Surviving When the Dead Have Risen

by Jeffrey Littorno

  The Most Uncommon Cold III:

  Surviving When the Dead have Risen

  Jeffrey Littorno

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  The Most Uncommon Cold III:

  Surviving When the Dead have Risen

  by

  Jeffrey Littorno

  Copyright © 2014 by Jeffrey Littorno

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author Jeffrey Littorno.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Chapter 1

  The news came back on after about five minutes. The newscaster was now alone on screen. I wondered where his partner had gone. The man’s professional and cool demeanor appeared shaken.

  “I… uh… I apologize for the technical difficulty we experienced. I am told that we have lost the signal to Luke Roberts in Washington. We will have coverage of the President’s address in just a few moments. In the meantime, here is Lisa Green with the weather.”

  The television was filled with the image of an attractive brunette in a short skirt standing in front of a weather screen. She was struggling to keep the smile plastered on her face. “Thanks, Ben. Looks like we’re in for another gorgeous day in the bay area today. You can expect--”

  The picture cut away, interrupting the woman’s report to return to the newscaster. “Sorry to cut in, Lisa, but I am told that the President is about to speak. We now go live to the White House.” The man looked at the camera, waiting for the picture to switch to the White House feed. After a few seconds, it did.

  A podium with the presidential seal on front filled the screen. As the President walked up to the podium, I could not help but notice the toll the presidency had taken on the man. He had entered the office as a young vibrant man. Now as his second term began, he appeared to be at least twenty-five years older. He looked out at the audience made up of reporters without showing his usual smile.

  “Take your seats please. As most of you should know by now, the country has been experiencing an unusually high level of violent crime and assault in recent days. You can be sure that this troubling issue has been a major focus of my administration. There have been consultations with a variety of notable psychologists and other scientists as well as law enforcement officials regarding this matter.” He looked into the camera before taking a white handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiping his brow. “These experts assured me the rise in aggression has a logical explanation. One theory offered had to do with the influence of tidal forces…uh… another notion focused upon the possible appearance of a virus affecting one’s ability to control violent impulses. I even heard a theory blaming this whole problem on the prevalence of fast food.” The President paused for a moment and waited for the light laughter to die away. “The point is your government is working with great diligence to put an end to this rash of criminal assaults. An estimate of the exact time which the process of finding a solution will take is impossible to give. For this reason, I am declaring martial law to begin as of today and remain in effect for an indeterminate term.” The room erupted in questions shouted and cameras flashing. “I would advise all citizens to be patient during this time of crisis and avoid leaving their homes.” He turned at once from the podium and left the area, ignoring the storm of shouted questions.

  The empty podium remained on the screen for quite a long time, before static took over.

  “Well, that don’t sound too good,” Lawrence muttered.

  “What does that mean? Martial law?” Taylor asked.

  “It just means they’re taking things seriously. Soldiers are going to come in and take control so that it gets better as fast as possible,” I offered, trying to calm the worried upset young man.

  Lawrence stared at me as if doubting that I was being serious. “From what I’ve seen, the situation never gets better after the army comes in. In fact, it usually gets a whole lot worse!” He chuckled.

  “But at least it means everybody knows this is going on and they’re doing something about it, right?” Taylor’s voice was once again trembling.

  The detective looked over at Taylor as if just realizing that he was having a difficult time accepting the current situation. “Yeah, I…I think it should will get better soon. With all this extra attention from doctors and scientists, they gotta find a way to fix things.”

  “At least the soldiers should be able to clear out the streets,” I added. “But the thing is we’re going to need to stay inside for a while. From what I’ve seen of our military in action, they tend to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “You think they might just shoot everything… not just those… shells?” Taylor asked.

  “I’m not sure, but it’s damn sure not worth taking a chance, right?” Lawrence answered.

  “Damn right!” Taylor answered with a grin.

  We turned back to the television, which was now showing another room filled with a crowd of people listening to a speaker at a podium. At the bottom of the screen was a line reading National Institutes of Health (NIH) briefing (Recorded earlier today).

  An older, bald-headed man in a white medical coat stepped up to the podium. “Good evening. I am Doctor Mitchell Ryan, the director of the NIH.” He looked down at the papers he had set on the podium. “As I am sure you are all aware, we have seen a remarkable increase in the frequency of violent attacks in the period estimated to be the last one hundred forty-four hours. During this time, there have been a far greater than normal number of homicides and acts of cannibalism.” The wall behind Doctor Ryan lit up to reveal a map of the United States. He turned toward the map and pointed at it with what looked like a small television remote control. “Now as you can see, whatever is causing this flood of violence began primarily on the coasts of the country.” Several masses of red dots appeared on the map. “You may recognize the fact that all of the highlighted areas are in regions with busy international airports.”

  One of the people in the audience shouted, “Are you saying this disease came from another country?”

  Ryan looked toward the questioner and looked as though he were about to answer the question but instead turned back toward the map. “We are just reviewing the obvious facts of this scenario. Supposition and extrapolation will come later.” He glanced back at the audience and grinned. “So as we see the most pronounced concentrations of violence took place in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Seattle on the west coast. The areas most affected on the east coast are Boston, Washington DC, New York, and Orlando. The only thing we can say for sure at this point is that one thing each of these areas has in common is a major international airport. Rest assured, we will investigate this shared trait, but this doesn’t mean that we rule out any other possibilities.”

  A deep voice called out a question, “Does the NIH endorse any theories about why the illness did not hit airports further inland such as O’Hare or Denver Airport?”

  Doctor Ryan looked out as if considering whether to respond. After a short pause, he said, “I am sorry to say there is no acceptable theory as of yet, but I remind you all that an occurrence of such recent nature does not lend itself to valid conclusions.
It is, therefore, too premature in our investigation to make any speculations, and we do not form random theories without some indications of support from scientific findings.” His expression had an unmistakable smugness. “What we can do is see signs that the incidents are spreading out from the areas of early concentration.” The doctor pushed the remote again, and the red dots grew legs, making them resemble spiders. “We presume that whatever is bringing on these increases in an aggressive behavior is being carried by humans from the initial sites. This is common with the spread of most diseases. As of now, this is all we can say for certain regarding the current situation.” He turned back to the audience and said, “Now, I am sure there are many questions for me.”

  Within seconds, the bustling crowd began shouting questions, drowning each other out. Doctor Ryan watched the commotion for a moment before saying, “One at a time, please.” Hands sprang into the air. He made eye contact with a tall man in the front row. “Yes, Gary?”

  “Thanks. So can you tell us anything about the symptoms of this disease?” The tall man completed his question with a sneeze.

  “Bless you,” the doctor replied from reflex. “I wish I could offer specific information about the disease. However, at this time, we do not have such details to give.”

  The shouted questions began before Ryan had finished his sentence.

  One question seemed to jump out from the rest, “Is it true about this all starting with the cold that has been going around?”

  The question appeared to startle the doctor. “I… uh… I am not sure where you heard that, but… yes, it is one of the possibilities that is being considered.”

  Lawrence let loose a long laugh, “Hell, Turner, you told me that when I first met you. Looks like you were way ahead of these guys! Remember you asked me if I had a cold?”

  “Yes, it seems pretty obvious, but this is government where nothing is obvious unless you form a committee and produce a mountain of paperwork,” I answered.

  “But don’t you think… I mean, don’t you think if they just came out and said the cold that so many people have is going to kill them, but they aren’t going to stay dead, then people would go crazy?” Taylor stammered.

  We were quiet, considering the insightful question.

  “Yeah, I bet you’re right,” Lawrence said. “They don’t wanna make things worse than they already are.”

  We turned back toward the television to find that it had gone to static.

  “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I need some sleep.” I said and handed the remote control to Lawrence.

  “Yeah, it’s gonna be a busy day tomorrow if we’re gonna check out all these other apartments.” He looked over at Taylor and said, “You ready to hit it?”

  “I guess so,” he answered. “Not sure how well I’m going to be able to sleep with all the wacked out stuff I saw today.”

  I looked at the boy for a moment and said, “You did a real good job today.”

  “Thanks,” he answered and smiled.

  “You’re not gonna kiss him goodnight, are you?” Lawrence snickered.

  Taylor, obviously embarrassed, looked down and shook his head.

  I chuckled and said, “No, I’m not going to go that far, but I think you should tell someone when they do a good job.”

  Taylor looked up and asked, “So any ideas about where to sleep?”

  “Well, we haven’t even looked in the other bedroom down the hall,” Lawrence said. “I suppose we oughta take a look to see what we got.”

  The three of us headed down the hall to check it out. Inside the large bedroom were a big bed, dressers, a couple of wooden chairs, and a white wooden crib.

  I walked to the side of the bed near the closet where the crib stood. The small decals of storks with babies hanging in slings brought a smile to my face. It vanished as the squishing sound of a soaked carpet became clear. At once, I realized I was standing in a puddle. I knew that is was blood without even looking. In my panic to get out of the puddle, I spun around and almost fell.

  Lawrence grabbed me to keep me on my feet. “Hey, take it easy! What’s the hurry?”

  I pointed at the dark pool in front of the crib.

  The detective moved over and squatted down next to it. I was astonished to see him slowly stick a couple of fingers in the liquid. He looked at it up close and then rubbed his fingers and thumb together.

  “It’s cold,” Lawrence commented. “Been here for a while.” He glanced up at the crib but said nothing.

  “Looks like Christina had a baby brother or sister,” I was unable to stop my giggles at the same time tears began rolling down my face.

  Taylor had remained standing in the doorway. At the sound of my giggling and sniffling, he stepped next to me. “Are you okay, Mr. Turner?”

  I heard the words, but for some reason could not understand them. Seeing my confusion, Taylor put his hand on my shoulder and guided me out of the room.

  I sat down on the couch in front of the still-snow-filled television. As it had so many times over the last few days, my mind revisited some of the terrible things I had witnessed. However, this time it all came crashing to a jarring halt as it concluded with the image of a baby being caught up in the carnage.

  Some time while I was staring off into space, Lawrence and Taylor had both come into the room.

  “Threw a blanket over that spot,” Lawrence said, watching me. “We sure don’t want Christina seeing that.”

  I nodded in response. “Sorry to lose it like that.”

  “No apology necessary,” he answered as if he had finished talking about it. “We need to get some sleep. So I gotta ask if either of you wants to sleep in the big bed.” He looked to Taylor who was shaking his head. “Okay, that’s a clear no. Turner?”

  “I don’t think I’d get much sleep in there. Looks like it’s all yours.”

  Lawrence managed a smile and said good night as he headed back the bedroom.

  “We got these out of the closet,” Taylor told me as he handed me a blanket and a pillow. “Which couch do you want?”

  I looked at the pair of couches and said, “It doesn’t matter, neither of them looks too comfortable. Take your pick.”

  Taylor jumped on to the smaller couch and was asleep as soon as his head hit the armrest. For the second time that day, I wished that I could fall asleep so quickly and deeply.

  I watched him sleeping for a few minutes before getting up and turning out the light. The television was still on and cast a gray glow over the room. I leaned back in the couch, grabbed the remote, and started flipping the channels, more out of boredom than any real interest in watching anything. The screen bounced between flashes of snowy static until the image of a scruffy man hunched over an old wooden desk appeared.

  “…that the plans have at last come to fruition. For many years now, we knew this day would come. The evidence is all there. Over and over again, we have identified the members of a certain secret society and have confirmed the existence of documents which detail the specific steps in their plot to assume control of this country and eventually the entire world. The very existence of Area 51 hidden in the desert of southern Nevada is all the proof needed of the government’s treachery. We have known for some time of a research facility in the middle of our country, which is dedicated to the development of deadly viral strains to be used as weapons. Remember the plot to hide the true source of Mad Cow Disease? Who’s to say that this is not just some more of their research? Or perhaps there was some sort of accident at the facility that released one of these lethal creations? In any case, the events of the last few days fit perfectly with the steps we predicted over a year ago.

  “As we were aware, it would all begin with acts of violence of apparent randomness. Such aggressions, however minor, serve to shake the populace’s faith in the government until there is chaos and societal upheaval.” The man paused just long enough to wipe his forehead with a hand towel on the desktop. “One of the first major steps i
s for the government to declare martial law, which is what we have just seen our so-called president do. Whether or not he realizes it, he is playing right along with their plan. It does make one wonder if he has somehow been in on the plot from the beginning. After all, this president, unlike those who came before, seems to have appeared out of nowhere. We know little documentation as to his past can be provided. In fact, those who should possess knowledge as to the veracity of his purported background testify that they cannot recall him. No close friends, classmates, coworkers, neighbors, girlfriends, or relatives have come forward to confirm his stories. That alone should be enough to cast doubt upon the legitimacy of his authority and position. Who can say that the current occupant of the White House was not placed there to carry out the secret agenda of the group dedicated to overthrowing the rightfully elected government of the United States of America?”

  He continued in the rant about how the President’s lack of sufficient proof to verify his history or even citizenship was an undeniable sign of his membership in an ominous society made of the rich and powerful. In the speaker’s twisted logic, the precise lack of proof that the President was not in a secret league proved that he was in a secret league; the guilty until proven innocent premise.

  The argument continued even after my head fell back against the arm rest and sleep swallowed me. I was thankful for the dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 2

  I awoke to the sound of Christina giggling. I kept my eyes closed for a moment while I listened to the happy sound. I had the idea that perhaps if I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on the joy of a little girl then everything would somehow be all right. Even though my brain told me that whether I had my eyes open or closed the world would never be all right again, I kept my eye lids squeezed closed.