by Stevie Kopas
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” she said as she locked the door, “the glass isn’t at all reinforced.” She paused to press her face up to the glass to peer outside one more time and whispered her last sentence, “But it makes me feel better.”
Samson couldn’t tell if she was talking to him and didn’t really feel like he was up for any kind of conversation. He hastily opened the bottle and took a long drink. He clenched his teeth as the drink went down. Drinking probably wasn’t the appropriate solution especially since they weren’t in the safest of places but his apathy at the moment was too strong. He felt Veronica’s eyes on him as he moved from behind the bar and started toward the back. He stopped, feeling as though he owed her some explanation for what he was doing. “I need some time.” His voice was low, monotone. He looked at her and raised the bottle up. Veronica didn’t know Samson for very long, but she liked him and she respected him. She understood him. Her father was the same way when her mother had died, and she understood then what she understood now, a man sometimes needs to be alone with his thoughts. There was a long pause before she responded with a simple “Ok” and Samson disappeared into the darkness of the restaurant.
She sat down in one of the booths, wiping the grime from the table before she laid her head on it. She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled with a grunt. It seemed like every time she got the chance to stop thinking about how bad shit was, it all came rushing into her head at once, knocking the wind out of her. She just wished she could grab her laptop, sling it down on her bed and post some quirky status update. How trivial yet important social networking once was to her had left her with a mind full of things to say, and no one to say them to. She wished she could pick up her phone and text one of her friends about the day she had, yet which one of her friends was even alive? And how insane was the day they were probably having if they were?
When she opened her eyes again they fell upon an overturned chair and underneath it a black server’s book. She hadn’t noticed it before; she thought she had scoured the whole place when she first came here nearly a week ago. Her curiosity was stronger than her exhaustion and she got up to retrieve it. It was dirty, from the floor, or from sitting there for who knows how long she didn’t care. She sat back down at her booth and opened it up. A few order tickets, not much cash and some notes. It was decorated with San Rio stickers and a girl’s name Bethany was written in silver sharpie across the top. Veronica wondered how old Bethany was. If this was her part time job while she went to school, or was she a grown woman who really liked Hello Kitty. She read over the notes which contained Bethany’s schedule, random doodles of hearts and stars, and a flower here and there. She saw at the bottom of the paper a note in a different handwriting than Bethany’s. It read “Remember to smile!” Veronica didn’t smile, but she tore it from the server’s book and stuffed it in her pocket. Her hand lingered over it a moment and she closed her eyes again. For whatever reason she felt a stronger connection to Bethany at that moment, long lost and her fate unknown, than she did to herself and her own twisted reality.
“Remember to smile.” She said out loud to no one and lay her head back down on the dirty table and closed her eyes.
IX
Samson sat on the floor of the dry food pantry in the back of the restaurant. Every so often he’d take another long swig from his whiskey bottle, attempting, but failing, to drown out the sick nightmare he had been living. Everyone I know is dead, and everyone they know is dead. He slammed his head back against the wall he leaned on but the alcohol dulled the pain he probably should have felt in his skull. “Everyone who ever knew anyone is more than likely fuckin’ dead!” Samson chuckled slowly and softly. Once a successful attorney who was capable of getting any scumbag off the hook in front of the toughest judges, he was reduced to a mumbling mess, hidden in the back of a dark, abandoned restaurant, consumed by the rotting fish and spoiled food around him. He couldn’t help but wonder if the universe was punishing him for something.
His head spun and he shook it roughly from side to side, slamming it back against the wall one last time. “Oh, I’m shitfaced,” he said as he half lay down, half fell over onto the hard tile floor. The tile felt cool on his face and he rubbed his forehead back and forth on it for a few moments.
He began laughing at the bizarre nature of his situation again, but the laughter soon turned into short sobs, which gave way to the cracking of his heart heard exiting his mouth in a wail of raw emotion he didn’t think was left anywhere inside of him. His eyes squeezed shut, fist pounding at the floor beneath him, he cursed himself out loud for not being a better father, a better husband. He cursed Moira for not being a better wife or mother, or even a better person. And although he wasn’t a religious man, he cursed God and all the other deities of the universe for abandoning him. For abandoning everyone.
For every time he lifted his fist and brought it back down in anger, in sorrow, more blood escaped him and smeared itself on the tile with each pounding punch. Across the kitchen and through the swinging doors, in the dining room, Veronica was already awake and in alert mode before Samson’s sudden emotional outburst.
She had dozed off quickly, her head filled with dreams of what Bethany the waitress might be doing right now. Maybe she wasn’t at work when everything fell apart, maybe she was on one of the big beautiful boats outside in the marina, with coworkers and friends and they simply sailed away, finding solace somewhere out to sea with the sun shining on all of their smiling faces.
A short time later, she couldn’t be sure just how much time had passed; she was jolted awake by a feral scream from out in the parking lot. Instinctively, she jumped out of the booth and dropped to the floor, wincing at the broken shards of glass from who knows what that embedded themselves into her hands. She didn’t know where the eater was or how many of them could be out there. She crawled toward the bar to get a better look out of a window with a lower risk of exposing herself. It didn’t matter how dark it was, she couldn’t afford to take any chances.
She very carefully poked her head up, stopping at the bridge of her nose, she feared even the slightest fog of her breathe on the glass would be too much to attract them. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest and she placed a hand over it, as if trying to keep it from leaving her body. She spotted the dead, and to her dismay, there were more than she anticipated. She could clearly see 7 of them. The group were of all different heights and sizes. Each bore a unique wound from the other, telling a different story of the dead. But all the stories ended the same.
A few moved at a stunning pace, aimlessly running in circles, slamming into one another, screaming, grunting and growling. Every few seconds one of them would act as if they’d picked up on some scent in the night’s breeze but then go back to running around like hungry, wild animals. The rest shambled around as if following the faster ones, pathetically grunting and moaning. They’ll get bored, they’ll move on. Veronica reassured herself they would be fine if they stayed out of view. Samson had been asleep for probably longer than she had and she would keep watch. She lowered her eyes from the window and squatted beneath it, trying to lower her heart rate. A few minutes passed, Veronica strained her ears and could still hear them hissing out front. She couldn’t figure out what had attracted them here. They’d been very quiet.
As if by a complete twist of ill fate, Samson began screaming only as a drunken man could, from the dark, lonely pantry in the back. She cringed and chills ran up her spine. Veronica sprang from her spot beneath the window toward the double doors of the kitchen. Veronica knew better. She didn’t hesitate; she didn’t look back toward the glass doors or windows. She burst into the room and softened her steps as it got harder to see with no windows to let the moonlight in.
Swiftly and silently she entered the pantry and grabbed Samson’s wrist, throwing herself on the floor beside him and wrapping her other arm around his big frame. “Enough!” She hissed at him. “I understand, but it’s time to stop now.” Sh
e squeezed his wrist tightly and shook him with all her might until she could feel the tension in his body give way some. The pantry was pitch black except for the beam from Samson’s flashlight; Veronica grabbed it and quickly turned it off. “Ssh, please!” She pleaded with him, trying hard not to panic and still holding him as he attempted to drunkenly push her off. Samson was so incoherent that she hoped he would just pass out, she briefly considered knocking him out with the heavy mag light.
“You get off me! Get out!” He shouted out at her through her hand that she immediately threw over his mouth as soon as he had opened it to yell.
Her eyes, although they could not focus on anything in such immense darkness, she kept wide open, fearing she might miss the minutest detail of her suddenly hostile surroundings. She searched the depths of her brain for some sort of a plan or idea that could get them out of here alive but she could think of nothing. She couldn’t get out of this one alone, she needed this man to get his shit together.
“Samson,” she whispered directly into his ear with the most sobering words she could have ever uttered. “They’re here.”
Part II: In the Beginning
I
“Government Officials are asking everyone to please stay indoors during this time. A state of emergency has been declared for the following counties…” the television blared from the living room in the small apartment that the Williams family shared in the heart of Columbia Beach City. James, the man of the house, sat on the couch with his bright eyes glued to the television set, attempting to make sense of the sudden sickness that seemed to be overtaking the world around him. Outbreaks of violence and looting were breaking out all over the city, schools were closed, people were urged to stay home from work and there were talks of a curfew being set country wide. No matter what channel James stopped on, news anchors all had the same blank faces as they spoke. Their job was to give the people the news, not react to it, but it was becoming hard not to.
James’ daughter Veronica was in her room down the hallway, chatting on the computer. The TV set was so loud she could hear its muffled sound through the music she played on her laptop. With a sigh, she got up and slammed her bedroom door shut. She rummaged through the odds and ends that were strewn about her desk and found her bright purple headphones. Stuffing them into her ears, she flung herself onto her bed, plugged them in and went back to instant messaging with her friend Dee.
Deeeva95: I can’t believe how my mom is acting!! She won’t even let me come over...I’m so bored I could kill myself.
Vr0n: I know right? My dad has the TV on 24/7, it’s gettin on my nerves like woah.
Deeeva95: Oh well, at least we don’t have school again tomorrow!
Vr0n: Yeah…but I’m totally pissed that track has been cancelled for what, almost a week now? This whole thing will blow over and all the crazies will disappear and then I’ll lose my next three races.
Deeeva95: Quit bein dramatic, you sound like my mother.
Vr0n: Lol, whatever, you know I gotta get my run on!
Deeeva95: Ugh, I gtg my mom wants me to be miserable with her and watch the news.
Vr0n: Ahaha ok, text me later.
Veronica sighed as she closed out the IM screen, nobody else seemed to be online from her friend’s list. “Lame!” She shouted and threw her headphones down on the comforter. Nothing was on TV for days now, it was all the same emergency news casts on every channel, and unfortunately for her they couldn’t afford HBO or any of the other premiums. She wondered what Isaac was up to and got up to leave her room when she heard a loud crash from outside. She jumped and then laughed at herself for being startled so easily. Some idiot had crashed into the telephone pole right across the street from her building.
“Holy shit.” She muttered, scanning the streets for any sign of panic but nobody seemed too bothered by it. The few people out on the street were ignoring the car as if nothing happened, going about their business, but a lot faster than they normally would have. She let the curtain fall where it was and walked out of her room. Isaac’s door was closed across the hall. She knocked and didn’t get an answer. She shrugged her shoulders and walked out to the living room. Her father and brother sat on the couch, eyes fixated on the television screen.
“Will ya’ll please quit watching that already?” She said casually as she walked to the tiny three point kitchen and grabbed a water from the fridge. “Somebody crashed their car right across the street but everybody’s probably too busy watching the TV to care.”
Her father James, noticing the beverage choice quickly snapped, “Look, let the police worry about that kind of stuff and put the water back now. Drink a soda.”
“Dad you know I don’t like-“
“I don’t care, we need the water V, put it back please.” He cut her off and quickly turned back to the TV set. Isaac looked at her and pointed at the fridge and winked. She smiled as she opened the door and pretended to put the water back. She walked quietly into the living room and stood behind them.
“If you come into contact with any person who is exhibiting signs of violence or sickness, it is extremely important that you isolate them and contact your local authorities. Help will be on the way shortly.” The red haired news anchor announced.
Veronica narrowed her eyes, “Isn’t violent and sick half the world’s population already?” She remarked.
Her father turned to look at her and noticed the water bottle. “Damnit V.”
“What?” She giggled as she took another sip. “You can’t stay mad at me pops!”
He shook his head and sighed, “I know darlin’, but things are lookin’ pretty bad out there. I just want to have enough supplies on hand for you and your brother in case it gets too dangerous and we can’t leave.”
“Dad,” Veronica placed a hand on her hip and took another sip. “You watch too much television.” She walked over to the small window near the balcony door and pulled the blinds down a bit, trying to get another look at the crashed car. The driver’s side door was now open, but no driver to be seen. There were a few more people out that she could see now, and Veronica thought they looked like a bunch of panicked rats running around in the street with nowhere to go. She flipped the blinds back up and scowled at her brother and father. “I guess everybody out there watches too much television too.”
That night Veronica found it very hard to sleep. She kept getting up and peeking out her window, trying to see what was going on. Every so often she would hear people yelling, like they were fighting, and she almost got nervous enough to wake her father. She slept with her headphones in, her music playing and dreamt of monsters in her closet.
II
“This shit is ridiculous.” Isaac mumbled as he threw his smartphone down on the table. “I haven’t been able to get a text out all day.” Veronica’s older brother plopped down onto the dining room chair with a grunt and scrunched his nose up at her.
“Mine’s no different.” She responded without looking up from her laptop. Veronica had been trying to get a hold of Dee for over a day but was getting no response. “Nobody’s been getting online. And the people that have been on I can’t even get through to.” She furiously typed messages that would never send due to server errors or the internet consistently timing out.
Their father walked into the kitchen buckling his belt, eyes glued to the television in the living room as he did so. “I hate to break it to you kids,” James said as he pulled his shoes on, “but it looks as if the internet might be down for now.” He motioned to the other room where a news anchor nervously announced that the government was “temporarily suspending cell phone and internet connections in certain parts of the country in order to keep usage low and maintain emergency lines.”
“I don’t understand dad! They just want to cut people off?!” Veronica looked at him with pleading eyes, “What is even going on anyway? A couple people get a fever and beat each other up and the rest of us have to suffer?”
“V, it’s a littl
e more complicated I’m afraid.” He walked over and placed a large hand on his daughter’s soft dark hair. “It seems like things are getting a little scary out there and it’s time you two kids and I had a discussion about it.” Veronica thought back to the night before and remembered the screaming in the streets.
Isaac got up and walked over to the sliding door of their apartment that led to the balcony. He pulled back one of the blinds and stared. “I watched enough of the news with you dad, and I know that this is just like any of those hurricane warnings they send our way.” He dropped the blind and turned toward his father. “It’s a bunch of media hyped mumbo jumbo that they’re cryin’ wolf about so that they can scare people into spendin’ a chunk of money they don’t have in order to stimulate the economy.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and rolled his eyes, looking at his sister. “Or some shit.”
“There you go,” Veronica smiled at her brother, closing her laptop. “Gettin’ all smart on us.” She giggled to herself and Isaac gave her the finger.
James, displeased with his children’s vulgarity toward one another pulled the remaining dining room chair out and sat down in it, slamming his big fist down on the table. Not in anger, but as a warning. “You two need to quit it now.” His deep voice filled the apartment in only the way a father’s concerned voice could. “You know I don’t like you usin’ that language around your sister, and I think you need to go ahead and sit back down with me to have a discussion.”
“Yes sir,” Isaac mumbled as he returned to his seat at the small wooden table. The siblings, only two years apart, Veronica 16 and Isaac 18, looked as though they could be twins, and neither of them looked as if they belonged to their father. James was a shorter build, muscular, with sandy blonde hair and small green eyes. Veronica and Isaac were tall and lanky with catlike brown eyes and chocolate brown hair. They were the spitting image of their departed mother.