The Reaper Virus (18 page)

* * *

1134 hours:

The painkillers started taking the edge off
my full-body ache. I began moving around the tiny locker room a bit
to prevent my muscles from going into rigor. After a few slow,
stretching laps of the short row of benches the feeling of normalcy
again seemed possible.

Two feet from my chair lay the Kukri. The
scabbard was still tightly attached to my right side. Muck was so
thickly caked on the blade that little silver could be seen. It was
a good thing I didn’t re-sheath it. Had I done so, I doubt the
weapon would ever come out clean again.

Thank God there was a sink in the room. I
grabbed a towel from the corner and used it to scrub the blade
under the cold running water. Once it regained its sheen I was
satisfied and returned it to its home. Without a second thought
about water quality, I thoroughly washed my face and hair.
Although, I stopped short from drinking it, I did fill my empty
water bottles. Even if I never get the chance to boil the water,
I’ll probably need to clean off the Kukri again. Now I just have to
mark them somehow so I don’t accidentally drink the wrong water.
Watch me get infected from a dirty drink instead of a bite… I knew
the city water was bad.

Lance was repacking his bag. “You about ready
to head out? I was thinking we would tiptoe over to the equipment
storage shed to see if there’s anything useful.”

“Good idea.” I nodded with the reply. “If
there aren’t too many of them watching us from the fence, we should
also try to hit the vending machines on the other side.”

“Sounds good to me, man. Do what you gotta
do… we leave in ten. Ideally we should be clearing the fence by
noon. That will give us both a good five and a half hours before
sunset.” His face went from business to concern. “I doubt either of
us will be able to get home in that time. Hopefully it’s enough to
get to somewhere that’s safe for the night.”

* * *

1145 hours:

We cleared the door of our feeble blockade.
Lance peered out. After a tense minute he inched out and gestured
for me to follow.

The day was much brighter now. At first
glance one might confuse it as a normal November morning… that was,
if it wasn’t for the dead walking about sporting various “mortal”
injuries. There were six or seven of them in sight, scattered
across the fence line from which we came. Three bodies lay where we
crossed over. I felt alarmingly little at the realization that two
of those corpses stayed dead because of me.

Thankfully the fence was high and sturdy, a
handy tidbit considering how quickly we were noticed. The small
group at the far side of the fence became slightly more excited
upon seeing us. Realizing that there was little point in trying to
act stealthy, I got Lance’s attention.

“We have their attention already. I think
every one of them over there has seen us,” I said while pointing to
the fence line.

“I don’t give a flying fuck if they do see
us,” he said without even cracking a smile. There was a serious
tone behind his colorful terminology. “As long as they stay on that
side, I don’t care. If they start to move around the fence then
we’re going to have to move real quick to head them off.”

He had a point. The notion of going on alone
hit me again. I replaced the fear in my gut with hunger. “Hey, we
should hit the vending machines. I doubt we’ll come across many
that haven’t been looted after this.”

“Good idea. I’m glad you can still think with
your stomach even during the end of the world.” He snickered. I
must have looked hurt. “Sorry. I’m just fucking with you.”

I showed my appreciation by extending my
middle finger. We walked a few feet closer to the crowd of undead
and into the covered vending area. I pulled the crowbar from my bag
and went to work while my cohort stood guard.

Breaking and entering had never been my
forte. I struggled with prying open the largely glass snack
machine. This continued until Lance tapped me on the shoulder. He
pointed to the side of the fence that was closer to us. Beyond this
point, to the west, was the parking deck that marked the
southwestern corner of the academic campus. Then I saw what he was
directing my attention to.

It was the zombie with the newly sliced open
jaw from before. The sight made me vomit a bit inside my mouth. His
jaw hung wide open like a massive yawn. Sinew and flesh ran between
the ends of the wound I inflicted. These little bits kept the jaw
from falling off completely. Its tongue still wagged around in a
grotesquely obscene way. The infected man had wandered to the side
of the fence. Fortunately he looked to be the only one to figure
out that there might be another way to get closer to us.

“
Why so serious?
”
Lance joked while watching the color drain from my face.

I quickly realized he was referring to the
likeness the beast had with the Joker from
Batman
. If I wasn’t so sickened I would have laughed,
since he was right. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” I grumbled
instead.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re taking too
long – gimme that.” He grabbed the crowbar and went to the snack
machine. Lacking all subtlety he jabbed the glass with the pointed
end of the tool. The sound of it shattering echoed off the recessed
field. If the infected around the fence hadn’t seen us already,
they did now.

Lance moved over to the drink machine. I saw
this as my cue to start pulling snacks from the newly exposed
dispenser. While rummaging through the front pocket of my pack I
found a plastic grocery bag. The plan was to fill it and divvy up
the goods between us later. There were two rows of Nutri-Grain
brand cereal bars that quickly made it to the bag. I grabbed a
couple of candy bars and some Chex Mix to top off the loot.

By the time I was satisfied with my haul
Lance had opened the drink machine. I don’t think I had ever been
so excited by the sight of Gatorade. We each grabbed a bottle and
guzzled it. Evidently I’m not the only one who was feeling the
effects of dehydration.

The sudden surge of sugar and electrolytes
gave me a new clarity for our current situation. My feeling of
relief ceased the moment I recognized that the gurgling I heard
wasn’t coming from my stomach. My friend the “Joker” had worked his
way in between two lines of hedges at the western fence. From the
look of it he had gotten caught on something that was keeping him
from reaching the fence. The sounds emanating from the beast were
utterly repulsive, a chorus of gurgles and slurps. The loosely
hanging jaw jostled around as it tried to snap shut. I was ready to
throw up before seeing it begin to vomit a black mess from his
horrid mouth.

I averted my glance as Lance snapped his
fingers to get my attention. “Get with it, Nathan.” Every word he
said was spoken as seriously as life or death. “Yeah, that thing is
fucking nasty, but I doubt it’ll be the nastiest thing you see
before making it home.”

“But I made it that way.
I
sliced its mouth open. Now the only thing I regret
more than that is not killing him.”

I felt like I was unraveling.

Lance pointed at my face, his expression
blank. “Shut your mouth and get the fuck with it.
You
didn’t kill him. He was already
dead
. You’re not the one who made him sick. If you
were walking around without a pulse and he was trying to get home
to his family, I promise he’d have done the same thing. Now, get
over it, because you’re about to be on your own. Don’t make me feel
like shit for the rest of my life because I left you alone while
beating yourself up over messing up a zombie’s smile.”

I laughed. Really, laughing was all there was
left to do. He was right after all. The world had become a place
where making a walking dead man become all smiles wasn’t a
dastardly crime, but borderline comical.

“Okay, okay I get it. You’re right. Just stop
fucking pointing at me. You’re not even a parent, how do you have
practice doing the judgmental parenting finger point?”

“Parents deal with kids that are too young to
be smart. Cops deal with people that are too stupid to be smart,”
he joked. “Enough bullshitting – we need to move.”

After grabbing the few drinks we’d be able to
travel with we moved back past the locker room doors and toward the
equipment storage. The doors for this tiny building faced south,
away from the crowd pacing around by the fence. Cover from the
small building and the hedges behind us provided some much needed
concealment.

Lance got to work on the door with the
crowbar. I used the few minutes of the down time to separate the
newly looted snacks. If I hadn’t been forced to leave some of my
things behind at police headquarters, I wouldn’t have any room left
in my bag. The front pocket and middle portion of my green backpack
were fully stuffed; everything else was left in the plastic grocery
bag for Lance to take.

It only took Lance a few minutes to move in
and out of the equipment building once the door was pried open. He
emerged with a shovel in one hand and two butterfly coils of rope
in the other.

“Not much in there that we can use. There is
a thing of rope for each of us. Mind if I take the shovel?”

I shrugged and caught the coil of rope he
tossed at me. “I don’t see why not. At least it would give you more
reach than the ASP.” I handed him the plastic bag of snacks. We
both sat for a moment fiddling with our packs, trying to contain
everything before going back out in the undead world.

By the time I was satisfied with my
equipment, Lance was already peeking around the corner of the
equipment shed. My pack was filled beyond capacity. The coil of
rope was looped around the left strap and hung parallel to the bag
against my back. I hoped and prayed the zippers would hold. High
school memories of the bag coming open from being overstuffed with
books came to mind.

Both of my weapons were clean and stowed. The
Kukri would remain in its scabbard until we crossed over the fence
while only the curved end of the crowbar protruded from the bag’s
dual zipper. The joints in my hand ached at the realization that on
the other side of that fence, either weapon would probably be held
in a tight grip for the rest of the foreseeable future.

Lance pointed to a spot on the south fence a
good halfway down the field, which looked to be the home of a stack
of equipment I couldn’t identify. There weren’t any reapers visible
on this side and we could easily pass back over the fence using the
stack of crap as a step.

Within seconds Lance was handing me his
shovel and scaling the fence. He landed on the other side, scoped
the area for a minute and then waved me on. I stepped up on the
pile of miscellaneous pads and passed the shovel over. Even though
this was less of a climb than before it now felt like a greater
obstacle. It’s amazing how fighting for your life can turn you into
an athlete.

I eased myself over the other side and winced
at the clanking of the chain links. All our infected fans were
still grouped at the northern end of the fence. They moaned and
clambered about like we were still directly on the other side of
the fence. The pathetic sight provided me with the absurdly
sarcastic thought that they were all so hungry to compensate for
being retarded.

Around us were a few parked cars and a few
more abandoned in the street. The sinking feeling returned to my
gut as I looked back at what could be the last safe place I visited
in my life.

1217 hours:

Ever since the night on the parking deck I had
planned for this moment. Getting out of the confines of university
property had been the only goal other than survival. Now, while
standing on the other side of the fence I was overwhelmed with the
thought of, “What the fuck do I do now?”

I understood that this daze evidently
overcame more than just my thoughts when Lance smacked my leg with
his shovel to bring me back to reality. I jolted back to harsh
reality and saw Lance had been talking to me.

“Get
with
it man -
daydream later.” Embarrassed, I nodded. He rolled his eyes. “Let’s
go up to the corner at the bridge over the Expressway. After that
you cross the bridge and I’m going to keep going on parallel to the
Expressway on Parkwood Avenue.”

Before I could muster a response he added,
“We’ll be out in the open there so go quick and quiet.”

“So, I guess that’s it then, huh?” I
said.

“Yeah... it is.” He extended a hand to shake.
“Tell the family I said hello.”

I shook his hand, making every attempt to not
show that I wasn’t scared shitless. “Here,” I passed him a ratty
sheet of folded loose-leaf paper. “This is the address to my
parents’ farm. You and the wife would be welcomed.”

He stuck the paper in his pocket and gave me
a nod. There were no more words between us. Where
thank you
or
be careful
could
have been said, there was only anxious silence.

We jogged up the quarter block to the
intersection. The Joker was still caught up on the bushes across
from the locker rooms. He saw us and attempted to snap his vile jaw
excitedly. A black tar-like sheen covered the front of him. I knew
I’d be seeing him in my nightmares for the rest of my days.

I veered to the sidewalk on the far side of
the four-lane, two-way bridge. Although I’m sure it would have been
interesting and informative to look down upon the Expressway, I
couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was so panicked that I had
already crossed the expanse before looking back.

Standing at the corner of Harrison Street and
Grayland Avenue I looked back to see a lack of any pursuers. It
also hit me that my partner in escape was nowhere to be seen. For
the first time since my car ride into work, I was
completely
alone.