Voodoo Plague - 01 (4 page)

For the moment
the woman and I were the only living things in the parking lot other than a
fat, glossy, black crow sitting on the roof of a red Chevy.  It ‘cawed’ at us
several times before flying away to the north, away from the inferno that was
downtown Atlanta.  The woman approached me slowly, carefully looking me up and
down, her eyes nervously pausing on the weapon in my hand, then moving on.

“Were you
bitten?  Scratched?”  Her voice was low and husky, raw sounding from all the
screaming she had been doing.

“What?”  I
asked.  Everything was too surreal and now this crazy, naked woman wanted to
know if I’d been bitten?

She took a
cautious step forward, “Were you bitten?”  She spoke slower this time as if I
were a child.

“No.  They never
touched me.  Why?” 

She came closer
and continued her visual inspection.  “I watched that one and his friend,” she
pointed at the young man I had shot in the head, “attack and bite the Trooper. 
Within one to two minutes he was just like them and trying to kill me.”

I stood staring
at her, breathing harder than I needed to, but the adrenaline from the fight
was still in my system. 

I said, “They
bit him?  And he became like them?  This is crazy.  You’re describing something
like a zombie or a vampire.”

She raised her
chin and stared back at me defiantly, “I may look like a brainless bimbo at the
moment, but I know what I saw.  The Trooper was fine, normal, until he was
attacked.  He was bitten and scratched and in less than two minutes I watched
him change into one of them and start trying to kill me.”

She crossed her
arms under her breasts, and while I would have thought it difficult for an
almost naked woman to look dignified she managed to pull it off.

“OK, so I guess
I believe you.  Any idea what the hell is wrong with them?  Why are they trying
to kill us?”

She relaxed and
moved over to stand next to me, looking down at the body of the young man.  “I
was hoping you would know.  All I know is New York got nuked last night.  The
owner of the club where I work wouldn’t close, and a few hours ago these things
started attacking people in the club.”

I looked back
over at the dead Trooper, then out across the swamp.  A couple of hundred yards
away there were four figures wading through the water in our direction.  Uh
Oh.  I scanned the parking lot and found no threats, but out on the perimeter
road that came from my company’s office building there was a small group of
figures walking towards us.  I slowly raised my arm and waved at them, Rachel
turning to see who I was waving at, but they didn’t wave back or acknowledge me
in any way.  Oh, shit.

“We’ve got to
get out of here.  Now!” I said. 

I took her hand
in mine as if it was the most natural thing to do and broke into a trot across
the parking lot to where my rental SUV was parked.  Half way there I skidded to
a stop and slapped my pants pockets with a feeling of dread.  No keys.  They
were in my room on the fifth floor of the hotel.  There was no way I could
climb the stairs, get my keys and get back before the approaching threat cut
off our escape.

“What’s wrong?” 
She asked me, not letting go of my hand.

“No keys. 
They’re up on the fifth floor in my room.  I don’t suppose you know how to hot
wire a car, do you?”

I didn’t expect an affirmative
answer, and I didn’t get one.  The look of horror on her face told me what I
needed to know.  We were on foot, multiple threats approaching from at least
two directions, and she was already exhausted from fighting her way through the
swamp.  Exhausted or not we didn’t have a choice.  We had to run.

We ran across
the parking lot, her slightly behind me and to my left, holding my hand as we
ran.  My right was my shooting hand and I was keeping it free and available to
draw the pistol if I needed it.  Considering these things, alright I guess I’m
ready to call them zombies even though they weren’t actually reanimated dead,
apparently hunted by sound and smell I didn’t want to have to fire off the
weapon and attract every one of them within hearing distance.  I suspected they
used sound for finding their prey at a distance, then sound and smell when they
closed in.

Cutting the
corner on the parking lot we made it to the road with about a hundred yards of
clearance from each group of Zombies – infected? - but turned left towards the
ones in the swamp.  The water would slow their progress and let us get by
them.  I settled into a fast jog, the woman staying with me and maintaining a
death grip on my hand.  I was impressed.  As freaked out as she had to be, as I
was, she was staying with me and not slowing me down or complaining.

We didn’t make
much noise, just the sound of my running shoes and her bare feet on the asphalt
and our heavier breathing, but the infected in the swamp detected us and
changed direction to pursue.  I glanced over my shoulder and saw the group
behind us speed walking after us, not that much slower than we were moving.  My
instinct was to push harder and open up some distance, but I was worried about
tiring.  I had slept most of the night and was relatively refreshed and
strong.  I was pretty sure she had been up a long time, certainly all night,
and was already tired from her run through the swamp.

Ahead the road
curved slightly, then straightened as it approached a large intersection with
shopping on each corner.  Several cars were piled into each other in the
intersection and I hoped we would find one of them drivable with the keys still
in the ignition.  My hopes were dashed when figures appeared from behind the
cars as we approached and started coming towards us.  Three large parking lots
on the NE, SE and SW corners were virtually empty of cars as none of the retail
shops had been open when all of this happened, but there were groups of figures
in each of the parking lots that all turned in our direction and started our
way. 

The NW corner,
across the intersection and to our right, was a massive parking lot for a
Wal-Mart Super Center.  Cars were scattered across the parking lot, some
belonging to employees and some to shoppers that needed something in the middle
of the night.  There weren’t any infected milling about that parking lot. 

“There,” I
pointed with my right hand, making sure she knew where we were going.

“How?”  She
gasped a response.

“Be ready to run
flat out.  We’re going through the ones ahead.”  I indicated the infected in
the middle of the intersection, directly ahead of us.

There were four
of them, three men and a woman if it matters, and they were bunched up at the
trunk of a mid-sized Japanese sedan as they tried to locate us.  I would have
preferred to go around, but there were broad drainage ditches on either side of
the road as it approached the intersection and I didn’t want to get bogged down
in mud or hurt by some unseen debris that lay hidden in the weeds.  A sprained
ankle or broken leg was a death sentence.

Coming up on the
intersection I angled our direction to the left, intending to keep the crashed
cars between us and the infected.  I also wanted a good look at the condition
of the cars.  The first vehicle we came to was a ten year old Chevy Malibu and
I dismissed it outright when I saw the crumpled front end and puddle of
anti-freeze on the pavement under the engine.  It was crashed into the side of
a twenty year old Ford F-250 pickup that had been jacked up and outfitted with
oversized wheels and tires.  The truck was a four door behemoth and its damage
from the accident was limited to the left side of the rear bumper.  It looked
in almost pristine condition, despite its age, and I was counting on the owner
having cared for the drive train as meticulously as he had the appearance. 
Only one problem.  When I dashed up to the driver side door I could see there
were no keys in the ignition.

The infected in
the intersection had split up, the three men bumping and groping their way
around a couple of cars, but the woman leapt onto the hood of first one car,
then another.  How she was doing this blind was beyond me, and she also seemed
much more coordinated and agile than the men.  She sprang to the roof of the
Chevy that was crashed against the Ford truck, then with a loud snarl into the
bed of the truck.  She was moving fast.  Too fast and getting too close.

I drew the
pistol which was ready to go and side stepped to get a better angle on her, and
that’s when I saw her eyes.  Blood red like the men I’d seen up close, but only
the whites of her eyes were red.  She still had irises and pupils and could
obviously still see.  This slowed me for a heartbeat, long enough for her to
leap at us.  I fired a single round that punched through her forehead and blew
out the back of her skull.  Her body went limp in mid leap and she fell to the
ground at our feet.

I wanted to take
a closer look at this one, but the men were fast approaching with snarls of
their own, and the infected that had been following us down the road were now
less than fifty yards away.  I quick glanced around and my blood ran cold when
I saw the number of infected converging on us from the surrounding parking
lots.  First things first.  I raised my arm and fired three shots and each of
the men closest to us dropped dead to the pavement. 

The one in the
middle was a guy about my age, mid 40s, built like a tank and wearing jeans,
muddy work boots and a Ford hat.  It didn’t take Colombo to deduce he was
likely the driver of the truck and I dashed forward and felt in his pants
pocket with my left hand, pistol in my right ready to fire if he so much as
twitched.  In his right front pocket was a wad of keys, and one of them was a
big silver deal with Ford stamped prominently on it. 

We were running
out of time and had to take a chance.  If we got in the truck and this wasn’t
the right Ford key we’d be trapped, surrounded by infected.  If we didn’t get
in the truck our only open path was the Wal-Mart, and while the parking lot was
still empty I didn’t hold out much hope that the store wasn’t infested.  I
didn’t want to find out.

“In the truck!” 
I guided her towards the open driver’s door and followed her into the cab.  She
scooted over to make room for me, but stayed close so we were touching when I
sat behind the wheel and slammed the door closed.  I inserted the key in the
ignition and it fit!  I took a breath, held it, and turned the key.   It didn’t
turn.  Wrong Ford.

“Goddamn it! 
I’m sorry.”  I said, then the infected were at the doors and I just had time to
hit the electric lock button before hands started pounding on the windows and
body of the truck. 

A woman who
looked no more than 20 leapt onto the hood and squatted directly in front of
me, staring at me through the heavy windshield.  Just like the woman I’d killed
the whites of her eyes were blood red, but she still had irises and pupils, but
looking into those eyes I couldn’t see any sign of humanity, just primal hunger
and predatory intelligence.  I looked out the side window at a man who was hung
up bumping against the outside rear view mirror and his eyes were the same
solid red I’d seen back at the hotel parking lot.  I wasn’t sure why there was
a difference, but I was sure that women had just become what I always thought
they were, the most dangerous members of the human race.

The woman
sitting next to me was shivering.  It wasn’t cold.  The sun was well up and the
cab of the truck was quickly growing hot and stifling.  In normal times I would
never have presumed to try to comfort her, but these weren’t normal times.  I
put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to me and just held her while
she went from shivering to outright sobs, the female infected squatting on the
hood watching us like a cat watches a mouse hole.

When she got her
emotions under control the woman straightened up slightly without breaking
contact with me.  She wiped her eyes with a grimy hand and sniffed back the
last of her tears.  Around us were now at least 50 infected, the men bumping
into the sides of the truck and hammering on it with their fists and forearms
in what seemed to be frustration.  The women were what really scared me. 
Another woman had leapt onto the hood and squatted on the passenger side,
staring at us through the windshield with her bloody eyes.  Three more women
had leapt into the bed of the truck and stared at us through the back window. 
At least ten more stood a few yards back from the truck, beyond the milling
males, and just stared patiently. 

“What do we do?”
 She sat up straight and I slowly moved my arm away from her shoulders.  I
found myself moving slowly because of some instinct that told me not to startle
the women sitting on the hood of the truck.  If any of them had enough
intelligence remaining to find a rock to smash the truck’s windows, we were
goners.

“Good question,”
I answered.  “But I don’t have a clue at the moment.  It’s going to get real
hot in here real soon, and I don’t think we’ll survive the day without water.”

I slowly turned
my head and looked around the cab of the truck.  Clean and organized.  Nothing
out of place.  I carefully checked the glove box which only held the owner’s
manual and a small flashlight.  I slipped the flashlight into my pocket after
making sure it worked.  Under the back seat was a small tool case with an
assortment of sockets, Allen wrenches and screw drivers in it.  I held the tool
case in my lap, considering my options, then pulled out the largest screw
driver in the kit.

She looked at
me, but didn’t question what I was doing as I leaned forward and inserted the
tip of the screw driver into the truck’s ignition.  When I leaned forward the
woman on the hood leaned in until her face was almost touching the windshield
and curled her lips back in a snarl I could hear clearly even through the heavy
glass.  Her teeth were stained red and there was debris, I didn’t care to think
about the origin of, that was stuck between them.

Ignoring her I pushed down on the
screw driver while twisting to the right and there was a sharp snap from the
ignition.  Unfortunately that was all that happened.  I didn’t know what I was
doing.  I’d never stolen a car before, only seen episodes of COPs where some
kid gets busted for grand theft and he got the car running by ‘punching’ the
ignition.  I had to try something.  I didn’t want to die today.