A Glimpse of Decay (Book 3): Lost in Twilight
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Authors: A.J. Santiago
Tags: #Zombie Apocalypse
Copyright
Copyright © 2015 by A.J. Santiago
Cover art creative attribution to www.CoverDesignStudio.com and L.C. Nottaasen.
Edited by Mike Valentino and K.S. Allen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations in articles or reviews – without the permission in writing from A.J. Santiago
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders.
All the characters in this novel are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Contents
With the full onset of the Ozersk Syndrome, communities far and wide were faced with the terrible realization that death was at their doorsteps. In futile and often misguided attempts, presidents, governors and mayors all tried to formulate plans that would save their flocks from the menacing specter that hovered above them. It made no difference though as the consuming decay turned the world of the living into the realm of the dead.
Struggling to comprehend what was taking place, people—their senses obliterated and their sanity pushed to the limit—were too overwhelmed to recognize that the inconceivable was happening in front of their eyes. A cold, methodical approach was needed to confront the looming disaster, an approach free of emotion or conscience, but human nature was unable to grasp such an alien idea. The sweetness of life was soon replaced by the rankness of death, and as the coming of a new era was announced with an apocalypse, the world and all its institutes simply crumbled away.
High School Sports Complex
San Antonio, Texas
“Damn, I don’t like the way they’re gathering up on that side…down by the swimming pool,” Officer Vincent Rossi said as he squinted, shading his eyes with his hands. He was looking at a large group of runners and reanimated that were standing just outside of the 8 foot high chain link fence that served as the perimeter for the high school football complex that they had sought refuge in. “I don’t know why the city chose this site as an evacuation center. It’s a freaking death trap.”
“Maybe we should go down there and thin them out a bit?” suggested a short stocky police officer who was standing next to Vincent. Vincent turned to him. The portly cop—showing that he had eaten one too many breakfast tacos over his 18 year career—had thinning brown hair; Vincent noticing that his scalp was getting sun burnt.
“Shit, we don’t have much ammunition left. We need to save it in case anything happens…like maybe if a few of them get in here. By the way Nick, if you haven’t noticed, your head is burning. Why don’t you get a cap or something to put on?” Vincent turned to survey the perimeter to the north. “At least there aren’t too many of them out by the main gate.”
“That’s because the main gate is on the side by the freeway,” Nick said as he rubbed the top of his head. He pointed to the south side of the field. “That side is closest to the neighborhoods. Seems like more and more of them are coming from there.”
***
Initially, Vincent had thought that the city’s idea of using the high school sports complex as an evacuation center was a good one. The football stadium had a natural perimeter with its high chain link fencing and gates, making it fairly fortified. Also, being in close proximity to the freeway, Vincent had felt a little more relieved knowing that if needed, an escape route was close at hand.
The reinforced fencing had also given the other officers a sense of security, but as the city buses continued to arrive—their cargos made up of frightened and terrified people—the runners and reanimated also began to show up. Before long, the officers and few city employees who had been assigned to the stadium were questioning the sense of using such an open place as a shelter.
Everything had gone according to the mayor’s plan as the evacuated civilians continued to arrive at the complex. Vincent had even noticed an occasional car or truck speeding down the highway, and somehow that gave him a slight sense of comfort—almost normalcy—knowing that at least some people were still using the roadways. Several portable toilets had been set up in front of the bleachers on the west side of the stadium to supplement the complex’s own facilities, and a kitchen had been configured in one of the concession booths. With an EMT station in the press box and portable shelters lining the sidelines, the field had lost its identity as a sports venue and now resembled a refugee camp.
As the evacuees were unloaded from the buses, some of the drivers told Vincent that the operation at the high school complex was one of the few that had actually been successful. One terrified bus driver in particular had told him about a massacre had taken place at the evacuation center in the Alamo Dome. Apparently, the infected and living dead had been strong enough to breach the facility’s defenses, turning the center into a bloodbath.
Other drivers began to tell unsettling stories of buses and cars being overturned by “swarms” of runners and reanimated. As the tales grew worse, Vincent and his fellow officers were filled with dread and they all began to question the security of the complex.
As the stadium filled with civilians, more and more runners and reanimated began to show up. Like sharks cruising a reef, the ghouls began to stalk around the stadium’s fences. With only a handful of officers assigned to the center, Vincent knew that if their perimeter was ever breached, the football stadium would become a slaughterhouse and they would all be as good as dead.
During the first day, the initial runners and reanimated encountered had been dispatched with gunfire, but as the day progressed, the numbers of the living infected and undead surged. During the night, no more buses came and the officers kept up their vigilant watch of the fence line as the shadowy figures howled and wailed, tugging and yanking at the chain-link.
Whenever he was allowed to take a break, Vincent found himself huddled in the corner of the concession booth—his shotgun held tightly against his chest. The moans and shrieks and the constant shaking and rattling of the fence had everyone on edge and Vincent was never able to get more than a few minutes of sleep. He intentionally avoided talking to the other officers and staff about what was going on; they always ended up with the same conclusions—the end of the world was at hand—and it sapped his spirit to take part in such talk. By morning, it was evident that no one else was going to be able to get into the stadium—and it was also impossible for anyone to leave.
***
The blistering heat of the summer day was taking a toll on the refugees and first responders alike. The EMTs were busy treating numerous heat casualties and the water supply was running low. Fortunately, the water was still running in the concession stands, but the pressure was weak and it was taking a long time to refill the few water containers that had been delivered to the stadium.
“Fuck this, it’s too damn hot,” Vincent said as he was walking down the sideline of the field. He unslung his shotgun, removed his gun belt and took off his uniform shirt. “If I was you, I’d do the same,” he said to Nick as he put his gun belt back on.
“Shit, I might as well. Anyway, who’s going to care if I’m out of uniform?”
“Yeah, somehow I don’t think the chief is gonna be out here today,” Vincent said sarcastically. He watched Nick remove his shirt and he said to him, “See, feels a lot better.”
“No kidding.” Nick looked back at the menacing crowd that was growing along the south fence line. “What should we do about them?” he asked, nervous. “You know, I should have just gone with my wife to the shelter at Kelly when I sent her there. Me being here doesn’t make any difference as to what’s going on around the city. I bet there are lots of guys who are going for themselves.”
“I know.” Vincent sighed out loud and looked down at the ground. “Maybe we should have done the same…you know…gone for ourselves. I can’t explain it, and now I regret it, but at first, I felt like I had an obligation to stick around and help out. It doesn’t make sense to me now because I think we’re all fucked anyway.” Still looking down at the ground, he shook his head in disgust. “Anyway, what difference does it make? We’re stuck here and that’s that. Let me get ahold of a couple of more guys and we’ll head down there and check on the fence.”
Vincent pulled his radio from its holder and brought it up to his mouth. “Hey, Josh, you and Albert meet me and Nick down by the south side. We got a big group on that fence and we probably need to do something about it.” As he was placing the radio back in its holder on his gun belt, he looked at the shrieking and wailing group. “I just wonder how much weight that fence can withstand before it gives way?” He gritted his teeth in anxiety.
“I don’t know. Just off hand, how many of them do you think are around us…around the whole complex?”
Vincent took a visual survey around the stadium and sighed. “At least a couple of thousand. Maybe three…maybe four.”
“That many?”
“I think so. Unfortunately.”
As Vincent and Nick walked past the shelters, they were met by a frightened woman who was holding a toddler. “Officer, what’s going to happen to us?” she asked.
Vincent stopped and looked at her and then at the toddler. “I really don’t know. Hopefully they’ll send some more help or maybe they’ll move us somewhere else.” He really didn’t know what else to tell her because he himself had no idea on what they had to look forward to.
Several other distraught looking people who had been lying on portable cots saw that the woman was talking with Vincent. They quickly sprang to their feet and walked over to join in on the conversation. They each had questions that they wanted answers for and this was going to be their first real chance to talk to anyone who was in authority.
“Is anymore help coming?” asked one man.
“Are we going to be taken somewhere else?” asked another man.
“How about formula for the infants?” asked a second woman in a quivering voice.
“I wish I had answers for you...for all of you, but I don’t know what’s going on out there,” Vincent replied.
“What do you mean that you don’t know what’s going on out there?” asked the woman with the toddler. “How can that be? Don’t you have your police radio or whatever it is that you carry around with you?”
“I do, but it seems like we’ve lost communication with everyone else,” Vincent said.
“Well, they can’t just leave us here!” she said in a raised voice. “They just can’t leave us here to die!” The gathering crowd began to rumble with discontent as she continued to question Vincent. Before long, he was surrounded by almost a hundred scared and confused people.
“Honestly,” he said as he tried to calm the group’s fears, “I really don’t know what’s going on outside of these gates, but I’m sure that they won’t just forget about us and leave us here. I’m sure that they have some kind of plan to get us—”
Just then, a trembling voice began to transmit over the officers’ radios. The crowd fell into silence as they huddled around the cops, trying to listen to what was being said over the radio speakers.
“This is Johnny Spence with the Emergency Operations Center. This transmission is to notify all city and county personnel who are still at their posts of the current situation within San Antonio and Bexar County. Yesterday afternoon, we received word that the police headquarters had been overrun. We no longer have contact with anyone there. We have also lost contact with the county jail. The fire department is no longer operating as all station houses have been abandoned or overrun. Volunteer fire departments are non-existent. All major hospitals are closed due to the shortage of medical staffs. We are no longer able to determine the status of patients who are currently being treated at these hospitals. We will no longer attempt to create evacuation centers and the E.A.S. will begin to issue directions for the citizenry to shelter in place until further notification. Police Chief Brody asks for any police or fire department personnel who are still able to report for duty to rally at San Antonio International Airport. It is the chief’s intent to secure the airport and runways in order to allow for the arrival of federal aid…if and when it comes. We will be evacuating our facilities here as the mayor and city manager are attempting to secure a command post for us on Fort Sam Houston. Once we reestablish the operations center, we will provide you with further instructions. This will be our last transmission until then. Good luck.”
Vincent and Nick looked at each other in disbelief. The crowd saw their expressions and fed off of the men’s reactions.
“That’s it!” the woman exclaimed. “It’s over! They’ve forgotten about us! It’s all over! We’re on our own!” As if on cue, the crowd began to yell and shout their fears and concerns.
Sensing that the people was on the verge of panic—or worse, Vincent raised his hands and yelled, “We’re not on our own!” The mob continued to rant and express their anger and fear, causing Vincent to have to yell out even louder. “We’re not on our own!” This time, the people heard him and they began to quiet down. “We’re not on our own,” he said in a calmer tone.
“How do you know that?” a voice asked from the group.
“Because if we were on our own, then they wouldn’t have sent out that radio broadcast. They know we’re still alive. Believe me, they’re not just gonna leave us here to die.” He was fighting to maintain a calm demeanor. Although the radio broadcast has filled him with fear, he knew that he couldn’t show it in front of the frightened crowd. “Look, all we can do is hope for the best. As you can see, we’re basically surrounded.” He pointed out to the parking lot full of runners and reanimated. “We have to make sure that they don’t get in, and if in the end no one comes for us, then we gotta figure out how to get out of here.”
“Yeah, but there’s only a few buses out there and there’s gotta be about at least five or six hundred of us in here,” said a man who was wearing a Vietnam Veteran ball cap.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Vincent said with irritation. He was growing frustrated at being bombarded with all of the questions, but he didn’t want to take it out on the people who were under his care. He knew that they were frightened, scared and worn out. He also figured that the heat was wearing them down and the constant shrieking and yelling from the runners probably had everybody completely unnerved.
As Vincent continued to try to calm the people, Josh and Albert walked up to the crowd. “What’s going on?” Josh asked.
“You didn’t hear the radio transmission from the ops center?”
“Naw, both of our batteries are dead,” Josh replied. “Why, what did they say?”
Vincent curled his bottom lip and began to gnaw on it; half out of anger and half out of nervousness.
“No one knows what the fuck is going on, that’s what’s going on!” said the veteran with the ball cap. “You guys are supposed to be in charge. How can you not know what’s going on out there?” Both Josh and Albert looked over at Vincent, as if they too were awaiting some sort of explanation from him.