When the Dead Rise (Book 1): The Beginning (6 page)

He sighed; his shift was over but he knew he couldn't turn his back on this situation - someone needed to go look into what was happening in Pecan Valley. "I will, but first we have to clean your side and back. There is something going on at the Baptist hospital and it may be a while before someone can get here to take you in for proper treatment."

Roslyn's eyes went wide. "What's happening at the hospital?"

"Nothing you need to worry yourself about." Lewis smiled weakly at Roslyn, but Powell knew it didn't ease her fears. She saw the truth in his eyes.

"What's your daughter's name?" Powell asked, as he took the first aid supplies from his partner. He was glad Lewis had enough presence of mind to grab a bottle of water and a towel on his way back. A quick splash of water had most of the blood running down Roslyn's side.

She grimaced when he dabbed the edges of the wound. "Marcy." Her voice quivered when she spoke.

"Sorry," he muttered, concentrating on the task, "I'm going to have to disinfect it and it's going to hurt. How about you tell me about Marcy and try not to think about what I'm doing here."

Roslyn gave Powell a weak smile before turning back to face Lewis who reached out and held the woman's hand tightly. "Marcy's a firecracker. She just turned sixteen and runs like the wind..." She screamed in pain as Powell dabbed at the largest bite with an antiseptic towelette.

When she took in several gasping breaths, Powell feared she'd hyperventilate and pass out; at least then, she wouldn't feel the pain. "Go on." Powell urged when she'd calmed enough to speak. Now that he was seeing beneath all the blood, he realized the bites were much worse than he'd first assumed. Two large chunks of skin were gone, revealing the muscle beneath.
She's going to need a lot of stitching up and some heavy-duty antibiotics.

"Marcy's the top long distance runner on her high school track team and is always changing the color of her hair - this week she has bright pink streaks." Roslyn laughed but Powell could hear the tears in her voice. "Next week they'll be green." She screamed again as Powell dabbed at the second, smaller bite. Mercifully, this time she did pass out.

Powell finished cleaning the wounds on Roslyn's side and back in silence. He wrapped them in gauze as best as he could. He had Lewis carry the woman to one of the conference rooms while he ran the address for Roslyn. If he were going to keep his promise, he'd need to check her house for signs of Marcy. He wasn't looking forward to missing the hot dinner waiting for him at home but knew his wife would understand.

Carnage in Pecan Valley...

Lewis made the turn onto Swan Forest and slammed on the breaks. Powell's heart thundered in his chest as he looked out the car window; there'd been an accident at the corner leaving the road impassible for the cruiser.

Powell cursed under his breath. "Well I suppose we get out and walk from here."

Lewis turned to him with wide eyes. "You want us to walk the three blocks to the Macpherson's home?" Powell nodded to his partner, unable to speak. The street beyond the accident was littered with garbage and dark splotches. In the dim light, he could see two more accidents and several other cars abandoned in the street. "What if we come across any of those... those things Roslyn was talking about?"

"Zombies..." Powell said wearily; Lewis spluttered incoherently. "What else do you call something that's walking around eating other people?" he snapped, "I know it sounds unbelievable, but you saw those bite marks."

"Does that mean Roslyn's going to turn into a zombie?" Lewis shrank back in his seat.

I hadn't thought of that. If we are dealing with zombies, then it's likely. Did we close the door to the room that she's in?
What he said to his partner was, "We don't know what's going on here Lewis; do you really think the dead can get up and walk?" Powell shoved open his door. "I was just making a comparison to movies - for all we know these people are infected with a type of rabies." As an afterthought, he told Lewis to leave the keys in the ignition. If they needed to get out of the area quickly, he didn't need to be searching for the cruiser's keys.

Lewis got out, glaring at his partner over the cruiser's roof. "You know, rabies doesn't sound any better." He slammed the door then flinched as the bang echoed down the street.

"Just shut up and let's get moving," Powell snapped. He shouldn't have said anything. Now Lewis would be afraid of his own shadow, but a nagging feeling that he was right with his first description, crept over him as they walked down the empty street. There was movement to Powell's right, and on instinct, he pushed Lewis behind the cover of one of the abandoned cars.

"What the hell?" Lewis hissed as Powell peeked over the car's trunk; what he saw made his blood run cold.

A woman, dressed in a business suit, staggered across a lawn in front of them. She had an odd gait and Powell quickly realized it was because she was missing one of her high-heeled shoes. Her face and neck were covered in blood while a gory trail of what Powell guessed were intestines, hung from beneath the suit's jacket; two of her fingers were missing. He heard Lewis retch behind him and was glad he hadn't eaten anything in the past several hours. The woman paused, slowly turning towards the sounds Lewis was making. Powell clamped a hand over his partner's mouth and pressed a finger to his own lips, indicating Lewis needed to be very quiet. After several tense minutes of absolute silence, the woman began her uneven shuffle down the street once again.

"We need to get moving," Powell finally said in a low voice, once the woman had moved three houses down. "Try to stay as close to the cars as possible. I don't want to be caught in the street without cover."

They made it down to the next cul-de-sac, silently creeping from car to car, before Lewis stopped Powell. "This is the street where the ambulance was called to." He pulled his flashlight from his gun belt and shone the powerful beam down the street. Three houses up the ambulance sat in silence. "Should we go check it out?" Lewis looked to Powell and missed the shambling figure that stumbled out from behind the ambulance. He had a paramedic's uniform on but Powell could see the missing flesh from his neck.

A scream, followed by gunshots further down the street, had both officers turning to see where it had originated. All the surrounding houses were dark, which was unusual for being so early in the evening. Lewis turned his flashlight, shining it further down the street they were on and they could see figures moving in the dark, beyond the light.

"I think we should get to Roslyn's house and check for her daughter. Then I think we need to get back to the station." A low, unnatural moan came from the other side of the car they were hiding behind. "Fuck!" Powell cursed as goose bumps prickled down his arms; he'd been distracted by the scream and had forgotten about the paramedic.

"What? What?" Lewis spun back to Powell.

Powell withdrew his weapon and peered over the hood, knowing what he'd see. The zombie - he was now sure that's what these dead things were - stood no more than ten feet away. His eyes were milky and his once crisp uniform was wrinkled and covered with large splotches of blood; gore hung from his mouth. Lewis gasped beside Powell, as he realized what his partner was looking at. The zombie's belly puffed out and another low guttural moan came from the creature; a responding moan came from behind the pair of men, further down the street.

Lewis jumped up from behind the car as soon as the zombie started shuffling forward. "Freeze," he said with too much volume. Powell cringed; these things seemed to be attracted to sound and Lewis with his loud mouth was going to get them both killed. "I said stay back," he commanded, as the zombie continued his shuffle towards them. "If you don't stop, I will shoot." Powell could see the gun shaking in Lewis' hands and felt sorry for his partner. He knew the rookie had never shot a person before.

The gun fired. Powell scanned the street for movement; he could see the woman in the business suit shambling towards them with a few friends. The gun fired a second time. "What are you doing Lewis? You're making too much noise," he hissed.

"He-h-he took two shots in the chest." Lewis whimpered.

Powell looked back over the car and was shocked to see the paramedic was still approaching them. He raised his own gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered the man's forehead, right between the eyes, and the zombie slumped to the ground.

"Head shots Lewis. We have to move," Powell growled, pulling his partner further down the street in search of somewhere he could easily fortify while he radioed for backup. The gunshots had brought out more shambling figures into the streets. Where it used to be still and silent, the street was now filled with movement and those awful moans. Powell saw at least twenty figures ahead of them but was sure they'd be able to navigate around the slow figures, shooting any that came too close.

"Look there." Lewis pointed to the end of the street, at the house on the corner. From the second story back window, Powell could see someone signalling with a flashlight.

"It's Morse code; SOS I think. There have to be people alive and holed up in that house." He shot a closing zombie in the head, feeling satisfaction as he watched it topple to the ground and skid across the asphalt.

"How are we going to get in?" Lewis said as they rounded the corner and onto the cul-de-sac where the Macpherson's lived. Powell knew he'd never be able to make it past the five houses on the street to the end where Roslyn lived. There were just too many zombies in the streets right now; their gunfire had drawn out hundreds from the surrounding houses and they were closing in. "Has everyone in the neighbourhood been turned into one of those monsters?" Lewis asked after seeing the sheer number lumbering towards them.

"Over here," a man's voice called from the corner house.

"There's a ladder." Powell pointed before sprinting across the lawn, glad they wouldn't have to try and close a door behind them. He wasn't sure how smart these things were but didn't want to risk them getting in, and trapping him in the breached house.

His foot had just hit the first rung when Lewis shrieked, "Get it off of me!"

Powell spun around and was horrified to see a small little girl, no older than five, clinging to Lewis' leg. A dark spot blossomed from where the little girl had sunk her teeth into the flesh of his thigh. "Brett, watch your hands," Powell shouted as he lifted his gun and without hesitation, shot the little zombie in the side of the head. When she fell away, Lewis clamped his hands over the bit and started blubbering; he couldn't understand what his partner was gibbering about.

Powell was about to go after his partner and help him to the ladder when the man on the roof spoke again. "You can't do anything for him now; a bite means he's as good as dead. Either you come now or I'm raising the ladder and you can find somewhere to hide with your partner until he turns into one of those things and eats you."

"Help me." Lewis reached towards him, his eyes pleading for help.

Powell turned to the man on the roof. "Please just let me bring him up and once he goes, I'll take care of him myself. I can't leave him out here to be eaten. He's still alive and I can get the bleeding stopped. I just need enough time to radio into the station and figure out how we're going to get out of here."

The man shook his head slowly, placing a hand on the ladder. "I'm sorry. I have others here I need to look out for."

A burst of gunfire made Powell spin back to Lewis. His partner dropped three of the closest zombies, but too many were closing in. Lewis was slowly backing up towards the house when the ladder began to rattle back up to the roof. "Wait." Powell raised his hand, palm out in the universal signal for stop.

Lewis screamed, making Powell turn back around. He watched in horror as a massive man in scrubs held Lewis in a bear hug. He pulled something away from the side of Lewis' face and his partner screamed again. "He can't be helped," the man shouted over the screams and the moans. "Are you coming or not?"

Powell waved for the man to lower the ladder. "I'm coming." As he climbed, he felt his eyes begin to burn with tears he refused to shed. Lewis had been a foolish rookie and possibly made their situation worse, but he hadn't deserved to die at twenty-six for those mistakes. Abruptly, Lewis' screams became choked gurgles and Powell turned at the top of the ladder to look down at his partner, lying on the ground with the big man -
No, he isn't a man,
Powell reminded himself,
he's a zombie
- bent over the twitching body of Officer Brett Lewis.

The man from the roof pulled on Powell's arm. "Come on man, we have to get the ladder up." He helped Powell navigate around the top of the ladder and sat him down on the extended portion of the porch roof. He hauled the ladder onto the roof and sat down beside Powell. "I'm Ron." He held out a hand and Powell took it in a daze.

"I'm Rick," he mumbled, watching as his partner stopped twitching. The big zombie struggled to his feet and Powell pulled his gun, aiming for the zombies head. It killed his partner and now he was going to kill it.

"Don't," Ron whispered, placing his hand on the gun's barrel. "The report will alert them to our location. They don't seem to understand how the ladder works. Once they can no longer see the living person or where they went, they will wander away and spread out again. I don't know how, but if a living person goes through a door, they'll follow, but the ladder seems to have confused them so far. We haven't had any breaches yet."