Epidemic of the Undead: A Zombie Novel

by P. A. Douglas

  With the rain finally off their backs and the doors closed behind them, Chris stopped. The hallway was dark, and Brady’s flashlight was doing a terrible job of correcting the problem. Chris could barely make out the gurneys and cots lined along the hallway walls. One or two of the beds still looked occupied.

  “Wait,” Chris whispered.

  “What is it?”

  “Please tell me you can work your voodoo magic on this?” Chris pulled the empty clip and box of ammunition out for Brady to see. “I dropped one of the boxes outside. This is all I have left.” He looked down at the second box of bullets with defeat. “Hope I can make them last.”

  Without any words, Brady tucked the light under his arm to free both hands. With haste, he filled the empty clip and drove it home. After chambering a round, he handed the gun to Chris.

  “Check the safety.”

  “Thanks man. You know, I think Steve was right all along. You are Rambo.”

  Brady didn’t even half smile. “Come on, let’s go.” His voice was different. He seemed focused and highly on alert.

  Walking with a brisk stride, Chris followed close behind, thankful to have his gun reloaded. He made a mental note not to lose it like that again. If he was going to survive, he needed to keep his cool and to conserve ammunition. He checked the safety like Brady had instructed. It had been on. Brady must have set it when reloading the weapon. Looking down at the gun as he walked on, he thumbed the safety off. Suddenly, he bumped into Brady who had stopped. Without having to ask, Chris’ senses instantly focused on the noises around them. It sounded quiet, which made him wonder why they had stopped. The door to the right, which led into where Steve had been was only a few paces ahead. What the hell’s the hold up?

  Then he heard it. It was faint.

  The moaning of an undead ghoul was in the hallway with them, but where was it coming from? Brady scanned his flashlight across the dark hallway. Reds and blues bounced back between the flickering lights from the destroyed mural across the hall. On one of the tables lining the wall next to Brady there was an unexpected movement.

  Chris’ swift reflexes brought his handgun toward the cloth-covered table. “There…the gurney.” Chris pointed at something under the sheet which had to be the source of the noise.

  It moved again.

  Brady reached up with a slow moving arm to have a peek.

  “Be careful,” Chris insisted.

  Brady tugged at the cloth. An arm reached up from under the sheet gripping him by the hand. Startled, Brady aimed and fired without thought. The shot from his handgun clanked against metal as the bullet exited the back of the skull. The figure lying on the table was motionless, dead. Chris covered his mouth with his free hand, the other still holding tight to his gun. He and Father Clark had walked past the burn victim when the priest was taking Chris to Steve. The dead man covered in burns hadn’t been one of the undead. His muffled moans weren’t a plea of hunger, but of need. Most likely, he had heard Chris and Brady walking up and was probably trying to get their attention.

  “Well, that sucks,” Chris mumbled between his fingers as he looked down at the man. The hole in his head was the size of quarter, maybe even a little bigger. Blood ran down the blackened face.

  Brady wasn’t listening. His attention and the flashlight were fixed toward the end of the hall. If there were any undead lingering in the long corridor, the gunfire would have surly drawn them out. There was no noise or movement, so Brady waved Chris to keep moving.

  Chris wasn’t sure about it, but something told him that Brady wasn’t being himself. The man had no remorse after shooting that suffering man on the table. It was like some distant militarized reflex of survival had set in for the old man and he was focused on one thing and one thing only: survival. As much, as Chris knew he needed to be that way too, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like seeing Brady function like a machine. Chris’ mind flashed back to the gas station before Steve had been shot. It felt like ages ago. Brady and Nan had mentioned meeting when he was in the military, or something like that. However, if survival meant to become less human, then he felt like maybe it wasn’t really worth the effort.

  Chris looked back down at the man that Brady had just killed and sighed. Covering the poor bastard up with the cloth once more, Chris hurried forward to catch up with Brady. The old man stood at the door they intended to enter.

  Brady grabbed the handle.

  Now or nothing, Chris thought. What if we walk into this room and Nan’s dead cold corpse was devouring Stephanie? What would Brady do? Would the warrior kick in or would he just flake out and fold? Worse, what if nothing awaited us on the other side; just an empty room filled with disappointment. Surely, Steve is still in there. Where the hell else would the jerk have run off too? He’s injured for Christ’s sake. Not like, he could have gone far…Hell, speaking of going far, were the hell is everyone else? Chris thought of the roof for some reason. All of these people, the homeless and the families who survived have been camping out here and believed that the National Guard is on the way. If that were true and the shit hit the fan like it has all of a sudden, the roof would be the place to go, but which roof? There were several buildings to this place and they could be on any one of them. If he didn’t find them behind this door, Chris hopped that Stephanie and Steve had managed to make it to one of the roofs. It would be the safest place.

  There were way too many variables to try figuring it all out. Chris just knew that he needed to keep his head in the game. He wanted to win and he hoped that would lead him to see tomorrow.

  Chris nodded and Brady acknowledged.

  With weapons raised high, and fingers on the trigger, Brady swung the door open. They stepped inside, still soaking wet from their weathered trip across the school grounds.

  Chapter Eleven

  The room was dark. Chris and Brady both entered with weapons at the ready. A candle flickered at the far end making shadows dance everywhere in the room. Using the flashlight to scan the very large area, they found Steve sitting up on his cot with Stephanie at his side. They sat comforting one another in the dark, but Nan wasn’t with them. The only other person in the room was that old man that the nurse had been taking care of. He had passed away overnight. Steve explained how he had just quit breathing all of a sudden. It made Chris feel uneasy. As they all stood around discussing what needed to happen, Chris found himself looking over his shoulder, waiting for that moment when the old man would suddenly jump him. So, other than the corpse covered by a blanket and an empty cold room, it was just the four of them. Even the nurse that had been taking care of that old man and Steve was missing. Steve explained that from their location some screaming had been heard. The nurse had left to investigate, but that had been a few hours ago. Since then, Steve and Stephanie had just been sitting tight, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.

  Catching their breath, Chris and Brady gave Steve and Stephanie the lowdown on what they knew so far. Nan was missing. The priest and several other men were dead, and there was most definitely some other ghouls lingering around somewhere. All other known survivors were completely unaccounted for, which was bazaar, because that had to be at least twenty people.

  Brady’s flashlight poorly lit up the area around them. Standing close together, the room was eerie with dark shadows covering their faint features. Chris tried to show his concern and relief to Stephanie, but it didn’t matter. Stephanie and Steve were glued together at the hip. Brady was right. The lesser man will always lose. Chris wondered who was consoling whom. It could have been that she was consoling Steve because he was wounded, or because she was afraid. In that case Steve would have been taking care of her.

  Probably both. Chris was glad it was dark. At least, his emotions could hide with him in the shadows.

  “For real dude, you don’t know anything about what’s going on other than the nurse leaving?” Chris was surprised.

  “No, dude. We’ve been just keeping a low profile. You know that
.”

  “Yeah, taking advantage of the nursing staff,” Chris scoffed.

  “Can you blame me, man? Waiting on me hand and foot and shit, seriously, dude. What the crap is the plan? I don’t want to stick around here any longer than we have to.” Steve sat on the cot rubbing his bandages. He was clearly still in pain.

  At least, he’s up and mobile. As much as he gets under my skin, I do love him; stupid jerk, Chris thought. Chris smiled at Stephanie. He wanted her to be in his arms, not in Steve’s embrace.

  She sighed heavily. “Why the hell is the power out?” She sat on the cot with Steve, leaning into his wounded chest. “How did any of this happen? I thought we were safe from those things in here.” Distress filled her tone.

  “You know, I didn’t even think about that!” Chis looked around. “What happened to the generators? They had power in this building before,” Chris whispered to Brady. He looked over his shoulder. The deceased old man was still lying under his blanket.

  “Generator’s probably done ran low on gas. With all the folks around here gone MIA, no one is keeping the generators going. That or they finally ran out of gas completely. Father Clark did say they was already gettin’ low.”

  “Makes sense,” Chris said. “Honestly, I have been thinking about everyone disappearing and I think despite the rain, everyone went to the rooftops.”

  “What makes you say that?” Stephanie whimpered. Her eyes were watery with dismay.

  Is she crying?

  Chris couldn’t tell, because the lighting was horrible. He just wanted to hold her and make her feel better. Steve sure as hell wasn’t doing it right.

  “Where the hell else would they have gone? Like I said before, these people think the National Guard is coming. With us being boarded up in here by the dead outside, where else would you go? Everyone probably panicked when the priest and some of the others turned. Assuming the Guard is on the way, they all ran to the roof to wait this thing out. Either that, or everyone decided to jump the fence at the back end of the school.”

  “Totally doubt that one, dude.” Steve ran his fingers through Stephanie’s hair.

  She sighed again, this time a little relieved by Steve’s touch.

  “But that just doesn’t make any sense. These people have plenty of firepower, right?” Stephanie asked. “If it was just a few zombies, why not just fend them off and hold down the fort? Running to hide just doesn’t seem right here.”

  “All I can think is that it was unexpected. Maybe the fact that it was so sudden freaked everyone out. Made them think the dead on the other side of the fence had gotten in somehow.” Chris fidgeted with his gun. If that old man behind them were going to rise up and try for him, he would be ready. It was a sad fact, but he was starting to get used to handling the weapon. “Hell, when the priest came at us, it was the first thing I thought. I just knew that the dead outside had finally gotten in. It caught us all off guard and that cost a man’s life right up front.” Chris thought of Officer Phillips, and then Mark for some reason. “If we’re smart, we’ll take the right precautions as if those things out there have gotten in. It’s for the best.”

  The room filled with silence for a minute. The candle flickered gently on a stand next to Steve’s cot. Brady’s flashlight did its mediocre job at making up for the lack of light in the room.

  “That still don’t suggest what we need to be doin’,” Brady said. “I says we get Nan and get the hell out a here. When we were in the trailer, I saw quite a few sets a keys hangin’ on the wall. One of ‘em is bound to start up a car.”

  “We still have my car,” Stephanie said eagerly.

  “That we do,” Brady agreed. “Can you hold your own, Steve? If we’re gonna run to the lot after we find Nan, I don’t want you slowing us up any. I need to know you can keep up. If not, I’d rather leave you be and come back for ya later.”

  “I think I can manage.” Steve struggled to his feet. “Got a gun for me?”

  “Nope, ‘fraid not. Chris has one and I have these.” Brady pointed to his side arm and the rifle. “Since these are all we got, Chris and I will cover the front and the rear. You two are just goanna need to stick tight, ya hear.”

  “Well shit, man. What the hell are we waiting on? Let’s blow this popsicle stand already.” Steve grabbed Chris by the shoulder and leaned in to whisper. “Girls love to have purpose, dude.” His voice had a hint of snickering delight to it. “Uh…My arm…it’s still really sore,” he said out loud, then winked at Chris.

  As Steve rubbed his shoulder, Stephanie came to his aid as if she could in some way ease his suffering. Chris boiled with rage inside. Steve was playing her. Probably had been the entire time. One thing was for sure; Steve was a lot more healed up than he was letting on.

  If we get out of this alive, I’m going to skin you, punk. Chris glared at Steve in his disapproval.

  “Let’s go!” Brady reached the doorway.

  Chris was so angry, he hadn’t even noticed the man leaving his side and walking clear across the room.

  With Brady in the lead and Chris at the rear, Steve and Stephanie held hands as they crept down the narrow hallway toward the door leading outside. Steve was slumped over holding one hand against his bandages as he shuffled forward.

  As they slowly eased down the hallway toward the door that led outside, Chris started to grow sick to his stomach. The thought of Steve getting the girl had never gotten to him before. He knew the kid was a smooth talker and all of that, but this was different. How could Steve still be playing her like this during an epidemic? Chris had hoped that Steve would have grown up some during all of this and it didn’t seem to be so. Passing the dead burn victim that Brady had shot, they reached the double doors. As soon as they decided to open the door, they would be out in the courtyard and there was no telling what would happen from there.

  Brady stood at the door looking outside through the small window. With Steve, Stephanie, and Chris, crowded up beside him, they all peeked outside. Finally, the moon was out, filling the courtyard with moonlight. It was still raining a little bit, but the clouds had substantially subsided. Scanning all of the cots outside for movement, Chris’ eyes stopped when they came upon Jesse’s corpse. His baldhead and bulky frame were unmistakable in the muddy grass. Someone was feasting on his cold dead body and Chris knew exactly who she was. The jacket gave it away.

  “Nan’s out there!” Stephanie shouted.

  “What’s she doing?” Steve said.

  “Nan! Look out!” Brady kicked the door open and started running through the light rain toward her.

  “Shit…No, Brady!” Chris darted out, leaving Steve and Stephanie in the hallway.

  Chris’ eyes grew wide with fear as he walked up. Brady was either clueless or in utter denial. Chris noticed that the old man’s focus was not on his undead wife, he was focused on defending her. In the distance, two zombies came into view heading toward them.

  Where the hell did these zombies come from? Where was Nan when we were in the courtyard earlier?

  Chris scanned the yard frantically. Across the yard, one of the doors leading into another building was wide open. If all of the survivors were upstairs, that had to be the building they went in. Nan and the others must have chased the survivors up there. That could be the only explanation. Brady was a levelheaded man and yet here he was losing it. As Chris watched the scene unfold, his heart sank. If Brady, the guy also known as Rambo, was going to break down, that didn’t give Chris much hope for himself. Chris wanted more than anything to live through all of this and to be a winner.

  Brady raised his rifle toward the two ghouls. “Die ya damn freaks! Get the hell away from my wife!” He fired on one of the zombies. The short stumpy man in his mangled clothing took the bullet in the chest. Blood exploded from the center of his body. “Go to hell!” The zombie staggered backwards off balance.

  Chris stood stunned. Brady had missed the head. He wasn’t sure that was even possible. The zombie regained its
footing and pressed on, the hole in its chest bleeding vigorously. With arms raised and teeth wide, the ghoul picked up pace. Its eager eyes glistened in the moonlight.

  Chris aimed his handgun at the zombie that Brady had just shot. Firing, the ghoul’s head jerked hard to the right. The side of its head erupted in a red meaty mess. The zombie fell to the wet grass in the lightly falling rain, dead.

  Chris ran past Nan, up to Brady, and grabbed him on the arm. The slurping, munching sounds of her eating on the tattooed man filled the air.

  “Brady, we need to get the fuck out of here!”

  Chris aimed his firearm at the second zombie headed toward them. She was much closer to the open door on the other side of the courtyard. She had clearly entered the courtyard from there. Another zombie staggered out from the open doorway right behind her. Chris hadn’t expected so many zombies. By now he had lost count, wondering how many more they would face.

  “Get it together, man! We need to move!” He fired three shots. The loud report of his 9 mm echoed off of the buildings around them. Two of the shots were solid, sending both zombies to the ground instantly. Chris’ hands felt clammy and cold. He didn’t like shooting people, undead or not. These people had families, loved ones that cared about them. With his wrist still numb from shooting the gun, he couldn’t help but imagine that someone had shot his parents by now. Watching those two zombies fall to the ground never to get up again was exhilarating, yet exhausting. A tear formed at the corner of his eye. It was as if he had just shot his parents. He was starting to feel sick.

  “Oh, my God…Nan!” Brady stepped away from Chris, no longer preoccupied by the threat of approaching zombies. It was as if Chris wasn’t even there at all. Brady raced over to Nan wanting to embrace her.

  “Brady, wake the fuck up, man! Nan is one of them! She’s dead!” Chris scanned the yard for other creatures in pursuit. There was none.

  “Nan…Nan…it’s time to go! We need to get out a here!” Brady raced to her side.

  She was not at all interested. Chris panicked. It reminded Chris of that zombie inside the gas station. So eager to feast, it was not at all interested in those around it. Nan looked up at Brady and snarled with irritation. Her face was covered with blood. It was as if she had been feasting on a big bowl of cherry pie using her bare hands. Meat fell from her lips as she hissed at Brady. Her hands were wrist deep in Jesse’s abdomen. One of her teeth was missing. Her yellow sundress was soaked red and coved in mud. There were no visible marks on her. No bites. The green jacket she wore was drenched from rain and gore. Jesse was also a mess. His arms were battered and mangled. In the short time that Chris and the others had spent inside, Nan had done a number on Jesse’s meaty limbs. The muddy water around his ragged body was soaked red. His arms and chest were so mutilated that a lot of his tattoos were scraped away with claw marks and bites. His wrist bone and the white of his radius and ulna bones were visible amongst the brutal carnage. Intestines lay strewn out across the grass. Nan tugged at them with eagerness and hunger. Her attention left Brady and went back to feasting. The slopping red meat met her lips and it was apparent that Nan was no longer human.