The Reaper Virus (13 page)

* * *

2310 hours:

Ever have one of those moments where you wake
up after a sleep so deep you have no recollection of
anything?
That was the kind of rest I was enjoying
before jumping back into the harsh consciousness. For a moment I
couldn’t remember where I was or how I got there. I was sitting on
an old leather couch in a room that looked even older. When I
rubbed my eyes, it all came back to me.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Then
I was home on the couch, Sarah resting on my shoulder and holding
my hand. We snuggled under the blue afghan my mom gave to us on our
first Christmas together. We were watching one of the many cooking
shows on
Food Network
. Usually I turned to
them knowing it made her happy. Her curly brown hair was draped
across my chest until it touched the fringes of the weathered
blanket. I was warm, safe, and happy.

Opening my eyes I exhaled, filling the air in
front of me with steamy breath. A dance of orange light led from
the window across the ceiling. Nearby, something – God knew who or
what – was traveling about, engulfed in enough flame to create a
torch. Curiosity beckoned me to the window to investigate. My
remaining connection to humanity and humility kept me on the couch.
A chill ran through my body. My guess was that the ambient
temperature in the room was in the mid to low forties. It was
November after all.

Another deep breath and I closed my eyes. Now
I was in the yard playing with the kids. Maddox had jumped on my
back and was waiting for me to take off running. Calise was latched
onto my abdomen, tickling my stomach with her sweet little hands.
They were both giggling in the sweetest chorus imaginable.

Nearby, a gunshot brought me back to Earth.
This one was louder, maybe a twelve gauge shotgun. It took all my
strength to not break down in tears. This day was almost over. I
would say it was the longest day of my life, but I had a feeling
the following day would be even longer.

After a few minutes I’d go check on the guys.
It’d take all three of us to figure out how to get out of this
wretched city alive. I needed a few minutes to even convince
myself
it was possible, let alone try to
convince Lance and Brad.

* * *

Day Nine.

November 18th – 0011 hours:

Long ago this building was a real home with
real people. At least it was until the university spread throughout
the city with more determination than the Reaper virus itself.
First it became the home for Campus Police administrative offices,
the dispatch center, and security offices. After they renovated
what was now an all-encompassing Police Headquarters a block away
on Grace Street, the building became faculty offices.

You could tell people lived there generations
ago. The second floor of the Franklin Street office was composed of
four rooms, three of which were comfortable enough, suitable to
spend extended periods in, which was fortunate for us. The fourth
room was a wall of file cabinets and nothing more. We each picked a
room to call home for however long we would be there.

After a short conversation before settling in
for a rest, we all decided the second floor was best to set up
camp. In the event we had to jump out the windows to escape I’d
much rather get broken from a two-story fall than a three-story
fall.

I cautiously went to the other rooms. The
last thing I wanted to do was startle one of my armed and sleep
deprived comrades. Lance was sitting behind a desk, the chair
pushed against the wall for head support. He looked to be fast
asleep in the light green, upholstered leather executive desk
chair. Gently closing the door, I moved to Brad’s room.

He wasn’t as fortunate to find sleep as
Lance. Sitting with his feet up on a small loveseat, he saw me and
motioned me in with his right hand. Brad looked drained of life and
lost in thought. I plopped myself down in a less luxurious computer
chair across from his loveseat. We sat in the dark and cold silence
for a while before I even attempted to discuss the future of our
survival with him. I felt like we were waiting to give someone a
terminal cancer diagnosis. Survival was possible sure, but was it
likely?

“So what now?” Brad asked with a sigh.

“Before we can make a plan, I think each of
us needs to set a goal.” I tried my best to instill confidence. “I
will
get to my family, so I know what
direction I need to head in. The question is how to get across the
river and out of the city.”

Lance walked in before I finished my thought.
He was eating a granola bar from his survival pack. I stopped my
sentence until he could settle into the conversation. Once the
three of us were sitting close enough I continued. “You guys are
welcome to join me. After I get home and round up the family I’ll
head southwest to my parents’ farm in Carroll County. Obviously the
pandemic isn’t just going to fizzle out. Survival is to prepare for
somewhat permanent self-sufficiency.”

I knew their answers before even proposing
the idea. Brad was engaged – his fiancé lived somewhere in the east
end. Lance had been married for a couple years by then. He and his
wife lived on the other side of the river about a county over to
the west. I didn’t know if his wife was at home or not.
Surprisingly, he had kept that to himself. Wherever she was, his
chivalrous nature would take him to her. I’d be a major hypocrite
if I were to fault him for that. I was trying to convince myself
that I wasn’t a coward for being terrified to travel without
them.

Guilt tripping them into joining me was never
my intention. Leaving no real time to respond to the notion, I
said, “For the time being we all have two common goals: survival
and escape from the campus area. If we can figure out how to manage
that, then we part ways.”

“The sooner we go the better. It didn’t take
long for more and more of those mother fuckers to show up at H.Q.,
and if it continues that way we won’t have a chance. I say we go in
a couple hours,” Lance said confidently.

“I agree,” Brad interjected. “We’re
vulnerable the longer we’re here. The darkness can be a good cover.
We go block by block towards the river. Things should clear up when
we get farther from campus. After that it shouldn’t be as hard for
us to go on separately.”

“Alright, gentlemen, I’m sold. How’s 0300
sound?” It was hard to sound even remotely sure of myself. “That’ll
give us a couple hours to rest. We can meet at the front door.”

That was the end of conversation. Both Brad
and Lance gave an acknowledging nod. Lance and I walked out and
retreated to our temporary accommodations.

* * *

0130 hours:

The alarm on my watch was set to give me
twenty-five minutes to gather my things and prepare myself. Some
stretching exercises would likely be beneficial. Who knew what kind
of physical activity was in my future? I wasn’t worried about
staying ahead of the dead in the short term, but I could easily get
worn out staying ahead of them for a longer duration. Twenty
minutes of exercise wouldn’t help me cover for years of being a
lazy bum but it would help my reflexes. We were going to be
traversing some tight spaces where I’d have to limber up. I figured
I’d be alright but there was no point in fooling myself into
thinking I’d be able to keep up with Lance and Brad. They were both
in much better shape than I was.

Sleep would have been smart, but who could
sleep knowing what was coming? The only thing I wanted was to call
home. Digging through my pack I found my cell phone. I turned it on
and got the surprise of my life when it found a signal. My heart
stopped beating as I dialed home.

“
We’re sorry, all circuits
are busy…”
I hung up before it got any further.

Desperate, I decided to attempt a text
message.

“
I’m on my way home. Keep
the walkie on and wait for me to tell you I’m close before going to
the windows. I love you all so much.”

The phone displayed the
SENDING
window for several minutes. At one point it
said the message sending was eighteen percent complete. My eyes
hurt from tearful anticipation.

MESSAGE FAILED
… I
could have collapsed with the sinking of my heart.

There are very few times in my life that I
can recall being that restless: standing in a tux next to my
brother before walking down the aisle, sitting next to Sarah in the
hospital, exhausted and back throbbing with pain as we waited for
Maddox to be born, then again a couple of years later in almost the
same room, we desperately tried to get Calise to slow down so the
doctor could arrive in time.

Thoughts bombarded any chance I had of
getting a nap. I felt as if I was a soldier traversing rocky seas
to storm the beaches of Normandy. I paced around the room until
finally settling by the window to try and do some reconnaissance.
Reading about the virus was all well and good, however, we were
about to get up close and personal with the wretched thing. That
being the case, I’d rather use my own observations to ensure my
well-being.

From my second floor vantage point I could
only see what was directly in front of the building. Three cars
were in view; one was parked on the far side of the street. Though
it was hard to fully make out, it looked as if it had been pushed
over the parking meter by another vehicle. My guess was the
striking car hit the parked one pretty hard. In the bad light they
almost looked fused into one awkward shape.

Another car was sitting in the middle of the
travel lane nearly out of my field of view. I could only see the
front half – the rest was blocked by the window’s frame. From what
I could tell, the car was just sitting there with the front doors
open. It was impossible to tell if the vehicles were occupied. I
had to strain just to make out the shapes of the cars themselves.
Maybe it was best that the darkness was obscuring any colors. My
imagination saw pools of crimson around the opened doors and
spattered all over the twisted wrecks.

Despite all the carnage I had already seen, I
wanted a better view. Throwing the notion of curiosity killing the
cat to the wind, I decided to venture downstairs. Creeping past
Lance and Brad’s doors, I couldn’t discern any sound from within.
Hopefully they were asleep. If so, they were much luckier than
me.

I felt like a teenager again trying to sneak
out of my parents’ house at night. This time though I wasn’t
worried about anyone hearing me inside the house. Fear has a way of
magnifying all the senses. Every creaky floor board made my heart
palpitate. Although it was doubtful that even the most alert zombie
outside could hear it, paranoia still justified caution. Before the
dead came back to life I saw paranoia as inner fear trying to
manifest itself in other ways. Fear had now become more commonplace
than tranquility, so I saw no need to ignore the teasings of
paranoia. I lightened my step hoping to return stealth to my late
night trip through the house.

Snaking my way through the hall I headed to
the front room facing the street. That room had a large bay window
that would provide a great vantage point of the street. I could
make out the silhouette of the drapes the moment I went in the
room. I carefully approached what was easily the building’s most
vulnerable point. Sitting next to the windows was an easy chair. I
gently maneuvered myself to sit on the plush arm rest and peered
through the inch wide gap between the drapes in the center
window.

The shadows played with my vision, like
phantoms. My eyes adjusted to the slight difference between the
interior and exterior of the building. At the very least I could
see the area in front of the window much better than I could from
the second floor. A well groomed hedge obscured most of the lower
right hand window, which kept me from seeing any more of the car
with its doors open. The difference between my view of the car
accident from upstairs and down was negligible. There may have been
a human form strung across the hood of the striking car, but it was
hard to tell for sure. The good news was that nothing looked to be
moving. I was about to return to my room and do some stretching
when the window became filled with a horrid obstruction.

I don’t know where the infected man came
from. It was possible he had been lying down in the grass beneath
the window or just off to the side of the building, but now the
only thing that separated his rotting face with mine was an eighth
of an inch of glass.

I froze. My heart stopped and my lungs were
paralyzed mid-breath. I felt like every living biological function
in my body stopped. At that moment I felt as dead as the face
outside the window. My first instinct was to reach for the Kukri
secured at my side. My brain screamed for self-preservation.
Nothing happened. I didn’t move and neither did it. Then it hit me
– the infected didn’t know I was there. Fear kept me frozen. I was
petrified by the idea that even blinking would alert the zombie to
my presence on the other side of the window. My eyes were the only
thing moving. I wanted to memorize every aspect of the ghoul. If I
ever come that close to one of their faces again it would likely be
the last thing I ever saw.

Imagination filled in what darkness hid.
There were some things about it that no imagination could create.
Its skin was mottled and pale. Black veins trailed across the dead
flesh like ivy on a brick wall. The rabid jaw opened and closed
without rhythm; my mind saw putrid drool flowing from the vile
opening.

When you look into someone’s eyes you can see
humanity in them. You see sorrow, happiness, love. Inside someone’s
eyes should be a window into the innocence of a child, the
tribulations of a teenager and the solidifying foundation of
adulthood. Make eye contact with a human being and whatever looks
back at you alludes to their soul. That is, if they have one.
Looking into the blackness that once housed a person’s emotions and
dreams, I saw nothing.