by Ward III, C.
Ted and Ben took off at a hurried yet cautious trot toward town. Judging from their speed to find someone at the sheriff’s office and then a return trip using a vehicle, Victor estimated about fifteen to twenty minutes until backup arrived. He shared his estimates with Bob, then smiled and pointed in the direction of the shriek and said, “Shall we?”
Bob and Victor marched forward at a hurried pace, each taking an opposite side of the street, carefully using houses, hedges, and abandoned vehicles for concealment. Most of this old and unnervingly quiet neighborhood was now uninhabited because either its residents resettled closer to the city center, cottage owners vacated with the postholiday exodus, or the owners had been out of town when the world went dark.
Bob paused behind an old Cadillac with a torn black canvas top and a strange license plate that read “OTIS.” He was just about to cross an intersection when Victor held up his hand in a fist. Fortunately, Bob had seen enough war movies to know that meant to “freeze in place,” and they both watched in shock and curiosity as a shirtless, ghostly human-shaped figure sprinted down the road, another following close behind.
After a few moments passed, Victor crossed the road to huddle in close to Bob. “Were those people?” Victor asked.
“I think so, but why did they look like that? That second one wasn’t even wearing shoes.”
“Did you recognize either of them?”
“Nah, man. Did you notice their hair? It was long and thin like an old person’s. I could see most of their filthy scalps. Gross!” Bob turned and spat.
“They’re heading that way.” Victor nodded, pointing his axe toward town. “Let’s try to follow.”
Bob and Victor took off in a quick jog, breathing heavily, their bodies already aching from a long day of hard labor. The tall mature trees in the area cast heavy, dreary shadows into the already-dark neighborhood as the sun quickly approached the horizon. Up ahead, they heard shouting and what sounded like growling or barking—then an ear-piercing scream.
They quickly rounded the last house, running recklessly out into the middle of Main Street, and an incomprehensible scene came into view.
The two human-like creatures were circling Ted, who was violently swinging his axe in wild, ridiculous arcs. At Ted’s feet was Ben, holding his neck with both hands, curled up in the fetal position on blood-covered pavement, screaming something so pitiful, it made Victor prematurely rush into action without properly assessing the situation.
One of the grayish creatures crouched down into a coil, then sprung at Ted’s back with outstretched hands, clawing the air, grasping for purchase. Just as its fingertips found Ted’s sweat-stained T-shirt, Victor swung his ax up like a golf club, sinking the double-bladed ax-head deep into the creature’s chest cavity. Victor let go of the ax handle as soon as it made contact, spun 180 degrees, pulling Ted in close behind him with one hand and drawing his pistol with the other.
Controlling the direction of Ted’s frantic movements with one arm, Victor aimed at the mangled, distorted snarling face only fifteen feet away, aligning the glowing front sight with the rear. His sights followed the creature down as it crouched into attack position. It locked its beady eyes on Victor and let out an inhuman snarl, brandishing stained, blackened, chipped teeth right before Victor placed a 124 grain 9MM Hydra-Shok defensive bullet right through its nose and out the back of its hairless skull, spraying darkened brain matter all over a nearby van.
“Good evening. This is Elizabeth Corrin bringing you another BBN global news reports. The World Health Organization has declared that the established quarantined areas of northern Mexico have been breached. New traces of the unknown pathogen have been reported as far south as Costa Rica. Brazilian and Columbian governments are sending security forces to assist a UN and WHO-enacted border closure at the Panama Canal.
“The WHO asks anyone in North and South America to report any persons with symptoms of prominent rashes, skin lesions, loss of skin pigmentation, and/or unusual paranoid hostility. Transmission methods are now believed to be bodily fluid transfers and skin-to-skin contact. Investigations are ongoing. Segregation, isolation, and distance of infected persons are the recommended prevention methods.
“In local news, the highly anticipated football game between Barcelona and Manchester United has again been canceled due to recent terrorist activities. Both franchise owners have promised the game will go on despite governmental warning. ‘The fans deserve this game. The world needs this game more than ever,’ Barcelona head coach stated…”
SHACKING UP
Finding a safe place to crash
Kevin had lost track; he couldn’t remember what day of the week it was or how long they had been walking. He estimated three or four weeks of travel. He recalled it had taken about four days to make it up the coast on that small boat. Anny had shown symptoms along the way, then attacked Dan. Six days later, Dan disappeared into the forest. There had been the friendly couple at the farmhouse and the not-so-friendly resident at the next farm a few days later.
After the frightening night in the rainstorm, they had a serious dilemma. If they stayed deep in the woods, they may not find a suitable place to rest at night. If they continued close to the road, there were possibilities of finding human trouble.
Their route progress had become frustratingly slow, hiking at an extremely cautious patrol pace during the day and stopping by midafternoon. Finding appropriate shelter was difficult and time consuming. They needed plenty of time to find a suitable location, observe it for activity to ensure no one was home, then occupy, search for hazards or treasures, and finally fortify against attack.
Kevin had been walking lead for the past couple of hours at a casual stroll. He enjoyed the soft, flat terrain and the pleasant cloud cover, which eased the relentless summer heat. He stopped often to listen to the forest crackling, interpreting natural sounds from possible dangers. A light wind swayed the sentinel pines, casting rippling shadows across the pine needle–blanketed forest floor.
A squirrel darted across the ground to his left, which made him pause and instinctively tighten the grip on his rifle. His muscles relaxed as he watched the squirrel bound across the ground and ascend a tall pine. Just beyond the tree was small clearing. Nestled in the shade of the far wood line sat a small log cabin.
Kevin took a kneeling position and motioned for Stephan to move closer to him. He was looking at what he deemed a very suitable place to lay their heads. “What do you think?” he whispered.
“I don’t know. It kind of gives me the creeps for some reason. And look, there’s a car in the driveway. Who drives a car like that, anyway?” she asked while scanning the clearing and cabin.
“Are you kidding? That’s a Delta 88 Royale. It’s a classic!” Kevin said in a hushed excited tone. “Let’s do our thing, see if anyone’s home. Come on, it’ll be fun.” he said with a boyish grin.
After a short surveillance and an attempt to communicate with anyone home, they crept around the cabin, peering through the murky, dust-covered windows and checking the doors. A key ring found above the front entrance welcomed them in. Kevin advised that anytime they occupy an abandoned building they adhere to a list of priorities used by the military when establishing a defensive holding position:
SAFE – SOC
S for Security. That was first and foremost at all times. After they had confirmed the house was empty of threats, Kevin would watch the exterior of the house while Stephan inspected the structural integrity and scavenged. Their search of the cabin yielded a big stack of blankets, a clean set of men’s clothes that were a little too tall for Kevin (but he took the socks and a T-shirt anyway), several cans of beans, some Tylenol, an old filthy chainsaw, and a dirty splitting maul lying by the front door. The interior was clear; exterior security would be maintained at all times.
A for Avenues of approach and placement of automatic weapons. If they had any, they would be a great asset, but Kevin’s spine didn’t like the idea of carrying a
heavy machine gun all the way across Michigan. The main avenue of approach was the long, winding gravel driveway leading out to Route 55. If they had a machine gun, it would be pointed down that driveway. In the backyard, some sort of worn two-track path led off into the forest; they would need to keep an eye on that as well.
F for Fields of Fire, which are designated left and right shooting lanes. They overlap with each other to ensure full coverage of an area. Having only the two of them, they had decided if anything were to happen during their stay, Kevin was to control the cabin’s front and Stephan controlled the rear. Each person was to control their assigned sectors by any means possible to prevent someone—or something—from infiltrating their defenses.
E for Entrenching typically meant digging fighting holes (foxholes) while defending a hilltop or some other terrain feature on the battlefield. Here, entrenching meant to make the cabin sturdier, more fortified. They used all the furniture to barricade weak points in the walls, such as the windows and exterior doors. They unhinged a couple of unnecessary interior doors to help cover windows. They placed a book-filled chest under a window of predetermined shooting position to help stop incoming bullets that may penetrate the walls.
S for Supplemental fighting positions, or fallback positions, were crucial. In case they could no longer physically defend the barricaded doors or windows, the bedroom at the end of the short and narrow hallway was their Alamo. They had left the bedroom door still attached, staged barricading furniture in the bedroom, and also stored their backpacks with all their essential equipment in there, just in case that room was to be their final stand.
O for building Obstacles. If Kevin and Stephan had any barbed wire, it would have been set in the yard at angles designed to channel aggressors into a clear line of fire. They had discussed pushing the old Oldsmobile down the driveway to create an obstruction, but they opted against it in the end. On the living room floor was a broken mirror along with other upended furniture and books from what looked like a struggle took place. They sprinkled the shards of the broken mirror on the front porch, hoping they would hear someone, something, walking on it during the night.
C for Camouflage. In the woods, camouflage was a continuous act. As a fighting hole is dug, all that freshly displaced dirt needed to be scattered and hidden. If not, the fighting position would stand out like a sore thumb. Likewise, any concealment vegetation brought in from different areas required refreshing every few hours. Because as it wilted and dried, the color would contrast against the natural living vegetation surrounding it. In the cabin, they avoided using the fireplace during the daylight—the chimney smoke would be a dead giveaway. They closed all the drapes and covered the windows with a secondary layer of blankets to hide any sort of movement or light that may be seen from the outside.
Kevin usually preferred taking first watch. This gave him time to familiarize himself with the portable HAM radio given to them by Harry Cooper. Every night after dusk, he would turn it on for only a few minutes to scan through the stations. Occasionally he’d pick up broken broadcasts on a weak signal, but nothing to get excited about. Not knowing how long the radio batteries would last, he was always searching drawers in these temporary shelters for spares.
They alternated sleeping in the Alamo bedroom and keeping watch. Without a way to keep track of time, they would simply stay awake as long as they could, then wake the other to take over security. It worked quite well, because they’d collapse into a solid sleep state, ensuring a good rest at the end of a shift. The first few nights sleeping indoors, they would frantically wake each other whenever a feral-sounding scream could be heard or when shadows would sweep across moonlit pastures. Now they would only wake each other if the building was being attacked, which hadn’t happened.
Sometime long before dawn, Stephan stood up from the chair and quietly moved it out of the way, feeling drowsy. She got down on the floor and started doing push-ups until her arms quivered and gave out, then rolled over onto her back and did crunches until her core was on fire. Reaching into the dark with outstretched hands, she found her chair again and sat down, breathing heavily with a rapid pulse that would keep her awake for a little longer.
Her breath had just begun to calm when she heard a crunching sound. The thought of loose driveway gravel entered her mind; then she remembered the broken mirror they had sprinkled on the front porch. Silently, she retrieved her M4 off the table and crept her way to the living room. She pressed her ear against the cool front door and held her breath.
She jerked back suddenly when she not only heard but also felt fingernails scratch against the door’s rustic wood grain. She put the muzzle of her rifle to the door, and she found the safety selector switch with her thumb. The knob rattled menacingly once. Then there was nothing but silence. A deep, foreboding silence.
Moments later, there were more sadistic scratches on the door. The pitch-black void of the night begged her to turn on her flashlight for comfort. After several minutes of not moving an inch, she heard glass crunch again. Then, nothing more until dawn. No more push-ups were needed for the rest of her shift—she was wide awake.
By early dawn, both were awake and starting the daily routine of getting ready. After she reported the earlier occurrence, Kevin seemed as startled as she was. Eager to leave, they quickly rationed the tiny morsels they had to eat, repacked their equipment, and were ready to step out into the early morning sun. When Kevin reached to turn the doorknob, Stephan forcefully put her hand against the heavy door, preventing him from opening it.
Kevin looked at her questioningly.
“Look,” she mouthed, tilting her chin toward the small window beside the door. He carefully peeked through the curtain as three ghostly gray figures dashed across the long shadowy driveway.
Over the next few hours, they spotted a dozen more—some in packs, some solo. Some sprinting, some were hardly noticeable, hunched over stalking slowly. Two of them camped in the backyard, squatting next to a maltreated shed, not moving except for the occasional violent shudder.
Unsure of what to do, they both agreed to stay another night. This would give them ample time to rest, wash themselves using the tub and bottled water, and clean all their weapons.
Pacing back and forth, fighting boredom, Kevin accidentally found a trapdoor hidden under the living room rug. It led to a musty cellar via a set of rickety homemade stairs. They had hit the jackpot, finding jugs of water and several glass jars full of carrots, green beans, peas, venison, and other mysterious meats. They decided after the sun went down that they would light the wood stove and indulge in a warm meal. They might even stay a third night.
Stephan sat in a chair behind a window with slightly cracked curtains made of a dark floral pattern, observing the things in the backyard with a pair of binoculars. They were motionless, like concrete gargoyle statues, and they brought back terrible memories of the stormy night in the forest. She only found comfort by glancing at the nearby M4 leaning against the window frame.
Setting down another wooden chair, Kevin quietly sat beside her, noticing she had been scribbling notes in her book. “Whatchya got?” he asked in a barely audible whisper.
“I’m trying to hypothesize why they are squatting like that versus sitting or standing. They have been like that for hours.”
“Sleeping in a defensive or offensive position?” he whispered back.
“Maybe. With Dan and Anny, the virus made them suffer insomnia, though. They may be resting but not sleeping,” she said thoughtfully.
“Maybe they are ambushing? They could be hunting, waiting. I know some hunters who prefer to be on the move when tracking and stalking game. But most of them will sit in a tree stand or deer blind all day waiting for the right trophy to come by.”
“That is absolutely frightening. Is this what humans are to become? We could walk directly into them at any point while we are out there. Behind every bush or tree could be one waiting to get us.” She shivered.
“Yup,” K
evin said, shifting in his chair nervously. “Notice anything else?”
“Physically, yes. Symptom differences must correlate with how long they’ve been contaminated. The gray ones are mostly bald, but the ones with some flesh pigmentation still have hair.” Stephan handed Kevin the binoculars. “I can’t tell on all of them, but look out there, at the closest one without a shirt and shoes. At first, I thought it had leaves or dirt stuck to it, but I’m now certain those splotches are large lesions caused by the Leishmania. Some spots look raw and are oozing pus. Others look crusted over with scale-like scabs.”
“That is repulsive. And I mean that in the most medical, scientific, professional way possible. Those sores, they are all over them, even on their heads. I think I’m going to be ill,” Kevin handed the binos back, his eyes watering, his throat and chest contracting as he fought against dry heaving.
“I agree. In the most scientific way possible. But even worse, those open sores are probably contagious, just like many other skin diseases.”
“So now we don’t even need to be bitten? They can simply grab ahold of us?” he asked.
“I can’t say for sure, but yeah, probably,” she replied.
“Great. We should wear gloves and long sleeves from now on, which is going to be awesome in this July—or August—heat. What month is it, anyway? Have you been keeping track?”
There had been four more reports of attacks since Ben had been bitten after chopping wood. He went crazy on a concerned neighbor who’d stopped by for a checkup, then ran off, feral-like, into the forest. It seemed like they were all trapped inside a Twilight Zone episode. One day was filled with Independence Day celebrations, then instantaneously the world turned to the dark ages. Now, ravenous creatures were lurking in the bushes. This small community couldn’t handle this type of stress and emotional trauma.
A farmer had reported shooting and killing a goat-chasing wild man whom he’d thought was a livestock thief. As he was dragging the bloody corpse out of the goat pen, he noticed the man’s horrible rash-covered skin and odd beady eyes with tiny pupils staring up at him. Several days later, in an insomnia-induced hallucination panic attack, farmer Joe attacked his wife and children and had to be put down by his youngest son returning from doing chores.