The Living Dead (Book 1): Contagion (6 page)

            WHO: The infected are still capable of movement although they are somewhat slow and uncoordinated. They are quite strong in some cases, especially if their bodies were not extremely damaged by the attacker that infected them. They also in most cases will try to feed on their victims.

            Interviewer: Feed? As in they are eating people?

            WHO: Yes.

            Interviewer: So the reports from the Caribbean about cannibals are true?

            WHO: Most likely yes, but you have to realize these are not cannibals in the usual sense of the word. These people are sick.

            Interviewer: There are reports that the infected in many cases have sustained wounds such as torn off limbs, severed jugulars, serious injuries that one would not expect could be survived. Are these victims dead or alive?

            WHO: (hesitating) We don’t know.

            Portia switched off the television. Distant sirens wailed in the otherwise quiet night. Through the windows, they saw snowflakes swirling in the glow of light surrounding the street lamps. They were quiet, lulled into drowsiness by the warmth of the fire. Virginia felt herself dozing.

            She awoke disoriented. The fire was lower and the room cold and a low moaning filled the house. A thumping noise came from above as if something slammed repeatedly into a wall. She looked over at Portia who had just opened her eyes. Jumping up with a small cry, she ran to the staircase. Virginia followed her.

            In spite of what she had heard on TV earlier, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. No one could be. Bill was far from comatose. He had torn his hands free of the tape and kicked both legs as he worked to free his feet. The tape around his ankles had already worn a deep groove into the skin, exposing white bone. He seemed to be unaware that he was tearing away his own flesh. When Portia saw the damage he was doing to himself, she exclaimed and began to move toward him but reaching out quickly Virginia pulled her back. Bill heard them. He moaned and reached out yearningly. Portia broke free of Virginia and rushed toward her husband, reaching for him and as she did, he sank his teeth into her hand shaking his head like a dog as he bit down hard. Portia screamed as he ripped the skin from her hand. One foot came free when he lunged for her. Now with that slight additional mobility he reached out with both arms, pulled her forward and bit into her shoulder. Her screams faded to choking gurgling sounds as he leaned over, snapped her neck, and tore open her throat. Virginia watched, frozen in shock, as Portia died before her eyes. Bill tore open his wife’s abdomen, pulling handfuls of entrails from her body and devouring them. Virginia wasn’t aware of making a sound but Bill turned in her direction, straining against the layers of tape still holding one foot to the bed. His lips dripped blood and his mouth snapped at her as he moaned. She turned and fled just as he tore his foot free and started down the hall, torn skin flapping wetly around his ankle. She was almost down the stairs when he reached the top and, attempting to descend, stumbled and fell down the steps, knocking her to the floor, pinning her. She struggled to get out from underneath the stinking mass of his body. Kicking him off her she got to her feet but lost her balance, falling and hitting her side hard on the stone edge of the raised fireplace hearth. He was on his feet now, moving in an oddly uncoordinated way, but still clearly coming after her, gnashing his teeth. She scrambled backwards toward the fireplace when she heard a ringing crash behind her. Reaching back, never taking her eyes off of him, she felt behind her until her hand closed around the iron fireplace poker. She pulled it in front of her as Bill lurched towards her. He clutched at her, hissing, mouth open wide. She kicked him hard in the knees causing him to fall forward. The sharpened tip of the poker went straight through the soft flesh under his chin and came out the top of his head. He slumped sideways, twitched a few times, then was still. Black fluid dribbled out of his mouth.

            Drawing ragged breaths, Virginia began to tremble. Pulling away from Bill’s body she drew her knees up to her chest trying to stop shaking. She felt a stabbing pain in her side and noted that her shirt was covered in blood, probably her own. Just then, she heard a sound incongruous in this night of horrors. It was her mother in law’s “Mr. Blue Sky” ring tone.

            She got to her feet, trying to remember where Portia had put their coats. Her phone was in her coat pocket. The sound seemed to echo throughout the house and she couldn’t pinpoint it. She checked the hall closet but her coat wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the kitchen either. The phone still rang, that ridiculously happy song mocking her efforts to find it. She finally found it in the living room. Her coat had fallen behind the wing back chair in the corner. She grabbed it and fished the phone out just as it stopped ringing. She hit Reply to call back but the call kept dropping. She almost threw the phone in frustration. Instead, she called the police department to report what had just occurred. She knew a direct line to the department that was quicker than calling the line for the public and going through all the prompts. She had committed murder, accidental and in self-defense, but still murder and she had to report it.

            The phone picked up after just three rings. She didn’t recognize the voice.

            “Hello? Wells Police Department.”

            “I need to report two deaths. Two of my neighbors are dead and I-” interrupting her the man said, “Who is this? Are you sure they’re dead?”

            “This is Virginia Dare and my address is 323 Crispin Lane. Yes, I’m sure they’re dead. I- well I’m just pretty sure they’re dead.”

            “You’d better make sure or else stay out of their way. You need to get home if you’re not already there. Keep your doors locked and curtains drawn. Try not to attract any attention to the house.”

            “Ok, but when will someone be coming out?”

            “Ms. Dare, no one is coming out anytime soon. It’s just a fluke that you caught me. I’m leaving now to get home to my family. No one else is here. All police services are temporarily suspended. Please, just stay home and stay safe.” He hung up.

            Virginia slowly put her coat on and slid the phone back into her pocket. She avoided looking at Bill’s body as she walked into the foyer. Closing the front door firmly behind her she fought through the snowdrifts back to her house. Inside everything looked so peaceful and ordinary that she wondered if she had hallucinated the whole terrible evening. Dropping her coat on the floor on her way into the bathroom, she sat on the edge of the tub and gently peeled off her blood saturated shirt and the rest of her clothes. The gash caused by her fall against the hearth looked ugly and deep. A torn piece of her shirt was inside the wound and she gingerly pulled it out, releasing a fresh trickle of blood. She turned on the shower and stepped under the spray when a wave of dizziness hit her and she sank to her knees. She began to cry uncontrollably, her body racked by deep sobs that only slowly subsided as the warm water washed the crusted blood from her body. Crawling from the shower she dried off, taping her side with gauze. The sun rose as she climbed into bed and mercifully sank into oblivion.

Chapter 7

Enter Caliban

The Tempest

-William Shakespeare

            Heavy, shuffling footsteps downstairs woke her. Virginia opened her eyes and scanned the room but didn’t move or make a sound, not wanting to give her location away. Judging by the way the light slanted in under the drawn curtains she guessed it was late afternoon. She lay still, listening to the footsteps as they moved through the downstairs rooms then she heard the stair treads creak as the intruder mounted the steps up to the second floor. Sliding across the sheets and dropping softly to the floor, she grabbed the loaded handgun from under the bed then positioned herself so she would be behind the door when it opened. She waited as footsteps advanced down the hallway. The knob turned slowly and the door eased open. A head and then a plaid flannel covered shoulder came into view and she pointed the gun at Larry’s face just as he turned and saw her. He looked taken aback when he saw the gun and put his hands up sheepishly.

            “Sorry. One of the neighbors said you’d gone to Springfield.” he said as his eyes roamed over her body. Virginia realized she was wearing very little. Her arms crossed involuntarily in front of her body to shield herself from his gaze.

            “Why did you break into my house?” she demanded as she grabbed her robe.

            “Well, me and some of the men are forming sort of a group to protect the neighborhood. We’re checking the empty houses for guns and ammo.”

             “This is not an empty house, not yet. I can’t believe you thought it was ok to just break into my house. Please leave.”

            “Don’t get your feathers ruffled; I didn’t know you were here. “ His tone turned nasty. “You know, you might want to be a little nicer to me from now on. Like I said before, you might need some protection. Where’s your husband?”

            “I’m expecting him back anytime and hell will freeze over before I’ll need you to protect me. Get out.” She stopped short of pointing the gun at him again but kept both hands on it as she held it at her side.

            “You’re lying. He couldn’t make it back if he wanted to. Planes aren’t flying and the roads are mostly closed. And what happened to your fancy security system? Not working too well, is it?”

            Virginia realized she had forgotten to set it before she went to sleep this morning.

            “Get out of my house this minute. If you don’t, you’d better believe I will protect myself” and this time she raised the gun. She followed as he retreated down the stairs, uttering threats as he went. She relocked the front door and checked the others to see which one he had used to get in. All were still locked. She went into the laundry room and found the window there forced open and the lock broken. Searching the garage she found a rake handle she cut down to size and used as a bar so the window couldn’t be opened. It wasn’t perfect but would have to do.

            The wound in her side had broken open. She changed the bandage and took two acetaminophen for the pain. Hurriedly dressing in thick corduroys and a warm sweater, she thought of what she once would have done in a situation like this. With one call to 911, police would have been out in minutes. Larry would be taken into custody and she would be safe. Not now. There was no one to call.

            Other than the window, the house seemed undisturbed. Outside it was still snowing and so dark the street lamps came on early. She poured a cup of the coffee she had made yesterday, heated it in the microwave and drank it, grateful for the warmth. She turned on the television. Two of the local affiliates were off the air. NBC was still broadcasting but it wasn’t live. They showed footage shot yesterday in New York City as multitudes of people tried to leave the city on foot. The streets were choked with cars abandoned once true gridlock took hold. They carried suitcases and backpacks. Children cried as their parents hurried them along. Others had dogs on leashes and birds in cages, everyone trying to save what was precious to them. The screen changed to the male anchor.

            “We warn you that the footage you are about to see is uncut and disturbing. There will be instances of nudity as many of the infected revived in city morgues and in hospitals. Please keep this in mind if you have younger viewers watching.”

            The image switched back to the New York video. It was obvious that the mood of the crowd had changed from impatience to fear and panic. People screamed as groups of lurching, mutilated infected appeared at the edges of the crowd. Some were indeed, nude, with gaping, putrid black wounds and missing limbs. They attacked those at the perimeter. In the terror and frenzy the weaker and smaller in the crowd were crushed underfoot. Virginia changed the channel, unable to watch anymore.

            FOX news displayed a map pinpointing heavily infested locations around the world. New York City and DC were overrun. So were all of the Caribbean islands. The entire state of Florida was considered lost. Blockades were set up at the Georgia and Alabama borders where National Guardsmen had orders to shoot to kill anyone approaching the barricades. The western part of the country was said to have fewer cases than elsewhere. Air traffic worldwide had come to a complete halt and the Dow had all but disappeared. Europe and Great Britain reported cases of infection but appeared to be holding up better than the U.S. so far. China and now Russia still claimed to be infection free.

            She peered out through the blinds. Was the snow letting up a little? It was hard to tell. The streets and lawns were now completely covered and the picturesque peacefulness of the little street belied the horror she knew lurked out there. Portia and Bill’s house was dark and she shuddered when she thought of the bodies that lay within.

            The internet was still up but most posted government warnings were the same. Watch for these symptoms. Isolate and restrain the infected. After the experience she had had with Bill, she knew these warnings in no way prepared anyone for what they would face when confronted with an actual infected person. She checked out various blogs. Lots of people were hiding in their homes. Some seemed confident they could ride the crisis out. Survivalists. Others were desperate for food, water and medicine. Many had moved into their attics as roving bands of looters broke into houses and stories of rape and robbery abounded. She found a post from a Catholic mission in Afghanistan addressed to the local Red Cross/Crescent.

            “Greetings from the mission home of the Sisters of Mercy in Ghazni. We have a small compound here where every day, we strive to better the lives of Afghan women and children through the teachings of Jesu Christ our Lord, Amen. The hardships and trials these people are bearing are unknown to most of the world. Many of the precious children who come to us have handicaps, mind or body, sometimes both. Fathers don’t want these children. Mothers bring them here to save their lives. We believe we have been allowed to exist here, mostly unmolested, because we take children who “shame” their families. Whatever the reasons, we are grateful to God for these blessed children. We also have a day school where we teach girls and young women to read and write.

            You must help us now. Taliban are coming each day and taking the women and girls. They bind them with explosives and send them out as bombs to destroy the infected whose numbers grow daily. The Mutawa'een take also women accused of violations of Sharia law and no longer stone them but send them out also. I am attaching this note from our former student, Malalay.

            ‘Beloved Sister, women are being killed each morning. The Mutawa'een took my mother to the wall for the al-ghul to eat. My father fought them but two men held him and ran his head into the stone wall. My beautiful mother, they bound her body with charges and dropped her down into the street outside the wall. She cried, ‘Why do you do this thing?’ They told her, ‘Woman, you have shamed your family. We will do as Allah has instructed us.’ When she dropped into the street, her foot twisted. She could not run except painfully and slow. The men from the wall are throwing stones at her. The al-ghul are not fast but they are many now. They heard the noise in the street. My mother has not the ability to run away. She is on her knees and praying as the first to reach her bites her arms she is holding up to God. She screams and they bite her until she screams no more. I closed my eyes until I heard the explosives and I knew my mother was dead. The Mutawa'een looked at us the women and girls inside the walls. He said, ‘We will give one of you to them every day until all disobedient behaviors are stopped.’

            I think they do this thing to keep the demons away from eating them the men. They put two more women outside the walls this morning. You knew them, beloved Sister. The explosives did not completely destroy their bodies. Dilbahar Bibi and Zuqaina Javed are now among the walking corpses outside our walls. I have not seen my mother. I hope she is truly dead. I see fewer of my friends each day. I believe their fathers are hiding them. My father is still alive and I am caring for him but he has no consciousness anymore. I have no protection. Please help if you can.’

            This dear child’s letter shows you our situation grows more desperate each day. We have information that such as this is taking place throughout the land here and in other countries of our region. The spilled blood of these innocents is crying out from the very ground. For ourselves we have no fear and are ready to live or die as God disposes but these precious children- in the name of Christ please come quickly.”

            How could this be happening? Society was breaking down so fast. She found a post from a man in a high-rise apartment building in Miami. He wrote that the streets there teemed with infected and escape was impossible. A large convoy of military vehicles had moved through hours ago and he had hoped for rescue but they kept going and hadn’t come back. Electricity and water were intermittent and he feared losing both soon. His wife had been bitten in the street this morning and he watched helplessly as she grew sicker. Virginia sent him a message, recounting some of her experience from last night and saw that several other people had sent him similar warnings. Just then the power flickered then came back on. She wondered how much longer she had before it went out for good. She moved most of her supplies into the attic although she planned to leave here as soon as she could get the car out. She just didn’t know how long that would be and as she thought of her babies so far away she was again overwhelmed by worry and fear.

            She noticed car lights moving near the entrance to the neighborhood and saw Yun Li, bundled in a heavy coat and shining a flashlight in front of him, making his way up the street. Putting on her coat she followed him, hoping for news on road conditions. She heard him shouting at several people gathered near the entrance as they arranged and parked their vehicles in the streets, deliberately blocking the lanes.

            “What are you doing? How is anyone supposed to get in or out with this arrangement?”

            “That’s the point Mr. Li; no one can get in now. We’ve got to protect ourselves. They say gangs of those sick people are roaming the streets and attacking anyone they come across.” This from Larry. Several of the men around him nodded in agreement.

            “The infected are not driving. Blocked roads won’t stop them. You must move these vehicles. We have no way of escaping in our cars if we need to.”

            The wind shrieked so loudly in her ears Virginia had a hard time hearing anything they said. She moved to stand beside Yun.

            “Don’t leave those here guys. If you do, we’re trapped. We may need to get out fast and we can’t do that if a bunch of vehicles have to be moved out of the way first.”

            Todd Lang climbed down out of the Denali he had just finished parking. He trudged over to the shouting group and shook his head when he heard the discussion.

            “We voted on it and this is what we’re going to do. They’ll think twice before they attack a place they can see people are prepared to defend.”

            “Are any of you watching or reading about what is going on? These infected are demented! It is possible that they do not think once, let alone twice, about what they do! You are trapping us like fish in a bowl!” Yun Li was apoplectic.

            “Don’t stroke out on us old man. You’d be better off if you just went on back home now.”  Larry again. “Virginia here will help you get back.” He actually touched her back and gently pushed her toward Li.