The Reaper Virus (17 page)

The trio saw our approach and moved to
intercept. Lance reached the fence and swung his weapon with the
force of a baseball bat. Its head caved in and Lance was scaling
the fence before the zombie’s body even hit the ground.

My target was a guy wearing a maintenance
jumpsuit. The light blue color was unrecognizable from the dark
stains and gore that splotched his person. I don’t think he had
been “dead” long. His speed and moderate dexterity indicated that
humanity had left him not long before. There wasn’t a visible bite
wound, but it’s not like I was given the liberty of looking for
long.

The Kukri met his right temple with the
impact of shattering a clay pot. I could not be spared from details
now in the brightness of a cloudy morning. The blade exited in a
trail of bone, flesh, and indistinguishably dark muck. His scalp
flipped back and the creature fell.

While my right arm was still in the final
points of its swing, the second beast closed the gap between us
with a lunge. This one was not nearly as fresh. He wore a filthy
gray polo, covered in spots by the tatters of a pea coat.
Scratches, head to toe, covered his person. It looked like in
either life or un-death he’d fought an army of cats. He was nearly
upon me, and there was no time to return to an ideal attack stance.
I flipped the blade in my grip and threw my arm out in the same
motion you would toss a Frisbee. Steel met his cheek and passed
through jaws of rabid teeth. I wish to God that this could have
been a fatal blow.

The strike threw him off balance for a second
but he was still standing. The moment the creature turned back for
another attack is a moment I was fortunate to have nothing in my
stomach. Its cheek line had been completely sliced open. Now the
zombie’s mouth had a gape that hung twice as wide as before. All
the while, the man continued to snap his jaw in excitement at the
prospect of a meal. A bloated tongue moved around the opening so
franticly that if the jaws were able to close it would be snapped
off.

Its injury was no deterrent. In the mind of
this creature, driving hunger was all that mattered. As the ghoul
turned to attack me once more I wildly swung my Kukri. The strike
lacked calculation – I just wanted this horrible sight to be gone.
My grip loosened enough for the blade to turn, and the broad side
of the weapon struck the man’s temple. Such an impact would have
put a living soul into a coma. The force of it reverberated through
my arm. I knew I would be hurting if my adrenaline ever
subsided.

My attacker slumped over the curb. Not
knowing if the vicious slap did the job, I moved over him to finish
the job. Both hands gripped the handle and raised the blade to
chest level in preparation for a fatal stab.

“NATHAN!” Lance shouted from the other side
of the fence. I looked up from my rage to see him pointing back
towards the courtyard exit. The dead were spilling from the
breezeway. A dozen infected were stumbling down the hill towards
me.

The blade dripped blackened blood and bits of
tissue over the motionless human form beneath me. Is that what I
was turning into? So caught up in a rage that I nearly missed death
itself barreling down the hill towards me?

I bolted to the point in the fence where
Lance eagerly stood on the other side. Within seconds I was looking
up at the eight foot chain link barrier before me. My right hand
was gripped tightly in fusion with the handle of my lethal
salvation. The Kukri was coated in gore. It looked like it had been
used to stir a vat of tar and blood. Even with the intensity of the
moment I couldn’t bring myself to re-sheath the weapon in such a
state.

My right arm was like silly putty. I waved
Lance to the side and with a rubbery throw, tossed the blade over
the fence. It sliced through the air just as easily as it recently
had with skulls and speared into the ground about ten feet into the
field. The dead were seconds away from their lunging distance
behind me.

I began my ascent. The chain metal fence was
cool, refreshing even, within my fervent grip. A couple feet up, I
looked over my shoulder. They were nearly here. Panic caused a
misstep and I suddenly found myself back on the sidewalk.

The fall brought me almost directly on top of
the edacious pack leader. It looked like she hadn’t been dead for
long. The speed she was able to muster in pursuit of me gave her a
good thirty second lead ahead of the rest. If my sudden fall hadn’t
thrown her off as much as it did me, I would be dead.

She hesitated. Maybe her infected mind was
unable to process the new opportunity sitting within arms’ reach. I
frantically pawed behind my back with my left arm; my right was
still clinging to the fence. Desperate fingers found the end of the
mini-crowbar protruding from the backpack where the two zippers
converged.

I swung the crowbar in a wide and wild arc.
It connected with the woman’s neck so forcefully that the
creature’s spine bent to a ninety degree angle. She bounced to the
fence and landed awkwardly on the sidewalk.

Death was seconds away. I turned to the fence
to see my partner with his gun drawn. He was aiming past me at the
zombies and their collision course.

“No wait!” I yelled and jumped at the fence.
Using the crowbar to hook a higher part of the chain link, I gave
myself the split second that compensated for my first failed
attempt.

This time I fell to the grass on the other
side. The infected were lunging at the fence before I even hit the
ground. And hit the ground I did… hard. The fall knocked the wind
out of me, filling my sight with a blinding flash. All I could hear
was metal shaking and the nauseating ruckus of the infected.

Lance grabbed both the handle to my backpack
and the collar of my jacket and dragged me across the field towards
the two small buildings at the corner of the protected boundary. It
was difficult to take my eyes off of the fence. Zombies lined the
area where we had stood, shaking the chain links violently. I knew
the fence was solid; it would take hundreds more to break
through.

Something to the side caught my attention
enough to break the stare. The Kukri stood parallel in the ground
beside me, its blade pointing southward towards home. “I’m good,
man. I can walk,” I said, finally catching my breath.

“About damn time!” Lance said with a snicker.
“We can hide over here until they forget about us.”

I pulled my weapon from the dirt and quickly
followed him. There were two red brick buildings before us. The
larger of them was a support facility which contained small locker
rooms, bathrooms, and a vending area. An equipment storage
building, less than half the size of the support building, was just
beyond it.

We hustled past the covered vending area and
to the first locker room door. Lance immediately held out his hand
and motioned for me to stop. The astro-turf colored door labeled
“
LOCKER ROOM #1 – AUTHORIZED PESONNELL
ONLY”
was cracked open. From what I could see through the
opening, the inside looked to be bathed in blackness.

Lance took pulled his flashlight from his
service belt and mouthed, “
Wait here
.” The
ASP, still in its open position, was raised to a striking height.
He stealthily entered the room and disappeared from view.

I pushed my back to the wall in an attempt to
keep a lower profile. The ravenous crowd at the fence had not
forgotten about us. There were a couple of dozen, easily. It didn’t
look like any more were joining from the area of the courtyard.
With the exception of a straggler here and there, all in the area
seemed to have gathered at the fence.

A few finger snaps and a loud “
pssst
” brought my attention back to the door. Lance
waved me inside and hastily closed the door. I rushed in, threw off
my pack, and practically dove to a padded chair next to a wall of
lockers.

The only lighting came from the few vents
along the ceiling line by the door. For the first time on that
godforsaken day, I felt safe enough to let my guard down. Lance put
his bag down and jabbed the baton at the floor to close it. I
watched him move back to the door, examining ways to secure it.

All morning my body was caught in a flood of
adrenaline. I was pushed to physical extremes and total panic. I
watched a friend kill and another die. I… killed.

The weight of everything collapsed upon me. I
vomited the few stomach contents I had into a little office
trashcan next to the chair. My brain and body shut down. Sleep
completely overcame me.

1120 hours:

My eyes fought the notion of opening. They cracked
apart and revealed a dark room made even darker by hazy vision. My
mind was completely blank. I felt like a coma patient waking from
pseudo-time travel. Details in my memory started popping back into
my thoughts from where they had become irrevocably etched. There
was a figure standing nearby. I was too groggy to determine if it
was friend or foe. Frankly, I was too exhausted to act if it was
the latter.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Lance snickered.
“It’s about fucking time. I thought I was going to have to leave
you.”

I grumbled a response that could hardly be
considered English. My head was nestled in a corner made by the
sheet aluminum lockers and the cold brick wall. Under normal
circumstances I would have been in extreme pain from the sleeping
arrangements. Right now, it felt almost as good as being home on my
memory foam mattress.

After another moment of enjoyed mental
fuzziness, my physical state brought me back down to this wretched
Earth. Every fiber of my being screamed self-loathing. There wasn’t
a single part of me that
didn’t
hurt.

“Here,” the shadowy figure in the room said,
coming more into focus as he stepped closer. Lance handed me a
small bottle. “I found it in one of the lockers.”

Every joint in my hands hurt. They echoed
from the absorbed impacts of lives I retook earlier that morning. I
fumbled with the childproof bottle and removed three of the liquid
gel tabs. If my mouth wasn’t so dry and filled with a horrible
taste I probably would have swallowed them immediately.

After tucking the medicine in the front
pocket of my uniform jacket, I bent over the side of the chair and
tore through my backpack. I quickly found two power bars and a
small bottle of water. Seconds later, I had inhaled everything
quicker than oxygen. Taking a few ibuprofen on an empty stomach
would have been unwise.

“How long was I out?” I rasped, still
overcoming my dehydration. The room had become slightly brighter
from the late morning sun shining through the wall vents.

“A little over two hours,” Lance replied. He
had set up a resting area in the corner a few feet away. Another
chair had been moved beneath one of the wall vents; I assume so he
could look out. The door was closed and blocked by a towel bin
turned wheels up.

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long… we
need to move while it’s still light outside.” My voice was
returning. I hope he recognized my irritation as situational.

“I tried to wake you after forty-five
minutes! You were out cold. I checked to make sure you hadn’t been
bitten. Besides, I know you didn’t sleep last night and you’re
going to need every minute.”

“I’m sorry, man. Obviously, I wasn’t made for
battle. If I were born in ancient Rome, they probably would have
left me on the hill at birth.” Lance muffled his laugh. “What’s the
situation outside?”

The casualness of our conversation halted
there. His tone got serious. “The fence was pretty crowded until
about half an hour ago. A lot of them wandered east, towards the
dorms. I can’t see much by the parking garage to the west, but I
don’t think many walked that way. There are a couple milling around
where we hopped the fence. From here, it looks like the fence
itself is fine. We could easily stay here for a while if you
want.”

“I can’t stay.” The look on his face told me
that my response was predicted. “I told Sarah to leave the house
after a few days and head to my parents’ farm. Although I know
she’ll wait longer than she should, the kids’ safety will make her
leave eventually.”

Lance gave a thoughtful nod of approval at my
answer. “Yeah, I knew you’d say that. I probably would have smacked
you if you said anything else.” I cracked a smile and he continued.
“That being the case, once we clear the fence on the other side of
the field you’ll be on your own.”

I felt like I’d lose my delectable power bar
meal. “What the fuck are you talking about? I thought we would
clear the river at least before going separate ways.”

“Yeah… I’ve been thinking about it all day.
I’m pretty sure my wife would have gone to a friend of ours that
lives closer to her office.” It took every ounce of strength to act
like I was still in control while listening to him. “Our apartment
wouldn’t be the easiest place to secure from… well from zombies.
Our friend’s house is in a new neighborhood. He is one of the only
people who have even moved onto the street. If it were me, that’s
where I would go and she’s a hell of a lot like me.” Lance’s
expression was solid. His decision was made.

“Where is it?” My defeated tone was
obvious.

“Far west end. Almost to Goochland. It’s a
good ways away, but I should be able to stick to neighborhood
streets for most of it.” As he spoke I was envious of his
confidence.

We sat in silence for a while after that. The
sounds outside lightly filtered into our shelter: a moan, the sound
of the metal chain link fence shaking, distant car alarms and
gunshots echoing at irregular intervals. All were reminders that
our current safety was a futile illusion.