“Run away!” Janus warns her once again, and she looks as though she tries to oblige him, at least her feet shuffle a few inches backwards, but the sight of the bloody girl has paralyzed her. Janus can’t do anything but look as the zombie lunges at her, quickly wrestling her to the ground.
His stomach churns and he forces himself to look away, to focus on what he came for. He turns and runs down through the store. Somewhere down the back is a muffled scream.
Janus checks every aisle, looking out both for Sofie and the zombie boy, but he only meets a few early shoppers with puzzled looks on their faces. One of them is a young, blonde mom with her two young boys.
“What’s going on?” she asks Janus as he passes by them, reaching out in a protective manner for her sons. “Who was that screaming just before?”
“Get out of the building,” Janus just tells her and moves on. “Sofie? Sofie, it’s me! Where are you?”
He reaches the end of the store and stops by the dairy cabinets. Still, no trace of Sofie.
Maybe she’s out back …
He’s headed for the door to the employee’s area, when suddenly, Sofie appears from behind a meat dish. She’s wearing gloves and blows away a strand of hair.
“Sofie!”
“Janus?” she smiles as she sees him. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
Janus goes to her and sighs with relief. “You’re all right …”
“Of course I am.” She frowns. “Is something wrong? Listen, did you hear someone yell out just a minute ago? I was listening to my iPod, so I’m not sure, but—”
Janus can tell Sofie sees something behind him, because her expression changes from mild confusion to utter terror in half a second. Then she opens her mouth and screams.
Janus darts a look over his shoulder just as a bloody hand grabs him. The boy has crept up on him completely noiselessly. Janus attempts a sideway reflex jump, but the kid has too firm of a grip on his shirt. He pulls Janus back and sinks his teeth into Janus’s shoulder blade. The pain is intense. Janus screams and swings at the attacker, connecting with his elbow right under the chin, sending him sprawling.
“Fuck!” he hisses, hunching over in pain.
Sofie comes closer, her eyes large and terrified. “Oh my God … are you … are you all right, babe?”
“Get away!” Janus yells, trying to reach the spot where the boy bit him. To his dread he feels the warm blood already soaking the back of his T-shirt. “Fuck!” he repeats, his voice breaking, glaring at Sofie with a pleading look. “Get out of here, Sofie! Get as far away as you can! You got it? Just run!”
But Sofie never runs anywhere. She tries, though, managing a few, tentative steps backwards while she stares at Janus with a perfect mixture of fright and amazement. Then, the girl steps out from one of the aisles, throwing herself at Sofie and wrestling her to the floor. It happens so fast Janus only has time to blink once. Then he gives off a roar and is about to lunge forward when a couple of hands grab his ankles, causing him to fall flat on his stomach, knocking his lungs clean out of air. The boy pulls Janus’s left leg closer and bites down hard on the bared shin. The pain is even worse this time.
Then, Janus blacks out. He’s screaming but not aware of it. He rips his leg free, losing a large chunk of skin, but no longer feeling the pain. He gets to his feet and begins kicking the boy violently in the face, harder and harder, then he’s stomping, driving his heel down with all his force, over and over, hammering the boy’s head into the vinyl floor until he hears a distinct crunching sound and the boy stops scrambling.
Janus heaves for breath and turns around, suddenly only able to move in slow motion. He sees Sofie lying there, the girl crouching over her. He sees that it’s too late. The floor has already turned red, and the girl is visibly losing interest in Sofie, standing up and sniffing the air greedily, sensing still-alive prey nearby.
Janus just stands there, panting, his mind completely blank, as the girl turns around and growls at him, her face and neck and upper chest all covered in Sofie’s blood.
And as the zombie comes at him, Janus still doesn’t move.
NINE
William stays by the car for what feels like a very long time, but in reality is probably only a few minutes.
He keeps looking in every direction, making sure no one is sneaking up on him. He’s ready to go at any moment, fighting the urge to throw himself in the car and get the hell out of Dodge. He also keeps an eye on the entrance to the supermarket and the girl on the backseat, who’s still unconscious.
“Come on, dude,” he whispers.
He could really use a Kings right now, but he doesn’t want to slack his attention even for a second, in case Janus and Sofie come running out, a mob of zombies at their heels.
From inside the car, Dave Grohl is singing about aviation lessons, and William is not aware that he’s humming along tonelessly. One half of him feels like a coward for letting Janus go in there all by himself. The other half, though, feels like he made the right choice by not leaving the car.
The traffic goes by at a normal, lazy pace. Several of the drivers dart him concerned looks, and one of them—an obese lady—pulls over and rolls down her window. “Hi there! You need help?”
“No, thank you,” William murmurs, realizing how on edge he must look, pacing back and forth, looking all paranoid. He tries to manage a confident smile at the lady, which feels more like an odd grimace. “I’m just waiting for a friend.”
The woman nods, not looking particularly convinced, but seems to accept his explanation.
At that moment, the doors to the supermarket open up, and for a second, William imagines Janus coming out of the store, carrying Sofie in his arms like a superhero. And he’s right: It is Janus coming out. But he’s not carrying Sofie, and he doesn’t look at all like a superhero. In fact, he’s walking in a very weird and unsteady way, his head tilting back and forth like on a toddler who just learned to walk.
William stares at his friend and colleague, at the white hospital shirt which is no longer white, but red from blood.
Maybe he just fell, a single, stupid thought yells out in William’s mind, desperately wanting to cling on to the hope that Janus might be okay. Maybe it’s not even his own blood.
But it’s nonsense, of course. And the last grain of hope is brushed aside when Janus turns to reveal his left side, where both his T-shirt and skin are reduced to bloody shreds. Underneath can be seen a gaping hole with a couple of ivory colored ribs protruding from the red flesh.
There are also the eyes—Janus’s eyes aren’t human anymore, not by any means; they’re milky white, cloudy and dead. And they’re fixing right on William, as Janus starts to stagger in his direction.
“My goodness!” a voice exclaims from behind William, pulling him out of his trance. “Poor guy, what happened to him?”
The heavyset woman has pulled the hand brake and is now fumbling to get her seat belt open.
“No!” William says, going to her car. “You get away from here! He’s dangerous.”
The woman eyes him like he just spoke Chinese. “What are you talking about? He’s bleeding! He’s obviously—”
“He’s a fucking zombie!” William shouts, shoving the door shut as the woman opens it and tries to get out. She stares at him, blinking in surprise. “Unless you want to get eaten alive, I suggest you get the hell out of here—right now!”
William turns his back to the woman and runs to his own car, not looking bad to check if she got the message. If she didn’t, it’s on her. He’s not going to play hero for the sake of some dense middle-aged hag.
William throws himself behind the wheel, just as he catches a glimpse of Janus out of the corner of his eye. His friend has crossed the parking lot and almost reached the street. Exactly what he’s aiming for is hard to judge, because he keeps changing direction, as though the passing cars all tempt him and he can’t decide which one to go for.
Like a kid in a
candy store.
William pulls the car into first gear and checks the traffic before turning out onto the road. He notices the doors to the supermarket open once more, and he forgets everything else for a moment, as he stares at the group of undeads who come staggering out into the parking lot.
He knows the girl who died on the backseat of the station wagon. And Sofie, even though half her face is missing. The others are unfamiliar to him. There’s an old lady, her bloody handbag miraculously still dangling from her shoulder; a younger woman dragging one chewed-up leg behind her; a pimply teenager whose clothing reveals that he used to work in the store; and two small boys, whom William feels genuinely sick just looking at.
His gut clenches up as the zombies spread out into all directions. If he’d still had a frail hope that the catastrophe could be somehow stopped, it dies in this moment.
He jerks the wheel and pulls out into the lane, causing the car coming up behind him to slam on its brakes and honk its horn. William barely notices. His eye catches Janus, who’s walking right out onto the road. A yellow van swerves to avoid him, but it’s too late. There’s a loud bang, and Janus is thrown several yards, tumbling round and round like a rag doll.
“Fucking hell,” William whimpers as he guns it and heads down the road. He doesn’t want to look in the rear mirror, but he can’t help it.
He sees the traffic jamming up around the accident.
He sees the zombies all headed for the concerned drivers getting out of their cars to stare at the poor young man who just got run over.
And he sees Janus, who laboriously gets up without any signs of pain or discomfort and attacks the driver of the van, who has come rushing to help him.
TEN
William keeps darting glances at the girl on the backseat, even though she makes no sounds and doesn’t move. As far as he can tell, she wasn’t hurt before she passed out—but she was in a car with a zombie, so William can’t be sure she’s not infected.
Perhaps I ought to check her for any scratches … or simply kick her out …
He looks again at her in the mirror, but the mere thought of undressing her while she’s unconscious makes him feel dirty. And to put her out on the sidewalk and just leave her to whoever finds her, dead or alive … well, he’s not willing to go that far just yet. So, he has no choice but to wait until she wakes up.
He arrives at a new intersection, stopping at the red light. Next to him, in the other lane, a city bus is also waiting. William glances up and sees an elderly lady staring blankly out the window.
She has no idea what’s going down. As far as she knows, it’s just a regular fucking Monday.
The thought makes him shiver. A woman in runner’s clothes comes jogging by, a yellow Lab running next to her on a leash. The sight of the dog produces a jolt in William’s stomach.
“Oh, fuck! How could I forget him?”
The thought of Ozzy alone in the apartment makes his heart race. He looks up at the light, still red, as his thoughts start churning faster and faster. If he makes a right here, he could reach the apartment in a couple of minutes. But that will bring him back towards the hospital.
He squeezes the wheel, breathing heavy through his nose. He can’t leave his buddy, but he can’t risk his own life, either.
In the movies, zombies usually aren’t interested in dogs—and besides, the front door is locked, which means Ozzy probably isn’t in any immediate danger. He’s got food and water enough for tomorrow evening. But maybe William won’t get a chance to go get him before then. Maybe the town will be shut down completely within hours. This could be his last chance.
You can’t do it, a rational thought urges him. You can’t risk your life for a dog.
He would do it for you without blinking, says another—and a lot less rational—thought.
William bites down hard. The light switches to yellow just as another song begins on the radio. It’s Iron Man.
William glares at it, muttering: “If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is …”
And when the light turns green in the next second, William waits for the bus to go forward, clearing the way for him to turn right. But the bus only moves a few feet before the driver stops and hits the horn.
William stretches his neck to see what’s going on in front of the bus. He gets a glimpse of a middle-aged man trudging out into the road. His skin has the unmistakable greenish hue, and from a crater in his belly dangles what looks like threads of oversized spaghetti. The man’s shorts, which once were probably beige, are now soaked with blood and have traveled down to his knees, revealing his undies and causing him to walk in an almost comical, duck-like fashion, small steps, bopping from side to side. He stops in front of the bus and reaches up his hands, leaving bloody stains on the front shield. He morbidly reminds William of a giant baby who wants his parent to lift him up.
The bus driver gets out.
“No, no, no!” William slams the horn and fumbles for the button to roll down the window. “No, stay away from him! He’s—”
But it’s too late. The zombie has already lunged at the driver and wrestled him to the ground.
A car suddenly honks impatiently behind William, the driver probably annoyed at the unexplained hold in traffic, completely unaware of what’s going on in front of the bus. Another driver from the opposite side has stopped his car and comes rushing to help. He grabs the zombie to drag him away from the driver, but only manages to get himself bitten at the wrist.
As William stares at the scene, his head is suddenly drained of all thought. He can only sit there and glare in dumb amazement and horror. He realizes just how fast this thing will spread. How soon everything will turn to chaos. He had somehow naively figured that zombies had by now become a known phenomenon; that regular people would recognize the danger, that they had watched at least a few fucking episodes of Walking Dead. Afterall, it only took him a split second to react when he faced the girl in the basement of the hospital. But apparently, not all modern people.
Maybe it’s a cultural thing, William muses as he still just sits there, staring at more cars stopping. Maybe, if this had been happening in the United States, it would have been different. But most modern Danes, with their down-to-earth, no-nonsense take on life, don’t seem to acknowledge the undead when they see them.
The car behind him honks again, jerking William awake. The intersection has almost been blocked now, and in a matter of seconds, he will be caught in a jam. So, William decides to give a fuck about traffic laws and floors the gas pedal, racing forward, then twisting the wheel to the right. The shorts-wearing zombie has lost interest in the bus driver and is now getting up to go after the unlucky Samaritan who’s standing there, clutching his bleeding wrist.
William sees the shot, and before he has time to think about it, he jerks the wheel and catches the zombie with the corner of the front bumper, sending it flying across the sidewalk.
William doesn’t slow down, but races out of the intersection and down the street, his heart thumping in his chest and a sudden burst of energy bubbles up through his throat.
“Fuck you, you piece of shit!” he yells at the rear mirror. “The living finally scores a point!”
William turns up the radio and Ozzy Osbourne.
ELEVEN
When he drives into the parking lot in front of his block three minutes later, the adrenaline has run its course, Iron Man has caused death and destruction, and William has turned down the music.
He cruises around the lot a few times as he peers out, checking every direction, before stopping by the door to his stairway. No zombies in sight, only a couple of kids playing at the playground on the lawn next to the parking lot.
William pulls the hand brake but leaves the engine running and unbuckles the seat belt. He just sits there for a moment, considering. The girl on the backseat hasn’t stirred the slightest; she’s still just breathing calmly.
Right, you can do this. It’s only three floors. You’ll be g
one less than two minutes.
He takes a deep breath. Then he turns the key and pulls it from the ignition. Silence descends immediately as the engine dies. Only the happy cries from the boys and the distant background noise of the town can be heard.
William gets out and jogs to the door. Upon entering the empty stairway, he stops and listens for a second, then he begins the climb three steps at a time. Panting and heart thumping, he stops in front of the door to his apartment.
He rattles the key and says in a low voice: “It’s me.” Then, he unlocks the door.
Ozzy, who was sitting perched right on the other side, licks his hand in a happy greeting. Had the German shepherd not heard the keys and William’s voice, the welcome would have been quite different. William has been training Ozzy with a retired police dog handler.
“We gotta hurry,” he says, squeezing past the dog in the narrow hallway. “We’re going for a ride.”
Those last four words cause Ozzy to become even more excited, and he immediately jumps up to snag his leash from the nail next to the door. William goes to the kitchen and grabs the bag of dog food. He looks at the fridge, feeling his stomach rumble. It’s almost noon, and breakfast feels like a very long time ago.
He puts down the bag and throws together a couple of sandwiches. He also grabs four canned beers and stuffs everything in a plastic bag. He brings it and the dog food back out to the hallway, where Ozzy is sitting with his leash in his mouth, tail wagging.
“Good boy,” William says, taking the leash from him. “Let’s go.”
Ozzy slips out onto the landing, and William locks the door behind them. They hurry downstairs and out into the sunshine and the merciless heat. The parking lot is still empty, the boys are still playing, the girl is still sleeping on the backseat.
William throws the bag of dogfood into the trunk. “Now you, buddy. Up!”
The German shepherd jumps up and sits down.
“Good boy,” William says. He’s just about to close the trunk, when something catches his eye. From the other side of the playground a lone figure comes walking across the lawn. Even this far away William can see the outstretched arms and the head which is bopping from side to side. A woman, judging from the hair. And she’s headed straight for the boys.
Dead Meat Box Set [Days 1-3] Page 17