Chicago Fell First: A Zombie Novel (15 page)

With that, the dirty young man pulled open the big wooden gate, demonstrating strength beyond what one might expect from his skinny, starved-looking body, and proceeded to leap up on top of the car’s hood, sitting dead center so that both Doug and Kacey could see ahead.

“You can start the riding now!” shouted Constable Fess. “I’ll a-tell you when you can stop movin’!”

Doug drove forward, slowly and cautiously, hoping their new friend would prove adept at balancing on the hot steel hood as they travelled. They rode on through a dozen more twists along the primitive road, the trees growing ever taller under the same blue Illinois sky. The four young people in the car felt like strangers in a very strange land and the weirdness of it all was almost enough to make them forget the horrors that had sent them scurrying so far from the civilization they knew so well.

Twenty minutes later, the path widened. They entered a large clearing surrounded on three sides by small buildings made of logs and bark and mud and roping. As they came to a stop and Fess jumped down from the hood, several dozen people emerged from their cabins and surrounded the vehicle. They were all dressed in a combination of homemade skins or furs and rags that looked like Goodwill donations. There were young and there were old. A few were fat but most were thin as straw. All were dirty. Most were barefoot. They stared in wide-mouthed wonder as if they were Aztecs seeing Cortez for the first time. Their faces displayed a mixture of curiosity and terror.

“Holy Deliverance, Batman!” Kacey blurted out.

“Are we still on Earth?” Brandon wondered out loud.

“Relax,” Danielle said. “There’s nothing to worry about. Where is he?”

Doug clenched his fists. He wondered how easily his shadow-self would rise to the surface of his soul if they proved to be in danger.   

From out of the crowd walked a man. He looked more like what those in the car were used to seeing. He was older, early seventies, a big man, tall and thick with a gray beard, thinning hair, and dressed in faded jeans, a buttoned blue shirt, and white sneakers. He carried a cane carved from a twisted tree limb but the cane seemed to be more of an affectation than a necessity. He was cleaner than the rest of them and his smiling face and twinkling eyes showed intelligence and joyful interest in the world around him.

Danielle popped her door open, got out of the car, and walked quickly in the man’s direction. “Professor Harrison!” she called out, and they embraced.

Doug, following Danielle’s lead, got out too, followed by Brandon, who seemed reassured by the arrival of the man who resembled Santa Claus. Kacey hesitated for a moment but soon left the car as well.

The rest of the forest dwellers backed off a few feet, giving room to the guests. Danielle stood beside the professor and made introductions.

“Professor Donald Harrison, these are my friends: Doug, Kacey, and Brandon.”

Doug shook the older man’s hand. Brandon let out a hearty, “Hi!” and Kacey nodded, forced a smile, still a bit uneasy in her strange new surroundings.

Fifteen minutes later, as the sun was beginning to set, five people sat inside the largest of the little community’s cabins. Professor Harrison’s abode was not uncivilized; the walls were sturdy and the floor was covered with a carpet that appeared to be a patchwork of the skins of several different colors of animal. There were chairs that could have come from IKEA, bookshelves holding volumes on history, anthropology and various other subjects, a small antique writing desk, and an assortment of candles for light. Off to one side were a bed and a somewhat beat-up but functional dresser.

They all sat and listened to Danielle tell the professor what had happened so far in Chicago, up to and including the incident with the bus and Doug’s brave and timely arrival, her injury and her fears of possibly turning into an Empty One herself.

When she finished, Harrison nodded gravely.

“Well I’m certainly happy that you seem to be all right, Danielle. Were I a praying man, I’d ask the creator of the universe to see that you remained that way, but I am not fond of such habits. Anyway, I welcome you all to my home. I suppose I should get around to giving this place a name one of these days, but I’ve been awaiting the proper inspiration.”

“Are all these cabins as nice as this one on the inside?” Kacey asked, the first time she had spoken since their arrival; she was beginning to feel safe again and liked the professor and his welcoming personality.

“No,” Harrison answered. “They vary in quality according to the whims and abilities of their builders and occupants, but I do suppose I have the best. I am, after all, the mayor!”

“Professor,” Danielle suggested, “maybe you should explain your whole situation to my friends. It seems strange to me, so it must be really weird for them.”

Harrison got up and looked around the room for his pipe. The sweet tobacco scent filled the interior of the little log house and it seemed to fit the environment as he sat back in his chair and began to tell the story.

“I have been a professor of anthropology for many decades. Over the course of my career, I had heard rumors of a small community, a tribe, for lack of a better term, of people living out here in this wooded region of northern Illinois—undeveloped or unspoiled, depending upon your point of view. Such an idea fascinated me. It would be a dream for an anthropologist to discover a village of people living almost exactly as they had during the days of Lincoln’s youth or even earlier. When I had finally had enough of university life and decided to retire, I took it upon myself to investigate those rumors and see if such a place, such people still existed in this state. I expected to be disappointed. As you can see, I was most pleasantly surprised! I finally stumbled upon this place and, I must admit, feared for my life at first, for these people value their ways and do all they can to avoid contact with the outside, modern world.

“Somehow though, they seemed to like me, even respect me. This was, I suppose, because I showed them respect and treated them as I would treat people of any race or ethnicity or traditions anywhere on this earth. I was very careful in my dealings with the villagers here. They came to enjoy my stories of the world beyond these woods and I showed them some, but not much, of what exists out there in the so-called land of civilization. I have tried to maintain a balance here, letting them live as they have and as their ancestors have for many, many years before, but using modern conveniences a little bit, just enough to make their primitive lives ever so much better. I have brought doctors here to see to their health on several occasions, but only physicians I know well enough to trust completely. I have tried to teach them to read and write and speak proper English so that they may be equipped should they ever need to communicate with the rest of the world. I do use modern things myself from time to time; my van is parked not far from here and I use it to travel to the nearest town to pick up supplies for myself, medical needs, and bits of donated clothing for my friends here, and other small necessities. I sometimes give those who live here food from outside, but only rarely and never enough to make them too used to it. I must tread carefully to avoid ruining the way of life in this place. I have, as you know, a cell phone and I use my van to keep it charged. It is almost miraculous that I can get any reception out here in this wild land, but it works!

“These people elected me to be their leader, and it is a job that I hold most sacred. I would do almost anything for them, for my adopted family! I have given special jobs to many of them, for it makes them feel important and happy. You’ve already met Constable Fess. That young man patrols the lands surrounding the village and has, on several occasions, frightened away hikers who nearly stumbled upon this place. He is quite good at that and he knows that I will tolerate, under no circumstances save self-defense, any harm coming to anyone who ignorantly enters this territory. Life is good here. It is unique, it is joyous, and it is an anthropologist’s dream come true. I intend to remain here for as long as this old body of mine still breathes. Still, I must admit that it is nice to have visitors from the twenty-first century, though I wish the circumstances were not so dire.”    

Doug, Kacey and Brandon had listened with interest as the professor told his tale.

“Fascinating,” Doug said as Harrison concluded the story.

Their host glanced out the small window of the cabin and saw that dusk was in full, darkening bloom. “I suppose you’re all quite hungry after your long journey.”

“I could eat,” Kacey said, inspiring a “Me, too!” from Brandon.

“Irena,” Harrison called out, facing the window, “would you fix our guests some supper?”

A grunted affirmation could be heard, followed by the sound of several of the villagers scurrying around outside. Small talk ensued among those inside the cabin and shortly, a woman walked in bearing a tray made from a wide, flat board. She looked to be about forty and was dressed like most of her neighbors. On the tray were five steaming bowls and an equal number of carved wooden spoons. Irena distributed the soup. Danielle, Kacey, and Doug stared at the murky brown liquid while Brandon sniffed the rising steam and wrinkled his nose. Irena left and Professor Harrison dug in, slurping hungrily at his meal. He looked up after the third spoonful, saw that his guests had not yet sampled the fare, and encouraged them.

Empty stomachs overruled protesting eyes and noses and the four refugees from the outside world began to eat. None of them had the courage to ask exactly what they were eating but, surprisingly, it was quite good.

Chapter 14

When the soup was gone, Professor Harrison produced four bottles from his hidden stash of Guinness. Brandon had to settle for fresh cow’s milk.

After the drinks, Brandon was eager to see the rest of the village and its strange inhabitants. Doug and Kacey took Brandon outside, with Constable Fess appointed as their tour guide. Danielle stayed behind. She wanted to speak to her old professor about the Chicago situation and about the bite she had received at the site of the bus crash. 

The village looked beautiful in the night, with torches and lanterns hung on wooden posts at intervals between the cabins, providing enough light for the inhabitants to walk around after the sun had set. Doug was beginning to like it, something about the atmosphere of oddness made him smile sincerely, which he did not do often. The weird aura of the place had the added bonus of inspiring Kacey to take hold of his hand as they emerged from Harrison’s cabin. They walked just behind Constable Fess, who led the way with Brandon beside him; the boy seemed to view the village as a carnival, a place unlike any he had seen before, and wanted to see everything, know what everyone was doing, and take in every possible aspect of it before he could calm down.

As they wandered the village, Doug, Kacey and Brandon were given a look inside most of the small log structures that lined the area. The villagers were simply going about their evening business, the novelty of strangers having worn off by now. They looked into Irena’s kitchen cabin and saw that cooking was not much different than it had been in Doug’s Chicago apartment or Kacey’s Mirage Diner. The flames had to be stoked instead of springing fully lit from a gas or electric stove, but it was still fire that did the work. Ingredients were tossed into pots and boiled or covered with grease to fry. Leaves of various plants were added to steaming water to make tea. The smell of fermenting fruit was noticeable too, indicating that these people made their own liquors. In other houses, people sewed together skins to make clothing or whittled wood for tools or hunting implements or decorations. There were even children doing their homework, staring with a mix of concentration and curiosity at the works of Dr. Seuss, no doubt provided by Professor Harrison. They slowly sounded out the words until their voices mingled and rose and not liking green eggs and ham became a chanted song that echoed off the wood roof of that particular cabin.

“You all want to see the swimmin’ pond?” Constable Fess asked. “It ain’t good to jump too far into it when it’s dark, but it’s a nice place to sit and take a rest any time of the day.”

“Ah… the lagoon,” Kacey quipped.

“Huh?” the constable murmured his confusion. Gilligan’s Island was a universe away from his life experiences.

“Never mind her,” Doug said. “Sure, the swimming pond sounds nice.”

They walked past the edge of the small settlement, Fess carrying a torch to light their way through a short narrow path between the trees. When they reached the end of the path and the next clearing opened, they stopped in their tracks at the sight of something far nicer than they had expected.

“Wow!” Brandon was impressed.

“It’s gorgeous!” Kacey shouted, squeezing Doug’s hand.

The pond itself was the size of a large in-ground pool that you might see on some celebrity homes reality show. It was encircled by a ring of smooth ground where the trees and shrubs had been removed to make a sort of sidewalk around the pond’s perimeter. Torches hung on poles there as they had in the village. The glow of the firelight reflected off the water’s surface was breathtaking. Insects could be heard buzzing in the background, a perfect soundtrack to the picture.

Danielle sipped her second beer slowly as she sat back in one of the chairs in Harrison’s cabin. The professor leisurely puffed on his pipe.

“Do you think it’s safe by now?” Danielle asked, her voice quivering a bit as if simply asking the question made her nervous.

“Can you elaborate?” Harrison asked.

“It’s been hours. I haven’t changed into one of those zombie things. I’m still me and I’m really beginning to think I’ll stay this way. I’m starting to feel relieved and I wonder if it’s justified.”

“Be happy, Danielle. You’re alive and you’re okay and your injury was slight.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling. “Then I have to shift gears and ask the next logical question: why haven’t I been affected?”

“Everyone else has?”

“I know there was at least one other, from what we heard on the news. It was a man, an older man, in his sixties they said. As far as more, who knows? Thousands changed, they say, and we know of two who didn’t. Who are we to figure out why, out here so far from the real doctors who I’m sure are working on this thing twenty-four seven?”

“Maybe that’s the key, Danielle,” Harrison said, his voice shifting into teacher mode. “You’re away from that hell, outside the chaos, clear of the confusion. Think of your own circumstances and think of what you heard about the other one who didn’t change. You also have what you were told by that soldier you told me about, the man who helped you get out of Chicago. You might not have all the pieces, but you have part of the puzzle and you’re not an idiot. See what fits!”

“Cancer fits,” Danielle said. It was all she had.

“Cancer?” the anthropologist asked.

“The man on the news, he talked about how lucky he felt to have survived the zombie attack and liver cancer. That’s the one thing I know for certain that I have in common with him. We both beat cancer.”

“It’s as good a place as any to start,” Harrison suggested. “What will you do with that information?” 

Kacey’s empty sneakers and socks sat on the path that surrounded the pond. She sat there with her feet in the swimming hole, having put them in after being assured by Fess that nothing of toe-eating size lived in the dark water. Doug sat cross-legged beside her as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Across the pond, Fess had produced a small bag of round stones from his belt and used a stick to draw circles of various sizes in the dirt. He was teaching Brandon a village game that consisted of tossing the pebbles into the circles with different numbers of points being awarded according to which ring the stone came to rest in. It was a sort of horizontal darts.

“They’re having fun,” Kacey said softly in Doug’s ear.

“Good,” Doug responded. “That poor little kid’s whole world just fell apart. He should have some fun if he can.”

“So what about us, Doug? Our worlds are a little different now too, right?”

“Yeah, it seems that way.”

“Did you really kill all those zombies? Danielle says you saved her life and Brandon’s too. What was it like, killing those things? It can’t have been easy, even if they were sort of dead already.”

“It was easy. It was too easy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kacey, that’s why I walked out of the diner when you pushed too hard for answers about me.
I’m … I’m not a good person. I have darkness to me that … that scares me, and it should scare you too. It would scare you if you could really see it, really feel it. What I did with those creatures was natural, as if all my instincts came to the surface and destruction, mayhem, violence was me, the true me, the monster that hides behind the mask of my face most of the time. You shouldn’t get too close to me, Kacey. It might not be safe.”

“Might not be safe? Doug, you’re the one who came to Bellamy and talked me into coming out here to Northwest Bumblefuck so we’d be safe from those zombie things … and now you’re telling me I’m not safe here either because of you? Make up your mind!”

“I can’t,” Doug admitted. “I’m not sure which mind is the real one.”

“Well,” Kacey said, lifting her head from his shoulder and twisting around so she could look him in the eyes, “I hope the one who slept with me was the real one. You felt real to me, in every way. I think ‘Doug the big, bad zombie-killer’ was you having an adventure, and I’m sure it was interesting, but don’t let it go to your head.”

Doug said nothing. He already regretted having said so much. He tried to stay calm. He wrapped an arm around Kacey and pulled her close to him, hoping the gesture would lull her into taking her line of questioning no further.

She never got the chance to continue. A teenage boy came bounding into the area carrying a torch and calling for Constable Fess.

“Fess, Mr. Donald wants you to bring them back to his house now. He says he’s got to do some talkin’ about the important things!”   

“Did you all hear that?” Fess called out from across the swimming pond.

Doug nodded and stood up, turned and began to walk quickly back to the village. He had already learned the way. Kacey got up, grabbed her shoes and socks from the ground, thought about putting them on, shook her head and hurried after Doug, barefoot and almost tripping once, unaccustomed to walking unshod over dirt and stones and grass. Fess followed with Brandon in tow. 

Chicago was dark, darker than it should have been. The power outages were spreading as fewer city workers were alive or normal or available to keep the metropolis lit. The sounds of the night were still terrible ones, but the hum of motors and the rush of vehicles had lessened now, replaced by the sounds of breaking glass, looting, panic and yet more violence.

To Terence Trumbull, it was beginning to sound like the police and military were giving up, leaving Hell to its demons and thinking more now of their own safety.

Trumbull suspected that he would die in Chicago. The odds were too high against the city being saved now. But, he had already long since vowed, he would go down fighting and certainly not, under any circumstances, allow himself to become an Empty One. He inspected his weapons again and left the apartment where he had hidden during the sunlight hours.

Doug and Kacey were back in Professor Harrison’s cabin. Harrison was in his chair and still had the pipe going while Danielle had moved to the bed, reclining with her back against a stack of pillows, her legs stretched out in front of her. She looked relaxed, a bit tired but in good spirits.

Kacey sat down and used her socks as rags to brush most of the dirt from her feet before slipping her sneakers back on. Doug looked expectantly at Danielle and the professor, wondering why they had been summoned back. He did not sit.

“I have an idea,” Danielle began. “Obviously I haven’t turned into one of those creatures, and we need to find out why. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of information except for the fact that at least one other person has managed to avoid changing after being bitten: that man we heard about on the radio on the way here. Of course, we don’t know why neither he nor I turned, but there is one similarity. It seems that both of us have had, and survived, different forms of cancer. Is that the common link to our apparent immunity? I don’t know, but we need to find out.”

“Cancer,” Kacey said with worry and shock. “You had that? Are you okay now?”

“For the most part,” Danielle answered.

“What do you mean?”

Wanting to get the questions out of the way and get back to business, Danielle sat up, bent her left knee, yanked the prosthetic foot off and plopped the naked end of her leg back down on the bed for Kacey to see.

“Shit!” the startled young waitress blurted.

“It’s no big deal anymore,” Danielle assured her. “You didn’t notice before, did you? But anyway, we have an idea about how we can test my theory.”

Professor Harrison spoke now, relating his part of the plan.

“I’ve called my friend, Dr. Raymond Bosc. He occasionally comes out to the village here to tend to my friends’ medical needs. He’s agreed to come out here tomorrow and bring some equipment that he and Danielle will need to carry out their little experiments. Getting Raymond’s help and the tools we need is the easy part.”

“And what’s the hard part?” Kacey asked.

“We need,” Danielle said, taking over the conversation again, “a zombie.”

Doug spoke for the first time since he had entered the cabin. He sounded enthusiastic.

“I’ll take care of that!”

“Are you crazy?” Kacey shot back. “What do you plan to do, just drive up to one of those monsters, grab him, tie him up and drive back here with him in the trunk?”

“I was thinking something like that,” Doug answered, casually, calmly.

“And what if it scratches you or bites you?”

“It won’t … and if it does, it’ll wish it hadn’t.”

“Then I’m going with you!” Kacey insisted.

“No.”

Professor Harrison stood up.

“Both of you be quiet! Young lady, I understand your concern, but someone must get us a test subject and Doug has already proven that he can handle himself in a dangerous situation. If you insist on going with him, we can’t stop you, but I suggest you do as he says if you go.

“Now, according to the information Danielle acquired from her phone while you two were out, there have been several small outbreaks of the zombie phenomenon in towns closer to us than Chicago. They are, of course, not of the scope of the plague in the big city, but a zombie is a zombie and I suppose any will do for our purposes. Doug, it would be best if you took my van for the capture of our guinea pig. I believe I have everything you’ll need: strong rope and wire, a machete should you need to fight, and even a rifle, assuming you know how to shoot.”