“Let me come with you, please!” Michelle pleaded.
“No, it’s too dangerous out there. I don’t want you out there in the middle of all this crap…it’s just too dangerous. Just keep trying to call your mom, and if she answers, tell her that I am on my way to get her, so she needs to stay put. And when you get a chance, start getting all the canned food and bottled water together. You see now why I always preached about being prepared? For something just like this. I’ll call you as soon as I get your mom…to let you know she’s okay.”
Michelle looked up at Jerry, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Please be careful, and please come back to me. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you!”
Jerry stood up and walked into their bedroom. His hand were trembling even more. As he stood by their bed, he considered just grabbing Michelle and making a run for the cabin, but he knew that she wouldn’t leave without her mother. From the nightstand drawer he took out a .45 caliber handgun and an extra ammunition magazine. He rushed out and kissed Michelle on the forehead. “Keep the door locked. Remember, Granddad’s shotgun is in the closet. It’s loaded and ready to go. I’ll be back as quick as I can, okay?”
“I love you!” Michelle sobbed as she looked down at the gun in Jerry’s hand. She followed him to the door and locked it after he exited the house. She then ran back to the phone and tried calling her mother again.
Jerry jumped into his Jeep and placed the pistol and the extra magazine on the passenger’s seat. He peeled away from the house and made his way to Euharlee Road. As he drove east towards town, he tried to take a survey of what other people were doing and how they were acting. From what he could tell, everyone was behaving normal. Traffic seemed to be the same for that time of the day, and the few stores and markets he passed seemed to have the normal number of cars in their parking lots.
Cutting north on Harrison Road, he made his way towards Highway 41. As he steered with one hand, Jerry pulled his cell phone from the holder on his belt and he tried to dial his mother-in-law. He struggled to scroll her name in his contacts list, and he started thinking back to all of the times he had lectured Michelle about dialing and texting while driving.
As he finally found “Joan,” he looked up just in time to see a shabby station wagon backing out onto the road from a driveway. “Fuck!” he yelled as dropped the cell phone and yanked the steering wheel. His Jeep began to skid and fishtail and he slammed on the brakes. He fought to keep control as the vehicle went off into the grassy shoulder. Another yank of the steering wheel brought the tail of the Jeep back in line with the front end and Jerry saw a wake of dirt and grass flying in the air. With a sigh of relief, he was able to bring the Jeep back onto the road. He looked at the cell phone as it sat on the passenger floorboard and he decided not to try to reach for it.
After reaching Highway 41, he entered onto the southbound lanes that would take him back to Cartersville and Canton Highway. He noticed that there was a long stream of vehicles heading north—in the opposite direction that he was travelling in. He didn’t get a good feeling seeing that. After driving a few more miles, the traffic came to a stop and he could see that some sort of road block had been set up where Highway 41 and Canton Highway joined together. Just beyond the road block and on the left side of the roadway sat the Hospital. Sitting in the Jeep, he saw that several people had exited their vehicles and were conversing with each other.
After a few minutes of thinking in silence, Jerry retrieved his cell phone and tried to call his mother-in-law again. After no answer, he turned on the radio and tuned in to an Atlanta rock station. Instead of hearing music, he was greeted with the radio DJ reading some kind of news bulletin.
“…again, we are getting reports of some sort of outbreak at Grady Memorial. Police have closed off everything inside of Martin Luther King, Courtland and Edgewood. They don’t want you anywhere near that area, so just stay away from there. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ve been getting some crazy stuff on Twitter and Facebook. I probably shouldn’t even be saying any of this stuff over the air, but since we’re not getting any real information from the authorities, I’ll read some of the messages that are coming in. Let’s see, uh, ok…like this is kind of odd sounding. ‘People running around and acting crazy on Courtland.’ And here is another one: ‘Police shooting at everyone near Grady.’ And here is a Facebook update from someone in Savannah. This girl says that people are running around killing each other, and some of them are acting like…cannibals. Man, now that is crazy. Okay, I just got an update and it says that the same stuff is going on around Atlanta Medical Center and Emory Hospital. Police are reportedly on the scene at both locations, but they haven’t issued any further updates. National news media is also reporting that numerous metropolitan areas across the country are experiencing the same sort of events that are taking place here in Atlanta. Man, this is sounding way too crazy. Hey Jean, I don’t know if I’m going to stick around much longer. Tell Richie that he might need to get someone else in here because I might just…”
Jerry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was just like the TV report he and Michelle had seen earlier. None of it made any sense. He was a frequent listener of the radio station he had tuned in to, and on a normal day between play sets, the radio DJ was usually knocking off or talking about sex or prank calling unsuspecting listeners. This was the first time he had ever heard him sound so serious.
Growing restless and frustrated, he slapped at the steering wheel and exited the jeep, tucking his gun into the back of his pants. He didn’t bother retrieving the extra magazine. He noticed more and more people leaving their cars and he went over to a weathered looking man in denim overalls who was standing next to a silver Ford truck.
“Hey there,” Jerry said.
“Hey there.”
“You know what’s going on up there?” Jerry asked as he pointed to the roadblock.
“Some of these people were telling me that something is going on at the hospital,” the man answered. “Some kind of chemical accident or something like that.”
“Chemical accident? What kind of chemical accident?”
“Don’t know. That’s what they’re telling folks up at the roadblock. They’re trying to get people to turn around and get them back on the northbound lanes.”
“Hey friend, have you seen the news or listened to the radio lately?” Jerry asked as he glanced in the direction of the roadblock.
“I really don’t watch much T.V. and I don’t listen to the radio. All they play is trash these days.” The older male grunted and shook his head. “Just trash on T.V. and the radio. I ain’t got no time for that, especially when I have a farm to run.”
“Well, me and the wife were watching T.V. earlier and we saw something about some kind of disease outbreak down in Atlanta. We saw some crazy stuff…stuff that was hard to believe. Then a buddy calls me up and says that the same ruckus is going on at Cartersville General. I was on my way to pick up my mother-in-law because she lives on the other side of the hospital. To be honest, I really don’t think there’s a chemical accident up there. I think it’s something else”
“You say a ‘disease outbreak?’ ”
“That’s what the news reported. Then we saw some people acting crazy and the police were shooting them.”
“Shooting them?” the man asked in disbelief. “Come on, are you for real?”
“That’s what we saw.”
“Hey, look at that!” yelled someone who was standing on the shoulder of the highway. She was pointing in the direction of the hospital. A plume of black smoke was snaking up into the bright blue sky.
“Damn, something is on fire over there,” Jerry said.
“Yep, looks like it’s coming from the hospital area. There’s all kinds of businesses around there too. Maybe one of them caught fire.”
“Man, I got to get over to my mother-in-laws. I know my wife is going crazy not knowing if I’ve found her yet.”
“It doesn’t look like any of us are going anywhere right now,” the man said. “You’re better off just jumping the median and trying to find another way.”
“You’re probably right,” Jerry said. He was about to ask the man if he had any suggestions on alternate routes when a gunshot rang it. It had come from the roadblock.
“Was that a damn gunshot?” the man asked.
“I think it was,” Jerry replied as he stood on the tips of his toes. He was trying to get a better look over the gridlocked traffic. Not seeing much of anything, Jerry settled back down on his heels. He turned to the overalls-wearing man and was about to ask him about a route choice when a series of gunshots caused him and everyone else around him to duck.
“What the hell was that?” Jerry yelled. The sound of a car horn started blaring and several vehicles came racing north along the shoulders of the southbound lanes. One vehicle plowed into several of the motorists who were standing by the median—careening onto its side and then rolling onto the grassy median. The driver and passenger of the tumbling car were thrown from the vehicle, landing on the highway with a loud thud.
“Oh my God, did you see that?” the man asked Jerry. “What’s going on up there?”
Jerry was about to run towards the crash site, but he didn’t know whether to help the people who had been mowed down by the car or help the occupants who had been thrown from the car. Other people were moving in to see what had happened when another car went speeding by. The vehicle slowed and the driver, a woman with short black hair, yelled from her car, “Run, get out of here! They’re coming!”
Jerry jumped out of the way as the car veered around him and continued to tear down along the median. It swerved to miss a few more people and it clipped the front end of a delivery van before it disappeared around the curve in the highway.
Totally confused, Jerry turned to look back in the direction of the roadblock and he saw a throng of people rushing towards him, looking like a tidal wave washing around the cars on the highway. Several police officers were also fleeing from whatever was going on, and some of them were turning and firing their pistols into the crowd behind them.
Jerry’s first instinct was to run and jump into his Jeep and make a dash for the grassy median, but he was blocked in by the other traffic. He stepped backwards and tried to survey what was going on around him. A few people went running by, and some of them were screaming for everyone else to run. Several of the fleeing people were carrying small children.
Jerry grabbed onto one of the passing police officers and he yelled, “What’s going on up there?”
The officer broke from Jerry’s grasp and said, “Run, just run!”
The old man with the Ford began to walk in the direction of the roadblock as he shoved people aside who were fighting to get past him. “What the hell is going on here?” he asked.
From out of the crowd, one of the people who was running tackled the old man and began to pummel him with his fists. A second person joined in on the attack and grabbed the old man’s right arm, biting down on it. Within a matter of seconds, another three attackers were on top of the incapacitated man.
Seeing what was happening to the hapless old-timer, and not knowing what else to do, Jerry turned to run, but he stopped in his tracks as he was met by one of the people who had been thrown from the out-of-control vehicle. A woman stood before him, the right side of her face a mass of road rash. Her right shoulder was dislocated and her arm hung limply. Jerry looked into her eyes and noticed they were covered in a white film.
“Are you okay?” he asked her. “We’ve got to get out of here.” Not responding to his words, she stood there, unsteady on her feet, and after a few moments, she took a shaky step towards him. Her right foot was mangled and it dragged on the asphalt. With her left hand, she reached out towards the bewildered Jerry. Thinking that she was needing help, he went to take her by her arm, but she violently grabbed him by his collar, pulling him towards her.
“Hey, let go of me!” Jerry yelled. He tried to pull away, but her grip was vice-like. He grabbed her arm and tried to pry her hand free, but as he did, she opened her mouth wide and began to moan and hiss. She snapped at his hand with her jaws, but he was able to keep her from biting him, pushing her forehead away from him with his free palm. As he struggled to pull away, he was blindsided by a large black man. Jerry and the woman were knocked to the ground, Jerry hitting his head on the road. He immediately tasted his own blood; he had bitten his tongue and busted his bottom lip.
He struggled under the weight of his attacker as he tried to roll over onto his back. The man, who was now sitting on top of Jerry’s chest, looked like a body builder, his muscles bulging from a tank-top shirt. Blood dripped and splattered on Jerry from several wounds—bites—on the man’s arms and shoulder. In a rage, the muscular man began to pound Jerry’s face with his clenched fists. The first blow landed squarely on his nose, breaking it. Jerry’s vision was filled with flashes of red. Blood shot out from his nostrils as the following blows turned his right eye into a bloody pulp. In a feeble attempt to protect himself, Jerry raised his arms to fend off the attack.
The woman who had grabbed onto Jerry was now on her stomach. She was unable to bring herself to her feet, so she began to crawl towards him. She clawed at the asphalt with her nails. The man straddling Jerry wailed and screamed as he continued his assault. Jerry could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness and he visualized Michelle’s face in front of him. In the midst of the pain and agony, he remembered that he had his pistol in the back of his pants, and with his last bit of strength he threw a left punch at the jaw of his attacker. He was able to shove his right hand between his back and the asphalt and he grabbed onto his gun. In one quick motion, Jerry drew his pistol, shoved the barrel of the gun under the chin of the man and pulled the trigger. With a violent explosion of flesh, bone and brains, the man tumbled to the side.
Jerry rolled away from the body of his assailant and he turned to the woman who was now pulling at his pant cuff. He drew his leg up and delivered a kick to her face. Forcing himself to his feet, he pointed his gun at the woman and cried out, “Fuck you!”
Jerry fired twice, both times striking her in the back. She continued to grab for him and he fired two more times. One bullet sparked off of the pavement and the other struck her in her left shoulder. He couldn’t understand it—none of the bullet impacts seemed to have an effect on her. Bewildered, Jerry backed away from the woman and turned to run. His head was throbbing, he could only see from one eye, and blood was trickling down the back of his throat. He was in bad shape and he knew it.
Through a blurry haze, he could see total chaos unfolding in front of him. Crazed, howling people were attacking other fearful, cowering people. The lucky ones were able to flee along the shoulders and median of the highway. Some of the panic stricken people had locked themselves in their vehicles as they sought protection from the attack, but the growing mass of infected simply smashed through the windows and yanked the helpless, terrified people from their cars and trucks.
As Jerry stumbled down the highway, he went from car to car trying to avoid the attention of the demented attackers. There was mass confusion around Jerry and he was able to use it to his advantage—blending in with the exodus until he was able to cross a green belt and make his way off of the highway. He then saw a neighborhood and decided to seek refuge among the houses. He noticed that several people were standing out in front of their homes, looking at him curiously.
“What’s going on out there?” a silver bearded elderly man asked as he stood on the porch of his dilapidated house. “I thought I heard a car crash and gunfire coming from the highway.”
Jerry tried to hobble-sprint towards the old man and he yelled, “Please sir, let me inside of your house. There’s something crazy going on and a lot of people are being killed up there!” Jerry tried to turn and point in the direction of the chaos.
“Killed?” Not knowing what Jerry’s inte
ntions were, the old man began to step back inside of his front door. “Did you say people was being killed?”
“Please let me in!” Jerry pleaded. “They’re right behind me! They’ll be here in a few minutes!”
The elderly man then saw the gun in Jerry’s hand and he yelled, “You stay away from here, you hear me!”
Jerry drug himself up onto the porch and grabbed the door just as the old man was about pull it shut. “Let me in!” he screamed as he shoved his way inside. The old man stopped voicing his opposition. His attention had been caught by a teenage girl who was in full sprint, running right at them. She was vomiting a black sludge as she ran.
“What the hell is that?” the old man asked as he pointed at the approaching runner. Jerry turned to see what the old man was talking about. Knowing that he had very little time to act, he screamed for the man to get out of his way, raising his pistol as he shouted. The girl, dirty and bloodied, was homing in on the two, running in a straight line right at them. That made it easy for Jerry to line up his sights on her, and with his one good eye, he drew a bead on her chest and squeezed off two rounds. The runner went sprawling into the front yard.
Jerry then saw a dozen more runners making their way towards them. One unlucky woman who was standing in her front yard was overwhelmed and torn to pieces by the raging assailants. Jerry shoved the old man aside and tried to slam the door shut as one of the runners jumped up onto the creaky wooden porch, diving at them. With a loud thud, the runner’s head hit the door, almost knocking Jerry off of his feet as he tried to brace the door with his shoulder.
Jerry mustered all of his strength and with a mighty shove, he pushed the door shut, locking it as he did. The runner outside began to scream and wail as he hurled himself against the old wooden door. Jerry yelled to the old man to back away from the front of the house. He then stepped backwards down a narrow hallway as he tried to cope with his throbbing face. The old man had disappeared from his sight and Jerry looked around. To his left was a living room with an old wooden dining table and a faded, thread-bare rug underneath it. Two large windows with dingy curtains faced the front yard. Behind him and at the end of the hall was the back door.
A Glimpse Of Decay (Book 2): Staring into the Abyss Page 6