Evolution of the Dead (15 page)

Blood sprayed outward in an array.

Nick ducked.  The spray flew over him, missing him by inches.

Disgusted, he ran away toward the light at the end of the tunnel.

More blood started to spot through the cement as he ran past.

The bus was empty.

Carmen whispered loudly, “Kim?”

“She in there?” Scott asked from below.

“No.  No one’s here.”

He let her back down.

“Where the hell did she go?”

“I don’t know.”

Scott asked, “Were you able to see through the bus? What’s on the other side? Is it clear?”

Behind them, a loud deep scraping noise echoed through the tunnel.

“What the hell was that?” Scott asked looking around.

It’s the rats.  They’re coming out of the sewers now.  They’ll crawl up here, sneak under the crushed cars, and start gnawing on your feet.  They’ll take you first because you’re weak – and scared – they can sense fear.  They’ll chew you up.

“Carmen?”

“What?”

“I thought I was losing you there.  You were out of it for a second.”

“Sorry,” she said, her eyes glazed over.

Another loud penetrating screech echoed through the length of the tunnel.  “God damn, that’s a weird fucking sound,” Scott said, fear in his voice.

The bones of the dead are scraping up from under the road.  The people who were killed here, smashed in their cars or decapitated by flying glass.  It’s their bones, scraping along, skeletal beings bent on revenge.

“Shut up,” she said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know.  I’m freaking out.  Having some weird thoughts.

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her eyes staring blankly.  “Yeah.  Fine.  Just give me a sec.”

He backed up a step.  Her face was getting very pale.  The pupils of her eyes were dilating.

“
Carmen
?”

Scraping along the ground; breaking bones, skin ripping under the sharp edges of the undercarriage of a car.

The mailman.

Nick? Nick’s not a mailman.

He ran her over.

After you pushed her.  What?

Janet?

Remember, darling?

“
Darling
,” she whispered.

Scott swallowed.

Carmen blinked her eyes.

Scott asked, “You ok? You’re freaking me the hell out.”

“Hold me.”

He grabbed her and held her.  She could feel his strong arms wrapped around her.  They were shaking.  He was scared, too.

What’s happening to me? What is that damned voice? Who is that?

Another loud pealing squeak scratched the ground.  Scott felt it in his feet.

“Oh shit,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The freaks.  They’re pushing the wrecked cars toward us.  They’re gonna crush us against the bus.”

The exit door of the bus stood open.  Kim cautiously walked to the front and peered out.

Highway lanes leading into the tunnel were blocked by two army trucks parked nose to nose.

The center median had been built out from the center of the tunnel.  A flag on a pole waved in a breeze.  Cars were backed up bumper to bumper as far as she could see.  Some vehicles were sitting sideways on the other side of the road up in the grass.

All of the cars waiting to go into the tunnel were empty.  There were no people in them.

Everyone was standing in the street.  Some were in the break down lanes.  Some were up on the grass.  Others stood motionless in the lanes leading out of the tunnel.

They were all dead.

Their bodies were evolving.  Tangling worms had bundled together under the skin, bruising it, causing it to rip.  Some worms stretched out of the skin, pulling it, tearing it as it reached to the ground where blood puddled.  Worms crawled along the stretching, bleeding skin, blood dripping.

In unison, all of them turned to face Kim when she poked her head out of the bus.

Suddenly, Nick came running through the open door of the bus.  It scared the hell out of her.

Kim screamed, “Where the hell did you come from?”

He was out of breath.  Quickly, he pulled the door closed with a handle at the driver’s seat.

“Nick, what the hell’s going on?”

Holding up a hand to her, trying to get his breath, he finally said, “I came through the tunnel.”

“Where’s Janet?”

He shook his head.  “I don’t know.  She wanted to get out.  I left her on the road.”

“You
what?”

“She wanted out.  She was pissed.”

Kim gave him an evil eye.  “You didn’t just leave her, did you, like you did to Carmen?”

“No,” he said out of breath shaking his head.  “No, she got out by herself.  Listen, we can talk about this later.  We need to get the hell out of here.  The freaks are right outside!”

“Wait.  We need to get Carmen and Scott.  They’re over here.”  She grabbed his hand and led him to the popped out window.  “Right down there.”

Nick stuck his head out the window.

Scott and Carmen were hugging one another.  Carmen was crying.

“Come on you two,” Nick said.  “We need to get out of here.”

Carmen looked up, her eyes wet with tears.  She asked “What the hell are you doing here?”

Scott asked, “Where’s Kim?”

“She’s right here.”

Scott hoisted Carmen up to the window.  Nick pulled her into the bus.  She bumped her foot on the floor as she sat down.  She held back a scream of pain.

“Sorry about that,” Nick said.

Holding her foot, grimacing in pain, she said, “Help Scott.”

He reached down for Scott.

Scott grabbed his hand.

Another loud screech echoed through the tunnel.  Several cars below Scott started to crush against the bus.

He yelled, “Hurry! They’re trying to smash us.”

Scott jumped up to the window ledge. Holding on, Nick grabbed the back of his shirt and helped him crawl up into the bus.

Globs of spit started splashing against the windshield.  “Hurry you guys,” Carmen said.  “They’re getting closer out there.”

Finally, Scott fell into the bus.  Nick dropped down into a seat next to him.

“Thanks,” Scott breathed.

Nick nodded, out of breath.

The whole bus was groaning as tons of cars pushed against it.

“We’re screwed,” Carmen whispered, grabbing her seat as the bus shook.  “We’re gonna get crushed in here.”

All of them held onto the seats around them.  Scott plopped down onto a seat.

Windows in the bus started popping out.

Kim sat next to Scott.  She grabbed his hand.

Carmen glanced at Nick.  For a brief second she thought his face looked broken and bloody again.

He looked at her as he held on.

No, he isn’t hurt,
she thought.
  His face looks fine
.

She felt light headed for a second.

She felt like someone was shaking her.  No.  It was the bus.

Nick and the mailman.  They have something in common.

The windshield broke, pulling her out of her daze.  Spit started flying through the open front of the bus.

Scott pulled Kim close.  He closed his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

The front bumper of the bus was caught on part of the guardrail at the exit of the tunnel.  When the force became too great, the bus ejected like a door slamming open.  It hinged on the guardrail, doing a half-spin, turning from east-west to north-south in less than half of a second.  All four wheels skidded across the road, tearing over the concrete, ripping through hovering blood and spraying vomit, smashing through bodies of the standing dead.  When the tires hit the center median of the highway, the bus stopped abruptly.  It teetered on two wheels for a split second, then dropped back on all four tires.

Inside the bus, Nick, Scott, Kim and Carmen had been wildly thrown out of their seats.

Blinking, laying in the center aisle, Scott sat up.  Kim was laying on top of him.  “Everyone ok?”

Slowly everyone sat up.  Nick rubbed his head.  They all said they were ok.

Scott got onto his feet.  “We gotta go now.  Right fucking now.”

He jumped out the window he had just climbed through.

Looking at each other in surprise, Kim jumped out, too.  She was quickly followed by Nick.

Carmen stood up using a seat as a crutch.  She limped to the window.

Scott was waiting on the ground below.

“Jump! I’ll catch you.”

She jumped.

In a car that had been parked on the side of the road near the tunnel exit, Scott, Kim, Carmen and Nick sped toward Executive airport to find Scott’s sister, his father, and escape.

Kim watched out the rear-view mirror on the passenger side.

The dead followed.

BOOK TWO

THE DEAD ONES

Eighteen year old Stacy Olson stood in an open bay of a hangar at Executive airport.  She had her arms crossed.  She was staring outside, watching her dad pacing around their plane.

Well, actually, it was her older brother Scott’s plane.  It was a white 8 seat Cessna turboprop.

She and her dad were waiting for Scott. Her dad was getting impatient.  He was out by the plane, his hands behind his back.  He had his head down staring at the concrete as he paced back and forth.

Scott should have been here by now.  Stacy was worried.  Unwelcome thoughts of Scott’s death crossed her mind.  She shooed them away.  She didn’t like that idea at all.  She wouldn’t allow it.  Not Scott.  Not her awesome big brother.  No sir.

Dad would be heartbroken.  Dad loved him.  He was so proud of Scott.  Losing Scott would utterly destroy him.

They hadn’t heard a word from him since the radio broadcasted about the disease spreading downtown.  They had been listening to the radio in Scott’s office.  It was battery operated.

This was where they were supposed to meet! It was something they planned and talked about many times.

The airport.

Scott’s office.

So where was he?

She whispered, “Damnit, Scott.  Come on.  I know you’re alive out there somewhere!”

The radio was reporting that the military was attempting to contain the virus.  National Guard troops had been deployed downtown.  Maybe Scott was with them, helping.

Frank Olson didn’t believe it.

The part about Scott helping, yes, but the military taking control? He didn’t think so.

With twenty years in the Army as a radio operator, Frank knew code words used to keep the public calm; and he knew words that meant
bug out
. 
Get out as fast as you can
.

These words were all over the radio now.

He stopped pacing, pushed his glasses up on his nose, turned, and walked back into the hangar where Stacy stood.  They needed to get out of here right now.

“Stace.”

“Yeah dad?”

“We need to go.”

“Scott’s not here yet.”

“Hon.  If we don’t get going soon, we might not make it out of here at all.”

“Can we wait a little longer, dad, please?”

“Honey, it’s been over twenty four hours.  Scott should have been here by now.  We need to go.”

“No,” she grabbed him by the shoulder and hugged him.”  “Please dad, one more hour.”

He sighed heavily, an overweight man with sandy, graying hair.  Occasionally, complete strangers would stop him on the street to tell him how much he reminded them of Captain Kangaroo from the old children’s program on TV.  He’d be grateful.  He’d bow to them, thanking them.  He always tried to be a gentle man, a sincere man.  The loss of his wife had simply devastated him.  His son and daughter were the ones who urged him to move on.  Be strong.

Mom would’ve wanted you to be strong for us, dad
.

And his daughter.  She didn’t look anything like him.  She was short with long black hair.  Black hair like her mother’s.

His kids had always been there for him.  He loved them for that.

When Scott’s design was chosen for the new skyscraper to be built downtown, Frank had been so proud.  He cried when the ribbon cutting took place at the ground breaking ceremony.  During his speech, Scott publicly thanked his father for always being there.  He dedicated the new building to him.

“Alright honey,” he said quietly.  “One more hour.  But then I’m going to have to insist on prepping the plane.”

She nodded against his shoulder, her tears leaving a wet spot on his shirt.

It was dark and quiet.

In B terminal of Orlando Florida’s airport, the daily mad rush of hurrying passengers was non-existent.

Overhead televisions were dark.  Loudspeakers were silent. Suitcases and travel bags sat unattended in rows of empty seats.

Hundreds of the dead stood silent in the terminal.  None were moving.  They stood in the darkness, some in suits, some in casual clothing.  None held cell phones.  None checked their watches to see if they were late to catch a flight.

It was eerily quiet.

In dark restrooms, groups of the dead stood where last battles for life were lost.  Walls were plastered with vomit.

One last trip down to the boat
, Dean Lawson thought to himself as he climbed down the ladder on the dock to his small yacht. 
Got the last of the supplies.  When Mike gets here, we’re heading out to sea for the holiday weekend!

The wooden ladder was slippery.  He slid off, missing the last rung.  A sharp sliver imbedded itself into the web of his thumb.

Shit.  Gonna need the tweezers for that one.

Stepping onto the boat, he ducked down into the lower galley.

Been eyeing that place down the river here.  If we get it, we won’t have to climb up and down that stupid ladder all the time.  We’d have our
own
dock.  Then we wouldn’t have to push our way down here when it gets crowded.  Damn people everywhere.  No fucking privacy.  Mike and I should have looked for a better place to store this piece of shit a long time ago.

He and his friend, Mike Owens, a jet plane mechanic, bought the yacht seven months ago at an auction.  Surprisingly, they won the bid.  They didn’t think they would.

It came with a trailer, but not a location to put it.  Both men lived in apartments in Indian River, Florida.  Apartments didn’t have room for yachts.

For now, they kept it tied to the dock.  Luckily, the weather had been agreeable.  No hurricanes or tropical storms had lashed up yet.

Inside, he pulled a drawer open in a small bathroom.  The tweezers pulled the splinter out easily.

Outside, up on the dock, someone screamed.  Dean set the tweezers down on a counter-top listening.

That’s not a fun scream
, he thought. 
That’s not someone playing around up there.

He walked out onto the back of the yacht looking up at the dock.

Someone else screamed closer to shore.  People were running.  He could hear their feet stomping along the wood.  They were running to the
end
of the dock, not back to shore.

That seemed very odd to him.

Curious, he jumped onto the ladder.  He climbed up to eye level with the floor of the dock.  People were screaming, running.  Someone saw him looking over the edge.  They waved him down.

Behind them, closer to shore, people were vaulting vomit out of their mouths.  Other people were falling over, grabbing their stomachs.  All of their skin was yellow.  What the hell was going on up there?

He slid back down the ladder.

I’ll duck down into the galley until this passes
, he thought as he turned on the radio. 
Mike will be here after work.  Til then, I’ll just chill.

Outside, the screaming got louder and louder.

Frank and Stacy Olson didn’t recognize the car pulling up next to Scott’s plane.

Scott got out!

He ran over to his sister.  He was crying.  They hugged.

Fresh tears ran down Frank’s cheeks, too.

Kim got out of the front seat.  Smiling she walked over to Scott and his family.  Hesitantly Nick went around to help Carmen get out.

“I knew you’d be here,” Scott cried, holding his sister.  “I knew you’d be safe.”

Stacy said, “We were so worried about you, Scott.”

“So good to see you, son,” Frank said, taking his turn hugging Scott.

“You too, dad.”

Taking off his glasses, wiping his eyes, Frank said, “We need to go.  They’re getting closer.”

Scott nodded quickly, wiping tears from his own cheeks.  “They’re getting
too
close.  Is the plane ready?”

“I was about to start prepping for flight.”

“We don’t have time to prep.”

Stacy said, “We’ve been listening on the radio.  It says to stay out of downtown.”

“They need to change it to the whole
city
of Orlando,” Scott said.  “It’s bad.”

Kim walked up next to them. “It’s everywhere.”

Frank said, “Let’s get moving then.”

They hurried over to the plane.

Carmen was already standing by the front of the plane with Nick.  They weren’t talking.

Frank noticed Carmen.  She was only wearing underwear! She didn’t have any shoes on! Her bruised swollen ankle looked terrible.

“Looks like you’ve all had a rough time,” he said addressing Carmen.  He opened the side door on the plane.  “Please, get in.”

Kim boarded first followed by Stacy.  Nick went next.  He gave Carmen a hand getting in.  She plopped down into a seat.

Sliding the rear door closed, Frank got in the front seat of the plane.

Scott was already up front.  He asked, “Everyone buckled in?”

Dead people began to pour around the corner of the hangar.  Some shot bloody worms out of their skin into the grass in front of them.  Others vaulted vomit and spit into the air attempting to hit the plane from their distance.

“Scott, let’s get these engines started,” Frank said as the group approached.

“How much fuel do we have?” Scott asked.

“150 gallons.”

One of the dead near the front of the group fell down.  It didn’t stumble over anything.  It simply fell on its face.

Scott asked, “What’s going on with that one?”

“Is it dying?” Kim asked.

The rest of the dead group began to funnel around the dead one on the ground.  They circled it.  Several others headed for the plane.

“Let’s start the engines,” Frank said loudly.

Inserting his key, Scott hit the ignition press button switch on his side of the cockpit.  Frank pressed his.  Both engines started.  The propellers began to rotate.

The dead people were within a few feet.  One of them lobbed a glob of spit at the plane.  It spattered on the windshield.  Worms grew out of it.  Others shot worms at the propellers attempting to wrap around them and choke out the engine.

The propellers were at full speed now.  One of the dead walked into the propeller on Scott’s side.  Its body was shredded to pieces.

“Oh God,” Stacy breathed in disgust.

“Let’s get out of here,” Frank said.  Releasing the brakes, Scott throttled the plane forward.  He drove through the group of the dead, the propellers dicing through them.  The side of the plane was slicked in blood.

Body parts were thumping against the side of the plane.

The engine sputtered.

“Steady,” Scott said, reassuring everyone.  “We’re at full power.  We’ll be in the air in a few minutes.”

Another loud thump hit the side of the plane followed by another.

“What the hell?” Nick said, “We should be far enough away from the group now.  What are we hitting?”

Another thump hit the tail section.

Kim was able to see out her side of the plane.  “They’re throwing themselves at us.”

“They’re what?” Scott asked.

“The one that fell on the ground…the rest of them are…they’re ripping it to pieces and they’re throwing the body parts at us!”

“My god,” Frank whispered.

Nick shouted, “How can they do that? How can they choose to do that to one another?”

Without looking at him, Carmen said, “Executive decision.”

He looked over at her.  “A
what
?”

“One, or part of the whole group, decided that one of them needed to be left behind.  It may have been weaker than the rest.  It needed to be
used
to better the rest – used or
sacrificed
.”  She looked at him, no emotion on her face.  Her eyes were glazed over.  “Kind of like you did to me, Nick.  And to Janet.  You decided we needed to die.”

Scott pushed the plane up to full throttle.  The noise of the plane got too loud for Nick to say anything.

The dead picked up the ripped body and tore it to pieces, lobbing pieces of skin, broken sections of bone and ripped muscle at the plane as it taxied away.  As Scott turned onto the runway, the last piece of the torn body hit the propeller on his side of the plane, damaging it.

The plane started to vibrate.  Scott yelled, “Dammit! We gotta get up!”

“We can still fly outta here right?” Nick asked, desperate.

“We can,” Scott said, “but if it’s too bad we’re not gonna be able to get very high.”

The propeller on Scott’s side started shuddering.  “Oh shit. Let’s try to get to at least Orlando airport.  It’s not that far.”

Frank said, “Hopefully, it’s safe there.”