The Reaper Virus (29 page)

Thirty seconds later I heard a shrieking,
thunderous roar, ringing out tremendously from the northeast. My
heart stopped at the foreign, echoing sound. After a moment of
frantic contemplation I realized what the roar came from… the city.
The Dominion Building must have collapsed. It had been burning for
so long I couldn’t believe the tower still stood when I could see
it. I’d never heard a twenty-two story building come crashing down
before, but I was almost certain that was what had caused the boom.
Immediately I thought back to when the Twin Towers fell and how
everything around them reaped the devastation. The Richmond I grew
up in died a few days ago… what had just happened only threw soil
into its open grave.

I looked up on the tracks to try and get a
bearing on where the hell I might be. Ahead I could make out a
bridge going over the rails. If memory served me correctly the
overpass must have been Forest Hill Avenue. Assuming this was
correct, a little ways past it would be the crossing with Jahnke
Road. On my commute to work I would pass this railroad crossing on
the nights I had time to drive through the ghetto instead of taking
the toll road. The crossing was very open and near some older ranch
house neighborhoods. Being close to neighborhoods wasn’t a big deal
at all. In the hour I’d been on the post-river tracks I’d seen
several houses peeking through the bordering tree line. Being close
to them never worried me, because of the glorious fence line that
had thus far made my walk a private one. I never looked closely at
them. Part of me wanted to find other people that might be able to
help me. Then the other side of me knew that I was only more likely
to see suffering.

That thought process gave my crippling
depression a boost. All my life I’d sought to help people.
Yesterday I saved a life. That life was probably the main reason I
was alive to even contemplate this. By the end of the day I took
the same life I had saved. I could try to rationalize this with the
condemning evidence of his growing infection all I wanted… I still
had to see the look in Phil’s eyes when I stabbed him. Thoughtful
tangents had proven themselves to be a weakness I must
eliminate.

Focusing on the land ahead I tried to
remember what awaited me. The houses were not a concern. The true
concern was the elementary school that was less than a block off
the tracks. Schools are designed to be secure. Desperate people
trying to escape ravenous undead jaws will go anywhere that appears
secure. It was very likely that people in the area could have
attempted to seek refuge there. I’d witnessed firsthand that
barricaded people draw the attention of hungry infected. The
railroad crossing was wide open. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the
concealment the fenced in path had afforded me. If there was as
much undead activity around the school as I suspected, then battle
would be in my near future.

My thinking break was all the rest I could
afford. The walk had helped to limber up my traumatized body. An
odd feeling of confidence washed over me. I furrowed my brow at the
notion that I might actually be able to pull it off. After taking a
much needed swig of water, I released the Kukri from my grip. I
flexed and wiggled my fingers around knowing that very soon I would
need to keep them on the weapon’s handle and needed them fully
functioning.

I cautiously approached the cavernous
overhang of the Forest Hill Bridge. It was pitch black inside. The
only redeeming factor was seeing this darkness end past the four
overhanging lanes. I removed my LED flashlight from my pack, the
same place it had been since I killed Phil. Clicking it on, I crept
up to the fringe.

The unnatural white beam swept back and forth
searching for hidden danger. I held my breath, waiting to determine
if I’d have to engage in battle before reaching the crossing.
Confident the area was clear, I exhaled and pressed on. It wasn’t
until birthing back into the subdued daylight that my heart stopped
palpitating. However, it never fully returned to my typical
hypertensive level. Anxiety rampantly wreaked havoc on my already
battered person.

After passing the bridge I could see a change
up ahead. The rails continued, but the bordering trees gave way to
a wider and wider berth. What was more trouble now was the visible
obstruction on the tracks. Every foot of progress I made painted a
clearer picture. From there, all I could be certain of was that the
tracks were blocked.

It took only a few more minutes of hiking
before I could make out the obstacle ahead. Not even a quarter mile
up the area opened wide to the crossing with Jahnke Road. The
narrow two-lane road looked to be completely clogged. Cars were
strewn in both directions. This wasn’t an unexpected development.
Crossing a line of stalled vehicles was unnerving enough. More
troublesome was that my view of the tracks beyond the crossing was
totally obscured. I wouldn’t know what was waiting for me until I
was actually there. Being a person who enjoys over preparation,
that was an ulcer invoking situation.

The trees thinned out as I approached the
vehicular wall. I opted to change my tactic of sticking to the
center of the tracks and hug the fence. The last thing I wanted was
to waltz up to the danger that was probably waiting in the open. My
steps slowed. It reminded me of when I was walking through the
alley at Headquarters to the parking deck. I hadn’t even fully left
the cover of the tree line when my stomach acid churned. Something
was causing a ruckus on the other side of my cover. I peeked around
the corner to the northeast. If memory served me correctly I should
be able to see the tiny traffic circle at the entrance to the
elementary school. Under normal circumstances I would have seen it.
Instead I saw a wall of undead crowded around the loop. My heart
sunk.

“
How am I going to get
across without being seen?”
I thought to myself while
scratching at my bandaged head. It was impossible. I’d have to make
a run for it. There wouldn’t be any room to use caution while
crossing the traffic jam either. Whatever might be hiding on the
other side would get to know my Kukri personally. After that I just
had to run until they got me or I lost them.

Nervous doesn’t quite cover the way I felt at
that moment. I tried to steady my breath and prepare myself.
Running and I have never made good bedfellows. My body was already
so battered that I didn’t know how much exertion I’d be capable of.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Again I sought strength in
seeing the ones I love. The Kukri moved in a circle as I loosened
my wrist. “Now or never,” I grumbled through my grinding teeth.

1019 hours:

I was seconds away from bolting out of my cover when
something caught my eye. Amongst the outer layers of the eager
horde was a figure moving in a noticeably human way. I stopped and
stared in curious awe.

A tall, lanky man in a navy hooded sweatshirt
hobbled up to the crowd. He was carrying something big. I couldn’t
tell what it was until he tripped slightly. This man was hauling a
propane tank up to the zombies that surrounded the school.

What in God’s name was he doing?

I wanted to run and help the man just as much
as I wanted to run away. A flash of the blood oozing from Phil’s
chest as I stabbed him washed over my thoughts. Good Samaritans be
damned… I couldn’t risk dealing with other people in my current
state. For now I was stuck at this fence hugging the shadows,
knowing full well that the man near me was moments away from being
torn to shreds.

The dead noticed the meal approach. They
collectively turned and began to converge on his position. He saw
this and set the white barrel of explosive fuel down with a heavy
metallic thud. That was when I saw that it wasn’t any ordinary
propane tank.

Silver duct tape ran along the side of the
metal cylinder to the top valve. Then I noticed that the duct tape
was securing something to the tank to form some kind of
contraption. I wondered if I was watching a bomber preparing for
destruction. If the man didn’t make a run for it soon then he’d end
up being a suicide bomber.

I quickly glanced around in search of
something to shield myself if an explosion came. The man took a
knee. I could see his hands shaking from my hiding place. He was
fiddling with the rigging that topped the device. Then I heard
music. Not just music, but
Metallica!
There was a speaker dock with an Mp3 player taped to the highest
point of the white canister blaring music. Moans from the collected
undead were now drowned out by the chords of electric guitar.

He turned and ran. Some of the reapers had
already begun to flank him. The man pulled out a pistol and fired
at the lead attackers, felling two with head shots. Another in a
club outfit took a round to the shoulder and was knocked off her
feet. I watched the entire scene play out to the tune of “Master of
Puppets”.

“This can’t be real,” I whispered to myself.
Nearby, the sound of a stray round hitting the fence reminded me
that this was indeed very real.

Then the method to this stranger’s madness
became clear. The crowd surrounding the school flocked to the
device. It didn’t matter to the creatures that this wasn’t a moving
person they heard. All they knew was that something blared out the
call of prey. In seconds the propane tank became covered by the
agitated predators.

“
NOW!!
” the suicide
bomber screamed, still fending off the outer waves.

A flicker of flame shot my eyes away from the
musical diversion. Two other men ran from beyond my view. One was
holding an amber colored glass bottle with a flaming rag jutting
from its top. He hurtled the flaming Molotov cocktail at the
excited horde. I shielded my face at the burst of light. Beyond me
the group of thirty was engulfed in flames. In such a horrid scene,
logic dictated that these human forms should have been reacting to
being set on fire, but they didn’t. Some seemed irritated at the
distraction from their interest. The rest just kept moving
excitedly about as they had before, only completely consumed by
fire. Any of the diversion had already become inaudible above the
ungodly chorus of the dead.

The fire bomber ran right back to where he
came from after unleashing his attack. Now the second man’s weapon
of choice was visible – a twelve gauge shotgun. The shooter dove
prone and began firing the weapon. Booming blasts echoed along the
tree line and filled my ears with high-pitched ringing. I covered
my ears and realized what was going on. The man was clearly trying
to pierce the propane tank!

My eyes went wide knowing what was about to
unfold. Some of the infected directly in the path of the blasts
were cut down with lethal effectiveness. The searing munitions blew
apart the weakened undead flesh and sent the front row to the
ground. Everything was happening so fast I almost didn’t duck down.
Then the man hit his target.

A concussive wave knocked me from my feet and
onto the gravel below. Sheer luck had me look down the moment of
the blast. If I hadn’t, I question how well I’d be able to see
right now. The explosive shriek of tearing metal was the last thing
I heard. My already traumatized ears were drowned in a head
throbbing ring.

Fire was peppered everywhere. Some of the
traffic jammed cars had caught fire too. A few feet ahead there was
a charred leg, tennis shoe still attached, teetering against the
rail from its meteoric impact. Standing up I was awestruck at what
surrounded the area. Fallout from this attack could be seen
anywhere I looked. Now would be a good time to move. The area
crossing was thrown into such disarray that I’d never get a better
opportunity to slip through unnoticed. Adrenaline again fueled my
trek towards survival. I didn’t have time to think or plan. Despite
the deafness that still afflicted me I had to act and so once again
I ran.

Through the smoke of smoldering corpses I
couldn’t see the men that wrought this hell upon the zombies. The
cars were now feet away. I made the mistake then of looking over
towards the devastation and that’s when I saw the sprawled figure
of the shooter. Shrapnel from the tank had cleaved his head in two.
Burns consumed his back and arms all the way to the shotgun still
fused in his outstretched grip.

The first car I came to had a torso jutting
out of the windshield, a hunk of ravaged flesh that stuck out of
the glass like a tree limb after an accident. I averted my gaze and
focused on the matter at hand. It took some careful side-stepping,
but within seconds I cleared the traffic jam of corpses and
cars.

A blazing figure lunged at me from behind a
tree that faced the school and very much like the ghoul, this tree
had become largely engulfed in the cleansing fire. The demon did
not behave like it was minutes away from ash; all it wanted was to
devour me. I gave the Kukri a roundhouse swing. No part of me
wanted to get closer to a zombie, let alone a flaming zombie, so
the blade hit the beast’s forehead and decimated all in its path.
The attack was more devastating than others I had performed. I
wondered if maybe the fire weakened the infected flesh to make it
more pliable.

I jumped over a few more pieces of smoking
debris. The fence welcomed me back into its protected borders.
Trees sheltered me to the south and the school continued past the
chain link wall to the north. Smoke and exertion burned my lungs. I
slowed my pace and looked back at the crossing. A considerable gap
in the horde had formed. Suddenly this all began to make sense.

Still catching my breath I shifted my glance
to the school. I saw the people staring back at me and the fires
outside. It wasn’t just an attack – it was a rescue mission. Then
elevated headlights cut through the smoke. I ducked to the tree
line as the pickup truck ran over flaming obstacles and reached the
school. Human figures raced in the wake of the truck. Every person
I saw was armed with anything from rifles to a pickaxe. The men who
made the kamikaze attack were clearing the way for rescue. Knowing
this now, I hope the shooter was the only casualty.