by Brown, TW
Three years as a state wrestling champ, Ivan could tie up men twice his size with a graceful effortlessness that earned him the respect of anybody who saw him in action. He was about six feet tall and maybe a hundred and sixty pounds right after eating Thanksgiving dinner. He had jet black hair that he kept short and parted down the left side. He had dark blue eyes and a nose that even he called a beak due to its size and shape. None of that mattered the slightest to his wife Hannah who was considered by most to be perhaps the prettiest woman in town.
“Ivan…you need to warn everybody. It’s bad…very bad.” Cliff gasped and felt a surge of heat ripple through his body, followed by a chill that had him shivering. He knew this was just about all the time he had left. “I know this might seem impossible…but the dead…” His hand lost its grip and he had to struggle not to drop the radio’s mic. He knew that if it fell he would lack the strength to be able to pick it back up.
“Where are you, buddy?” Ivan asked calmly.
“On the highway. Took 178, but I just can’t keep going. I can’t see the road. I don’t want to crash and hurt somebody else.”
Cliff watched as a half dozen more of the terrible things crossed the road. One of them paused and turned his direction. Its mouth opened and Cliff imagined that it was moaning, but he couldn’t really hear anything over the buzz. It took him a few more seconds to realize that the buzz was the voice on the radio. He knew that voice. It was familiar. Only, now he couldn’t place it.
Another thought came as he stared blankly at the radio that now seemed to be shouting at him. The face of a woman filled his mind. She looked at him and smiled. A boy stepped up beside her and nestled under her arm. He knew that he should recognize them, but just as his own name had slipped from his memory, so did theirs.
It was like a surge of electricity jolting him awake. The names came and he knew who they were.
“I tried to make it home. I let people die just to give myself a chance. I failed. But I tried as hard as I could.” Tears ran down Cliff’s cheeks as he felt a new surge of fiery heat course through his veins. The terrible taste in the back of his throat now filled his mouth. “Please…just tell my wife that I love her, and that I’m sorry!”
More voices came and filled the cab with noise. He wanted to respond, but the strength seeped from his body and his hand finally lost its grip on the radio. Clifton Martin shut his eyes.
His breathing became short panting gasps. At last, he shuddered violently, all of his bodily functions firing off almost at once. A line of thick drool escaped the corner of his mouth; his eyes flew open one final time as he cried out.
Clifton Martin died. Ten minutes later, he opened his eyes.
***
Chief Gilstrap cursed and smacked the dashboard of his car. He would have to add Sophie Lawrence to the list of women he would be paying a visit to tonight to let them know that they were widows. As he pulled onto the road he wondered if maybe those who were dying now might not be making out with the best deal.
This was only going to get worse. As if to confirm his thoughts, Jeff Tucker let a soft moan slip from his lips.
“Adam, I swear to God I wasn’t bit,” the man croaked. “But I don’t know if I’m gonna make it. Don’t let me turn into one of them things.”
“I won’t.” He quickly got on his radio and called for Ivan to meet him in town.
Chief Gilstrap drove the short distance, his eyes scanning the streets as darkness fell and the lights began to come on. Eventually, he pulled up to the rear of the Baptist church across from the elementary school. Despite the relatively short trip, he had driven the entire way with one eye on his rearview mirror where he kept a watch on Jeff Tucker.
By the time that he reached the parking lot, the man had already slipped from consciousness and was covered in sweat. His body was being wracked by tremors and his teeth were clicking audibly.
He climbed out of the car just as another patrol car pulled up. Ivan emerged and shot a wary look in the back seat.
“You positive about this?” Ivan asked.
“No, but I am pretty damn sure.” Chief Gilstrap opened the back door.
The two men reached in and pulled the unresponsive body of Jeff Tucker from the backseat. Together, they carried him to the door of the church. Pastor Johnson opened the door and ushered the men inside.
“The news has finally mentioned there being no communication coming out from most of Asia. Also, there are riots in London, Berlin, and even Moscow. This isn’t just us. I guess that means it probably ain’t terrorists,” the pastor said in a rush.
“I still wouldn’t count them bastards out,” Ivan grumbled.
The three men made their way into the chapel. They laid the shivering body of Jeff Tucker down in the plastic tarp that the chief had told Ivan to request when he called the pastor.
“You should step out, pastor,” the chief said as he knelt beside the visibly ill man.
He was actually surprised when the pastor only retreated as far as the door. Looking up at Ivan, the chief saw that the man was standing with his head bowed, eyes shut, and lips moving in prayer. He doubted it would help, but he didn’t think it could hurt.
It took another five minutes, but suddenly, the body of Jeff Tucker began to convulse, and then, surprising all three of the living occupants of the room, sat bolt upright. The man threw his head back and his mouth opened in a silent scream before collapsing with a long, rattling exhale.
“I made him a promise,” Chief Gilstrap muttered more for himself than anything else. He removed his coat and put it over the head of the body. Drawing the knife that he now figured would probably be a constant companion from here on out, he placed the tip where he believed to be the location of Jeff’s temple and then gave one solid thrust.
8
Securing the Town
“…reports out of Washington say that the president and a select group of government officials have left for Air Force One…”
***
“…attempts in Ohio to secure the daughter of the president have reportedly failed…”
***
“…rogue elements of the armed forces led by a Major Wanda Beers have broken away and have not been heard from in over three days…”
***
“…be the first to share this footage. If what we are seeing is true, then God have mercy on our souls.”
There was a moment when the reporter simply stared ahead at the cameras, then the footage began to roll and filled the screen.
“Am I on?” the doctor asked whoever was operating the shaky, handheld video device.
“Yeah.” It was one word, but the voice made it clear that whoever was holding the camera was agitated.
“Good. To whomever is watching, I am Dr. Linda Sing of the CDC. I am here to reverse my earlier statement that these people that are instigating attacks are not the dead come back. After detailed observation of a specimen that had no vitals and had been declared dead, I was witness to that individual sitting up and attacking another person.
“There can be no doubt that this person was dead only moments before. However, after the specimen was restrained, numerous things were done that a living person could not endure, much less remain conscious during. Additionally, I can confirm that massive brain trauma seems to be the only method of dispatching these…individuals—”
“They’re fuckin’ zombies, you stupid bitch!” somebody off-camera yelled.
Dr. Sing glanced to the left and pursed her lips before continuing. “Simple decapitation is not entirely sufficient. While the body will become inert, the head still seems to function and a bite that transmits the infection can still occur.”
With that last statement, the doctor removed her glasses and leaned forward. It was not a necessary gesture. The dark traces in her eyes could be seen quite clearly.
“One of the telltale symptoms is the appearance of the darkening of the capillaries in the eye. If you are infected, I suggest you turn
yourself over to the nearest FEMA center or military checkpoint. The only chance we have to contain this rests in your swift response—”
“That went out the window a long time ago while you fucking scientists sat on this information, you stupid bi—” another voice off camera hollered, but was cut off as the video ended abruptly.
The scene returned to the reporter at the news desk. He gave a nod to somebody off to his left and then sat up straight and looked directly into the camera.
“We here at the Global News Network apologize for the language heard in this clip, but felt that it was important to run the raw footage as we received it in order to hopefully convince those final holdouts who refuse to believe this to be what can now be termed…a zombie event.
***
“…and as day eleven since the confirmation by the CDC that this an actual zombie event comes to an end on the East Coast, we here at World Wide News want to express our sympathy to the friends and family of President Bransen.
“Washington has issued a statement that, due to the growing threat of large groups of what many are now commonly referring to as zombies, no effort can be made to salvage the crash site of Air Force One. They did confirm that recordings indicate an unnamed member of the Secret Service detail turned in flight. Before that individual could be subdued, the president was reportedly bitten by that agent on his left arm. Gunfire was heard during the last transmission. The location of the crash is being withheld for security reasons…”
***
Mayor Burns watched as the heavy machinery gouged large sections of earth from the ground and deposited it where it would become an interior berm that would act as another defense measure. You couldn’t look anywhere and not see the citizens of Liberty sweating and toiling under the hot sun of what should be a beautiful spring day.
It had been an easier sell than she expected. Of course the deaths suffered early on had gone a long way to help illustrate her point. But it had been the arrival of that poor Ricky Porter that sealed the deal.
The boy had been ripped apart and barely recognizable; but enough people were able to identify him for it to resonate. He’d been walking through the field adjacent to the Liberty Church of God of Prophecy. Several people had been searching for the boy after Lawrence Martin got home and saw the open instant message dialogue he’d been having with his friend before taking off to the highway himself.
At first, only the crashed bicycle and a lot of blood had been found. Still, there were those who had refused to believe what they had seen with their own eyes on television and even in town as a few of the stragglers arrived those first few days. It took seeing one of their own stumbling along with his insides torn out and his face an absolute mess for it to strike home in everybody’s hearts.
Now, the entire town was mobilizing to secure itself in the best way possible. It had been agreed that there was simply no way they could hope to seal off the entire area of Liberty. Instead, they had marked a sort of triangle that ran the length of Ruhamah Road from Highway 123 up to the train tracks which acted as the northern border all the way to Highway 178 and back down to Highway 123.
The sounds of several large semis snapped her back to what was going on around her. As the lead truck of a seven truck convoy came to a stop with it front bumper pressing against another big rig that had been parked earlier, the mayor made a note in her book and hurried over to greet the chief and his team.
“We found these up towards Easley. The highway is a mess that direction. Looks like folks trying to leave Greenville just decided they didn’t care which lane they drove in as long as they could try to get away.” Chief Gilstrap took off his gloves and stuffed them into his back pocket. The mayor handed him one of her pouches containing disinfecting wipes and he started cleaning his hands as he continued. “Looks like a butt load of them things came onto the road and started in on all the people stuck in their cars. The next trip up is gonna be nasty. We might want to head over to the quarry and see if there are any trucks out there first.”
“How much stuff do we have in the trailers on these rigs?” the mayor asked. She cast an anxious glance at the emblems and slogans plastered on the sides of some of the vehicles that were just now being opened by the teams assigned to unload anything brought in by the men and women venturing out.
“Well, one of them is a dairy truck which is damn near useless. The refrigeration was obviously shut off for the past few days. We pulled over and dumped the contents as soon as we got clear.” Chief Gilstrap looked over his shoulder. “That Walmart truck is full of clothes. Most of it is for spring and summer, but the manifest has underwear and socks noted as well, so that will help. Other than that, the rest were busts. Produce and stuff that all went bad. That’s actually what took us so long. We circled around to that area by the sewage treatment facility and dumped it all in that field across the highway. Figure it would do to start laying down some compost.”
The mayor nodded her agreement. It wasn’t a great haul like those first few when they’d brought in a truck full of canned goods, but they were making the most out of everything they did find.
“I figure another three weeks at least until we can get enough cars and trucks in place for the outer perimeter,” Jamie said as she looked at the marks on her laminated map.
The plan was actually working. The fact that it came from a teenage boy had sat wrong with a few people for a while, but eventually folks started seeing the simple logic.
Building protective walls was certainly a must if they were going to stay safe against the undead. The trick was securing an area large enough for all the people of Liberty to occupy somewhat comfortably. Nobody liked the idea of abandoning their homes, but the reality was that there was no way to secure that much open territory.
The location they had selected would have to do. Folks were asked to open their homes and others began to turn the high school into living quarters. The main roads would be the first line of defense as vehicles were brought in and parked almost on top of each other. Wooden pallets and sand bags were then shoved and packed underneath to keep anything from making it through. The vehicles were going to be three or four deep if they could manage to locate and bring in that many abandoned cars and trucks.
Also, tomorrow, a team was headed out to try and locate trains. It would be preferable to use rail cars to barricade the train tracks. Plus, there was a lot of hope that perhaps some of those rail cars might still be full of useable goods.
Just inside that line of defense, heavy tractors and the like were being used to dig a trench several feet deep. The earth from that trench would then create a berm. Once that was done, then they could get to the task of actually building a proper wall/fence. Nobody expected this to be finished any time in the near future, but since it had become clear that there would be no help coming and the government was basically dissolved, the people of Liberty were going to do all they could to stand against this so-called zombie event.
“When do you and your team leave?” the chief asked after he took a long drink of water from the bottle he had in a pouch on his hip.
“Tomorrow,” Jamie replied.
“Don’t you figure that place has been emptied?”
“Maybe, but there may be some cargo trucks in the area that didn’t make it to their final destination. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that anything and everything of use will already be scooped up.”
The chief seemed to think it over for a few seconds, but finally added, “I still think going to that Superstore is no less dangerous and foolish than hitting a mall. This ain’t the movies, kid.”
Jamie smiled. Her title of mayor was pretty much a relic now. Sure, she was now part of the core group of people making decisions to try and help the town, but to say that she was the head honcho in charge? Not so much anymore.
“If you want the big rewards, you have to take the risks,” Jamie parroted one of the chief’s own phrases back at him. That had been his response when she
asked why he felt it necessary to go practically to Greenville to locate the trucks they were bringing in to help create their defensive perimeter. He’d gone on to explain that the roads were probably going to yield a lot more of that sort of thing nearer the bigger cities. She hadn’t been able to argue with his logic.
“But I still want to see if we can’t push closer in to Clemson. The big box home improvement stores are probably packed full of the stuff we are going to need to get the produce farms up and running. We should at least be thankful that this is happening just heading in to spring. We will have a full season of planting and harvesting before winter comes,” Jamie said, sounding overly optimistic even to her own ears.
“Yeah,” the chief snorted, “I realize that the Titanic is sinking, but at least we have plenty of ice.”
The pair headed over to the high school stadium where booths had been set up for people to sign in each day and fill the various work crews. That was one thing that had been decided upon quickly. Pretty much everybody able to walk was put to work. There was no job too small, and everybody was pitching in.
They stopped at the roving patrol sign-up booth and the chief grabbed the list of names. He had been put in charge of the town’s security force.
“That reminds me.” Jamie nodded to his list of names. “We will look for anyplace that might have ammunition. Sporting goods stores, the Walmart—”
“I keep tellin’ ya that I am willing to bet that place has been emptied of anything useful.” The chief rolled up the list of names and tucked it in his shirt pocket.
“Agree to disagree,” Jamie said as she patted the man on the shoulder and headed over to grab the roster of those who would be joining her on this little journey.
***