The Reaper Virus (34 page)

The paralleling turn kept going. I wanted
nothing more than to turn onto Hull Street and just keep going, but
it wasn’t an option. The embankment reduced enough that I could
have skipped over to the road but a number of cars in the traffic
jam prevented it. My only hope was to find a better inlet after the
road leveled. There were a few infected on the side street, but no
cars. I would just have to speed up as much as possible and dodge
them long enough to put some distance from the group.

Over my shoulder I spotted many of the new
horde that had gotten to their feet. They’d joined others that
stayed on Hull Street, but pursued me nonetheless. Stopping to
count would mean offering myself so I could only estimate that at
least fifty were trotting after this new meal on wheels that I’d
become. Panic pushed me on faster. I swerved around one in front of
me that lunged. He missed and fell to the ground. Another mimicked
his undead brother’s motion, but remained standing, albeit in a
wobble. I flew past a couple of others and came up on a line of
small trees in the median between the streets. There had to be a
way onto Hull Street soon that wouldn’t cause me to wreck.

The incline had decreased and the side street
was almost level with the car-filled neighbor. I looked past the
tractor-trailer-length swath of trees and saw my path. After the
trees there was a red brick column then a handful of metal posts
joined by a single knee high chain. Where the chain ended there was
an area worn to dirt from people passing over it. It was smooth and
the bike wouldn’t crash going over it. I knew it was my ticket to a
straight line home. Riding through it would be easy if it wasn’t
for the infected woman standing in my way.

Action had to take place over caution and I
knew it. I went at her full steam. Letting up on the pedals for a
second to keep balance I released my right hand from its
white-knuckle grip. I stretched back and let the silicone dots on
my glove find the handle of the Kukri. Holding it tightly, I
returned my arm to the handlebars pushing down from my wrist for
stability. The woman wore a gray pea coat that buttoned down to her
thighs. It was odd how clean the coat looked compared to the
mangled thing that should be her face.

By the time she knew living flesh was
hurtling towards her she didn’t have time to act. I held onto the
handlebars with my left hand so tight it felt like the metal would
bend under my fingers, raised the Kukri, and swung out to the
front. It caught her at ear level. Force from the impact
practically threw me from the bike. The recoil I experienced was
nothing compared to the zombie though. My blade entered by her left
ear and decimated every cell in its wake. Her head jerked towards
the road and collapsed in on itself thanks to a jaw that no longer
supported the skull. In mentally induced slow motion I could see
every detail of her cheek shattering like clay. Dirty steel sliced
through taking flesh, bone and teeth with it. Little more than skin
and muscle separated my attack from a full on decapitation.

The creature fell in the direction of my
swing like a foul ball. I wheeled past equally affected by the
physics associated with the attack. Instead of rejoicing from
finally being on Hull Street, I fought to keep from flying off the
bike. I nearly collided with a black Lincoln Navigator at a slight
angle and sideswiped it, scraping along until the side view mirror
hit me in the chest. It hyper extended out and rained broken glass
on the pavement. Of course, the car alarm went off the moment I
hit.

My vision flashed white from the surge of
pain and sharp pangs radiated from within my chest. Before the
impact there wasn’t much breath inside my lungs anyway, but then
everything was forced out. The polished sport utility vehicle
screeched its theft deterring siren. The wailing was acknowledged
in my mind, but not fully heard thanks to the partial deafness I’d
suffered. Even if I did have full hearing my pounding pulse already
blocked every decibel. I couldn’t move or breathe. Everything
around me was glowing white. My body screamed as I forced a look
behind me. The dead were closing in - so many thrashed towards me
that I couldn’t count. Their eager masses flourished to over a
hundred strong. If I didn’t move now I’d be on the receiving end of
a hurricane of death.

I returned my ass to the bike seat, numbness
pulsing through every inch of me. I only knew I’d succeeded in
sitting because I didn’t fall down. While my left arm braced
against the wailing car I hoisted my right boot to the pedal. A few
of the zombies past the point I’d entered the road rushed in
head-on. In my peripheral vision I saw the shapes coming, arms out
and eager fingers dancing. Death was cascading around me like a
halo.

A force, one I can only describe as being
outside of myself, moved my other boot in place. I was still using
the Navigator to hold me up when the first of them reached. He was
a teenager in a windbreaker, shorts and no shoes. As he lunged
towards me I extended a fist. I hit him with strength I somehow
possessed and under my balled knuckles I felt the zombie’s nose
driven into his sinus cavity. I’d already traveled several feet by
the time he hit the ground. Full body numbness triggered some kind
of auto pilot in me. The only thoughts running through my brain
were to pedal and pedal fast. I’d swerve every other minute to
avoid an attacker then go right back to pedaling. My surroundings
didn’t matter so long as I kept going. I really had no idea who or
what I passed. All I knew was that the congregation behind me grew
more and more distant.

The fierce pain that came from my hitting the
car gradually faded into the generalized agony I’d already been
feeling. I pushed it back inside where it waited to overcome me
like a sleeping giant. Now all there was to do was ride the bike
home. The two-wheeled chariot was delivering me where I needed to
be. If I could maintain a decent pace I should be home in an hour
and a half.

1520 hours:

The world had ended a couple of days before. When
reality shattered and the dead rose, it was difficult to establish
true timeframes. I’d been awake fleeing for most of the time after
hell and Earth joined. The unavoidable dread of the future was that
there was none to speak of. Hope was all that distinguished past,
present, and future. The latter two temporal generalizations lacked
this luxury enjoyed only by the past.

I drifted in and out of my thoughts. One
moment I was lost in contemplation. The next I would be longing to
be lost again, so that I didn’t have to think about what was
happening to my body. Pain and exhaustion were shared states of
being. My legs couldn’t decide whether or not they hurt or were
near muscle failure. All I could do was pedal.

My determination in getting home went beyond
hope. I know it was something that I must do. What I had to stop
myself from dwelling on was thinking about after I got there.
Existing up until that moment had been only to see the ones I love,
but if I made it that far, what would I do then? My selfish drive
had made me forget that after I got home I’d need to keep my family
safe. I’d spent two days traveling a distance that normally took me
twenty-five minutes. If things had gone to hell that much, then how
was I going to get four people to a safe place across the damn
state? Maybe the dead were the lucky ones after all… at least they
didn’t have to worry about what was next.

Shapes of cars and people passed. I kept my
eyes on the immediate road ahead. Looking around could have some
strategic use. It might allow me to spot a place to rest or a
source of supplies. Hell, if I were to pay attention I might even
spot someone who was still human that could help me. All this
aside, I kept my vision fixed to the front, because I knew that
home was up the street and nothing would stop me from getting
there. The zombies began to look the same after a while as was
passing by creatures that in life were young and old. Some of them
looked perfectly normal, but revealed their plight by choosing the
company of other reapers. Every now and then one would stick out in
my peripheral vision.

I came close to becoming fixated on this one
woman by the pricing marquee for a gas station. The digital sign
was dark with
“NO GAS- DON’T BOTHER”
spray
painted in white across it. Underneath, the infected woman was
knelt down gnawing on something. To her side was an undead child. I
knew that sight wouldn’t benefit me at all and quickly shot my
glance back to the front.

I wanted to stop so badly, but there wasn’t a
block of road around there that wasn’t by
something
dangerous. If I stopped then I’d have
company in seconds. All those gas stations, repair shops, markets,
and shoddy looking stores made the landscape quite different from
the railroad tracks. Some places showed obvious signs of looting.
Other locations shined brightly to all looking for supplies. I
should have stopped and looked for anything to help me, but I knew
that any delay could keep me out past sunset. There were a few
hours left of daylight and I’d like to be home long before they
expired. Frankly, if I stopped I wasn’t completely sure I’d be able
to start again.

Sound was my best indicator for what was
around me. My hearing was still considerably dampened from the
effects of being near the rail crossing explosion, but gunshots in
the area would cut through the muted chorus belonging to the
locals. Some things were noisy enough that even the deaf might
hear. The racket that came from a hundred fists pounding upon the
storefront of a Food Lion was unimaginable. If the dead were that
motivated in getting inside a place it had to mean that there were
living on the other side of those walls. When I passed, a few
members of the horde inevitably noticed me. They would turn from
their writhing brethren to chase me. Any pursuit was futile since
I’d be a block away before they made it twenty feet and the clatter
of their friends always turned them back around.

It was discouraging to see so many zombies
gathered around people. I’ll never know how many people were in
these places. I pray whatever heavenly power above us wouldn’t
forsake them completely. However, thoughts like these made me think
of the people I left behind. Given my recent actions, it would be
fitting if the hopeful prisoners in Police Headquarters made it
through but I didn’t.

Finally, ahead I saw the familiar overpass
for Chippenham Parkway. On my normal commute home I came off of
Chippenham onto Hull Street. At least the remainder of my journey
would be in familiar territory once again. There was a shopping
center right before the Parkway, which concerned me. It had a few
larger stores that could mean more infected.

I dodged a car sitting askew in the middle of
the lane. It was kind of junky and had one of those suspension
lowering kits installed. The passenger side door was open and the
driver side window had been rolled down. Passing around front I saw
twitching legs protruding from the undercarriage. A red streak
outlined where the right foot had been scraping repetitively.
Friction cleaved the creature’s heel through the shoe down to bone.
It spent its entire trapped existence just vainly rubbing its foot
up and down. The humane thing to do would have been to stop and put
a bullet through its head, but I didn’t have time to do humane
things anymore…

Already I could see a gathering of undead
around the hardware store in the shopping center. I picked up the
speed and zoomed towards the darkness of the overpass. The hardware
store was probably like zombie-killing-toy central. If I had that
thought then other people likely did as well. It would explain why
so many infected were around the double glass doors leading into
the tool store.

I sped through the other side of the
overpass. Familiar ground surrounded me again and I remembered that
this familiar ground also had lots of changes in elevation. Biking
up hills sounded absolutely horrifying. At least I had down hills
to look forward to as well. If there was anything fortunate about
the circumstances behind the apocalypse, it would be the timing.
Doing all these things in the November air was what made them
manageable. If the apocalypse had happened in the summer I’d have
already died from dehydration.

I passed more shopping centers. I saw those
places every night before the end. My nightly drive to avoid the
tolls of Powhite Parkway brought me through there. I paid them
little mind then. Before, I just wanted to make it through the
lights and get to work. I’d try not to think about crimes I knew
occurred in the area. Every night, my paranoia attempted to delay
my making it to Chippenham. Fortunately, the traffic light cycles
were predictable. If I left the house in a certain window I had a
better chance of not hitting every damn red light and not giving
those paranoid fears a chance to surface. Life was routine and
insignificant back then, but that was when I had no idea how lucky
I actually was.

An Asian zombie was waiting for me next to an
abandoned minivan. Half his face was covered in circular bite
wounds, one eye was missing, and his rib cage peeked from behind a
torn pair of medical scrubs. The half of his outfit not stained in
crimson had teddy bears printed all over it. He lunged seconds
after I passed. The attack missed by inches, but skimmed my back
wheel. The scrub reaper’s putrid chest knocked the bike tread and
then tumbled to the street. I fought to stabilize the handlebars
after his impact rocked the frame and even before I was sure I’d
succeeded in stabilizing I was frantically pedaling away.

Scrub Zombie’s failed attack made me extra
paranoid. Both sides of the street were in competition for who
could have the least inviting looking shopping center. I ignored
them in the same way I’d done before the end. I felt like I was
back in my car at a red light. That naïve sense of
“if you don’t look at the sketchy car or building then you’ll
be just fine”
always hit me at those moments. Riding past
the festering retail centers I embraced that former exercise and
averted my eyes. I knew there were hungry creatures watching me.
Scrutinizing every inch of those places wouldn’t change the
inaccessibility that the undead could bring to even the most
appealing of supply centers.