached out toward Gerald.

Ritchie composed himself and addressed the camera.

He stated “There’s been a lot of speculation about the plague victims. In this report I’m going to set the record straight with facts. What you’re about to see ain’t meant to be sadistic. I hope you viewers can appreciate why I’m doing this.”

Gerald approached the thing and it sniffed at him and tried to lunge. He stepped away from the creature and out of frame, reappearing with a severed arm. He extended it toward his captive and after a brief sniff, the thing looked away, uninterested.

Gerald looked back into the camera and said, “They use mostly smell and sound to find their victims. They don’t attack each other because they ain’t interested in the smell of themselves.”

Gerald continued on. He held out the severed arm, reached out, and waved it in front of the creature’s face. It tracked the motion vaguely, then looked away again. Gerald snapped his fingers and the thing zeroed in on the sound, reaching out toward it.

Gerald stepped out of frame again and when he came back he had traded the severed arm for a crowbar.

He addressed the camera again. “They don’t see well, but you notice they can hear everything. Now, you hear this part…if they’re infected, they’re dead. Even if you knew them when they was alive, once they’re infected they ain’t your friends or family no more. They’re dead, even if they keep moving.”

With that, Gerald held up the crowbar and thrust it into the trapped thing’s chest. The crowbar went all the way through the creature’s chest and out the back, hitting the concrete wall it was pinned against. The thing moaned in frustration, not pain. Gerald withdrew the crowbar and held it loosely in his hand, looking defeated as he shook his head sadly.

“There’s only one way to put them down for good, and that’s blunt force trauma to the head. There ain’t no other way. So no matter how much you don’t want to deal with how awful that is, that’s the way it’s got to be done.” He said.

Gerald hesitated and then without warning spun around, swinging the crowbar in a high arc over his head. The crowbar smashed down on the plague victim’s skull, crushing it. The creature went limp and stopped struggling, truly dead at last.

“Thanks Gerald.” I thought to myself. “I could have used all this information the other day at the Do It Center.”

Gerald let the crowbar drop from his hands. It hit the floor with a loud clatter. Gerald didn’t speak or look at the camera for a long minute. When he finally looked up his eyes were red and tear filled.

He swallowed and finally spoke. “I’m going to cut out a little early today…but Renee’s back at our safe house and she’ll be giving updated information on the most heavily infected areas as well as the safest areas too. So stay tuned. This is Gerald Ritchie, reporting live from South Central L.A. I’ll be back on the air tomorrow and every day at 12 noon. So until then, don’t give up, ‘cause you ain’t alone out there”.

Gerald’s signature close didn’t have quite the same pop it had the first time I’d heard it. The scene shifted to what looked like a business office in a high rise somewhere in the city. A young woman (presumably Renee) sat at a large desk, the only other prominent feature on camera with her was an open laptop computer sitting on the desktop.

I recognized her as the getaway driver of the van in last week’s broadcast. Renee consulted her laptop for a moment then looked off camera.

Someone off screen said, “He’s off the air now. You can start.”

Renee looked into the camera, almost as somber as Gerald had been.

She began speaking, “For those of you who haven’t been watching regularly, I’m Renee Cusimono. Before I start my report, I’d like to say something on a personal note.

The plague victim you just saw Mr. Ritchie put to rest was his nephew, Lionel. He went in to South Central to try to rescue him this morning and found him already infected. What he did wasn’t easy for him. So don’t judge him.”