Genesis (15 page)

At first Ken didn’t know what he was looking at.  The camera kept tilting and moving.  Then he recognized the bits and pieces of the background as the studio for one of the local news affiliates: all greens and blues and expensive-looking graphics.

And in the background, like the world’s most macabre laugh track, the continuing noise of the growl.

“Where’s it coming from?” said
Dorcas
.

A moment later, the answer presented itself.  A woman came into view.  She was close to the camera, her hands on either side of the frame as though she was embracing the equipment.  Her hair and makeup had clearly been beautiful at one point, but were now a nest of snarls and streaks.

She stared into the camera.

“That’s Marie Wells,” said
Dorcas
.

“Who?” said
Ken.

“She’s one of the anchors for Channel Seven News.”

Marie didn’t look like she’d be anchoring anything anytime soon.  She growled louder, as though knowing that the people she desperately wanted to attack were on the other side of the camera.  Her lips pulled back, baring teeth that were stained and clotted with the remains of something Ken preferred not to think about.

She
headbutted
the camera.

The movement came without any kind of telegraphing.  One moment she was growling and snarling, the next her forehead slammed into the lens.  There was a splash of red as some part of the equipment sliced her forehead wide open, and when she drew back the image was blurred – whether because of blood or because of makeup Ken couldn’t tell.

Marie could be made out, a crimson curtain running down her face.  She stumbled around, still growling.  No longer interested in the camera, but still clearly searching for something – someone – to kill.

“Change it,” whispered
Dorcas
.

Aaron reached out and touched a button on the television.  It flipped over to at Tom & Jerry cartoon.

“That’s good news, right?” said Ken.  The others looked at him.  “Things can’t be too bad if the televisions are still going.  Maybe this is only happening in Boise.”

Aaron and
Dorcas
shared a glance. 
Dorcas
nodded.

Aaron flipped to a new channel.

Ken didn’t watch much news.  His interest in news stopped right around the end of the Korean War.  After that, things got too muddy for him.  In fifty years, maybe the dust would have settled enough for him to look back and understand just who had done what to whom, but for now he mostly avoided contemporary information.

But he still knew what the CNN logo looked like.

Usually, however, the logo hung next to a ticker that highlighted breaking news items, and behind it would be an anchorperson and a studio.  Now the logo was beside a ticker that sprouted nonsense, as though someone had fallen face first onto the teletype.

There was no anchor.

There
was
a studio.  Clusters of computer towers and monitors.  Most of them splattered with blood.  Bodies
laying
across several tables.

And more than a dozen of the things, the zombies, walking around between the dead.

Ken was reminded of the zombies that had followed him out of the school.  Like those few, these moved in a strangely coordinated way.  Not as though they were telling one another what to do, more like….  He frowned, trying to conceptualize what he was seeing.

It was like they were tied to one another.  As though an invisible rope that permitted only a few feet of slack tied every zombie in the room to every other zombie.  They almost
orbited
each other.  Moving over and around the debris-strewn warzone that the studio had become, but never straying far from the other monsters.

As Ken watched, one of the bodies that he had thought was dead stood up on legs that were clearly broken and began shuffling around as well, growling and snarling.  Blood spurted out of its legs with every step.

It fell eventually.  But didn’t stop growling as it crawled on the floor, pulling itself along on hands that soon bled.  Trying to stay with its brothers and sisters.

“That ain’t Boise,” said Aaron.

“No,” said Ken.  The word came out as a whisper, sounding almost like a prayer.

Dorcas
reached out and changed the channel back to Tom & Jerry.  The mouse had enlisted the aid of a bulldog to destroy the larger cat.

Ken looked at the TV.  It was on the vault floor, the electrical and cable inputs trailing out of the barely-cracked door.  Aaron or
Dorcas
must have grabbed it and brought it in here.

“What about computers?” he said.  “The internet?”

“Checked it already,” said Aaron.  “A lot of the ‘net’s still active, and the power’s still on – in this building, at least, and who knows how long that’s even going to last – but there’s nothing about whatever all this is.”  He heaved a sigh, and now he did look old.  Tired.  He drew a hand over his face.  “Whatever happened, it happened so fast no one was ready.”

“What
was
it?” said
Dorcas
.  “What did this?”

Before anyone could answer, a new sound forced its way into their world.  One Ken had heard before.  One they all had.  And one that was both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

The tone reminded Ken of old modem connections: a grating computer modulation, followed by a high-pitched tone designed to demand attention.

“EAS,” said Aaron.

“What?” asked
Dorcas
.

“Emergency Alert System,” said Ken.

“I thought they got rid of that,” said
Dorcas
.

“They got rid of the Emergency Broadcast System.  In favor of the EAS, which is more localized,” said Aaron.  He flipped channels.  The tones were on every one.

“I thought you said they were local,” said
Dorcas
.

“They are,” said Aaron.  “Only one person has access to nationwide EAS.”

At that moment, the tones cut off, replaced by a voice from the television, playing over the cooking show that Aaron had stopped at.  The voice was male, but somewhat androgynous.  Computerized, Ken guessed.

“The President of the United States is dead,” said the voice.  “So is the entire Cabinet, and their Secret Service details.  Washington, D.C., has fallen.”

Ken looked at
Dorcas
.  She looked more afraid than she had at any time before, even when they were stranded atop a roof and surrounded by thousands of zombies.

“I’m the only one left to do this, so… Jesus.  I don’t even know why I’m doing it.  So you can know.  So you can take whatever measures you deem necessary.”  Even computerized, the voice sounded drawn and weary.

“Get off the air, you stupid ass,” muttered Aaron.  “You’re just scaring people.”

“Who do you think it is?” asked
Dorcas
.

Aaron shook his head, whether because he didn’t know or didn’t want to say, Ken couldn’t tell.

The strangely asexual voice continued.  “We barely had enough time to read the first reports before it hit us, too.  It’s worldwide.  Moscow sent us half a flash over the emergency channels, then nothing.  A minute later we got garbled reports of zombies from Germany, maybe thirty seconds later we heard a few sentences from London before they went dark, too.  A minute and a half later it hit us.”

The voice went dead for a long time.  Long enough that Ken thought maybe it was done speaking.

“I can’t tell you what to do.  I can see swarms of them in the streets – the whole city, what people are left alive.  There are dozens of the things outside the door here, and I only have a few seconds.  Don’t wait for help from the government.  If you’re alive, you’re alone.  You’re on your own.”  Another pause, then the voice said, “Near as we can tell, over fifty percent of the world’s population was susceptible to the initial effect.  That fifty percent attacked the rest of us, and now we –”

The tones returned.  The beeps and the modem sounds that reminded Ken of someone taking a
Brillo
pad to a disk drive.

“He’s gone,” whispered
Dorcas
.  She sounded like she was holding back tears.

“He was gone before he started that broadcast, the dumb kid,” said Aaron.  The short man reached up and put an arm around
Dorcas
’ shoulders.  She wilted into him.

Ken looked at Aaron.  The other man stared as though to say, “What now?”

Ken twisted his back, feeling his joints.  Everything hurt.  But everything seemed to be working, if only just barely.

The television flickered, then went out.  Ken heard snaps and relays as the power grid failed.  He didn’t know if it was just here, in this block, or if this time it was city wide or state wide or everywhere.

And it didn’t matter.

He could still feel Aaron staring at him in the darkness.

“I’ve got to get going,” he said.  “My family’s out there.”

If he had been a movie hero, Ken would have accompanied that statement with a dramatic turn toward the vault door.  He would have swaggered over to the thin line of light that was the only demarcation between their dark bunker and the greater darkness outside, and left to save his loved ones without a second thought.

But he wasn’t that guy.  He was a history teacher.  Granted, he thought of himself as fairly resourceful, okay in a fight.  But he was still just a normal guy.  Still scared witless at the idea of going out there alone.

So he waited a moment.

The moment stretched out.  He could hear
Dorcas
sniffing, sounding like she was trying to suffocate her sobs before they could be born.

Aaron made no sound at all.  The epitome of the strong silent type.

Ken realized he was waiting too long.  He turned.

Aaron spoke.  “They’re probably dead.”

Ken didn’t turn to face the other man.  If he turned away from the vault door, he thought it likely he wouldn’t have the strength to leave.  He would just cower in the darkness until the hordes found him, or until hunger and thirst claimed him.  Either way, he was dead.  And he preferred to die looking for his family.

“I know,” he said.  “But I have to look.”

Aaron exhaled, a long, steady breath of air that sounded like a man getting ready to do something deeply unpleasant.  “All right, then, let’s go.”

Ken felt his legs trembling.  “
Dorcas
?” he asked.

Dorcas
, still sniffling, said, “Don’t be stupid.  You think I rescued you and dragged you all over creation – twice – just so you could go off and die without me being there to save you again?”

Ken felt something move past him in the dark.  A moment later, a deep grunt signaled that it was Aaron.  The crack of light at the vault’s entrance widened slightly, and Ken could make out the squat man pushing the thick steel door open.

As soon as it was wide enough, Aaron slipped through the gap.  “Come on,” he said.  “I don’t plan to be out at night.”

Ken nodded.  He reached behind him in the darkness. 
Dorcas
’ hand clasped his.

They stepped out of the safety of the vault.  Into brightness.  Into danger.

Into hopeless hope.