Authors: Nathan Barnes
Tags: #richmond, #undead, #reanimated, #viral, #thriller, #zombie plague, #dispatch, #survival thriller, #apocalyptic fiction, #zombies, #pandemic, #postapocalyptic fiction, #virus, #survival, #zombie, #plague, #teotwawki, #police, #postapocalyptic thriller, #apocalypse, #virginia, #end of the world
Many possible courses of action were
discussed. After weighing a few options we decided to keep the kids
out of school and prepare them for the idea of having to go stay at
the cabin with Grandma and Grandpa. I asked her to start packing
bags for everyone. Several sets of warm clothes, the photo albums,
which was her idea, some basic necessities, just in case, and of
course a medical kit.
My goal was to have a week’s worth of basic,
but suitable clothes for each of us to fit in a backpack, per
family member. Other than that, I had been busy getting some tools
ready as well as some lumber planks, just in case the house needed
to be secured in a hurry. At that point it was better to be safe
than sorry and if these people were turning into zombies, I wasn’t
going to let my family suffer the same fate.
Sarah finally ordered me to stop packing and
go to bed. She reminded me that I have one more night of work to
get through then we’d be able to straighten everything out. We
could prepare every way possible but if I wasn’t rested then I’d be
dooming myself to failure. The sinking feeling in my gut was
reminder enough of what might await me at work.
* * *
1835 hours:
National news started the broadcast with an
update on the pandemic. The anchor didn’t try to summarize it, and
instead they just played footage from the press conference with the
head of the CDC
“
From what we can tell, the
R33PR strain is not an airborne contagion. The transmission rather
occurs through exposure from infected blood or bodily fluids
containing blood. Violent behavior begins at the most advanced
stage of infection. Reports of new infections have increased
drastically and from what we can tell most are the result of wounds
received from a previously infected subject. Bites are the most
commonly reported wound. It is unclear if the virus is also present
in saliva or if infection creates a presence of blood in the
saliva. At this time it is imperative that new cases be reported
and isolated in order to prevent further spread of the pandemic.
Also, death is likely in any advanced case of what is being
referred to as the Reaper virus. Scientists around the world are
working to develop a treatment.”
He put his hand up to indicate no questions
and rushed away from the podium. The screen shot back to an
awestruck anchorman. After that I turned off the television, not
needing to see anything more.
My mom called shortly after the news was
over. My parents saw it too. Mom had nothing but questions, asking
about everything at work and in the city. I didn’t tell her much,
just that things were getting worse every night. Evidently Dad was
out all day around the farm making sure the fence was solid. It had
to take him all day, because it’s quite a big property. Some parts
would never be fully protected, but nonetheless, it was a little
more secluded than here in the city. The land had a couple of
streams running through it and some heavy woods that surround it,
the natural barriers adding to the seclusion of the property. There
were portions around the wooded areas where the fencing was flimsy,
but hopefully the thick brush or streams would create a natural
defense where the manmade wall was inadequate, although one of the
reasons they picked it was because it was “fully” fenced.
Mom pushed and pushed for us to leave
tonight, but I told her it wouldn’t be possible before my day off,
which was not for two more nights. In the meantime I needed to be
here, in the city, finding out what I could, and Sarah needed to
prepare the kids. I know Mom didn’t agree, but she stopped
resisting after a while.
Dad was asleep when Mom called so I couldn’t
talk to him even though I really wanted to. I needed some insight
from him to say the very least. This was a very odd situation for
us and he was wise enough to help us overcome some of the hurdles
in our own minds, I guess.
I never said the “Z” word to Sarah, but she’d
read all the same books and watched all the same movies – I know
she was thinking it too. I didn’t want to scare her, because for
some reason, I knew she was freaking out just as much as I was, but
she kept it hidden from the outside world. What else could it
possibly have been? What else turned people into cannibalistic
freaks that infected indiscriminately? It
was
zombies. There was no better explanation for
it.
* * *
Day Six.
November 15th – 0008 hours:
There was a note in my mailbox at work from
Lance, indicating that he didn’t trust the phones and there were
too many ears listening everywhere else. The note said:
“
Flirted the info out of a
nurse down in Trauma who has a crush on me. Hippie kid is dead. He
was hooked up to all the monitors and restrained. Then he
flatlined, the defibrillator had no effect. They called it and shut
the monitors down. Sweet Thing said his eyes were wide open still
and had turned all dark like his veins. The doc reached forward to
shut the kids’ eyes when the bastard lurched forward and bit onto
his hand. He didn’t let go until an orderly put a fire ax into the
top of his skull. It’s all going to hell man – it may be about time
to cut and run.”
* * *
0155 hours:
A lot of reports of promiscuous shooting had
come in from all around the campus. In the past, calls like these
were countered with a flurry of police activity in the area. But
with everything that was going on it felt like “shots fired” was
becoming a non-event. Many of those times we would get reports of
someone getting hit by a bullet. I could count on one hand how many
times I had been there when a person would be found dead
afterwards. One time the victim wasn’t found until a few hours
later. An anonymous caller let us know that someone was passed out
behind a vacant building. The call was broadcasted as a “man down”.
These were a high priority but typically turned out to be some
drunk kid or sleeping bum. With all these bullets flying through
the air I expected every other call to be just like the person dead
behind a vacant building. No man down calls so far, but I was just
waiting to hear it.
They took all radio control for the
east/hospital campus away from us. Before things got all crazy the
officers would arrive for duty or leave for the day and we always
saw them at headquarters. Once they had done everything they needed
to on our side of the area, they’d make the trek across the city to
the hospital. Geographically it wasn’t a huge distance, but the
misdeeds that accompanied a typical shift made it feel like my
officers were in another country. The radio, as always, was the
connector between us and them. When a dispatcher couldn’t talk to
their officer any distance felt magnified tenfold.
There was a smaller radio room in one of the
basement areas down east that had become a full time radio room for
all emergency personnel at the hospital. No clue who was working
this new room, but it was definitely not any of our people. That
said, we hadn’t been told anything officially yet, but I heard the
National Guard was taking over securing the hospital area of our
jurisdiction. It was believable too because the majority of the
hospital units were back on our side of the city. I say most
because they wouldn’t tell us what was going on with the others. My
guess was they were dead or infected. Although when it came down to
it, dead
and
infected were kind of the
same thing now.
* * *
0239 hours:
The “Zombie” word was out – all over the
internet at least. None of the major networks were saying it yet,
there was only some word that the CDC was planning another press
conference. Some good a press conference would do when the world
was going to shit, but I’d let them have their jollies while they
could. Who knew? Maybe they’d give us some insight into this. One
could wish.
I called it with predicting the man down
calls. There had been two of them in the past thirty minutes. From
what I could gather, both were infected. I couldn’t get any info on
the cause of death, suspects, etcetera, but they called in the
investigative sergeants from home to respond to the scene.
Everything was becoming very hush-hush, and it was getting that way
fast. Too fast for comfort.
If the following night wasn’t my last day
before a few off, I might have had to use up some sick time. I was
debating whether it was a good idea to go straight to the farm or
try and sit it out at home for a little while. My ever dwindling
optimistic side wanted to believe this would blow over in a week or
so. The pessimistic side argued that the human race was doomed. I
didn’t know what to do, but I figured that staying home and
protecting my family might be the best thing. The inner-conflict
took hold of me as I weighed the options. There was the dependable
employee in me who was well aware that any extended and unnecessary
time away from work could jeopardize my job. But beyond all of that
was the husband and father in me… that was the side that saw a
coming darkness and refused to let it envelop his family.
One more day on and I realized that I had to
take advantage of this and find out as much as possible. Then if
and when we did have to run, we weren’t running blind.
* * *
0637 hours:
The news was reporting that they had lost
contact with large portions of Seattle, Sacramento, Tucson, Kansas
City, Tallahassee, and Rochester. Lost contact? What in the hell
did
that
mean? I wondered if those were
cities hit hard by the R32PR strain. If so, it was morbidly logical
that they would be epicenters for the Reaper virus.
I spent the afternoon getting things ready
just in case we had to go in a hurry. At the very least it would be
smart to make sure the bags were packed. The car would be a tight
fit with everything I’d collected, but it would have to do. I’d
much rather have too much than not enough.
A few people on day shift had already called
out… typical. Thank God I’d already served my mandatory overtime
sentence for the week. I always ended up having to stay over or
come in early when it was least convenient. Murphy’s Law can be a
bitch.
* * *
1000 hours:
The CDC released another statement:
“
The pandemic is growing at
an alarming rate. Several urban centers that previously reported
high saturation levels of the R32PR virus have become overrun with
carriers of the R33PR strain. Specially equipped containment teams
have been dispatched to these areas to enforce quarantine protocol
and prevent further spread to surrounding areas. It is imperative
…
imperative
that healthy citizens defend
themselves against the afflicted. Violent outbursts from those in
the final stages of infection are believed to be the leading cause
of new infection. We cannot stress enough that any healthy
individual in close proximity to a suspected case of the Reaper
virus exercise caution, avoidance, and isolation.”
Just one more night of work to get through,
but I’d never been more anxious about going in for a shift. I just
wanted to get through it so I could worry about staying on my side
of the river and away from the city.
A police station should be the safest place
in a disaster right? My worst nightmare would be getting trapped in
dispatch. I doubted it would ever come to that, but getting a bag
together, a survival pack of sorts, put me at ease. I don’t know,
perhaps I was paranoid? In this day and age it might have been
better to be paranoid though, just in case…
In my mind, a survival pack entailed the
following: Essentials like a box of power bars, a water bottle, a
flashlight or two (with several sets of spare batteries), and a
change of clothes. I was debating what the CDC statement about
“defending yourself” really meant. Should I have been taking a
weapon with me? Granted, I would be in a building staffed by people
with guns, but I was armed with… a pen and a headset? I know they
always say that the pen is mightier than the sword, but wasn’t sure
how a little bit of Shakespeare would keep a ravenous freak from
ripping my face off.
I’d collected swords for years. Most were for
display only, the kind of shiny thing on your wall that would break
in two if it were ever used in combat, but my favorite had always
been something called a Kukri. Picture a cross between an axe and a
knife, or even a machete mixed with a boomerang. Its design is
ancient, one that is meant for chopping off an appendage with
little effort. The thing was heavy and it even came with a belt
scabbard of sorts. As far as I know it was genuine, from Nepal I
think. My brother and I found it in a thrift store in Harrisonburg,
VA when I was visiting him in college. Those were much less
stressful times.
Instinct told me to bring the rifle. It
wasn’t exactly an inconspicuous weapon, but what if something were
to happen around our house? The thought of leaving Sarah unarmed
with fucking zombies running amok was too much for me to even think
about. So I guessed that I should leave it for her and the kids. I
took the Kukri with me to work that night. If I got pulled over on
the way I’d be written up for possession of a concealed weapon –
after all
it is
the size of a machete. Oh
well, it could stay in the trunk. Something told me the state
troopers had better things to do than pulling over a uniformed
dispatcher with a kick-ass sword in his trunk.
* * *
1700 hours: