The Reaper Virus (Novella): Sarcophagus (9 page)

Chapter Sixteen

As if the
events of the supply run weren’t enough to draw attention to the bus, the noise
inside after the doors closed drew every walking corpse to their walls. Chaos
erupted in the cabin after Frank’s final act spared Paul and
himself
from being devoured then subsequently turned. Outside the undead piled against
the walls trying to claw their way in.

They raced
to cover up the lower half of the windows. By design, the windows were elevated
and tinted. This did nothing to deter the horde from aggressively pursuing the
meal they knew was locked inside. A mantra of ‘
if we disappear then they will go away
’ was repeated as they used
paper, clothing or whatever they could find to increase their shield. Ava was
handed a pack of sugar-free bubble gum and told to chew with all her might.
Wads of sticky gum were then passed to whomever needed a dot to adhere a covering
to the window. Before long the door was completely blocked by coats and only a
few rows of upper glass were left uncovered; the result was an eerie darkness
enveloping the cabin.

The wives
of the two runners helped them inventory what supplies were retrieved. Paul’s
now vacant seat was used as a prepping ground to divvy up their minor bounty.
With adrenaline from the lunchtime slaughter fading, hunger returned. Small
lunch portions were passed out. All of the retreat members ate listening to the
relentless slapping of infected flesh against their walls.

Attention
from the bridge’s infected population came in waves. They could tell when
another doomed vehicle in the traffic jam made its last stand and it was a gut
wrenching realization to be had. Through a muted filter of the bus’s
soundproofing, the signs were all too clear: breaking glass, a desperate
shriek, and the clap of a body slamming against a car or a rightfully triggered
alarm. Gunshots were less frequent and always distant.

Sounds in
the siege reached a lessoned constant after an hour. Those inside the shelter
of the bus managed to keep their sobs to a minimum long enough to give them
hope that they’d been finally forgotten. Curious eyes found the courage in the
lull to stand on seats for a peak over their new blinder wall. Many of the
infected had hobbled away from the mammoth bus towards an area farther up the
bridge. There were so many members of the horde that they blotted out any view
of what garnered their hungry attention.

“Are they
still all around us?” inquired a woman closer to the bathroom.

One of
the runners stood atop Paul’s empty seat to scan the outside. He looked closely
before whispering loudly back, “Most of them are gone. They’re moving up ahead
somewhere. Must be someone else locked in their car that they just spotted.”

Speaking
louder than he should have, a man in the middle with thinning gray hair asked,
“Can we make a run for it in the other direction?” The question brought about a
wave of murmurs from the stir-crazy group.

Jessica
spoke up, something she hated doing. “What then? We run into another group of
them? Don’t fool yourselves. It’s only been two hours since they found out
we’re here. I doubt it will be clear enough for all of us to make it,” she said
attempting to sound as authoritative as possible.

“I
ain’t
waitin
’ here forever,”
proclaimed the makeup-painted woman in her New York accent. Her carefully
applied face paint now streaked down her wrinkled cheeks from hours of
occasional tears. “How ‘bout half of us stay then the rest go for help? You
gotta
keep your little girl safe,
I get that. But I can’t take another night in this box.”

She
didn’t wait for a reply. A handful of others seemed to agree with her charge.
All of them got up and started to move towards the door. More reasonable
retreat members whispered ignored pleas for more time, patience for a rescue.
One of them turned, saying loud enough for all to hear, “
there is no rescue!
All the people that would have come for us died
on the first bus. No one knows we’re even here. Whoever has the attention of
the sick ones up there is doing us a favor; we’d be foolish not to take the
chance... We will find help and bring it back, I promise.”

A volley
of shots rang out from outside. The man at the center of the dead’s new focus
had done his best to remain concealed. Passing glances from hunting eyes had
missed him under the blanket tent he’d made in the backseat of his Ford
Explorer. It all changed with a nightmare that came during a sleep session
intended to pass the time. He dreamt of his parents getting ripped to pieces
and having to watch from a glass cage. Seconds after his own scream ended the
dream, the horde found him.

Dozens of
hands pawed at his windows with more coming every minute. This was not how he
wanted to go. The virus would not take him without a fight. His friends called
him crazy when he bought the AK-47 at a gun show one month after the assault
weapons ban expired. They joked that he’d end up on a government watch list all
because he wanted a toy that he’d never really use. Now he was
all alone
with the weighty tool as his only companion. “Can
you clear all thirty rounds out without jamming for once?” he jokingly said to
the rifle.

It was so
loud inside he could barely think. A crack started snaking along the windshield
from an old star chip he’d put off fixing. Out of obsessive-compulsive habit he
ejected the magazine one last time, tapping it against the center dash to
ensure a smooth exit for the compliment of 7.62x39mm full metal jacket
ammunition. He tried to steady his breathing out of habit and instantly felt
ridiculous for taking such careful aim at targets so bountiful he couldn’t
miss. Then he lowered the barrel to eye level with the crowd of ghouls,
unleashing a spray of lethality for his last stand.

Unrest
reached a breaking point back inside the bus. In total, seven retreat members
were hell bent on taking advantage of the distraction created by the lowly
man’s AK-47 ignited blaze of glory. The rest of the surviving bus occupants
pleaded with them to reconsider. Fear joined with cabin fever to solidify their
reckless choice.

Jessica
turned to Ava, who had silently observed the frantic exchanges of the adults
surrounding her. They locked eyes when the mother commanded, “earmuffs,
sweetie
. You don’t need to hear any of this mess.”

“Are we
leaving with those people?” She asked shyly.

“No,”
Jessica was stern in her reply, “we’re staying put. Don’t listen to what they
are saying because people can say funny things when they’re scared. Right now
we’re in the safest place on the bridge.”

The first
runner stood by the door. He spoke barely loud enough for the seven to hear,
“I’m only opening this door long enough for ya’ll to get out. After that I
can’t promise it’ll open again if those things see us as dinner again. Please
reconsider this; I was out there with them. I saw what they do. Please?”

He got
nothing but silence back. With a heavy sigh he reached for the crank to open
the hatch. Audible weeping picked back up throughout the interior. Pops from
the fury of semi-automatic gunfire continued outside at a steady pace. Then the
rhythm was lost. A wallowing scream joined the last two rifle cracks.

A
fraction of a second after the final shots formed a duet with a dying man’s cry,
the bus quaked and all occupants shrieked. The last bullet fired in
uncalculated desperation from outside struck the upper driver’s side of the
church bus. It effortlessly bore a hole through the glass then continued on its
upward trajectory cutting a groove into the inside roof. They all screamed in
justifiable terror with the seven evacuees dropping to the floor for cover.

“Is
everyone alright
?!
” cried a man in the middle.

No
physical injuries were voiced aloud. Panic loudly escalated leading to random
speculative comments: “someone shot at us!” “Why would they do that? We’re not
the bad guys!” “They probably want our supplies!”

Jessica
couldn’t bare the constant flow of ignorance throughout the people she paid to
survive with. Her temper flared. She didn’t even check to see if Ava still
covered her ears, “
what the hell is wrong
with you people
?!
No one shot at us - look at
where it hit! The poor bastard out there that just died was desperate and
missed. No one here is
THAT
important
so get over yourselves.”

The
internal dialogue running in her mind wanted to scold them further. She needed
to belittle the seven members who were so eager to make a run for it. That kind
of fearful ignorance was more of a threat to their future than the creatures
stalking the bridge. However, Jessica didn’t need to say anything else because
the undead did for her. Both sides of the bus trembled under a barrage of eager
claws. Emotions cost the group their cool and now their gained anonymity.

Pounding
quickly intensified. Either the noise made the bus an irresistibly appetizing
target or they were now the only ones left alive.

Chapter Seventeen

Light
again fades from the ever present gloom of a sky. With so much of the windows
blocked the retreat members inside the luxury coach had adapted to confinement
in the reduced visibility. Outside random hazard lights flashed from cars that
were no longer occupied by the living. These sporadic bursts of light created
an almost hypnotic lightning effect inside the bus.

Constant
droning from the infected developed a certain ebb and flow. Their interest in
the contents of the transport often lowered, yet never ceased. Something always
seemed to bring them back each time their hammering began to lessen. As
darkness permeated the landscape a woman near the back of the bus broke down.
She wept uncontrollably; her volume rose with every heave of her chest. In
response the horde was electrified from the taunting cries in the metal cage.

Jessica
looked down at her little girl who sat quietly, more reserved than any adult
around her. Tears unknowingly streamed down the tired mother’s face. After a
drop of the warm salty liquid landed on Ava’s hand she looked up to see where
it came from. Jessica frantically wiped her tears away, trying to look strong
for her daughter.

Ava
reached her little hand up, catching one of the descending tears. She carefully
moved the hair off Jessica’s forehead and smiled. “Don’t be sad, Mommy.”

“I’m
not…. it’s just….” Jessica stuttered trying to find the words to make this all
right, “tired. I’m just tired, sweet thing. That’s all.”

Nylon of
her puffy purple coat with a furry hood made swooshing sounds as it rubbed
against itself with Ava’s movement as she lifted herself up. Now on her feet,
she stood eye-level with her seated mother. Another tear was nabbed before it
could escape Jessica’s cheek by petite fingers with chipped sparkly nail
polish. Ava looked her right in the eyes and said, “everything is going to be
fine, Mommy.” Then she planted a kiss on her dry lips.

All
Jessica could do was smile back. After her continued efforts to be strong for
the five-year-old, it’s the five-year-old that’s strong for her. She held back
more tears while pretending to read a magazine. Ava returned to her storybook
for the tenth time, feeling accomplished in what she set out to do.

Dinner
rations were passed out shortly after. The group silently savored a helping of
trail mix with optional beef jerky for anyone who could stomach it. Food
typically had a residual calming effect on them as a whole. Low blood sugar,
confinement and waning hope made for dangerous bedfellows. This was their
smallest meal yet on the bus, a discouraging truth to realize. Snide remarks
were kept to a minimum from the overall exhaustion they felt. Jessica was
thankful to not hear any of the normal comments. She was too tired to tolerate
the high and mighty attitude that had joined them on this journey.

A few
members had flashlights with them; which was the extent of their disaster
planning. The flashlight-armed were some of the more neurotic among them. One
woman refused to sit still and paced the aisle with the keychain light
activated. Despite pleas from others to turn out the light in fear of reactions
from outside, she kept pacing. Jessica watched the show knowing that light or
no
light,
the monsters outside weren’t going anywhere.
In all likelihood, they’re attention wasn’t directed high enough to see the
light dancing inside the cab through the uncovered sections of window.

Ava
passed out so soon after eating that crumbs still clung to her face. Those in
the seats around theirs saw the little one resting and smiled. They all longed
for a child’s ability to put chaos on hold in favor of sleep, to stop thinking
about their situation long enough to clear their heads with rest. Jessica
snuggled up against her brave little princess and joined her in a dreamy
reprieve.

Dreams
retained their purity. She chased Ava through a bright sunny field. Bees glowed
like fireflies as they zoomed around clovers so perfectly shaped that they
should have adorned an Irish pub in the spring. Far away a troupe of drummers
made their magic on every percussion instrument she’d ever heard of. Their
music echoed off the rolling hills giving them a beat to skip to. Jess felt
happy. No zombies or self-righteous church flock to be found; just her and her
precious baby girl. Her reason for being, for battling through any obstacle a
day might throw at her.

Her eyes
opened to the dim headrest in front of them. Being forced out of such a
delightful dream made her bite down on the inside of her cheek. Jessica sat up
feeling irritated, her mouth tasting hints of metallic blood. According to her
watch it was almost two in the morning. No one else around them appeared to be
disturbed. All that could be heard was the drumming of the dead on their walls
and a passenger with sleep apnea snoring. “
I
must be losing my damn mind,
” she mouthed the words as they ran through her
mind.

Then she
heard it again. This time she knew she wasn’t going crazy because several of
the others jolted forward from sleep. Ava sat up confused, her hair an amusing
mess. Jessica listened close for the sound to repeat. When it did she thought
it sounded like two men yelling at each other. She stood up thinking that
tempers among those in their group finally came to blows. Once again,
everything was normal inside.

Stiffness
in Jessica’s legs made standing difficult. Curiosity allowed her to power
through it in order to hoist up on top of her seat. She steadied herself to
look above the gum-tacked newspaper over their window. Lack of light just about
everywhere made it easy for her vision to adjust outside. Continuous flashes of
the traffic jam’s hazard lights filled in what night vision could not. Beyond the
sea of bobbing undead heads she saw the railroad bridge’s expansive silhouette.
Movement atop the bridge caught her eye.

“What is
it,” whispered the flashlight woman, “are people coming to rescue us?”

By now
many were stirred from their light sleep. Hearing a directed inquiry about
rescue made them think something was actually developing outside. In seconds
the aisle around Jessica and Ava’s row was clogged with a congregation of the
curious. Jessica glared down at them placing a finger over her closed lips to
indicate quiet. Her eyes returned to the glass.

She could
make out the shapes of two people, men it seemed, standing on the rails over
the James River. Voices loud enough to hear inside the bus indicated they must
have been arguing. Keeping her gaze fixed on the development, she narrated the
scene to the others. “I see two guys on the train bridge. One of them has a
flashlight with really white light. They are screaming at each other,” she said
hoarsely. Each word fogged the glass ever so slightly.

The
pounding on their walls lessened on the side facing the arching railroad
crossing. Noise tantalizes the infected hunger, driving them in the direction
its source. As volume on the parallel bridge grew loud enough for those inside
the coach to hear, the horde went into
a frenzy
.
Stiffly re-animated legs shuffled towards the arguing, ignoring all obstacles.
The bar isolating the southbound traffic jam quickly became lined with undead
trying to obey their viral directive.

A man in
the aisle pointed out the obvious, “they are leaving! Should we try to go? I
don’t hear them over there.”

“There’s
still too many of them,” added the first runner, “the one’s by the door aren’t
following.”

“He’s
right,” Jessica agreed.

Sounds of
other passengers scrambling behind her finally pried her face from the glass. A
few others scaled the seats behind her to see the mystery men for
themselves
. They turned on useless cell phones, book lights
or anything luminescent in reach to waive in the glass. It didn’t matter how far
away the mystery figures on the train bridge were, desperation forced the bus
occupants to get their attention.

From the
bus it looked as if the verbal spat was one sided. One figure stood in front
the other with his hands animated in fervor, white light flickering from his
left side where the assumed light was held. The man farthest from them was
mostly still, timid even. Then, as quickly as their shadow dance began, both
figures stood still. Whatever transpired froze them in place, separated by a
short gap worthy of whispering secrets. Waves of undead traipsed into the
guardrails. Clusters in the nearly empty northbound lanes followed suit by
lining the bridge wall on the opposite side. A captive audience of both the
living and the dead had developed for the two men.

Suddenly
they shifted, doubling the gap between them. Then the farthest man fell
backward like a mannequin pushed from a pedestal. His body flipped off the
bridge, committed with a horrid clap to the surging waters. As the man
rag-dolled off the ledge his companion dropped to his knees in obvious despair.
Such an abhorrent end to a mysterious exchange delighted the horde. More bodies
started dropping to the river as the creatures in the northern lanes obeyed
their desire to feed regardless of the impossible obstacle in their way.

Jessica
slid down into her seat feeling completely and utterly hollowed. She didn’t
know exactly what she’d just watched; yet it deepened the chasm left by lost
hope. Ava squeezed her hand. There were no words available to comfort so the
tired mother wrapped both arms around her little girl. They sat in the dark
listening to a soundtrack of persistent crying; holding one another tightly as
fists gradually resumed languishing their walls.