After throwing up once more, she showered, brushed her teeth and slipped on a pink bathrobe over her nightgown. It was thick and warm, the fibers fluffy. She buried her nose in the scented fabric and savored the peaceful moment. The gown was an indulgence, the one thing she’d splurged on last year.
Rolf’s snores brought her back to the present. Blowing out the candle, she went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. This she placed on the bedside table along with two painkillers.
Next, Maria got started on breakfast. Rolf would be hungry when he woke up. The food from the night before went into the freezer. He refused to eat leftovers, and she’d have to find another use for it. After resetting the table, she put on a pot of coffee and made bread.
While kneading the dough, she noticed that her arm burned. So far, she’d been moving on autopilot, using mindless activity to keep calm. Now she paused and stared at the bandaged bite wound. Is it infected?
Maria noted that her skin was flushed, warm to the touch. Her nausea came into sharp focus, and the tingling sensation beneath her skin grew pronounced. I need to get this looked at.
But a doctor would cost money. Money she didn’t have. The thought of asking Rolf made her shudder. No, she’d rather tend to it herself.
Grunts from the bedroom alerted her to his imminent appearance, and she pushed her worries from her mind. She could wait. Rolf could not.
She popped the bread into the oven and fried the bacon, eggs, onions, and sausages. It all went onto the warming tray. Salt, pepper, and Tabasco were placed within easy reach of Rolf’s plate along with napkins, orange juice, and water. All was ready.
While emptying the dustbin, Maria noted that the neighborhood was bustling with activity. Dogs barked nonstop, creating a racket to wake the dead. The family living three houses down were preparing for a long trip judging by the amount of luggage they carried.
Wait. Is that Sandra? Maria stared at the woman in question, staggering down her driveway in nothing more than a negligee, her pendulous breasts swinging back and forth. Maria gasped. Is she drunk?
Shaking her head, she went back inside the house in time to hear Rolf’s angry bellows. He sounded like a bull in heat. “Maria! Where the hell is my coffee?”
She poured him a cup without saying a word. He grunted and sat down at the table, opening the Sunday newspaper. She dished up and placed it in front of him. He ignored her. A flash of naked rage surprised her with its intensity. I wish he would choke and die!
Bile pushed up her throat, and she excused herself. This time, the nausea did not abate after vomiting. Her body convulsed and spasmed until she swore she could hear her ribs crack. The room spun, and she clung to the porcelain bowl with trembling fingers. “What’s happening to me?”
“Maria?” Rolf called. “Maria, where are you?”
Inside her veins, the virus moved, taking control of her brain and body. Her immune system, stronger than most, gave in after resisting the onset of the disease for nearly twenty-four hours.
“Maria! Where’s the tomato sauce?”
Maria gasped, gathering up her strength to push upright. Vertigo set in. She swayed and toppled over. The fall lasted a long time to her beleaguered mind.
Long enough to regret falling pregnant at sixteen.
Long enough to regret marrying a monster.
Long enough to think of Logan, the son she loved and missed every single day of her life.
Her head hit the rim of the bathtub with a dull thud, and the skin split like tissue paper. She barely registered the pain as she lay on the floor. A growing pool of sticky blood surrounded her.
“Damn it, woman! Answer me!”
But the light inside her dimmed, and Maria was gone. Everything that once made up her life was gone. All her hopes and dreams were snuffed out in an instant. All that remained was a soulless eating machine, much like her husband.
The bathroom door burst open to reveal Rolf, cheeks puffed up like a bullfrog. The sight of his wife lying on the floor brought him up short. He bent down, poking her with a fat finger. “Maria? Are you ill?”
Her head reared up, and her teeth clamped down with crushing force. Blood spurted out, droplets spattering the tiles. Rolf screamed as she crunched through cartilage and bone, severing the finger. He fell back with a thump and landed on his rump. Gibbering with terror, he crawled away, heading for the sanctuary of his bedroom.
Maria followed.
Like a monstrous spider, she scuttled after him. Blood covered her mouth and chin while her bared teeth mocked her former husband. In the same room where she’d once shivered in terror, Maria pounced, digging into Rolf’s exposed gut with her bare hands. Tearing through flesh, fat, and membranes, she ignored his futile struggles, pausing only to chew and swallow.
Rolf’s breath gurgled in his throat as blood pushed up his esophagus and spilled over his lips. The crimson fluid drenched the thick carpet, and their movements squelched through the mire.
Maria pulled out his entrails, and the thick, slimy ropes bulged between her fingers. The metallic smell of blood was replaced by the stink of feces as Rolf bathed in his own shit. Unable to resist, he lay twitching on his back. His rolling eyes fixated on something framed in the doorway, a familiar figure.
Logan.
Rolf raised a shuddering hand as if in a plea, and his mouth worked in a silent plea for deliverance. A muzzle flashed, and darkness consumed him as the bullet destroyed his brain, ending his suffering.
Maria looked up at her son and growled. She neither knew him nor cared. He was food. Nothing more. Another flash from the gun, and she was thrown back with terrific force. Her head lolled to the side, and the single bullet hole between her eyes leaked blood. From the doorway, Logan looked on, a silent witness to her final moments.
Chapter 6 - Angie
Angie stared at her reflection in the mirror, analyzing her looks. Would George like the way her black hair curled around her shoulders? Would he admire her petite figure? Find her sexy?
Everything depended on tonight. For months, she’d dreamt of this moment, hoping he’d notice her. Surely he must know they were meant for each other.
Never in her life had Angela Kostopoulos been denied anything. An only child, she’d led a pampered existence. Whatever Angie wanted, Angie got. It had frustrated her to no end when George ignored her at first.
“Stop fussing, Angie. You look gorgeous,” Susan said.
“Are you sure? You really think so?”
Susan threw a pillow at Angie who turned in front of the mirror, plucking at her cotton pink top with nervous fingers. “For the hundredth time, yes!”
“Okay, if you say so.” Angie chewed on a plump bottom lip, dark eyes huge as she contemplated the upcoming date. “I want tonight to be perfect.”
“It’ll be fine, Angie, you’ll see. Now stop eating your lip gloss.”
A loud knock on the door made the girls jump. A muffled shout rang through the thick wood. Susan laughed, casting a look over her shoulder. “Go on, Angie. That must be Georgie boy. He sounds impatient.”
Angie paled, her hand fluttering at her throat. “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m going to be sick.”
“No, you’re not. This is what you wanted, right?” Susan raised her eyebrows, mocking. “You and Georgie Boy? Together forever?”
Angie frowned. “Yeah, yeah. Stop calling him that. It’s George, and we are going to be together forever.” Her voice carried a heavy dose of condescension.
Susan sat back, shrugging. “Whatever.”
Another knock on the door, more prolonged this time. Angie smoothed her hands over her jeans. “Here goes.”
She fixed a welcoming smile on her face and opened the door. It was George, just not the way she was expecting to see him. The handsome rugby player was covered in blood, and a big chunk of flesh was missing from his cheek. The hole gaped open in an obscene display of muscle and tissue.
Angie gasped. “George!”
“Help me.” He fell to his knees, grasping at her jeans. She screamed and jumped back. George fell to the floor, shudders wracking his frame.
Frozen, Angie stared at him, one hand covering her mouth. She was pushed aside by Susan, who knelt next to the stricken boy. Her friend pressed a wadded up shirt to his face. “What happened, George?”
“People are going crazy. Allen bit me, even Matthew, my best friend, attacked me.” George raised his arm. Jagged bite marks, dark and ragged, covered the flesh. His wounds wept, growing stains on his clothes testifying to the loss of blood. “They’re all nuts.”
Susan looked at Angie. “Help me get him inside.”
Angie approached with reluctance, not wanting to get blood on her clothes. “Shouldn’t we call someone?”
“Hurry up,” Susan urged.
Together, they dragged George’s tall frame inside and shut the door. His eyes rolled in their sockets, and his words were incoherent. Angie stepped back. George wasn’t supposed to look like that. George was supposed to be strong, indestructible, a hero. Not this.
“He’s going into shock,” Susan said. Her hands examined his body, looking for further injuries. Her face remained calm, her smile reassuring. A fourth-year medical student, her movements carried an aura of competence as she tore up a t-shirt to make bandages. Once the blood flow slowed, she lay him on his side in the recovery position.
“We need to call someone. The police. An ambulance.” Susan rushed about, looking for her phone. She found it and thumbed in the numbers. Before she could press dial, George interrupted.
“No, we’ve got to get out of here. It’s crazy out there.” He struggled upright, his face pale. “Please.”
“Calm down; you can’t leave. You need medical attention, George.” Susan tried to push him back down, but he batted her hands away.
“No! Listen to me!” He got to his feet, face contorted. “We need to get out of here now, or we’re all going to die.”
Susan looked at Angie, a stunned expression on her face. A shrill scream from the hallway drew their attention. The strident notes cut through the air, piercing their ears. With shocking abruptness, it stopped, only to start again elsewhere.
“They’re coming. I warned you,” George cried, terror underpinning his jerky movements. “We have to run. Now.”
Despite Susan’s best efforts to restrain him, he opened the door and stumbled outside. “Follow me.”
Angie stared at his retreating back. In the confusion, one clear thought stood out. He’s leaving. George is leaving. “Wait!”
She ran after him, followed by Susan. Outside their room, they were met with a nightmarish scene. Students stood framed in their open doorways, gaping at others who grappled with each other. Three doors down, a girl lay on the floor. She choked on the blood bubbling from her mouth. Her attackers kneeled above her, their hands and faces covered with the crimson fluid.
Angie ground to a halt, stuttering. “What are they doing? Are they…eating her?”
A rough hand grabbed her wrist, and she whirled. A startled cry escaped her lips. It was George. “Come on, Angie. For fuck’s sake, run!”
She ran.
Through the corridors of the dorm, they fled, surrounded by death. George led the way, bulldozing through anything that stood in his way. They navigated the stairs to the ground floor, emerging into a hellish scene. The lobby jostled with bodies, a sea of limbs waving to and fro in the current of panic that swept them along. The din was incredible, a mixture of pain, panic, anger, and fear. George hesitated, searching for a way through.
“What’s happening?” Angie cried while she clung to his sleeve. Susan drew level with her, and they shared a terrified look.
“No time.” George swayed, his wounds and their headlong flight had weakened him. “Stay behind me.”
He forged ahead, and Angie had no option but to follow. Lowering his head, George plowed through the crowd like a battering ram, never stopping. Angie dropped her chin and clung to his back like a limpet with Susan sticking close behind.
Together, the trio crossed the floor. The doors beckoned with the promise of safety. Fingers hooked in Angie’s hair, tearing a few strands loose. Tears welled up, but she dared not stop. Her foot landed on something soft. She looked down, then looked away, the image of blood-soaked hair and pale flesh imprinted on her mind. Behind her, Susan cried out, but she didn’t turn back, didn’t even look over her shoulder.
George made it to the doors, and they fell through the opening. The bright sunlight burned Angie’s eyes, and black spots danced across her vision. Once her sight adjusted, her heart sank. The chaos that reigned inside had taken hold outside as well.
People chased each other across the grounds; the green grass was drenched in the blood of innocents. Screams rang out, echoing inside her head until she wanted to hunker down and cover her ears. In the distance, columns of black smoke rose above the city, smudging the blue sky with streaks of charcoal.
“No, it’s not fair,” she cried. Her feet were rooted to the spot, her muscles refusing to move. “It’s not fair.”
“This isn’t the time,” George replied, tugging at her hand. “We have to keep going.”
“Not the time? Do you see this? Do you see what’s happening?” Angie’s voice rose in pitch with each question until it came out in a shrill screech. “We’re all going to die! That’s what’s happening!”
George hesitated a second before he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He disappeared into the crowd of people stampeding towards the gates, leaving her behind. Angie gaped at his retreating back. “George, wait! Where are you going?”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she looked around for help. There was none to be had. Her eyes fixed on a figure. It was a student crouched over the prone body of another. His hands were buried in her stomach. As she watched, he lifted slippery ropes of entrails to his mouth, blood dripping down his chin and chest.
The world spun. Angie’s legs wobbled, and she collapsed to her knees. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”
Rough hands grabbed her arms. She shrieked, batting at the blurred figure that loomed above her. “No, don’t touch me. Leave me alone.”
“Angie!” An insistent voice penetrated the fog in her mind. “Angie, it’s me, Susan.”
“Susan? It’s you?” Susan’s red hair and freckled face came into focus. “Oh, thank God.”
“Get up. We have to run.” Susan hauled her to her feet, ignoring her protests. “Now, damn it!”
Susan turned to run, dragging Angie behind her. Pushing through the fleeing bodies, all jostling for space, they reached the gates and stumbled through. A hard shove sent Angie off balance. She fell with a cry, her hand tearing loose from Susan’s grip.
Her knees burned, the jeans torn in the fall. Time slowed down as feet and legs moved past her in a blur. A boy wearing a red t-shirt caught her eye. It was George. He lay on his stomach, face twisted in agony. Two of the crazy people had him pinned down, ripping gobbets of flesh from his bones.
His eyes found hers, begging for help. Angie experienced the strangest emotion. Triumph. She smiled, her teeth bared in a grin of satisfaction. You left me to die. You left me behind and ran, you traitor.
Suddenly Susan was back, hauling her to her feet. The moment passed. “Come on!”
Time sped up. Together they ran, swept along on the current of people that flowed down the street. After a few blocks, the crowd thinned, and individuals became distinct.
A snarling face confronted them, hands reaching towards them like claws. Angie screamed and clung to Susan. A flash as a piece of metal descended and crunched into their attacker’s face. Two more blows and the infected man lay on the ground. He didn’t move again.
“Are you girls okay?”
Angie could only nod, her mouth dry with panic. Their savior looked at them with faded blue eyes set in a worn face, the corners creased with age.
“Over here. Come with me.”
He hustled them towards a waiting car.
Angie allowed him to shove her into the vehicle, her body squeezed in between him and Susan.
The chaotic sounds outside became suspended, banished to a distant realm. Angie’s mind detached. Her thoughts moved with the slowness of syrup oozing down the side of a glass. This is a dream. It must be. This can’t be real.
The car lurched forward, scraping against another with a loud screech before it picked up speed. The scenes of horror outside the windows became a blur and added to the disconnectedness she felt. None of this is real.
The engine roared, revving as the driver changed gears while weaving through the chaotic traffic. Angie’s eyes fixed on the road and noted the debris, wrecks, and other things that littered the street. She was tossed from side to side as they swerved between the obstacles, tires screaming.
Everything snapped back into place with the suddenness of a rubber band stretched to the limit. This is real.
“Susan?” she whimpered.
“Shh, Angie. It’s okay. We’re okay now.”
Angie shook her head. How could any of this be okay?
After a long time, the buildings were replaced by hills and brush. The chaos of the dying city faded into the distance. Bit by bit, Angie relaxed. Her muscles ached after the release of tension. The buzz of adrenaline died away, and exhaustion set in.
“Where are we going? Who are you?” she asked the driver.
“I’m Ben. Big Ben.” He sighed. “As for where we’re going, somewhere safe, I imagine. This infection, or whatever it is, is moving fast. Cities are the worst place to be right now.”
“What’s happening?” she asked.
Ben told them what he knew, which wasn’t much. A virus causing people to go nuts and eat each other was spreading through the populace. The whole world was affected. Getting bitten meant you became one of them. That much Angie could gather from his carefully chosen words.
Afterward, he appraised them both. “Do you girls have anywhere to go? Your parents? Family, maybe?”
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