Human Extinction Level Loss (Book 1): Nicole's Odyssey (2 page)

Blood and screaming, ripping and...  Eating! 

Something like the sound of high voltage sounded in his head. Sam took a step back and stared.  He looked away then back again.  The horrific visions faded.  The bug looked as it had before.  Sam sighed, gripped his ax handle, and took a step forward.   Its back was to him, which he thought was lucky.  He might be able to kill this thing before it saw him coming.  Sam had learned they could be slow but would try to bite.  He approached quietly and raised his ax handle high.  When he got to within ten feet, it sensed him.  It turned slowly, mouth hanging open revealing blackened teeth. Skin fell away from its body revealing white bone in places. It let out a gasping hiss as it tried to turn toward him.  Sam quickened his pace and closed the distance.  In a sweeping arc, he brought the ax handle down hard.  A wet sounding crack drove the thing’s head into the concrete floor.  A final blow with the hickory and the thing lay unmoving.  Sam stared a long time at the bug.  Finally coming to himself, he grabbed one of the thing's arms and dragged it back to Shipping and Receiving.   Raising the bay door, he hauled the bug that was no bug at all outside and left it in a pile with the others.

He stared at the waist high pile of carcasses a moment.  “Stink,” he said before he turned back to the store. 

He would have to run the floor scrubber now, he thought to himself.  That was the other thing about the bugs, they left one hell of a mess when you killed them.

Two

Dad, NO!  I’m not going for your militaristic subterfuge!  Either tell me what’s going on or I’m hanging up…

…Yeah, yeah.  You know that’s why mom left you, Dad, all the secrets.

…I know it’s the nature of your job, Dad, but me and Mom weren’t your job— Oh, you’re ordering me out there now!?  Newsflash, Dad.  I’m not in your military and you’re not my commanding officer!

…Oh, as my father, uh huh.  If you really thought there was a difference between being a commanding officer and a father to me or a husband to Mom you might be making a dent right now, but you don’t, so…

You know what, Dad.  There’s always something big coming with you, some danger that only you can fight.  Seems like you fought for everything but— You know what, I can’t do this.  I gotta go.  Talk to you at Christmas!

As Nicole drove her red Chevy Cavalier down the empty highway, she ran the last conversation she had with her father over again in her mind.  She and her father had philosophical differences that went right to the core of who they were as individuals.  It was not that Nicole ever felt like her father would rather have had a boy.  The disappointment she sensed he had for her and the source of contention between them did not spring from her gender.  Nicole had not adapted her father's militaristic utilitarianism, opting for a more charitable and holistic take that all life was precious.  The preciousness of life certainly extended to people in Nicole’s mind, but her true heart went out to animals.  To that end, she devoted herself to their care, enrolling in veterinary school after college.     This choice had completely frustrated her father, who while valuing individuals for their ability to contribute to the mission, hardly registered any value for animals whatsoever.  Nicole's decision to care for them instead of pursuing a military career all but sealed the deal on their mutual self-imposed exile from meaningful relationship.

 That had changed six months ago with a mysterious phone call and her father’s frantic plea.  Even if her father had been the perfect Dad, she couldn’t have just picked up and gone to Colorado.  There were midterms to think about.  She was interning at a local clinic and her patients were relying on her.  Whenever he would belittle her use of the word patients, saying they were only animals it marked the opening salvo to a new battle in an old war.   Working from such a deficit, Col. Steven Bennett had not a snowball’s chance in hell of convincing his daughter that something was about to happen, that she needed to come to him.

When it became obvious to the world that the “something” that happened involved the dead rising and eating the living, she did her best to hang on.  Eventually though it became untenable.  Classes were canceled.  Nobody was bringing their pets by the clinic anymore.  In the end, the only “humans” that were coming by were the ones looking for a fresh meal.   She bitterly concluded that her only recourse was to go to him.

She tried to get in contact with her father to let him know she was coming, but by that time nobody was getting through the phone lines, cell or otherwise.  All lines were down, including the Internet.  With grim resolve, Nicole Bennett packed a bag, got into her Chevy Cavalier and hit the road for Colorado.

 
Three

Nicole drove her Cavalier through the blackness and fought the sleep that wanted to take her.  She rubbed her eyes for twenty miles.  For thirty-five miles she blasted the air conditioning and was reminded that it did not work very well.  She opened all four windows in the hopes the night air would keep her awake.  When it did not, she resorted to slapping herself in the face for the next thirteen miles.  When these tactics did nothing to stave off her fatigue, she plugged her mp3 player into the car stereo and cranked the volume to maximum.   She always liked the classics and so she sang along with Lindsey and Stevie at a volume that woke the dead.  In the dark, a group of twelve of them stood in a field just off the road.  They were fresh, as fresh as dead can be. 
You Can Go Your Own Way
blasted from the open windows of the Cavalier and Nicole was hitting all the notes, more or less.  While the song meant nothing to the Dead, it did alert them to the only synaptic response they still had left, the need to feed.  Twelve gray heads turned in unison as Nicole cruised past. Clouded over eyes sought her out. While so much had been taken from them, the Dead got something in return, they never grew tired.  Most of the Dead were slow because of decay and damage.  The twelve in the field were fresh.  They could run. 

☣

The road was straight as an arrow and Nicole held out for another sixty miles.  When she came to the end of it, the road branched North and South.  A third option was the motel across the road directly in front of her, Friendly’s Motor Inn.  The buzzing green and pink neon
Vacancy
sign beckoned, and the battle was over.  She pulled into the parking lot and stared at the squat structure.  Branching off from the center office at shallow angles on either side were the rooms. 

“No second story,” she said as she slowly drove around the motel. 

There was no sign of anybody or anything.  All was quiet.  Nicole backed the car up to the office and opened the passenger side door.  She got out the driver side and left the motor running and that door open as well.  Nicole approached the office door and looked through the glass.  Inside it was dark. She pushed the door and it opened, a tinkling bell at the top ruining any element of surprise she might have had.  Nicole froze in panic and waited several tense seconds for something now alert to her presence to come stumbling out of the shadows. 

When nothing did, she poked her head in and sniffed the air.

“No smell, that’s good,” she said and went inside. 

Not being able to see, she ran her hands along the wall until she found the switch.  As her eyes adjusted to the light, the scene before her made her think the motel had perhaps not been abandoned, that maybe the proprietor just closed for the night or stepped out.  The office was neat and clean.  A check-in desk spanned half the room.  Behind it, a short hallway turned left into a back office.  To the right of the desk was the complimentary coffee, regular and decaffeinated.   On a serving tray was an assortment of Danishes.  By all appearances, it looked like the night clerk should pop out from around the corner and with a big homespun smile welcome her to Friendly's.  Nicole was almost ready to believe it, when she went over to the coffee makers. The pots were caked with burnt coffee.  She looked down at the pastries and saw they were covered in mold.  The growth extended beyond the serving tray and looked more like a small shag carpet than the sugary hospitality they once were.  Nicole stared at the pastries.  The sight of them filled her with a sense of sadness.  They were symbols of neglect to her.  Their condition only served to emphasize that there had not been anybody there to eat them.  There had not been anybody around to replace them when they went stale, and certainly nobody had been around to clean up the mess they had become.  The people here had left in a hurry; they took whatever they felt was important to them and abandoned the rest, abandoned the pastries and left the coffee maker on.  In her fatigue, she let her mind wander and she was reminded that the world had become much like those pastries, overrun with something that only viewed them as a food source and would keep growing long after they had been consumed.  Nicole awakened from her reverie, shaking off what she knew were useless thoughts. She refocused on the task at hand. 

Although there had not been anyone to clean the coffee pots that did not guarantee there was no one around.  Before her head could meet her pillow, she had to be sure.  It did not matter to her if the rooms were locked from the outside, they did not lock from the inside.  She didn’t think the Dead could  turn a knob if some of them were in one of the rooms.  She also did not want to die being wrong about that either.  She went around the desk and looked for room keys. Shuffling through papers on the desk, she ignored what was written on them.  They were just more evidence that the world had changed and lamenting that fact was not going to get her to sleep tonight or miles down the road tomorrow.  She continued her search and in the top right drawer of the check-in desk found a key labeled MASTER.  Nicole grabbed the key and headed outside.

Nicole looked at her car to make sure it was still running then started opening doors.  Working down the left side, she started checking rooms for signs of the Dead, locking the doors back behind her.  When she got to the third door on the right side, she paused.

“What are you gonna do if you find one, Nicole?”

She looked back at her idling Cavalier.  “Run like hell, I guess,” she said, answering her own question. 

She took a deep breath and unlocked the door.  Nothing.  When she finished checking the rest of the rooms, she went to her car and turned off the ignition.  Snatching her bag from the back seat, she closed both of the car doors but did not lock them.  Nicole was about to turn when she paused and looked down at the driver side door.  Grabbing the handle and opening it as fast as she could, she dived inside, pulling the door closed behind her.  She gripped the wheel and stared out through the windshield and the dark. 

“This has been a test of the Nicole Bennett zombie emergency evac system.  Had this been an actual attack...I probably would be munched.” 

Fatigue washed over her, as she rested her head on the steering wheel.  She sighed then opened her door and climbed out.  Shutting the door behind her, Nicole confirmed its unlocked status then stumbled into the room closest to the office on the left.  This door she did lock.

The room was standard “mom and pop” fare.  Two single beds were on either side of a nondescript nightstand.  Across from the beds, a television sat atop a scratched up dresser.  She saw the remote lying on top of the television, an old style box set, and grabbed it.  She did not know what she hoped to see, but she turned on the aging set just the same.  As the television warmed up, a color test pattern appeared.  She flipped through a half dozen channels and got the same thing.  The last one she tried had a scrolling public service announcement.  It was urging people to stay in their homes until order could be restored.  Nicole laughed.  As a kid, she remembered learning that at the height of the cold war, children were taught to hide under their desks and cover their heads in the event of a nuclear attack.  She knew then, even as a kid herself, the advice was meaningless. It was given only so that people would feel like they were doing something constructive and life preserving.  The last thing the government wanted when humanity was about to go dark was for people to panic.  Hide under your desk, stay in your homes.  It was the same, all the government could really do was tell you to duck your head and die quietly.  Disgusted with the useless advice and her own cynical thought about it, Nicole switched off the television and tossed the remote on the bed. 

She looked over at the sink against the wall.  To the left of that was a door leading to the toilet and shower.  Though she felt bone weary, she thought a shower would wash away the miles.  She set her bag down and went in and turned on the light.  The shower was clean, so she tried the water, cranking the
HOT
knob to wide open.  The water poured from the faucet behind a strong pressure.  She put her hand out and tested the temperature; it was still cold.  Waiting for it to warm up, Nicole went to the sink, over which was a large mirror.  She tied her auburn hair up in a loose not and turned on the faucet, splashing the cool water over her face.  The feeling rejuvenated her and made her long for the shower, anticipation of muscles relaxing under the hot spray.  Grabbing a hand towel, she rubbed her face dry.  The towel was plush and it felt good, like an itch finally being scratched.  Long after her face was dry, she continued to rub, feeling the massage ease the stress of hours on the road.  Finishing, she tossed the towel away and looked in the mirror.  Her father’s green eyes stared back at her. 

The eyes are the window of the soul,
she thought to herself.